SIX.

trigger warning: signs of suicide

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"Ready?" I called out to the other Gladers beside me. Alby, Gally, Nick, and I all stood in a line with burning torches of wood in our hands. I could feel the warmth of the fire on my face. "After three! One, two, three!"

Our arms moved in complete synchronization and the wood landed in the bottom of our massive pile of logs and twigs. The flames spread immediately, leaping high into the navy blue sky and slamming me with the force of the heat. A smile stretched across my face as the other Gladers cheered and whooped loudly from around us.

None of us were musically gifted except for Garret, a boy with sandy blond hair, stormy grey eyes, and a square jaw. He could sing pretty well. He wrote songs in his free time when he wasn't working with the other Raisers. His voice was one of the highlights of our monthly bonfires, where he sang until his throat was raw and he could barely speak the next day.

"What's this month's song called, Garret?" Nick asked the boy of about fifteen years old. He laughed lightly and took out a few pieces of paper with writing scrawled on them.

"I named it 'Free' because that's my biggest goal: to get out of this shuck place and make the Creators sorry for what they did to us!"

"YEAH!" The majority of the Glade shouted in reply, me included. Fists pumped in the air according to the voices. A strange sensation of rebellion was filling up my chest; suddenly, all I wanted to do more than anything was personally tell the Creators to screw themselves. All of us had gone through way too much already with only a year of being in this prison-like place.

Garret smiled in reply, showing off his perfectly straight teeth. He must have had braces in the past because no one had teeth that were naturally as straight as his were. As a thirteen year old named Otto played the drums on different sized pails, Garret's voice carried out above the roaring of the flames. The song was slow at first but then slowly built rhythm until it picked up and some of the boys were goofishly dancing along in delight. It was hard not to forget all of our worries with the heat of the flames and music to lift our spirits.

Frypan was busy passing out chocolate chip cookies to everyone. Mine was quickly melting with how close I was to the fire, so I moved farther back so the chocolate wouldn't get all over my fingers. I took a bite and closed my eyes, soaking in Garret's voice, the beat of the makeshift drums, the laughter of the Gladers, and the taste of chocolate. I was almost lost in it when Minho's voice broke me out of my trance.

"Hope you're not a lightweight."

I opened my eyes to see him heading toward me with a clear, glass bottle of amber liquid in his hand. My nose immediately crinkled. It was Gally's secret recipe, and no one knew what was actually in that stuff. He refused to tell us. Nevertheless, countless people drank it anyway because it was alcohol.

"I've actually never tried that before," I admitted without shame as I eyed the bottle with contempt. I could smell the distinct scent of the beverage even from a foot away with the cork on. It burned my nose.

Minho's eyebrows raised, then quickly returned to their normal position on his face. "I would say I'm surprised, but I'm really not." He swirled the liquid around the glass container and watched as it formed a whirlpool. "You've really never even had a sip?"

"Something about drinking alcohol near a raging fire has always been a big no-no for me." I shrugged indifferently. "Besides, that stuff smells gross enough to send the bugs away."

Minho laughed so that his eyes took on the shape of crescents and dimples carved into his cheeks. "That is true, I'll give you that. But really- it's not that bad. It just burns a little. Watch."

He swiftly uncorked the bottle and downed a huge gulp that made me cringe just looking at him. Instead of spitting it out like I would have, he simply swallowed and twisted his face in such a way that made him look like he had eaten something extremely sour. Now it was my turn to laugh as he spread his arms out as if to say "ta-da!"

"Your expression alone confirms my stance," I told him before taking another bite of my cookie.

Minho shrugged. "Suit yourself." He tossed the bottle onto the grass a few feet away, where it landed in a bed of tangled weeds. "Someone'll pick that up."

We stood in silence for a few moments, watching the other boys have a contest to see who could dance the worst. Garret was having trouble with not errupting into laughter as he struggled to continue the song on-key. Frypan had given up passing out cookies and instead viewed the contest with loud, obnoxious applause after each contestant had their go.

"Shall we join?" Minho questioned, holding his hand out to me in a mock invitation. It was getting harder and harder to see clearly with the sky now an inky black. The fire illuminated everyone in a musky orange glow.

I raised my eyebrows. "You're kidding." Minho's position didn't waver. "You're not kidding. Okay, well, how am I supposed to dance when I can barely walk?"

"I can help you," he replied in a 'duh' tone. "That's what I'm for, right? We can steal the show!"

