Different | The Maze Runner / Newt ¹ ✓

{1.2}

Disclaimer:

I don't own The Maze Runner, but is this gonna go on for much longer? Cuz I have a basket of jalepeño poppers that are getting cold.

-✼-

"So what's the latest on that girl from yesterday?"

Thomas tried to make the question sound casual, but as soon as the words left his mouth I knew he was up to something.

"Still in a coma, sleepin'," Newt answered. "Med-jacks are spoon-feeding her whatever soups Frypan can cook up, checking her vitals and such. She seems okay, just dead to the world for now."

"That was just plain weird."

I agreed with a nod of my head, but part of me found it strange that we had gotten attacked yesterday by some maniac telling Thomas "this was all his fault" and shouting at me that I could've stopped him, and all he was worried about was the girl.

And then it dawned on me. Thomas liked her.

It was kind of weird when I actually thought about it, how the girl was half-dead and Thomas had the hots for her. Whatever. Boys were abnormal creatures.

"Yeah," Newt said with an amused tone. "Weird's as good as any, I 'spect."

As strange as it sounded, I just really wanted to do these jobs. I needed them done and over with. "So, what's first? Milking cows or slicing some poor pigs?"

Newt laughed. "We always make the Newbies start with the bloody Slicers, but to make this job go faster we're havin' Dylan start with Zart in the fields."

"Hey, no fair!" Thomas protested like a five-year-old. "How come I get to slaughter animals and she gets to prance around with vegetables?"

Newt smirked. "All in a day's work, Tommy."

Tommy? What was it with Newt and nicknames? And here I thought I was special with him calling me Dyl.

"Winston's over there." Newt pointed to the barn. "Dyl, you go towards the gardens and whatnot. Zart'll tell you what to do."

I nodded and took off toward the direction Newt sent me in. At least this job wasn't that bad. I mean, how hard could picking vegetables be?

I soon got my answer. Two hours later, my back was aching badly from bending over and I was covered in earth. So much for taking a shower that morning.

Suddenly, I heard someone shout, "Zart!"

I turned to see Newt stalking toward us, the angriest of angry looks on his face. Straightening up, I was about to joke, "Was I really that bad?" but Newt grabbed my wrist, surprising me.

"Take off those gardening gloves," he commanded a bit harshly, eyes hard. "You won't be needing them anymore."

"What's wrong, Newt?" Zart asked, concerned. He stood up straight.

"Nothing." Newt was lying. "Just here to tell you that Dylan won't be working in the fields ever again."

And with that, he dragged me off, leaving both me and Zart very confused. I barely had time to toss my gardening gloves to him before I was taken away.

"Newt, what was that all about?" I asked as I walked alongside him.

"You're not going to work there." Newt was almost growling and it kind of scared me. He finally released my wrist and I rubbed the red spot that was left on my skin.

"Why not?" I asked defensively. "Maybe I liked that job."

"Yeah, and the other Gladers liked it too," Newt muttered darkly. I didn't think I was meant to hear that, but I did, and now I was curious.

"What do you-"

I stopped because it clicked. Two hours I was working with Zart. Two hours I was bending over.

Which meant for two hours anyone who was standing remotely close to the fields could look at my butt.

Oh.

"Yeah, let's not do that.." I trailed off, feeling embarrassed. My cheeks flamed.

"It's not only that," Newt sighed, seeing that I understood what he meant. "It's the bloody name. Do you know what Zart is?"

"No?" I replied, still confused.

"He's a Track-hoe," Newt informed me. "Zart and all the people who work for him are Track-hoes, and I'm not letting you be one of them because the Gladers might shorten it and I'm not going to put you through the embarrassment. You are not being a Track-hoe, and that's that."

I was completely and utterly shocked. Newt was so protective you would think we knew each other for three years, not three days. Not that I was complaining or anything.

"I was having fun," I muttered, my head low.

"Yeah, and I'm sure those other Gladers were having a real fun time seeing you 'bend over and pickin' them crops.'"

I was shocked that he had remembered that. But I also felt the embarrassment wash up and my cheeks started to overheat and flush even darker. Newt sure knew how to not only get to the point, but make sure I'd remember it.

"I'll be right back," Newt told me. "I'm gonna go tell Alby about your results for today."

I nodded and watched as he limped off. I saw Thomas over by the Box and started toward him, jogging so I could catch up.

"Hey, Dylan," he greeted. "How was your day in the fields?"

I sighed. "Great. At least I thought so. But apparently male hormones had to ruin that because eighty percent of the Gladers were staring at my butt the whole time."

Thomas didn't reply and I could tell I had made him uncomfortable. He averted his gaze to the ground and pursed his lips. "Oh. Well, sorry about that."

I shrugged. "It happened, so I guess I'm not gonna be a Track-hoe."

Thomas snorted with laughter and I glared at him. He cracked a smile and when he looked up at my face he only laughed harder. My eyes narrowed and he held his stomach. In one swift motion I stomped on his foot as hard as I could, and, needless to say, that shut him up pretty well. Thomas, instead of laughing, gasped in pain and started coughing. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Sorry," he apologized with a cringe, holding his injured foot. "It's just funny — the name, that is -—but I'm glad you didn't get the job. You would've been set up for a whole lot of teasing."

"That's what Newt said." I was about to continue when I noticed someone coming in from the West Door. As they got closer to the Glade, I recognized them as Minho, but he was way too early. Why was he coming back now?

As soon as he got into the Glade, Minho bent over and put his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He looked like he had just run for miles; his forehead was dripping with sweat and his whole face was red, his clothes soaked.

"Minho?" I asked, walking hesitantly toward him. Thomas was frozen, mesmerized. I wondered if he'd ever seen a Runner up close before.

Then, just as I was about to reach him, Minho collapsed to the ground.

gif is dylan's reaction to newt talking to her about the boys staring at her butt lmao

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(yes my disclaimer is another scene from tmpgis. fight me.)

ew, this one is pretty short, sorry! but omg MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!! if you know me well you understand my adoration for christmas. i fricken love it.

and if you don't celebrate christmas, have a great week, and a wonderful rest of the year.

-kristyn

edit: THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT WTF