Labyrinth Runner

Chapter 23 (Newt)

I am not going to be recommending any books today, because I wanted to fill the media slot with this picture of Logan Lerman. I don't think much of Logan Lerman. I just saw him as a guy too old to play the most awesome demigod ever (Percy Jackson, if you're too absorbed with Leo to know the truth). But after I saw this picture of him... I love him now. Here's something you should know about me: I see a book in someone's hand and I immediately think "OOO, MY BRETHEN!YOURE MY NEW BEST FRIEND!!". Same concept. This picture more so, because I can relate to everything about him in this picture... smudged nerdy glasses, book in hand, a dear trapped in headlights look of bewilderment. So you can't scream at me, I see Logan Lerman as worthy of my praise.

●○ DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN PERCY JACKSON OR THE MAZE RUNNER ●○

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● NEWT #23 ●

I stood disbelieving as Annabeth's head bounced on the floor as she fell unconscious. Was she shucking serious? I dropped all the things I was carrying, trying to focus on the tonnes of information that assaulted my unprepared brain.

I slapped my feet loudly against the floor, in a feeble effort to wake her up, alert others and make sure that I wasn't imagining the scene before me.  But the sound produced satisfying bangs for no one but me.

I crouched before her, careful not to step on her.  I drew her dirty hair away from her face (her hair was looking like one dreadlock). Her face was blotched red, her nose looked broken and swollen, a horrible over exaggeration of a runny nose. The bits of her face that weren't blotchy were so pale that you could see the blue veins pulsing beneath her skin. She looked a lot worse than when I had last seen her few hours ago - not that that comparison meant anything.  I could see that she had gone through worse than what she just went through in the Slammer. You could see it in her straight shoulders and set jaw - she had bigger problems, but you were still a problem.

The footsteps that followed mine were nearer and becoming faster until they halted to a stop outside the Slammer. Clint tumbled in, followed by Jeff. All the confused boys started piling into the small cell, sweating bodies pressing against my back and crowding my head.  Claustrophobia closed its fist around my neck, making it hard to breath.

I started to worry about Bethie's health, and at the very least, the smell of festering feet hitting her straight in her broken nose.

I lifted my hands above my head, trying to make passage for my hands, trying to break through the cluttering swell of eager teenager boys. I straightened my legs slowly, fighting for balance so I wouldn't topple forward as people pushed and shoved behind me, trying to get a glimpse at the first girl they had ever seen in their remembered lives.

The murmurs and crude comments were alternatively shouted and whispered - about how she looked speculation about where she was from and about who called dibs. My lungs and brain tightened as claustrophobia beat me into a panic.