A/N: SubjectA10 this is dedicated to you, gurl, for your wonderful New Year's message. Enjoy it while it lasts because Teresa's coming for ya soon ;)
Trace woke up to Newt's voice.
"Go away, Minho," he muttered, his voice groggy.
"I'll yell, Newt. I'll yell and wake the whole shucking Glade," Minho threatened.
"Just give her five m're minutes," was Newt's barely comprehensible reply.
"Okay. That's it."
There was a pause, a quiet 'no' from Newt, and the sudden lurching of a hammock near Trace.
Then, before she could register it, her own hammock tipped from under her and she was on the ground. On top of Newt.
"Ge' off me."
Trace considered just lying there for a moment longer, but she wanted to protect Newt, not suffocate him, so she scrambled to her feet, finding herself face-to-face with a very peeved-looking Minho.
"It's your first day of being a runner and you decide to spend the first few hours of it sleeping in?" Minho was very unimpressed.
"Leave her alone, Minho," Newt said, at the exact same time as Trace said:
"Wouldn't you?"
Newt shot her a glare to suggest she wasn't helping her own case and she simply shrugged. Trace was on cloud nine right now; she'd spent the night sleeping in a hammock beside the most precious little teddy bear in the entire world and was about to go all Thomas on the maze again. Life was good. Life was very good.
"Get your little butt into gear and follow me, Trace. You too, Thomas."
It was only then that Trace realised Thomas had been standing next to her the entire time. He looked a little sheepish when she jumped in fright at seeing him there.
"Yes, sir," Trace replied, saluting Minho before falling into step behind him, deciding to march after him to continue the charade. Thomas followed after her, joining her in marching in time. She liked that shank more and more with each passing second.
When Minho stopped outside a small storage closet, Trace was so entirely focussed on her marching that she ploughed straight into him. Thomas then bumped into her and all three of them fell to the ground like dominoes.
Minho sat up immediately and swivelled around to glare at Trace.
"Not my fault," she whined, before smirking as she thought of one of her iconic and terrible puns. "Or my fall....t."
Minho sighed. "Make one more joke like that and I'll make sure you don't come back from the maze today."
"Fine by me. I shut down the Grievers. Remember?" Trace said, with an accompanying wiggle of the eyebrow.
"Yeah, well it's a shuck shame you can't shut down your speaking capabilities as well."
Minho smirked and turned to unlock the door to the closet, and Trace glanced at Thomas, looking for some kind of back-up. Thomas just shrugged.
Apparently he only helped her out when he deemed it absolutely necessary.
Minho's torch found a box at the back of the closet, and when Trace moved closer, she saw it was filled with running shoes.
"What size do you wear?" Minho asked the two of them.
Trace and Thomas exchanged a look, realising neither of them knew the answer to that question. They each removed a shoe and looked inside to find out.
YOU ARE READING
Subject A250: The Fangirl (COMPLETED)
Fanfiction--Book one in the Subject A250 series-- She's read the books. She's seen the movies. She knows all there is to know about the storyline. Except for her role in it.
