#why everybody got so attached to newt in the maze runner

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

huh. I get it now.

[fanficstookover]

A Year Before the Rest- Newt

Last weekend I went to a Maze Runner marathon in my local cinema and honestly, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was a bit too much. I couldn’t handle it. I am officially dead. This is my writing from the beyond.  So I have watched all the movies finally, have read the first book (the other ones are already ordered and in the mail) and I have some serious Newt feels. Like, it’s not natural anymore. So, I decided to give it a go. 

As the title says, it all takes place around a year before Thomas arrives and shuckes everything up.. 

word count: 5367

warning: Don’t think so. Not really. Just fluff

Summary: You wake up in the Box. The rest is self explanatory: you freak out and almost kill somebody with a shovel. There’s also this guy with a slightly stupid name that catches your eye. 

Darkness and noise. That is what you woke up to. Your head ached and there was a gnarly feeling in your stomach. You looked around, but it was still completely dark. There was nothing around you. But the noise that was being made, told you otherwise. Something was happening, But what? You tried to think, but nothing came up. You couldn’t remember what was going on, what this place was or how you had gotten there in the first place. It was like everything was wiped out of your memory. Well, not exactly. You could remember the sound and smell of animals, events and places and the taste of food, only not the people or the times in which you visited them. Everything personal wasn’t there. Your whole existence was a completely blank, except for one thing: (Y/N). Your name.

Suddenly the noise changed. It got louder and the ground you sat on began to shake. You were moving..up. The sound of some type of chains being pulled at could be heard. Again, you could recognise the sound of chains and you could remember what chains are, but there was no single memory in your brain about ever doing anything with them. Like, you knew only the basics to life and were just about to start it.. Like a robot. Were you a robot? Was that even possible?

The chains kept on rattling, a cold wind blew in your face from who-knows-where. You could feel that you were moving up. The destination unknown. How could you know the destination if you didn’t even know where you came from?

Then it stopped. Everything at once. The sound and the wind. Now you sat there in complete silence. Not knowing what to do, you decided to try and remember something else about yourself. A name was a good start, but it couldn’t be the only thing that your brain managed to restore.

How do I look?  The question scared you. You didn’t even remember how you looked like. Some things you could feel, like your hair, which was long and a bit of a mess at this moment. Or the shape of your nose and ears. But skin colour, length, you had no clue.

You wanted to scream out the frustration that was stuck in you, but the sudden movements above you caused another kind of scream to come out. Suddenly something opened up and the light that emerged almost blinded you. The sun shined bright and the nice warmth was also not unwelcome. You squinted so you could see better. Dark figures were visible to you, hanging from the edge and looking at you.

“It’s a shucking girl!” one of them shouted. It made you jump up a bit. Finally getting a bit used to the light in your face, you tried to get a better look at the people hanging above you. So far you could see, they were all boys. You couldn’t tell by just this look, but probably in their teens. All of their eyes were on you. You could feel your cheeks heat up.

“Why’d they send a girl up?” another one asked. Voices started to talk through each other and you could no longer keep up with it. Your head started to hurt more and more. Were they just going to stare at you for the rest of your life? Were you some kind of sacrifice for them that will end up on the dinner table, or worse… A slight rush panic hit you. You couldn’t breath anymore. Some of them must have noticed, because soon enough the loud conversations died down and somebody even jumped into the box you were trapped in.

Tears were already blurring your vision, but you could see that the person in front of you was skinny, but well built. A mop of blonde hair on his head. He made a small step towards you, but you pushed yourself back, away from the stranger.

“Stay away from me!” you demanded. It scared you. Not only the whole situation. Also the fact that that was the first time you heard your own voice. The boy smiled weakly at you.

“Hey, it’s ok. I won’t hurt you.” he said kindly and carefully. He had some kind of accent that you didn’t recognise. Maybe everybody here had it. You could have been brought here to a whole different country.

“Who are you?” You spoke and ignored his previous words. The boy made another step, and you pushed away again.

“It’s going to be ok. You’re save.”

“That’s good to know, but it’s not what I asked!” you shouted, catching him off guard. The other boys that were looking at the small show also looked surprised at your response. “Unless your name actually is ‘It’s going to be ok’ I want an answer!” you yelled out. The last few words a bit shaky. You were definitely scared, but the blond boy didn’t mind. He didn’t try to approach you anymore and kept his distance.

“Ok, Ok. My name is Newt.”

