70: I'm Spying

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Dawn 70

She wakes up slowly.

Second by second I watch her eyes peel open, fluttering softly, and I can't help but feel like a klunk friend for being too busy waiting for Minho in the Deadheads to notice her screaming in the Homestead.

Literally, every single other Glader had jammed himself into that hallway as she screamed, except for me. Including all the Runners. Including Minho, and I hadn't even noticed.

She has, from what I can tell, first degree burns on her legs and stomach, and second degree burns on her hands (though Jeff and Clint argued to that point, so they are very mild). Though most of her body should heal before the next Greenie comes, her hands are going to be burned forever. Although currently they are red and blistering, Clint believes eventually they will become white flecks along her hands, not unlike freckles.

Leo will have the stars in her skin.

Frypan excused me for the day, which doesn't quite make sense to me. It's not like I have first degree burns up and down my body. I am perfectly fine, but still. He said if he were me, and Leo any of the other original Gladers, he'd want to be here waiting. I don't think he understands the complicated relationship the four of us have.

"You're here," her eyes are slits when she opens them, staring up at me. She tries to pull herself up, but winces.

"Jeff!" I call out over my shoulder, and the boy comes rushing in.

He sits down next to me, taking Leo by her elbows and helping her sit up. He quickly explains to her in flashy medical terminology which I don't understand exactly what happened to her, her upcoming treatment, and her perspective recovery time. He ignores her every time she begins to speak, and when he is finally done she races in.

"Where is Newt?" Leo asks. "Is he hurt? I've got to go thank him."

"It'll just go to his head," Clint calls out from in the doorway. "Besides, the shank is dead asleep. Has been all night."

"Is he hurt?" She pulls her feet over the edge of the bed, placing her feet on the ground. She can't manage to pull herself up though, since I imagine she is aching all over.

"Slinthead got a few burns," Jeff mutters under his breath, almost like he's ashamed. From what I understand, although I don't know what Leo remembers, Newt was the only one who went in to save her. Apparently, a few is an understatement; his hands, knees, and all up his left side are covered in first degree. At least it doesn't get much worse than that for him.

"He's fine," while Jeff is sugar-coating, a soft and nice nature, Clint cuts in, firm and direct. Although, he too lies. "He'll come see you when I tell him he can. I haven't even decided if I'm letting Alby in here yet."

"I sure feel lucky," I mutter, glancing up at Jeff.

He smiles at me, finishing adjusting the bandages on Leo's hand.

"You didn't seem keen on interrogating her," Clint remarks, adjusting his shirt. "Of course, Alby is."

"Why?" Leo seems to be honestly asking.

Jeff gives her a puzzled look, before he starts rambling, as is typical with Jeff. "So, you see, you started screaming, and Clint and I were both butt-shucking naked-"

"Jeff," Clint warns, although he doesn't protest much.

"Please, the whole shucking Glade knows exactly what we get up to, for shucks sakes almost half of them have walked in on us and if Leo hasn't noticed by now she's a shucking idiot." He snaps back, turning his attention away from Clint and back to Leo. "Anyway, you were wailing for a solid few minutes. Michelle had burns on her hands that needed tending too, consistent with trying to lift the stuff off you, but she's in the Slammer until you can corroborate her story, which I am sure you can-"

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