The Memory Trials

Chapter 36

A trail of grass trodden to a deep green follow me as I mindlessly stroll after Georgia's overly confident stride, "You'll be fine, I sent Minho to talk to him already" She calls backward, I nod my head absently while my mind drifts hopefully to another place, in front of dancing flames next to one of my favorite people. Even though this moment was my reality only hours earlier, it now sounds wilder than my craziest dreams.

"Marie, are you listening to me?" Georgia calls behind her, half turning her head while continuing her long strides.

"Of course" I mumble and walk twice as fast to keep up.

"Good, you had better be paying attention, in fact, you should be taking notes. So, continuing what I was saying before, I am eighty three per- no, I am seventy two percent sure that it will all go fine, just as long as you don't bring up that time when-" her voice trails off as if she were walking into a long cave. My eyes drift back down to the energetic grass below my stomping, large feet. Every where my foot is placed, the grass, so full of life a moment before, dies as it is trodden flat to the ground. Every thing I touch withers and dies. Just as my mind drifts down a particularly dark train of thought, a blur of white stands out against the wet grass like the protruding crack of lightning on a still night. I stop a moment too late and when the unknown object is nowhere to be found, I make the unfortunate decision to look for it at the bottom of my tattered shoe, but it was not there either, it remained persistantly rooted to the ground. It was a daisy, a rare treasure to find in the harsh ground of the glade, which always seems to be flooding or in drought these days. The trackhoes really should take better care of it.

I decide that I like this flower, I like it's persistantness and resilience. I pluck the flower out of it's comfortable spot on the ground and tuck it into the hole where my top button should fit into right next to my heart, for reasons unknown. I guess I'm just getting old and sentimental.

"For Merlins sake, Marie! What the klunk are you doing!?" Georgia's impatient voice snaps me to attention. I stare at Georgia, who is now 20 steps ahead of me due to my distraction. She glares at me, which makes me trip over my own feet in a desperate attempt to apologize, seeing as she's about to blow her top off. In my pride-less scramble to save my own life, I finally begin to understand Minho.

As we near the gathering hall, Georgia places her hand on the curve of my back and roughly pushes me through the open rotted wooden door while my feet trip over themselves and slams the heavy door behind me. The door eagerly rushes back to its closed position with a bang and I am isolated in the large room.

My eyes adjust to the familiar surroundings in the dim room. Pools of light form on the ground in criss-cross patterns through the 'fly screen' the builders had attempted to make (it always looked more like a hole in the wall to me), the worn benches us gladers sit on in gatherings, Newt, the scuffled dirt floor worn down mainly from the boys jumping up and down in tantrums when they can't get their way, the-

Oh.

"Hey, Newt" I say to him across the room, feeling sort of stupid after stumbling into the room like an elephant down a hill.

"Hey" He says back, with his hands in his pockets, we almost have to yell, we're so far apart. He's on one side of the room and I'm on the other, but neither of us dare take a step closer in petrifying fear that the other will take a step back.

Awkward silence fills the air like a heavy fog, it's so thick I can barely breath through it. I scratch at a scab on my hand and begin pondering how and when I got it, and then how I hadn't even noticed it until now, when Newt saves me from my boredom.

"What's that" he asks with a gesture of his head. Not exactly the kind of conversation starter I was hoping for, what does that even mean? He nods his head and I'm supposed to know what he's talking about now?