“What kind of stupid name is that?” you scoffed. Some laughters could be heard, but they stopped as soon as “Newt” looked up at them. He clearly had some power over the rest. “Why don’t you, slintheads, go and piss off.” That had done the trick and soon you were alone with the stranger.

“I guess it’s Newton, but you can just call me Newt.”  He smiled and gave you his hand to shake it. You looked at him a bit unsure, but finally shook it. He laughed: “I think this is the part where you tell me your name.”

“(Y/N).” but then you felt someone’s eyes on you, and they weren’t Newt’s. You looked up to be met with a head of dark hair. “Who is that and why is he still here?” you pointed up. Newt followed your finger.

“Don’t worry. That’s Minho, he’s cool. He’s only here because somebody had to help us get out of here.” Minho smiled at you and gave you a small wave. You waved back, feeling slightly awkward for some reason.

“So, you want to join me out there? Or would you prefer to stay in the Box.”

“I don’t think I have much choice, do I?”

“No, not really.” he smiled. He had a really nice smile, you noticed. Newt gave a sign to Minho and he let down a rope with something attached to the bottom of it which helped you get out.

“Do you trust me, (Y/N)?”

“Not really, but then again, what choice do I have?”

“That’s the spirit. Come here, I promise you’ll be fine.” you stood up with a sigh and gave him your hand. He held you tight and then suddenly you were moving up. It was only a very short moment until you could free yourself from the grip of the young man and get out by yourself. Minho wanted to help you get on your feet, but you sternly declined. You could see from the corner of your eye how the two boys shared a look. It gave you an opportunity to look around too. It seemed like you were standing in a field. A field surrounded by gigantic walls. The walls were split in half at each side, like some kind of entrances.

There wasn’t only a field and some weird concrete walls. In one of the corners, there stood a small forest of some kind, which looked rather dark. Even in the middle of the day. There were also a few buildings. The biggest, looked like a barn or something, the other one like a house that the occupants couldn’t decide on how much was actually too much in an renovation, and another small building that was much simpler in construction. In the opposite corner of the forest there was a farm where animals walked around. Cows and sheep stood there and to chew on grass. Boys of all ages, but averagely between their early and late teens, walked around the place, talking, working and doing other things.

“Welcome to the Glade,” Newt announced.

“It’s uhm… nice.” you gave him a small smile. “I do have questions though.”

“Not the place, nor the time for that.” he simply said and then told you to follow. As you still had little choice in doing so, you followed the blond boy towards the big renovation problem house.

“This is the Homestead.” Newt pointed towards it. “It’s kinda the homebase of this whole thing. Who wants to, can sleep in there, but the weather is good at night, so you can sleep outside too if that’s what you want.” He talked some more about the building, but you weren’t exactly listening. There was so much going on around you, it was hard to take in. Everybody was also staring at you, what was rather uncomfortable. Because of that you tried not to make any eye contact with any of the boys you passed.

“Am I the only girl here?”

“Not if you count the ones in the dungeon?” Newt said casually as he kept on walking. You stopped and so did your heart. Was he serious?

“Come again?” you asked, ready to run away at any point. He could be leading you right there. But even if you ran away, you wouldn't be able to escape. All the eyes were on you. Someone else could easily get you on your way… and besides, there was no way to run to. The Glade was big, but not that big. You had no idea what was behind the walls and weren’t really interested in finding out soon.

“Calm down, I was only joking,” Newt smiled, but you didn’t. He realised that the joke was a mistake and tried walking up to you, but you backed away again. “I’m sorry. I promise, there is no dungeon.”

“So where are the other girls?”

“You are the only one. They haven’t brought any other girls yet.”

“Who are they?” you took another step back. Quickly looking at your nearby surroundings you spotted a shovel that was leaning against the wall of the Homestead. You grabbed it and pointed it at Newt, who now took his turn to back away. The swing that you had made previously was also really close to hitting him square in the face.“Hey hey hey, (Y/N) please, calm down.” he put his hands up in surrender. “We don’t know who they are either. We call them the Creators, because we assume that they created the place. They bring us and some other supplies here, and that is all we know. There is nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about? I just came up here in a freaking box, with no memory whatsoever. Now I’m stuck here in some weird concrete prison farm with dozens of boys! Not to mention you were just talking about a sex dungeon! I don’t think so..Get away from me!” Another boy tried to come up to you and grab the shovel. You swung with it and almost hit him straight in the face.

‘Joking, I was only joking. And nobody said anything about a sex dungeon.”

“So for what other purpose would you have girls locked up in a dungeon, huh?”

