What If | tmr, newt ✓

Chapter 11

This morning, I do not wake up early of my own accord; instead, I'm greeted by the unforgiving rumbles of the Doors opening. Looking around, I see some boys already awake, some just trudging over to get breakfast and the rest asleep soundlessly. I smile to myself, relaxing back into the fabric for a few more minutes. After just another week or so being here... maybe it won't be as bad as I thought. I had finally started feeling like I belong.

With all the willpower I can muster, I drag myself up and out of bed, careful not to disturb any of the remaining sleeping Gladers. Noticing the gathering of boys around the kitchen area, I decide to skip breakfast, opting to head straight to work in the Homestead. I find Clint already there, give him a tight smile, and head straight into another room, not really wanting to talk so early in the morning.

I had only been there, refolding bandages and cloths, for about ten minutes, when Frypan bustled through the door. He was clutching his right arm, and I could see what looked like a nasty burn on his forearm. "Shucks, Fry, that looks nasty! What happened?" I drag him into a seat by the tap and make sure there is running water on the burn.

"Burnt myself on a pan like a real slinthead, didn't I. Don't worry, it happens all the time."

"That was pretty stupid," I admit, as he winces against the cool of the water. "Hold that there," I tell him, as I go to tell Clint what happened. When I come back, I stay with him for about ten minutes until he says the pain has eased. Then, I carefully wrap a clean bandage around the wound, tight enough so it was held in place if he moved, but loose enough to give him the freedom to use his hand as normal.

"You know, you've got pretty impressive knowledge for a gir- I mean, Greenie," he corrects at the last second, earning himself a glare.

"Why should it make a difference if I'm a Greenie or not?"

"Because usually the Greenbeans take time before they get used to their work."

He made a fair point. But perhaps this was my job in my previous life? I don't know. I guess I never will.

"If you've injured yourself, how are you supposed to feed those lot? I don't know yet, but I have a feeling it's not a pretty sight when they're hungry."

Frypan chuckles. "A Greenie from a few months back worked with me, and he wasn't half bad. They'll work it out."

"Yeah, they will, won't they... hey, will you be alright here for a bit? I think Jeff just arrived, tell him if you're in any pain." At the thought of the Gladers 'working out' a situation, I had a sudden idea. Pushing past a confused looking Jeff in the corridor, I rush out of the Homestead and towards the Map Room.

As expected, the Maps are at the top of the piles for their sections. Minho and I ran sections seven and one yesterday, and each of the other Runners ran two of the sections five, two, six, four, eight, and three, in that order. A thought popped into my head; if there are four of them, and they rotate doing two of eight sections at a time, then... then they were always looking at the same two sections every four days.

What they needed to be doing was looking at the same sections for days at a time. What if, for example, sections seven and one always changed their paths every four days, and each Runner that looked at it saw something different? They wouldn't know. Because every time they entered those sections... they saw the exact same thing.

Feeling light-headed and giddy at the discovery I just made, and willing to go into even more thought of how they should be mapping the maze, I'm startled out of my stupor when the door opens. Shuck, it was Newt. I had been a bit distant from him recently, particularly after that one evening: I had regretted it instantly the next morning, awkwardly staying away and trying not to make a fool of myself whenever I saw him. And now he had me trapped. There were about twenty guys here... so why did I feel this way about only him? If I were alone, I would slap myself back to reality. I can't afford to lose my focus over one guy.

"Hey," he says. "What are you doing in here?"

"I could ask you the same question. Technically, I'm a Runner. I'm allowed to be in here."

"Come on, don't leave me with that. There has to be a reason."

I look across the table at him leaning on the door-frame. Dammit, he was cute. He wasn't making it any easier to get the words out of my mouth.

Somehow, though, I did manage to explain. I spoke about the sections, who and when they were mapping it, and what I thought we could do. He stayed silent the whole time, sometimes looking at me, sometimes at the ground, but I knew he was always listening intently. When I finished, he asked me just one question. "How did you think of that?"

I furrow my brow. "I'm not really sure. Something Fry said about working out a solution..." I trailed off, thinking maybe it wasn't a good idea and he had only stayed to listen out of courteousness.

"Well, it's bloody brilliant."

My head whips up. "You really think so?"

He nods slowly, clearly still thinking about , and I smile appreciatively. "Thanks for listening."

I have to restrain from laughter at the blush that had risen on his cheeks. "Any time," He says, running a hand through his hair. "I should get back to work. See you."

***

The day was spent working for the Med-jacks, which was generally quite relaxing. I didn't see Newt for the rest of the day; I wouldn't go so far as saying he was avoiding me, but he certainly wasn't making an effort to see me. Not like I had for the past week, either.

I had been in constant excitable jitters as well, anticipating the arrival of the Runners and being able to explain my theory. I hope it did actually work. I would never be allowed to live it down if it didn't.

The Gladers had started another campfire as soon as night cloaked the glade. I had sat by myself for a while, entranced by the flames, singing an adorable little tune that I only wish I knew the name of. As if perfectly timed to the end of my song, I was joined by Alby and Minho, Newt following behind, but I noticed he sat a little further away. Excitement working up once more, I explained the plan for the second time in detail. After finishing, I just looked at them both, expectant.

Alby watched the fire. Nothing. Minho stared right into the flames. Nothing. Then suddenly, as if I could hear a flip switching in their brains, Alby looked across at me and Minho whooped in realisation. "Shuck, Falcon, you're a genius!" And to my utter amazement, he kissed my cheek, picked me up and spun me around. I squealed in relief and fear, laughing, hitting his back and demanding that he put me down. Embarrassingly, some of the other Gladers had looked over at the commotion, making me unsteady when back on my feet and trying to hide behind my own hands.

Minho started talking to Alby, and they were joined by a few others discussing my theory. In my subconscious, I registered a few comments like "...how we haven't thought before..." and "...know it will work?", but that wasn't my main concern. What I was more worried about was where on earth Newt had gone.

I know I registered him turn and walk away, but not where. It's not like he could have actually got very far, so I take my best guess and head into the trees once more. A few minutes of walking around reveals I was right, and I notice him sitting down, back to a tree trunk and to me.

"Newt?"

He quickly scrambles up, startled. "Jesus, Addie, you scared me."

"I guess we're even now, then," I joke, but he doesn't laugh. Nor even react. "Why'd you leave?"

"Look Addie, I don't know how to say this... I, uh..." He huffs, then starts again properly. "I don't think you want to be around me. I can see you get along better with the others, Minho for example, and you clearly don't like me as much. I think it's best we stay apart, for our own sakes."

Numb, I stand in my own bubble of shock.

"You're right," I repeat, monotonous. "You always are." Before walking away without another word.