What If | tmr, newt ✓

Chapter 7

That evening, I lay in my hammock, bracing myself against the slight cold and relaying today's events. I made a list of the jobs in my head; Med-jacks, Track-hoes, and Cooks were a possibility. Slicers, Builders or Bricknicks, and Sloppers were an absolute no. And then there was the Runners; nobody had been assigned to them for a while, and I certainly didn't want to break that tradition. Perhaps George had been making it up, since nobody had mentioned it to me for the rest of the day.

I shivered and rolled over with difficulty. Not a sound came from the Glade; instead, the machine-like whirrs, clicks, and rumbles echoed loudly from inside the Maze. That was as much of a lullaby I was granted as I slowly drifted into a restless slumber.

***

I'm still running. The shouts of my name fade away as I lose my pursuers in the maze of corridors. Somehow, I know where I'm going, like the body in my dream is just carrying me along. I eventually approach a room and burst in, shouting, "Teresa, hurry!"

Gasping for breath, I awake, reaching for the sides of the fabric. I grip onto them until my knuckles turn white, attempting to steady my breathing. I feel sick, like I've been running for ages. But that's impossible... I was only running in my dream.

I can tell it's still early when I finally have the courage to stand up, because I can only hear a few voices trailing over from the kitchen area - Newt, Alby, and the Runners.

Treading as light-footed as possible, I almost scare the few Gladers when I slide onto the bench next to Newt. They barely even noticed I was coming until I was right beside them.

"Shucks, Falcon, we need to make up a new job for you. It's called 'pretending not to exist'," Minho exaggerates, making me smile.

"And we need one for you, too. It's called 'thinking you're better than everyone'," I respond.

Alby huffs. "Quit flirting, both of you?"

We immediately laugh, but I notice Newt just frowns down at his food. "I wouldn't flirt with this shank over my dead body," Minho snorts.

I lean across the table and hit the side of his head playfully, pretending to be shocked and offended. "If I were you, I would definitely flirt with me."

Luckily, at that moment the doors began to open, breaking the strange tension caused by Newt's silence. "Don't you have places to be, Minho?" I say.

"Yeah, sure do. See you shanks later." He took off at a steady jog towards the North Door.

"Okay. I'm calling a Gathering," Alby said, once all the runners had left through their respective Doors.

"What? Why?" Newt asked, confused.

"To discuss what to do with the Greenie here."

I feel my heart rate rise, but Newt speaks before I have the chance to protest. "What'd you mean? I thought we already decided."

"I mean, what job she's gonna get. Slim it nice and calm before you klunk yourself, and go do me a favour and wake up the Keepers."

Newt leaves without further protest to do as told, still frowning.

"You guys need to have more fun around here. He's got a permanent scowl on his face," I say to Alby.

"And what do you propose we do, Adalyn? If you couldn't tell, we're stuck here."

I sigh. "I guess you're right." I have nothing left to say as Alby slowly gets up and heads over to the Gathering room with me just on his heels.

Several minutes later, I find myself in the same position as I was just three days ago, but this time I have the confidence to sit up and look everyone in the eye. Not as their superior, but as their equal. The row of boys in front of me look slightly annoyed as they settle down. Good. Let them be half-awake; that way they'll not bother to input their opinions.

Eventually Gally enters, trailed by Newt, signalling the start of the Gathering.

"Keepers, our Adalyn here needs a job. It seems she is suited to some jobs, and others... not so much. We could give her more than one, like some shanks out there, but still; of the ones she has tried in the glade, none seem to match as the others did for the rest of you. So we have a predicament.

"However, one proposal has come to mind. If none of the jobs in here suit here, then there's only one other. And that's a Runner.

"I can tell already that you think this is a ridiculous idea, but not when you come to terms with the facts. For a start, she outran Minho. She has to be pretty shucking fit. And if that wasn't enough for you, she also has the right, logical brain-type to not get herself hopelessly lost - unlike the rest of you slintheads. Now I want suggestions, then we'll hear from Adalyn herself."

After being flattered by Alby multiple times, I sigh in relief when he says that last part. No matter how brilliant they think I am, being a Runner still does not appeal.

Gally immediately steps forwards. "There is no way we can let her be a Runner. She hasn't proven herself, and she'll probably do something stupid to mess everything up."

Offended, I mutter under my breath, "Says you," glaring daggers at him. Apparently some of the gladers heard and let out a few muffled sniggers of agreement.

"Gally, how many times, stop saying klunk you have no evidence for! Anyone else?"

"What's the worse that could happen if she was? I say we make her a Runner."

My heart skips a beat. I'm glad they have faith in me, but my inevitable fate seems to be drawing closer as we speak.

"Adalyn? What d'you think?"

I struggle to form the words at first. "Why would I want to have a job where I'm risking my life every day?"

Alby frowns. "Well, normally, the Greenie wouldn't get a choice in which job they're assigned. And a lot of shanks would leap at the chance to explore outside these walls. They think they're magic and can find something that we haven't in two and a half years. But I guess this isn't a normal situation, huh."

Newt leans over and whispers something in his ear, and I take the time to squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to convince myself that it can't be all that bad. But I'm just fighting my own pointless battle.

"Alright, we have an idea. What would you say about running every other day, and the days that you're not, you spend working with the Med-jacks? Trust me, you'd be safe with Minho."

That didn't sound too bad. I imagine that every day I run I'll just have to concentrate on the directions, or the running itself, and look forward to the days I spend back in the safety of the Glade.

Trying to remember all the other times I've felt regret, I take a shaky breath before I say, "Alright."

A/N Thanks for reading. If you have any questions or thoughts, feel free to leave a comment.