“Good point,” Newt agreed, laughing at your cleverness, “But there is no dungeon. You are safe! I promise.” The look in his eyes made you believe it. It made his words sound genuine. You lowered the shovel. Newt let a deep breath of relief out. You apologised to the kid you almost hit in the face.

“It’s ok.” he said and walked away, still a bit wanky. You were actually surprised at how easy that was. You would definitely be a bit more angry if somebody almost decapitated you with a garden tool. Not even a completely sharp one at that.

“Are you ready for the rest of the tour?” Newt asked.

“Yeah,” you walked up to him, shovel still in hand, “but I’m keeping this.”

“Of course.”

“Do you mind repeating what you said about the Homestead, I was a bit distracted the first time.” You gave him a small smile. Newt looked at you a bit unsure, but gave in after a while. He started to talk about the building and then went on about the rest of the Glade. So many question popped into your head, but every time you wanted to ask one, Newt just said: “Not now.” So you didn’t.  

“That’s about it. Now you can ask your questions.”  Newt turned around to face you. He hadn’t looked at you since the shovel incident and had just kept on walking around the “Glade” as they had called this place.

“Can I ask all of them?”

“Yes.” He assured you with a smile. “I have the whole day.”

“Good, because this will take a while.” you sat down on the grass. Newt was surprised, but sat down next to you. “First of all, what is out there?” you pointed at the opening in the walls.

“I’m not sure if I’m the right person to tell you this.” he said nervously.

“Try me, Newtie.”

“Don’t call me that.” he glared at you. For some reason you didn’t feel intimidated. You just laughed. “I just did it. There’s nothing you can do about it, Newtie. Now tell me: What is behind those walls!?”

“Fine,” he groaned, “it’s a maze. Yes a maze, as in labyrinth. As in, we have no clue how to get out.”

“How come you have no clue how to get out?  If it’s a maze, then there must be a way out.”

“It’s more complicated. You see, those walls move.” he pointed at the holes in the walls. You looked at him, then at the walls, and back at him with wide eyes. “That is not possible!”

“Well, it is. In a few minutes, those things will close and the rest of it will change. Just like every day, like clockwork.”  he looked at the walls for a moment in silence. “That is why we have the first rule: If you’re not a Runner, you must never go into the maze! Understood?”

“Clear as daylight.” you said. “Then my second question will be.. How long have you all been here?”

“Well, the first few times people got send up here was in groups. I was in the second group. Now, every month only one person emerges from down there. It’s been almost a year, I think.”

“So, in a year, you haven’t figured out how to get out of here?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Newt sighed. It was clear to you that this was a bit of a touchy subject to him, so you decided to change it.

“Alright, so...how about you introduce me to the others. I’ve had a bit enough of you today.” you laughed and Newt let out a sheepish laugh too. You got up and he walked you to what seemed like a big garden. Plants and all types of fruit and vegetables were growing all over the place.

“Here are the Track-Hoes.” Newt announced.

“Excuse me.” you couldn’t keep in the laughter. Newt apparently agreed with you as he joined your lough. It felt nice how casual everything was between you and him. You were just smiling and laughing the whole time around him. It felt like you knew him longer than only 2 hours.

“Yeah, I don’t like the name either. Trying to change it ever since I became one.”

“So, you’re a Hoe?”

“Oh shut it.”

“You got it, Newtie.” you stuck out your tongue and walked around to find some people. Finally, the first person you saw was a boy that was quite big and tall. His hair was black and his long fact and droopy eyes made it look like he was bored out of his mind.

“Hi!” you said as cheery as possible. The boy looked up from what he was doing and smiled weakly. Almost immediately going back to work.

“C’mon Zart, don’t be so sour to the Greenie.” Newt said happily to him. Zart, as you just heard, didn’t seem to be very amused. He continued to work without saying a word. You looked at Newt a bit unsure. He took your hand and pulled you away from the gardens.

“Oh nevermind him,” he said, “never been the social one. I think the Slicers are on a break right now.”

“Let’s go then. Bye Zart!” you waved enthusiastically at the boy. You could see a small laugh leave his lips, but it could have been a trick of the sun. You finally let Newt pull you away towards what he called the “Slicers”. With all the new information you had just received, you couldn’t exactly imagine what the Slicers could do. So you were disappointed to see that they were technically, just butchers.

Newt introduced you to the “Keeper” of the Slicers. A boy whose face was covered in acne walked up to you. He looked much happier than Zart. However, your smile faded.

“Glad we can finally have a proper introduction. My name is Winston.”

