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EVERYONE TOOK THE DAY OFF. Samson sat with Gally and the Greenie in the Homestead and watched the Greenie pick at the food he'd been given with his fork. None of them had dared to say anything since they'd sat down, even though there was so much that Samson wanted to say.
He'd only known Nick for a month. He didn't understand why he was taking his death so hard, harder than most of the Gladers it seemed, if he'd only known him for a month. Despite how little time they had together, it seemed that out of all of the Gladers, it was Nick who had left the greatest impact on his heart. The way he made circumstances seem better than they were. The way he'd always tried to make him feel included and happy. Nick had been his friend, one of his only friends, one of his first friends in the Glade. And now he was gone.
He'd been the perfect leader for the Gladers. He was a good role model. He gave them the right amount of hope and respect--and everyone respected him. He didn't deserve to die.
Samson suddenly slammed his fists against the table in front of him. The Greenie's plate shook and he dropped his fork, blinking back at Samson fearfully.
"Sam," Gally began, lifting his head toward him.
"Don't," Samson shot back through gritted teeth, his fists shaking so hard he expected them to crack open. He wanted to unleash the anger that coursed through his veins. He wanted to hit something, or someone. But Samson held back, swallowing the lump in his throat. He avoided Gally's gaze as he watched him like a hawk, seemingly waiting for his next move.
He knew that Gally was only doing it because he didn't want Samson to scare the Greenie anymore than he already had. But the truth was, Samson was afraid too. Nick hadn't just slipped and fallen to his death. He'd heard noises, strange whirring and slicing sounds. Something or someone had murdered Nick. Samson suddenly remembered the creatures Gally had told him about; the monsters that lived in the Maze. Grievers, they were called. Perhaps they lived down in the Box hole, too. This only made him more afraid, and with Nick gone and another possible way out crossed off the list, he was beginning to lose hope. He felt more lost and afraid than ever, just like he had on his first day.
Remembering his first day reminded him of the Greenie again. Samson couldn't even imagine what he was going through, having to watch someone die in his first few minutes in the Glade.
Samson shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He lifted his head to look at the Greenie, who was looking solemnly out of the window above the table.
"What's your name?" Samson asked, adjusting his posture in the hopes that he appeared more approachable.
The Greenie jumped, turning his attention towards Samson. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes low. "Clark," he answered, his voice raspy from all the crying he had clearly been doing.
