If asked, any Glader would never hesitate to answer "Frankie" as the toughest one of all. The true protector of the Glade. A runner, a part of the Council, one of the ten original Gladers who built the system and made all the curse words from scraps...
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MINHO'S FEET CAME to an abrupt stop when he saw Newt, Alby, Nick, and Clint closed the door to Frankie's room behind them.
"Food poisoning," one of the four explained, "Threw up in the Maze once, twice in the bathroom. Clint gave her some meds already. She kicked us out of the room so she can have some rest."
"Food poisoning?" Minho frowned.
"Probably something stale she ate this morning or yesterday."
"Oh, so she was already sick in the morning? And then decided to run?"
Newt exchanged knowing glances with Alby. "Yeah. But we made a deal with Ben—"
"The shuck with Ben!"
Minho could knock and pushed the door open slowly. He could ask nicely for her permission to enter, take her hand and speak soothing words while they talked.
But, no.
Minho, being Minho, slammed the door open against all advice and yelled at her, "Hey, you shucking slinthead!"
He faltered a bit when he saw her curled up in a fetal position under the cover, looking pale and feverish. A bowl of warm water sat on her nightstand with a dipped towel, but he didn't think she had any intention to put it on her forehead at all.
"Minho!" Alby hissed, grabbing his elbow.
The Asian boy flung his arm free, "Is this what you want? Be a shucking hero and die a heroic death alone? Because this is not shucking heroic at all!"
"Get out," Frankie croaked. Her throat was parched from retching thrice earlier.
"Shuck, no. Stop this childish act and say whatever you want to say to me!"
"No, I mean get out, Nick."
Everyone, even Minho, was stunned.
"It's kind of personal. I think Minho's about to cry," she said with a humorous tone.
Reluctantly, the other boys left Minho with Frankie alone (after Clint's fairly long warning about not straining herself). He leaned against a wooden beam with arms crossed, showing the bulging biceps he had received after all the Running and working out. His lips were pressed to a thin line and there were creases on his forehead.
"Don't have the decency to take a shower first, do you?" Frankie sat up. Minho noticed how her hands never left her abdomen and how she flinched involuntarily every once in awhile.
"Oh, so now we're talking?"
She raised her eyebrows, "Is that not what you want?"
"I told you I'm sorry," Minho straightened his back, "I'm sorry that I spilt our secret to Newt. I couldn't just sit around and pretend nothing's wrong when that shank was lying and dying up slowly on a shucking bed, and I needed a trigger. It was wrong. I'm sorry. But I don't get why you're shutting me out like this!"