“(Y/N),” you shook his hand. “I’m sorry again, for you know…”

“Don’t worry about it. Worse things have happened around here.” he assured you. It made you feel better about your situation, but at the same time a bit scared at the thought of what else happened in the Glade. You decided not to ask about it. Sometimes ignorance is, in fact, bliss. This was one of those times.

“Hey Winston, where’s everybody?” Newt asked as he was looking around.

“After (Y/N) arrived, they all ran to the showers to clean up. Didn’t want you to see them covered in blood and other klunk. There is only one shank left.” he pointed towards a boy on the other side of the barn. He was busy cutting up a piece of meat. His shirt almost completely covered in blood. When he heard his name, Frankie looked up and waved at you and the boys. As he was still holding his machete it looked like a scene from a horror movie.

Have I ever seen one actually? Would I be too scared? Did I see it with anyone else?  Many questions popped up in your head with no answer. How was it possible that you couldn’t remember anything at all? It was starting to make you sick.

“I think you’ve had enough of the Slicers for to today.” Newt was about to take you away from the barn, but you stopped him.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just… uhm…” you stumbled on your words, “You know what. Let’s go. You’re right. The smell is becoming a bit too much.” you walked out of the building, leaving the boys behind. You didn’t actually mind the smell. It was the thought of having no memories that bothered you.

The fresh air hit you as you walked out. As soon as you were outside, you felt eyes on you. All the boys were looking at you. It wasn’t making anything in your situation better. Probably, only much worse. You had to get out of this place. But the only way out would be the maze. You couldn’t break the most important rule on your first day. They would probably kill you.

Then your plans were interrupted. A horrible sound filled the calm silence of the Glade. You looked up to where the sound came from. At least you tried. It seemed as if the sound came from all around the place. Once you had found the source, you wanted to slap yourself for not noticing it sooner. The openings in the walls were closing. At a speed that broke all laws of physics. You looked at it with fascination as the wheels turned and the entrances shut. The silence was back.

“You took it better than the rest.” somebody walked up behind you. It made you scream. The mysterious person laughed: “I’ll take that back.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m not used to guys creeping up at me yet. I’ll try to work on it.” the sarcastic tone from your voice was practically spilling out of you. The boy who scared you seemed to be hiding the fact that he was impressed with your answer. He looked you up and down. Not in the way that the rest had been doing. Not in the way that made you want to push his face in the pile of manure you saw nearby the gardens. He looked at you in the way how a General would look at his new recruits. Full of judgement.

“I assume you are Alby.” the boy didn’t answer. He just kept looking at you silently. You wanted to walk away, but the boy was a bit scary looking. Tall and muscular, He was clean shaven, including on top of his head. His eyes dark like the rest of his skin.

“I’m gonna go now.” you announced after a minute. There was still no response. It was very unclear to you what you were supposed to do.

“I hope Newt told you about the rules.” he finally spoke up, just as you were about to leave.

“Uhm, yeah. Never be a slacker, just do your part. Don’t hurt another Glader, and never leave the Glade.. Unless you’re a runner.”

“Good.

“Are you finally going to tell me who you are?” you asked. The boy still didn’t look like he was planning on having a longer conversation with you. But after a second he gave in: “Yeah, I’m Alby.”

“(Y/N).” you said in the same cold tone as he did.

“Tell me (Y/N), what do you think about this place?” He came up and stood next to you. The question startled you a bit. You had to look around before giving Alby ananswer. The Glade looked peaceful at the moment. The four entrances were closed, but the fields still looked large. The sun was about to set, giving the trees this glow that couldn’t be seen at any other moment in the day. The Gladers were back at work, laughing and pretending not to look at you.

“Actually rather beautiful.”

“Stick to the rules, and it will stay like this.” with this simple, but definitely threatening statement, he left you standing on the field. You followed him with your eyes. Alby walked with big steps towards the Homestead. The door of the building was open, but when he walked in, they were immediately shut by somebody already inside. The sudden bang of wood against wood startled a couple of Gladers nearby, but they soon got back to work again. Giving their almost full attention to their jobs, following rule number 2.

You didn’t know what to do. You had no idea where Newt was, and since he was the only person you knew…

“Hey, Greenie!” You turned around. A boy was jogging towards you. The black hair on his head told you that you already knew his name, but you couldn’t remember it. “Where the shuck have you been? Newt was looking all over the place for you.” he said as he stopped a few feet away from you. He had probably hurt what happened with Winston.

“I literally been here the whole time.”

“What were you doing in the middle of the empty lands?”

