Liar [Maze Runner Fanfiction]

four

"It is, you might in fact say, like a face from the past." - Sherlock Holmes, The Empty Hearse

~

"Are there any mirrors here?" Elizabeth asked Newt as she meticulously folded her clothes before sliding them into the shelf.

"You're a vain little bird, aren't you?" he teased.

She shook her head, "no! I just want to see how I look like. The only thing I know is that I have dark-blonde hair. How old do I look, anyway?" She pulled at the tips of her hair, twisting her head to look at them.

Newt looked at her critically, "I'd say fifteen. You're very short, about 1.65 meters. Green eyes. Not bad looking," he added shyly.

"Thanks," she hoped her cheeks weren't betraying her again, "you don't look half-bad yourself."

They stared at each other, Newt staring down and Elizabeth craning her neck.

"I-I should go shower or something," she quickly muttered, turning her back so he wouldn't notice the blush on her face.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he advised, "you don't want anyone to, um, interrupt you."

"Oh... Oh!" Elizabeth caught on quickly, "right, I do not want that." She shuddered dramatically.

Newt smiled, "I suggest that you do that after the meeting, they're mostly asleep afterwards, and I can guard the door."

"Thanks," she returned the smile tentatively.

Dinner was unpleasant, to say the least. From the minute Elizabeth stepped within a 10-foot radius of the dining area, she could feel eyes on her. The boys looked at her in barely-concealed, hungry, wolfish stares. She felt as if she was being cut up like a slab of meat on a butcher's block.

"Look at those shanks," Newt muttered quietly. She snuck a glance at them, raising her eyes from her plate for a fraction of a second. They were all staring.

"I hate being the only girl here," she whispered back, feeling exposed. They selected an empty, relatively-secluded table, and sat down. Elizabeth nibbled at her potatoes, finding her appetite gone.

A boy slid in on the bench right next to her. "Hey," he greeted, smiling. He had chestnut-brown hair and eyes, which looked golden in the fading light of the Glade.

"Hi," Elizabeth said shyly. She didn't know what to do; no one's personally gone up to her to talk, with the exception of Newt and Alby.

"My name's Ross," he continued.

"Elizabeth," she kept her reply short.

"A pretty name for a pretty girl," he winked. She looked down, not sure what to think about the cheesy line.

"T-thanks," she stammered.

"I love your eyes," Ross continued, "and your smile."

"If you don't mind, we're in a bit of a bloody hurry," Newt's voice sliced through the awkward tension like a knife. He sounded a bit on edge, as if something was irking him. "We've got a meeting to go to."

Ross rolled his eyes, "yeah, yeah, don't get jealous, shank, just introducing myself."

"Whatever, shuckhead. Go check on the crops or something. Dinner's over."

"Why don't you just slim it nice and easy, Sir Newt?"

The two boys glared at each other, tension crackling like static between them. Elizabeth looked between the both of them, "stop it, now, both of you. Ross, how about we talk later?" she cracked a small smile, "Newt, let's go, they're probably waiting for us. Lead the way?"

Ross stood up, and shooting a final glare at Newt, walked away. Newt stared at his retreating figure, eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Come on," Elizabeth urged, "let's go."

He lead her to the Homestead, into the main building. Entering it, Elizabeth was surprised at the size of it. The room could probably hold two-thirds of the Gladers. It looked smaller on the outside.

There were eleven chairs, ten of them arranged in a semi-circle around a single, wooden one. Nine of them were occupied.

"Took you shanks long enough," Alby muttered once he saw them enter. "Sit," he told Elizabeth, pointing at the single chair in the middle.

Uncomfortable, she sat down gingerly, keeping her back straight and her gaze on the floor. Newt took his seat next to Alby.

"Right, let's start this shuck meeting," Alby called impatiently over the other Gladers. The quiet conversation died down.

"As you slintheads know, we got a Greenie yesterday, a girl," he gestured towards Elizabeth, "never, never in two shucking years have we had a girl before."

The rest murmured their assent, looking curiously at Elizabeth.

"What is she doing here? Why her? Why is she the only girl?" Alby ticked off questions, counting on his fingers, "why have the shuck Creators send a girl at this time?"

"Maybe it's a sign," a black-haired boy blurted out.

"Gally, what klunk are you up to again?" Alby demanded.

"Nothing!" Gally rolled his eyes. "It's just strange, maybe things are going to change. Maybe the Creators are trying to tell us something."

"Right, it's a shuck sign," the other Glader repeated, "any other theories?"

Newt cleared his throat, "maybe Elizabeth can help us get out of here. Maybe that's why she was sent here. Bet the bloody Creators had enough of watching us run around in that shuck Maze so they decided it was time to let us go."

"You two are being ridiculous," Alby huffed, "two years of this klunk, and you believe that the Creators are just gonna let us run off nice and easy?"

"It's just an idea," Newt dismissed him.

"Can you guys stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Elizabeth snapped, "I have ears, you know."

A droopy-eyed boy spoke up, "maybe she can give us some clues about why we got here in the first place? Maybe she remembers some things?"

"I think we've established quite well that I'm completely confused and memory-less like all of you," Elizabeth muttered, crossing her arms and looking haughtily at the Council members. The shyness she had had disappeared, anger and frustration fueling her confidence.

"Are you sure, though? Maybe you'll start remembering if we just trigger the right thoughts."

"That's not half-bad, Zart," Alby seemed to be considering his proposal. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?" he asked Elizabeth.

"Completely sure."

"Concentrate, Greenie! Do you have any parents? Sisters? Brothers? Boyfriends? Friends?" Alby's questions rained down on her like hail. "Concentrate!" he repeated forcefully.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to envision a house full of family members. Blurry, half-formed images flashed before her mind like mist, none of it showing anything.

"Nothing," she sighed, slumping down into the chair.

Alby stood up abruptly, toppling his chair. "Are you sure?" he asked again.

"Completely sure. I can't remember anything. I only know my name, I don't even know my last name!"

"Does anything look familiar?" Alby's eyes held a crazed, desperate glint in it. He crossed the room in a few long strides and gripped her shoulders tightly. "Anything?"

Elizabeth was about to shake her head, until she remembered Newt pulling her out of the Box. She seemed to know every bone and bump, every small detail, of his hand, as if she'd felt it before. The shape and grip seemed too familiar for it to be a coincidence.

"Yes," she said quietly. Her eyes flickered towards the blonde boy sitting across the room, and fixed themselves on him, "Newt."