I sighed, glancing at the others who were twirling around like ballerinas in the twilight. My hand subconciously patted against my brace.

"Fine, I'll do it," I finally agreed. "But only for a little."

I cautiously accepted his mock escort and we linked our elbows together. I limped along with him to the area where most of the Gladers were having their fun with the dancing contest. Many of them began a chorus of "ohhhh's" when they saw Minho and I approaching, probably due to the fact that Minho was known for his moves. Maybe.

"How is she going to dance?" A twelve-year-old kid named Peter asked above the others' voices. Most people turned and gave him a glare.

"Peter, shut your trap and don't make ignorant comments like that," Alby chastised with a shake of his fingers. Peter averted his brown eyes to the grass in shame.

Garret finished "Free" and began a new song- one that was much more upbeat and easier to dance to. I was certain that he decided to sing it just because of our little competition, because he even sat closer to see what was going on.

The Gladers formed a large ring around Minho and I. Their eyes on me made my heart pound until my eyes were almost crossed- I hated being the dead center of attention in large crowds like this, which was ironic considering my position of leadership. I wondered if that was something Minho could work on with me.

The Runner bowed dramatically to me like we were about to participate in a fighting match or something. However, he took me by surprise by immediately crossing one leg in front of the other and doing some sort of cool spin, holding his hand out to me. Several boys whistled and began to cheer. Face burning, I took his hand and shrieked as he spun me outward away from him. I teetered on my good foot before twirling back to his side until I was crushed into his chest. My embarrassment turned into glee as this action was repeated several times.

It was challenging due to the fact that I could barely bend my injured leg, but the amount of fun I was having overshadowed the pain and discomfort that was shooting up the limb. I eventually forgot the crowd around us and just focused on Minho; he managed to make the others disappear until it was just me, him, Garret's voice, and the drums.

The most shocking part was when Minho swiftly scooped me up into his arms, holding my by my back and under my knees. My hands locked around his neck as he started to spin around so quickly that the entire Glade became a mix of color, and the force was causing me to press into his chest. I could barely hear the music over the sound of my laughter - it had been a long while since I had felt so elated - and the smile taking over Minho's face was enough to make me want to pinch myself, sure this was a dream.

When I was placed back on my feet, I wobbled and almost fell. A thousand invisible needles were stabbing my leg, making me grit my teeth. I told Minho I'd be back and that I just needed to sit down for a while.

I perched myself on top of one of the logs away from the fire. The sprinkles of sweat on my face an near my neck turned cold now that I was far from the heat of the flames. Since I couldn't bend my leg, I had to sit with my brace completely straightened out. The needles were still poking my skin with just enough pressure for it to hurt.

A person sat down next to me. I turned to see Newt, and was surprised to, because I hadn't noticed him in the ring of Gladers by the dancing competition. In fact, I hadn't seen him at all until up to this point.

"I have something for you," he said in a strangely vague voice, almost devoid of emotion. I raised my eyebrows in questioning as he produced something from his pocket. A locket was enclosed in his trembling hand, circular in shape and made of sterling silver so it couldn't rust. I felt my jaw drop; it was something he had when he came here- it was something from his past life. The pictures inside were too faded and scratched out to make out, but it was still very dear to him.

"No, Newt," I protested, shaking my head. "I can't take that."

"I want you to have it," he pressed sternly as he brought his hand closer to mine. "Take it. Now."

My eyes drifted up to meet his. They looked almost black in the lack of light, and his hair a musky orange instead of blond from the dancing firelight. The shadows beneath his bottom eyelids seemed to take over his face until all of his skin appeared to sag. I sat up a little straighter.

"Newt, are you okay?" I asked him gently, still not accepting the locket he was trying to give me. I couldn't let him give away something so special.

"I'm fine," he asserted firmly in an almost annoyed tone. "Just having trouble sleeping." His closed hand prodded my arm. "C'mon, just take it and stop asking questions."

I was taken aback because Newt never spoke to me - or anyone, really - in such an icy tone. I couldn't think of a time when he ordered someone to stop asking questions unless it was a joke. This time, I could tell he was serious.

I opened up my palm and let him drop the locket into it. The sterling silver was warm from having been in his pocket. Why hadn't he been wearing it? He usually never took it off.

But Newt pulled me into a hug before I could react any further, his thin arms wrapping around my shoulders. I returned the embrace with a slightly confused expression. Displays of affection were never usually publicly shown- it was just how things worked. Nevertheless, it was nice to hug someone, especially a close friend like Newt.