“Looking at the walls. Had a little chat with Alby.” you shrugged. You wanted to walk towards  the boy, but he hesitant walked backwards. You wanted to laugh at his reaction, but weren’t sure how he would react.

“You’re Minho, right?”

“Yeah,” Minho raised an eyebrow. He still looked apprehensively at you.

“Nice to meet you.” you gave him your hand to shake. Mindo ignored it and started to walk. “Yeah, whatever. Newt is looking for you.” He was already jogging away from you.

“I don’t even know where he is.” you shouted out to him. There was no answer. Minho’s attitude surprised you a little. When you were in the Box, Newt made it sound like he was his friend. You didn’t exactly know Newt, but at least you didn’t expect him to have such horrible friends. So far, the people here weren’t exactly the best. With the exception of Newt and Winston, but you had a feeling that Winston was only being nice to you, because he was scared you would hit him with a shovel again.

Locked up with dozens of boys who hate me. Absolutely fan-freaking-tastic! You shouted out mentally. Suddenly a cold breeze hit you. The smell of grass and fresh fruit went by with it. It smelled familiar, but again… you didn’t know why. Everything was wiped out. The memories you knew you had, weren’t there anymore. As if somebody robbed your brain from everything about your life.

It was horrible, you knew that. But there was no way out of it now. You had to get over it. Make new memories. There was no other option anyway.

The breeze passed. You were still standing on the same spot in the field. You must have looked a bit strange to the rest of the Gladers: just standing there, not doing anything. It didn’t bother you at all. You weren’t breaking any rules, yet.  

“There you are.” You had decided to take the matter into your own hands. Clearly the boy had some trouble finding you in the middle of an open and empty field, so it was your turn to look for him. Newt smiled at you as he saw you walk up. “I was starting to get worried.”

“Yes, I am sure it must have been really hard to find me as I was in the same place the whole time.” you rolled your eyes. It didn’t seem to bother him. His smile was still there.

“I know where you were. Just thought you wanted some time to be by yourself. At least, you looked like you needed it.”

“Oh, thanks” the heat rising in your cheeks was starting to become obvious. You walked up to Newt. He was leaning against a big tree, hiding in the shadow of it. In his hands he held a small piece of wood and a carving knife.

“What you doing there?” you asked.

“Not sure, actually.” he looked at the piece of wood. There was no real defined shape in it. “Just keeping myself busy.” you sat down next to him, also leaning against the tree. Now, it was a big tree, but not that big. To still be able to lean against, you also had to get pretty close to Newt. It didn’t seem to bother him at all. He kept on carving his little handiwork.

“So, how’s your first day going?” he asked you, still busy carving. You sighed. Not from anger, exhaustion or annoyance. It was a type of sigh that let the other know you had to think. “I’m not sure.”

“I know what you mean.” he chuckled under his breath. His effortless smile made you smile.

“I’m not sure you do. Something here feels familiar. I just don’t know what. It feels like…” you stopped for a moment, “Nevermind.” It made Newt look up from the wood and knife. He raised an eyebrow at your obscure comment.

“What do you mean?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“(Y/N),” he leaned away from the tree to turn towards you. His eyes pierced straight into yours. “I know you’ve been here for less than a day, but some people here - including me - are here for over a year. We keep telling people there is a way out, but I swear that when I tell you we have tried everything, we have tried everything. If there is a slight chance that you can remember anything, even if it is the smallest of details, you better bloody tell me.

“I uhm…” you dazed of in his eyes. Not even realising it. “It’s not exactly like that.”

‘Then what is it like?”

“I just don’t understand how I trust you already.”  it was your turn to look deep into his eyes. Your answer shook him up a bit.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s been a day, and we’ve been hanging out like we have been friends for… at least longer than that. I can’t remember a lot about myself, but I do have a feeling that being social is not my best skill.”

‘I’m sure you’re not that bad.” You appreciated Newt’s attempt on changing the subject.

“And I’m sure most of the guys here think I’m some crazy shovel bitch. Except for the pathetic introduction with Winston, Zart, Minho and Alby, you’re the only I have actually talked to.”

“Well, you’re the Greenie, I technically had to talk to you today as your guide.” he shrugged.

“But you don’t have to talk to me now, yet you still are.”

“Do you want me to stop talking to you?”

“See,” I pointed the not-so-obvious out to him, “that’s the thing. I don’t want you to stop. I don’t even know why? We barely know each other.” Newt didn’t say anything for some time after that. It was clearly written on his face that he was thinking. The soft wrinkled on his forehead were contracted and released with every other movement of his eyes. As he was thinking, he carved some more of his wood. It started to gain shape, but from your angle it wasn’t exactly distinguishable.

