Variant | Newt

4 | den mother

Newt and I didn't say anything as we walked back to the Homestead. It was a slow walk, both of us limping; him on his crutch while I favored my uninjured leg. The painkillers Jeff had given me were working pretty well, but it was still noticeably uncomfortable to put any weight on my sliced up thigh.

A cool breeze blew through the Glade as I helped Newt up the porch steps. His hand grasped my upper arm, so I assumed he noticed goosebumps materialized on my skin thanks to the breeze.

"The Creators really did me dirty with these clothes, huh?" I muttered, chuckling a bit.

"What do you mean? You look good," Newt replied as-a-matter-of-factly. Suddenly, almost as soon as he finished his statement, he notices the goosebumps on my skin. "Oh, right- the, the cold."

"Right, the cold," I agreed, hiding my blush.

He thinks I look good. I couldn't hide my proud smile as his simple compliment replayed in my mind.

"There's extra clothes in those crates—" Newt lead me into a small room off the main hall of the Homestead. The room, which was more like a closet, had crates and shelves lining the walls, making it even more cramped. It was horribly organized, with messy piles of clothes thrown into random crates. Other supplies laid thrown about, still with no organization.

"You guys just... toss stuff in here?" I questioned, lightly kicking away a random boot out of my path. "Where'd you get all this stuff, anyways?"

Newt sighed, picking up a belt and examining it before tossing it to the side. "The Creators send us the supplies in the Box, 'bout every two week. Every other time the Box comes up, there's a new greenie."

It was interesting to me, what these Creators decided to give the boys versus what the expected them to make themselves: clearly, optimal clothing was freely given, even if the clothes were pretty basic. The Gladers had pretty good shoes too, I had noticed - either combat boots or running sneakers. The boys were expected to farm and provide their own food, but meats - animals - were sent up within the Box as well, making sure they had adequate sources of protein.

"It's kinda weird, don't you think?" I thought over all the ideas swimming in my head. I was basically talking to myself, but Newt had heard me. "What's weird?"

I shrugged, turning to him with the same boot I had previously kicked away from me in my hands. "These Creators, they clearly want you guys to fend for yourselves, but yet they send clothes and food to keep you all in healthy shape."

Newt thought over my words before shaking his head. "I mean... I'd never thought of it that way."

"And your medicine—!" I continued, passion sparking within my chest. This was like one massive kidnapping case, and I wanted to break down the clues. "I don't think they want you all to die out here, in fact, I'm thinking they want you all to survive and thrive. Like you're all important enough to keep healthy and alive..."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, still thinking over the Creator's intentions for the Gladers. Newt noticed I was deep in thought and suppressed a chuckle. "Alright, Shebean, don't think too hard. You've been here for a couple'a days," he shook his head at me, amused. "Nobody expects you to crack the code within your first week."

I guess he was right, but I couldn't help as my brain grinded its gears to break down this puzzle I'd been pushed into. I didn't remember much about myself, but I could tell that I clearly liked puzzle games and understanding the psychology behind people's actions - in this specific instance, the Creators.

I pushed open a crate, struggling to hold one the top and rummage through the unorganized clothes with my still-sore shoulder. The room was cramped, but Newt joined me inside and held open the crate lid.