Good That

Newt's POV

It was a girl. More to the truth, a dead girl. Why was she here? I had been in the Glade for two years, and the new people had always been boys. Always. Plus there was the note stating she was the last one, ever. Was this a sick joke by WICKED? Those shuckfaced creators? I had many questions, but no answers. Then a light flashed in my head, and dread filled me. I remembered the med-jacks saying that she was only in a coma. "Shuck," I said outloud. What if she wakes up and MY Tommy likes her? It was an idiotic thought. We had more important things to do than wonder about who liked who. However, for a brief moment, I considered using my key to get a knife from the weapons room to make sure she stayed dead and away from Thomas. I shook my head, and the moment passed. I had no clue what to do, so I decided to make sure everyone was still doing their job. "Newt!" a voice yelled. It's Tommy. I can already tell him from that wonderful voice. I turned to look at him, filled with longing. "What so you want, Greenie?" I ask him, a small smile forming on my face. He groaned a little at that. "Why was everyone freaked out by the arrival of that girl?" Thomas asked. "Have you seen any girls here yet?" I asked him, walking so he would catch up. "Everyone was freaked out because in two years, there has never been a girl," I told him. "I understand," he said after a while. "How is she?" he asked me. Panic flared in my chest. I stopped, stared straight ahead, and kept thinking shuckshuckshuckshuckshuck. Tommy obviously liked this girl. He thinks she's prettier than me. They're gonna hook up and I will be devastated. "What's it to you, Greenie?" I asked coldly. He shrugged. "I'm not the Greenie anymore, she is," he reminded me. "She's in a coma," I replied sharply. "Oh," he said simply. "Um... Do I have to go back to killing animals? I hate hearing their cries as they die and..." Tommy trailed off. Nothing would have pleased me more than to let him walk and talk with me. "I'm sorry, but you have to go back. It's the rules," I told him. "If you don't do it, you'll get lazy, and then you'll start giving up," I explained to him. "Good that?" I looked back at him. "Yeah, good that," he replied reluctantly. His sadness made me want to hug him and tell him it's okay, let him break the rules for a few hours. But I couldn't. I turned to walk. "Wait!" Tommy yelled, running. "I need to ask about the runners!" No, I thought. If he becomes a runner, Minho will take him. Too many possibilities for Thomas to choose from. Theresa, Minho, bloody hell let's add Alby, Chuck, Gally even! What with more than fifty sorta okay looking guys and one sort of stunning girl. Now that I thought of it, he deserved so much more than a broken boy like me. I stopped and turned abruptly to face him, and he almost crashed into me, about an inch away. I gasped. "Aren't you a little...close?" I asked, breathing heavily. Tommy muttered "sorry," and tried to step back, but I grabbed his arm. "Wait," I breathed, throatIily. He turned back to face me. This was a golden opportunity, and if I had learned anything in the Glade, it was to utilize opportunities like this. Life's short, and we've had our fair share of deaths here in the maze. I'll just go out and jump into the box or stay out in the maze if it doesn't work out. I leaned forward, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips to his. His lips were soft, not yet chapped like mine and any others in the Glade. I seemed to feel a special spark. At first he was shocked and tried to pull away, but then he just froze. Our ragged breathing was beautiful to my ears. He tasted like sweat and Frypan's meals, like the dust in the Glade. I remember another boy, once. A dead boy. Dean, a runner. He, too, had tasted like the glade, that time when we were drunk on that weird juice from the glade and Gally had dared him to kiss someone. Dean wasn't like Tommy, though. He was.. nice, but not like this.
Tommy was... well. I couldn't describe him. I didn't have the words, but it was beyond wonderful. And he had this special taste of vanilla and chocolate, with the smell of wood chips. Then he kissed me back, and my eyes opened in surprise. I closed my eyes again and sighed. Tommy smiled against the kiss. We stood there, kissing each other for what felt like hours, but was a few minutes at most. I moved my hands up to his face, feeling the soft skin of his face. His hands moved up my arms, raising goosebumps that prickled pleasantly. "Ahem," a voice said, laced with hatred. We broke out of the kiss breathing hard, to see who our interrupter was. Please not Alby, I begged in my mind. Alby would force us to never see each other again, I knew. But when we turned, an angry Minho greeted us. My first thought was one of confusion. Wasn't Minho supposed to be in the maze? I had seen him leaving with the other runners. His glare seemed to burn two holes through my head. My second thought? Shuck this.