“What if we knew each other? Just not here.” he suggested eventually. You gave him a look of confusion, as it didn’t make any sense. “What if we knew each other before we were thrown in here?”

“Do you think that’s possible?” you asked him.

“I don’t know. It would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?” he said.

“Yeah, but then again no. Nothing about this place makes any sense.”

“I would like to say that as time goes by, it’s easier to understand,” he laughed sadly, “but, to be honest, it only gets harder.” Another silence broke out between you. This was another thing that started to make you question this whole thing. How could silence around complete strangers be comfortable? Newt didn’t feel like a stranger. On the contrary, he felt as the exact opposite. It just happened to be that you didn’t know what “that opposite” exactly was.

“Here,” Newt handed you the little piece of wood. You examined it quickly: the shapes were rough. Rustic, as some would call it. It made it bit harder to find a shape in it, however after a while you got it.

“It looks like a cat.” you laughed.

“Thank you!” Newt clapped his hands together, “I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

“It’s cute.” with a sheepish smile, you wanted to give it back. Newt pushed your hand back and started to refuse: “No, no, no. Keep it. I have a feeling you were a cat person before this place.”

“No idea.” you shrugged and took the small cat back. You looked at it once again. It also looked familiar. Some kind of deja vu was forming around it. As if you had gotten it once before. You looked up from the kitten to the boy next to you. “Have you been doing this long?”

“I started when I got here. I have no idea if I had done it before I got here.”

“How good were you when you carved your first one?”

“I never thought about that,” he looked at you and at the wooden cat in your hand, “it was just something I could do. I guess I must have done it before then.” without another word he leaned back against the tree, looking up at the sky that was becoming darker and darker by the minute. There was no worry in his head. Even with all those crazy things around you. You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to calm down. Was it more than just deja vu?

[readbookywooks]

With one last violent effort, Ben was finally able to twist his neck in the circle of leather so that his whole body turned to face the Gladers. Thomas couldn’t believe he was still looking upon a human being—the madness in Ben’s eyes, the phlegm flying from his mouth, the pale skin stretched taut across his veins and bones. He looked as alien as anything Thomas could imagine.

“Hold!” Alby shouted.

Ben screamed then, without pause, a sound so piercing that Thomas covered his ears. It was a bestial, lunatic cry, surely ripping the boy’s vocal cords to shreds. At the last second, the front Keeper somehow loosened the larger pole from the piece attached to Ben and yanked it back into the Glade, leaving the boy to his Banishment. Ben’s final screams were cut off when the walls closed with a terrible boom.

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and was surprised to feel tears trickling down his cheeks.

CHAPTER 15

For the second night in a row, Thomas went to bed with the haunted image of Ben’s face burned into his mind, tormenting him. How different would things be right now if it weren’t for that one boy? Thomas could almost convince himself he’d be completely content, happy and excited to learn his new life, aim for his goal of being a Runner. Almost. Deep down he knew that Ben was only part of his many problems.

But now he was gone, Banished to the world of the Grievers, taken to wherever they took their prey, victim to whatever was done there. Though he had plenty of reasons to despise Ben, he mostly felt sorry for him.

Thomas couldn’t imagine going out that way, but based on Ben’s last moments, psychotically thrashing and spitting and screaming, he no longer doubted the importance of the Glade rule that no one should enter the Maze except Runners, and then only during the day. Somehow Ben had already been stung once, which meant he knew better than perhaps anyone just exactly what lay in store for him.

That poor guy, he thought. That poor, poor guy.

Thomas shuddered and rolled over on his side. The more he thought about it, being a Runner didn’t sound like such a great idea. But, inexplicably, it still called to him.

The next morning, dawn had barely touched the sky before the working sounds of the Glade wakened Thomas from the deepest slumber since he’d arrived. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake the heavy grogginess. Giving up, he lay back down, hoping no one would bother him.

It didn’t last a minute.

Someone tapped his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see Newt staring down at him. What now? he thought.

“Get up, ya lug.”

“Yeah, good morning to you, too. What time is it?”

“Seven o’clock, Greenie,” Newt said with a mocking smile. “Figured I’d let ya sleep in after such a rough couple days.”

Thomas rolled into a sitting position, hating that he couldn’t just lie there for another few hours. “Sleep in? What are you guys, a bunch of farmers?” Farmers—how did he remember so much about them? Once again his memory wipe baffled him.

