"Are you gonna call me Mr. Lizard from now?"
"Of course."
[Book One of The Adelaide Duncan Series]
HIGHEST RANKINGS~
#79 in mazerunnerfanfiction
#1 in maze-runner
#1 in dashnerarmy
#1 in wickedisgood
#1 in jamesdashner
#7 in adelaide
#8 in devasta...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ADELAIDE
Breakfast time. This time I hold out my pinky for Newt instead of other way round. He gives a toothy grin and I chuckle.
The dining hall is almost empty. Only the Runners and the Cooks are awake. Frypan hands us toast and soup. I sit beside Newt, talking about anything and everything, when Stan and Minho sit front of me. Chuck is still asleep.
" Hey Stan" I greet him.
"Good morning, Adelaide." he says. I smile and go back to my food.
"Hey, Ally." Minho smiles raising his hand in front of him in a fist. I completely ignore him, not even looking up, as he frowns. He lowers his hand. I hear Newt snort lowly beside me and disguise it as a cough.
"Come on, Ally. How long are you gonna keep up with this?." Minho wails.
I look at both Newt and Stan. "Did you guys say something?"
Minho groans. "Cut the klunk. You shucking forgave the slinthead." He points at Newt. "What's a man gotta do for you to forgive me?"
"Apologize. Ever heard of that?" Newt says, smirking. Minho glares at the boy.
"Help me out here." He looks at Stan. Stan raises his hands in surrender. " Keep me out of this mess."
Minho sighs. "How about in tomorrow's Gathering...... I'll .....nominate you as a Runner?"
I pretend to look shocked. "Minho! Didn't see you there. Where you've been?"
"Whatever... You little shank." He mumbles but I can see that little chuckle.
I am looking out to the Glade through the little window in the Med-jack room. The Glade is running smoothly, everyone working as they should. I can see Newt's small figure drinking water from his bottle before going back to ploughing. I am basically doing nothing else other than wait for a patient.I turn to the table top to keep away the medical rations supplied by the fucking Creators.
Three dozens bottles of pain killers, a dozen bottles of sleeping meds, bottles of liquid antiseptic, files of ibuprofen and fever and pills for upset stomach. Bunch of bandages and cotton, antiseptic cream, burn creams and four tiny tubes of sea blue liquid.
All of them securely packed in a small tube holder. The tube have W.C.K.D stamped on them. Like everything else.
I pick up the small tube holder and take out one of the small tubes. I turn the tube around and the liquid swished, finding a faint familiarity in the coldness of the tube in my fingers.
