Ode to the Wicked » Newt

three

iii. ❝Wᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ sᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏsᴇ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴs ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴜʀs.❞

Thalia has been in the Glade six months the first time she falls sick. All the boys refuse to let her do any work, even when it’s the only thing she wants to do. Instead, she’s not permitted to leave her bed, other than times of absolute necessity, and the only company she gets is one of her friends who checks in on her every few hours. By the third day, they learned not to stay too long, as prolonged exposure led to her begging for a job or some other excuse to escape the confinements.

*

It was close to lunch time when Alby came to check up on her. He was the first one since Minho and Newt, who came in when she was half asleep earlier that morning. He placed a tray of food on her lap, and her thanks was cut short as she noticed the smile he wore.

“You’re happy today,” she blurted, gulping down some water from a cup. The leader just clapped her shoulder before he lifted himself from the makeshift bed. “Alby, wait!” She grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Thalia,” he rolled his eyes, already knowing the question.

“Please! C’mon, Alby, I’m going insane. I can work in the fields. Let me pick some fruit or something!” Thalia saw the hesitation behind his dark eyes and she took her chance. “Please?” she pouted.

He stayed quiet a moment longer before sighing. “Fine. I’ll talk to Zart.” Alby took a few steps, but stopped and turned before he had passed through the doorway. “And for the record, that face only works on Newt.”

“Thanks, Alby!” she shouted after him, although her voice cracked half way through, dissolving into coughing.

*

Newt wandered through the fields, occasionally talking to some of the boys who had just returned from lunch. He carried a couple of buckets filled with water and was distributing the liquid to those that needed it. After doing his round, a familiar head of brunette hair caught his attention. He picked his way over, soon confronted by a soft humming.

The girl was prodding at the ground with some of the smaller gardening tools. He noticed she was smiling to herself as she did so. “Lia?” Newt asked, disturbing her concentration. He kneeled down, placing the bucket a fair distance away as not to knock it over. He looked her over quickly, making sure she was alright. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Alby knows I’m here, so don’t you dare try anything,” she warned, barely acknowledging his presence with a quick glance.

Newt’s brow furrowed, mostly in disbelief. “Alby arranged this?” Thalia nodded, finally meeting his worried eyes. He continued when she didn’t say any more. “How many times did you say please?”

The smile returned, bigger this time; she even giggled. “Twice.” He grinned too.

“Only twice?”

“Yup.” Thalia shrugged. “He was in a good mood.”

He contemplated that for a minute, and in that time, she persisted in pulling at a deep-rooted weed. She stabbed at it a couple more times before it eventually gave way. However, when she pulled, the action was more forceful than necessary and the green blade flew out, splattering her with dirt. She frowned, dabbing at the mud on her face as Newt laughed at her misfortune. “Do you want some of this on you?” she questioned sourly.