“Uh … yeah, now that ya mention it.” Newt plopped down beside Thomas and folded his legs up under himself. He sat quietly for a few moments, looking out at all the hustle-bustle starting to whip up across the Glade. “Gonna put ya with the Track-hoes today, Greenie. See if that suits your fancy more than slicin’ up bloody piggies and such.”

Thomas was sick of being treated like a baby. “Aren’t you supposed to quit calling me that?”

“What, bloody piggies?”

Thomas forced a laugh and shook his head. “No, Greenie. I’m not really the newest Newbie anymore, right? The girl in the coma is. Call her Greenie—my name’s Thomas.” Thoughts of the girl crashed around his mind, made him remember the connection he felt. A sadness washed over him, as if he missed her, wanted to see her. That doesn’t make sense, he thought. I don’t even know her name.

Newt leaned back, eyebrows raised. “Burn me—you grew some right nice-sized eggs over night, now didn’t ya?”

Thomas ignored him and moved on. “What’s a Track-hoe?”

“It’s what we call the guys workin’ their butts off in the Gardens—tilling, weeding, planting and such.”

Thomas nodded in that direction. “Who’s the Keeper?”

“Zart. Nice guy, s’long as you don’t sluff on the job, that is. He’s the big one that stood in front last night.”

Thomas didn’t say anything to that, hoping that somehow he could go through the entire day without talking about Ben and the Banishment. The subject only made him sick and guilty, so he moved on to something else. “So why’d you come wake me up?”

“What, don’t like seein’ my face first thing on the wake-up?”

“Not especially. So—” But before he could finish his sentence the rumble of the walls opening for the day cut him off. He looked toward the East Door, almost expecting to see Ben standing there on the other side. Instead, he saw Minho stretching. Then Thomas watched as he walked over and picked something up.

It was the section of pole with the leather collar attached to it. Minho seemed to think nothing of it, throwing it to one of the other Runners, who went and put it back in the tool shed near the Gardens.

Thomas turned back to Newt, confused. How could Minho act so nonchalant about it all? “What the—”

“Only seen three Banishments, Tommy. All as nasty as the one you peeped on last night. But every buggin’ time, the Grievers leave the collar on our doorstep. Gives me the willies like nothin’ else.”

Thomas had to agree. “What do they do with people when they catch them?” Did he really want to know?

Newt just shrugged, his indifference not very convincing. More likely he didn’t want to talk about it.

“So tell me about the Runners,” Thomas said suddenly. The words seemed to pop out of nowhere. But he remained still, despite an odd urge to apologize and change the subject; he wanted to know everything about them. Even after what he’d seen last night, even after witnessing the Griever through the window, he wanted to know. The pull to know was strong, and he didn’t quite understand why. Becoming a Runner just felt like something he was born to do.

Newt had paused, looking confused. “The Runners? Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Newt gave him a suspicious look. “Best of the best, those guys. Have to be. Everything depends on them.” He picked up a loose rock and tossed it, watching it absently as it bounced to a stop.

“Why aren’t you one?”

Newt’s gaze returned to Thomas, sharply. “Was till I hurt my leg few months back. Hasn’t been the bloody same since.” He reached down and rubbed his right ankle absently, a brief look of pain flashing across his face. The look made Thomas think it was more from the memory, not any actual physical pain he still felt.

“How’d you do it?” Thomas asked, thinking the more he could get Newt to talk, the more he’d learn.

“Runnin’ from the buggin’ Grievers, what else? Almost got me.” He paused. “Still gives me the chills thinkin’ I might have gone through the Changing.”

The Changing. It was the one topic that Thomas thought might lead him to answers more than anything else. “What is that, anyway? What changes? Does everyone go psycho like Ben and start trying to kill people?”

“Ben was way worse than most. But I thought you wanted to talk about the Runners.” Newt’s tone warned that the conversation about the Changing was over.

This made Thomas even more curious, though he was just fine going back to the subject of Runners. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Like I said, best of the best.”

“So what do you do? Test everybody to see how fast they are?”

Newt gave Thomas a disgusted look, then groaned. “Show me some smarts, Greenie, Tommy, whatever ya like. How fast you can bloody run is only part of it. A very small part, actually.”

This piqued Thomas’s interest. “What do you mean?”

“When I say best of the best, I mean at everything. To survive the buggin’ Maze, you gotta be smart, quick, strong. Gotta be a decision maker, know the right amount of risk to take. Can’t be reckless, can’t be timid, either.” Newt straightened his legs and leaned back on his hands. “It’s bloody awful out there, ya know? I don’t miss it.”