I tried to ignore how heavy my heart was and the locket that was burning a hole into my hand.

--

"We need to round up all the Runners before dinner," I told Minho as we walked from the Map Room the next evening. "Some might be back already, so we can tell them, but most won't be done until about seven. We'll meet in the Map Room to discuss the Newbies someone will be training tomorrow."

"Newbies?" Minho questioned with a puzzled expression. "As in plural? I thought Alex was the only one."

I shook my head and grimaced at the shooting pain that went up my leg as I stepped over a rock. "Alex and Theo, the boy who came a few months ago. Guess Gally thinks he's pretty quick on his feet and knows he'd be good for the job. Or maybe he just hates Alex that much that he wants to weaken his chances of being a Runner."

Minho chuckled. "Don't blame him."

I continued walking toward the bathrooms at the back of the Homestead in order to wash the lead off of my left hand from where the pencil had smeared as I corrected the Maps. It was a daily job and a struggle of being left handed. However, just before we headed to the side of the building, Minho put his hand on my arm to stop me.

"Hold on," he ordered, eyeing me intently with his hand slipping from my biceps. His eyebrows pinched together as he reached forward and lifted the locket that dangled from my neck. "This is Newt's."

I nodded. "Yeah, he gave it to me last night."

My eyes flickered downward to see that Minho had his hand in his pocket. He slowly pulled something out of it and presented it to me. It was a watch, the digital time blinking in neon green letters across the face. My eyes went partially wide in surprise.

"He gave me this last night, too." His voice was urgent. "Didn't say why, just patted me on the arm and looked at me real hard like he wanted to memorize my facial features or somethin'. It was weird."

My mind was whirling. The locket. His digital watch. Why would Newt give these important things away, and why to us?

My finger pointed to nowhere in particular as something clicked. "Alby. We have to go see if he has anything. They're close friends- closer than us. If anyone would have something, it would be him."

Minho nodded in understanding. "Let's go."

And so began the search for Alby. We wandered high and low for him, even asked Nick, who of course didn't know because Alby never told him anything about his whereabouts. Some of the other Gladers said he might be in his room. Minho went up to look and said there was nobody up there. Finally, we found him talking with Clark near the Farm.

By the time we reached him, both Minho and I were panting and sweating from how we had scoured the Glade all around. Alby gave us a weirded-out look and dismissed Clark, raising an expectant eyebrow at us. "What?"

"Did Newt give you anything last night?" I questioned through heavy breaths as I hunched over. A grimace shot across my face at the pain in my leg. "It would have been something memorable, something that meant a lot to him..."

Alby's squinted eyes flickered between the two of us, clearly suspicious. "What's it to ya?"

Minho sighed, not even trying to cover up his desperation and annoyance anymore. "Look, Newt was acting weird last night and he gave Nadia his locket and me his freakin' watch. Do you know what that means? He's out there right now with no shuck clue what time it is. Doors close at 7:30. It's 6:53."

Alby's face went through a million emotions at once until it finally rested on despair. He sighed and slipped his hand into the right pocket of his jeans. His expression appeared to weigh down his entire body; his shoulders sagged and slouched.

"No," he responded. "He didn't give me nothin'. Just left this."

He took his hand out and brough a small, crumpled scrap of paper with it. I slowly took it from him with my heart constricting after every breath that left my lungs. The paper felt like sandpaper in my hands as I smoothed it out and read the hastily scrawled message in pencil.

Alby-

Thanks for being such a great friend. Promise me to lead the Glade strongly and work with Nick to make it the best shuck place it can be. I'm counting on you always.

Newt

"I have no idea what he means," Alby sighed as he dragged a hand down his glistening face. "It was waitin' for me on my dresser when I woke up this morning. I've read it time and time again and still can't make sense of it."

My eyes darted across the page a hundred times until the words blurred together and I was reading nothing but a scribble of lead. My pupils and irises began to cross and soon enough I was pitching backward from the vertigo. Minho steadied me by placing his hands on my shoulders, taking the paper from my hand and giving it back to Alby.

"Somethin' ain't right," he commented without a trace of doubt. "And it's almost seven. He should be back by now."

I caught my breath and blinked hard until I could see clearly again. Minho's hands were still firmly gripping onto my shoulders like we were ultimately supporting each other. I couldn't fight down the extreme worry that was overpowering every other sense inside of me.

I looked down at my watch. It was 6:59. All of the Runners were back by then. All except Newt.

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-kristyn