In Dreams We Drown

4- The Bonfire

Beth

Alby had pushed me towards the fire and wandered off into the night, leaving me awkwardly standing by the flames. He probably wanted to go and catch up with some friends, but I couldn't help feeling slightly resentful towards the boy for leaving me alone. I quickly looked around but each group of boys seemed more intimidating than the last, and all were too consumed by their conversations and friendly antics to have noticed me at all. Rather than awkwardly approach a group, I chose to move closer to the flames and stand in their heat. As I watched the flames flicker playfully, I mulled over everything I had learnt, trying to simplify the overwhelming information down to its bare essentials.

Firstly, I was trapped here. Wherever here actually was... Beyond the walls of the Glade, beyond the Maze that Alby seemed so scared of, was a black hole. I couldn't remember a single thing about the outside world. General knowledge like geography and history came easily enough, but anything specific to my circumstances was a blank. That brought me to my second focus. My memory loss. I'd already established it was purposeful; it was too specific to be coincidental. But the differentiation between retained knowledge and lost memories... However we lost our memories, it must have been a sophisticated bit of technology. The last thing I forced myself to ponder was the routine of it all. Alby and Newt had both said that every Glader came up in the Box, once a month. Until today, it had always been a teenage boy. Perhaps my arrival was a sign that the routine was changing...

"Beth!" I jumped at the sound of my name, and turned to see Newt waving at me from across the fire. He gestured for me to join his group, made up of a few Gladers I recognised from the meeting. Deciding that it would be rude to refuse to offer of company, I walked around the flames to where Newt and his friends were standing. As I moved, I noticed some of the other boys subtly looking my way, like they wanted to stare but were trying not to. I supposed that was an improvement to the blatant gawking I'd received on my arrival.

Arriving at the group, Newt moved as if to hug me but clearly decided better of it and rests his hand gently on my shoulder. It was the closest thing I'd had to comforting physical contact in... well, in as long as I could remember. Rather than making me feel closer to Newt, the stark fact simply made me feel miserable.

"You doing okay, shebean? Alby's tour not messed with your head too much?" I couldn't bring myself to say anything, so settled for a reassuring smile to tell Newt I hadn't quite lost my mind. A subtle cough came from beside Newt, grabbing both of our attention. It was the Glader that had been sat next to Newt during the Gathering. He gave Newt a pointed look, and glanced back at me.

"Right. Beth, I'd like to introduce you to some of the finest Gladers we have to offer. This is Minho." He put an arm over the shoulder of his friend and patted Minho's chest fondly. Minho shook him off and smiled slightly at me, sending me a nod that I took to be some form of masculine welcome.

"Hi." I smiled at Minho. If I was going to be stuck here, I might as well try making some friends.

"Minho is the Keeper of the Runners." Newt told me, and this peaked my interest.

"You run the Maze?"

"Every day, shebean. Every shucking day." I decided Minho was a difficult character to judge, as I was unable to work out if he was boasting about the importance of his job, or bitterly complaining about it.

"This is Winston, Keeper of the Slicers." I recognised him as the boy who had stood to address me in the Gathering, the one who asked the stupid question about why I'd run away. I decided to reserve judgement on him. "And this is Frypan, Keeper of the Cooks." Before I could question the odd name, I felt myself being engulfed in a tight hug. It seemed Frypan was friendly.