“I thought the Grievers only came out at night.” Destiny or not, Thomas didn’t want to run into one of those things.

“Yeah, usually.”

“Then why is it so terrible out there?” What else didn’t he know about?

Newt sighed. “Pressure. Stress. Maze pattern different every day, tryin’ to picture things in your mind, tryin’ to get us out of here. Worryin’ about the bloody Maps. Worst part, you’re always scared you might not make it back. A normal maze’d be hard enough—but when it changes every night, couple of mental mistakes and you’re spendin’ the night with vicious beasts. No room or time for dummies or brats.”

Thomas frowned, not quite understanding the drive inside him, urging him on. Especially after last night. But he still felt it. Felt it all over.

“Why all the interest?” Newt asked.

Thomas hesitated, thinking, scared to say it out loud again. “I want to be a Runner.”

Newt turned and looked him in the eye. “Haven’t been here a week, shank. Little early for death wishes, don’t ya think?”

“I’m serious.” It barely made sense even to Thomas, but he felt it deeply. In fact, the desire to become a Runner was the only thing driving him on, helping him accept his predicament.

Newt didn’t break his gaze. “So am I. Forget it. No one’s ever become a Runner in their first month, much less their first week. Got a lot of provin’ to do before we’ll recommend you to the Keeper.”

Thomas stood and started folding up his sleeping gear. “Newt, I mean it. I can’t pull weeds all day—I’ll go nuts. I don’t have a clue what I did before they shipped me here in that metal box, but my gut tells me that being a Runner is what I’m supposed to do. I can do it.”

Newt still sat there, staring up at Thomas, not offering to help. “No one said you couldn’t. But give it a rest for now.”

Thomas felt a surge of impatience. “But—”

“Listen, trust me on this, Tommy. Start stompin’ around this place yappin’ about how you’re too good to work like a peasant, how you’re all nice and ready to be a Runner—you’ll make plenty of enemies. Drop it for now.”

Making enemies was the last thing Thomas wanted, but still. He decided on another direction. “Fine, I’ll talk to Minho about it.”

“Good try, ya buggin’ shank. The Gathering elects Runners, and if you think I’m tough, they’d laugh in your face.”

“For all you guys know, I could be really good at it. It’s a waste of time to make me wait.”

Newt stood to join Thomas and jabbed a finger in his face. “You listen to me, Greenie. You listenin’ all nice and pretty?”

Thomas surprisingly didn’t feel that intimidated. He rolled his eyes, but then nodded.

“You better stop this nonsense, before others hear about it. That’s not how it works around here, and our whole existence depends on things working.”

He paused, but Thomas said nothing, dreading the lecture he knew was coming.

“Order,” Newt continued. “Order. You say that bloody word over and over in your shuck head. Reason we’re all sane around here is ’cause we work our butts off and maintain order. Order’s the reason we put Ben out—can’t very well have loonies runnin’ around tryin’ to kill people, now can we? Order. Last thing we need is you screwin’ that up.”

The stubbornness washed out of Thomas. He knew it was time to shut up. “Yeah” was all he said.

Newt slapped him on the back. “Let’s make a deal.”

“What?” Thomas felt his hopes rise.

“You keep your mouth shut about it, and I’ll put you on the list of potential trainees as soon as you show some clout. Don’t keep your trap shut, and I’ll bloody make sure ya never see it happen. Deal?”

Thomas hated the idea of waiting, not knowing how long it might be. “That’s a sucky deal.”

Newt raised his eyebrows.

Thomas finally nodded. “Deal.”

“Come on, let’s get us some grub from Frypan. And hope we don’t bloody choke.”

That morning, Thomas finally met the infamous Frypan, if only from a distance. The guy was too busy trying to feed breakfast to an army of starving Gladers. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, but he had a full beard and hair sticking out all over the rest of his body, as if each follicle were trying to escape the confines of his food-smeared clothes. Didn’t seem like the most sanitary guy in the world to oversee all the cooking, Thomas thought. He made a mental note to watch out for nasty black hairs in his meals.

He and Newt had just joined Chuck for breakfast at a picnic table right outside the Kitchen when a large group of Gladers got up and ran toward the West Door, talking excitedly about something.

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked, surprising himself at how nonchalantly he said it. New developments in the Glade had just become a part of life.

Newt shrugged as he dug into his eggs. “Just seein’ off Minho and Alby—they’re going to look at the buggin’ dead Griever.”

“Hey,” Chuck said. A small piece of bacon flew out of his mouth when he spoke. “I’ve got a question about that.”