Sapphire Stones

Hydrate before you diedrate!!

I spend the next few hours in the garden with Newt, doing everything I can to annoy him. It's funny to see that one vein in his forehead pop when he gets mad about something.

"Shouldn't you be in the Medjack hut?" Newt snaps, cutting my rant about why dogs are better than cats short.

"First of all, rude. I was on a roll there with my argument! Second of all, Clint and Jeff said that they'd come get me if they needed my help, but they told me to take the day off. Something to do with not wanting me to overwork myself, I think." I shrug, picking blades of grass out of the ground.

"Wonderful." The blonde grumbles, wiping sweat off his forehead as he continues planting seeds.

"I know! Anyways, I think I'm gonna go to the woods for a bit. Y'know, get that good ol' peace and quiet."

Newt doesn't respond, clearly too preoccupied with his plants to care.

"See ya, Newton! Make sure to hydrate! You wouldn't wanna diedrate!" I shout, saluting Newt. I see the blonde roll his eyes before I turn around.

I run to my hut, grabbing my poetry journal before running into the woods and scaling my tree.

"Knock, knock." Someone says after a few minutes, approaching my tree. I look down to see Gally leaning against a tree across from me, his arms and legs crossed. 

"Who's there?" I call down, raising an eyebrow. He's silent for a second, his eyebrows furrowed together. "Didn't think that far, did ya Galpal?"

"Not at all." He replies with a grin. I'm literally doing everything in my power to not let my eyes wander to his bare chest, torso, and arms. Him leaning on the tree doesn't help either due to the fact that it just makes his muscles pop out even more.

I need serious help...

"So, can I come up?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why the hell not?" I shrug. I lean back against a thick branch as Gally begins the climb. It usually takes him a while to climb, so I open my journal and start writing.

"God, I hate this thing!" He gasps.

"Hey, you made it in record time!" I say as Gally collapses in gasps on the opposite side of me. He flips me off, earning a laugh from me before I look back at my journal.

"Writing again?" He asks, beginning to catch his breath.

"No, plotting world revenge. Wanna join? You could be my partner in crime." He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck before sitting in a more comfortable position.

"With all my heart." He replies.

"Perfect. I'm thinking we'll start with Tate and then go from there."

"Whatever you want. I'm just here to help." A silence passes between us before he asks, "Can I hear it?"

I look up at him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think, Wonder Boy?"

"Yes?" He asks, a smile forming on his face.

"Think again." I reply.

"Well then can I write one?" He asks, causing me to smile. I flip to the back of my journal and hand it to him, scooting over so I'm a little closer. I let my legs dangle off the side of the tree as I hand Gally the pen.

"Knock yourself out." He stays silent for a few minutes and I swear I can see the gears in his brain spinning like crazy to think of something to write.

"I got nothin'." He says, throwing his hands in the air with a loud sigh.

"Well think of a topic. Do you want it to be happy or sad?"

"I don't know." He mutters, staring at the paper. "Roses are red, violets are bl-"

"No. Anything but that." I say with a laugh. 

"Well then I'm outta ideas. I don't know how the hell you do this all the time."

"It's not that difficult when you practice. Plus, I have more of a passion for it than you do. I don't know how the hell you build things, but that's what you like. It's one of your talents." I shrug. Gally looks over at me, studying me for a second before turning to his paper and beginning to scribble something down. "What're you writing?" 

"I'm not." He replies, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth slightly. He looks so concentrated.

"What are you doing then?" I ask, laughing a little.

"Nunya." Gally replies, leaning against the tree and continuing to scribble. I try to peer over the paper, but he just moves it so that I can't see anything.

"What is it?" I say through another laugh.

"I already told you." He says, looking up at me, a twinkle in his eyes. "Nunya."

"You're ridiculous." I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"You love it." He replies. I feel my face heat up, so I look away from him. I aim my gaze over at the main area of the Glade, watching the Gladers work. 

We sit in a comfortable silence; me staring at the boys working and Gally scribbling on his paper. I hear the pen stop, so I turn around only to find Gally staring at me.

"What?" I ask nervously, fiddling with my fingers. He shakes his head, snapping out of his daze.

"Sorry. I uh, I got distracted." He mutters, starting to scribble on his paper again.

"You almost done over there?" I ask, scooting closer to him so that we're mere inches apart. I peer over the paper again, catching just a glimpse of a face before he rips the paper away. "You draw?!" I shout, reaching over and ripping the journal away.

Gally's face turns red as I study the sketch.

"Wow..." I breathe, my voice trailing off. "It's beautiful."

I hand the journal back to him, looking up so that our eyes meet.

"Who is it?" I ask, tilting my head slightly.

"No one." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's no one."

"Who's your favorite artist? Music wise, I mean." I ask, swinging my legs back and forth slightly. Gally looks up, scratching a spot on his nose.

"I don't remember many. Who's yours?"

"I like Queen a lot. David Bowie's good too. Oh, and Nirvana! Pearl Jam and Pink Floyd are amazing. So are The Smiths and Taylor Swift. Michael Jackson's really good even though he was a pedo. Violent Femmes and Guns N' Roses are great. Arctic Monkeys too!" I look over. He looks absolutely lost. "Sorry for rambling." I mutter, rubbing my arm.

"No, it's okay. I like hearing you talk. I just don't remember them." He replies.

"I know you don't. I'd say you're more Arctic Monkeys and The Smiths coded. Maybe a little David Bowie and Pink Floyd, but mostly Arctic Monkeys and The Smiths."

"Who the hell are the Arctic Monkeys and The Smiths?" He asks, his eyebrows knit together.

"Two really fucking good bands, idiot. So are all the other people I listed." I sigh, running a hand through my long hair. "It's a shame you don't remember them."

"I miss music."

"Me too. We need some. Maybe I'll ask the Creators to send some stuff up next Box day." I shrug.

"They won't." He replies, turning back to the journal. "They never do."

"It never hurts to try, Galpal." I mutter. He doesn't respond, so I look over at him. He's sketching again, the pen creating thin lines across the paper. He looks concentrated to the point where I know that if I ask him something, he won't respond. 

So instead, I just watch him while he sketches.