I watched as Alby opened the collar and wrapped it around Ben's neck. He looked up as the collar closed with a loud snap and I wanted to cringe away.

His eyes were sunk deep into his face and a trail of drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth, but he didn't wipe it away. Ben's eyes glittered with unspilled tears and the Gladers watched on, not saying a word.

"Please, Alby," Ben begged pathetically. "I swear I was just sick in the head from the Changing. I never would've killed him - just lost my mind for a second. Please, Alby, please." His voice had risen to a high-pitched plead and I glanced toward Thomas, who looked so guilty I felt bad for him. I exhaled shakily. His words reminded me painfully of how I'd attacked Rachel.

Alby ignored Ben's weak pleas and tugged on the pole to make sure the collar was snapped tightly, then slid back to the very end of the pole.

"Ben of the Builders," he said loudly over Ben's sniveling, "you've been sentenced to Banishment for the attempted murder of Thomas the Newbie. The Keepers have spoken, and their word ain't changing. And you ain't coming back. Ever." After a long pause, he said, "Keepers, take your place on the Banishment Pole."

The Keepers shuffled forward, grasping the long rod like they were readying for a game of tug-of-war. Ten Keepers in all, plus Newt and Alby, spaced evenly along the Banishment Pole. Ben kept sniffling and wiping at his eyes and nose, trying to twist his head to look around him, but the collar forced him to look forward.

"Please," Ben wailed, his voice high and desperate. "Plllleeeeeeeeease! Somebody help me! You can't do this to me!"

That seemed to push Thomas off the edge and he quickly slipped away. No one else noticed, but I did. I backed off silently, Gladers ignoring me completely, and watched as Thomas ducked into the Deadheads.

When I was a good ten feet apart from the crowd, I broke into a half-sprint, heading toward where Thomas had disappeared. I found him crouched against a tall tree, his face buried in his knees.

I knelt down next to him and lay a hand on his shoulder. Not speaking, not moving, just watching. Ben's screams were muffled by the cover of the trees and for that, I was thankful.

But that didn't mean the sounds were entirely blocked out. Ben's miserable screeches ripped through the air, despairing and horrible.

The Maze walls started moving closer together and Alby roared, "HOLD!" A piercing, insane scream made me cover my ears and the walls slammed together with a resounding boom.

Thomas raised his face enough for me to see the tears trickling down his face.

---

I couldn't sleep that night. I think most of the Gladers fell asleep after one or two hours of tossing, but my mind refused to rest. Ben's terrified face stamped itself in my thoughts, haunting me. It didn't matter how much the jerk deserved it. I still couldn't force his face out of my head.

Next to me, Thomas shifted and mumbled something. Giving up on the idea of sleep, I rolled out of my hammock and tiptoed out into the middle of the Glade.

The full moon shone through the Glade, illuminating each and every detail. I sat next to the Box, twisting grass between my fingers and staring at the Maze walls. Stars glittered in the dark sky above me like tiny pinpricks of light staring down at me. A light breeze dangled a strand of strawberry-blonde hair in front of my face and I brushed it aside.

I registered someone coming closer to me, but I didn't look to see who it was. The person sat down beside me but I still refused to turn to see his face.

"Couldn't sleep?" a soft British accent asked me and I stiffened.

Newt.

I kept my mouth shut, focusing on a particularly bright star directly above me, completely ignoring the boy next to me. Newt sighed and I could almost picture him running his hand through his mop of hair, messing it up even more.

"Look, Neil. I'm sorry about that, okay? I don't know what was wrong with me. I just -" He sighed again and I felt him lay back, propping himself up on an elbow.

"I'm really, really bloody sorry. Alright?" he tried and I snorted.

"Alright? Yeah, sure. You exploded at me for no reason at all and then pretended nothing was wrong at all! Sure, it's alright," I scoffed, still staring at the star above me. Newt huffed angrily and grumbled something under his breath.

"Would you like to repeat that?" I challenged coldly, knowing that whatever Newt had said wouldn't be terribly kind.

"No," Newt muttered, then laughed. Laughed! The nerve of some people!

"What's so funny?" I snapped, finally turning to face him. "You think that's funny? Huh?"

Newt shook his head adamantly, but he was still shaking with silent laughter. I growled, barely resisting the urge to punch him. Still, I clenched my hands into fists and shook them warningly at Newt.

"I'm. . . sorry," he said, still laughing. "It's just that. . . no one here really talks to me like that. Only Minho and Alby."

"Maybe that's why you have such a big head," I said viciously, turning away from him, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

"Okay, but seriously. I'm sorry," he said, composing himself. "I shouldn't have said that before. Really."

I considered him for a moment. He was grinning at me, shallow dimples in his cheeks and a lopsided smile on his lips. I narrowed his eyes at him and his smile faded away.

"Neil? What's -"

I slapped him. Hard. He yelped in pain, scrambling to his feet and his hand on his cheek.

"What was that for?" he whined childishly and I smiled at him, dusting my hands off.

"Now we're even," I said confidently. "But next time, I'll slap you harder."

Newt scowled playfully at me, then said, "Today you're going 'round the Glade, trying out new jobs with Thomas."

"What?" I said loudly. "But I don't need another job! I'm a Map - I'm a Runner, like Minho!"

"Not with that leg, you're not," he said sternly. "Can't have you mopin' all day, can we? Gotta keep you busy. Do ya know what you're good and not good at?"

"I'm okay with the Caretakers," I mumbled. "Gardens are a no-no - so is the Kitchen and the Bloodhouse. I suppose I can be a Medic, but -"

"Have you ever been a Builder?" Newt interrupted and I stopped. "Your arms look strong, you look like you could take a lot of weight, and God knows Gally needs a babysitter."

"A Builder?" I laughed. "I guess I could be one, but don't you think I'm a bit small? Plus, my wrist's still healing."

Newt looked disappointed, then said, "How much do you know about the Maze?"

"The Maze?" I repeated, looking back at the starry sky. "I know every inch of it like the back of my hand. I have a really good memory, ya know."

Newt nodded, looking thoughtful. "Maybe you should start in the Map Room tomorrow. Anyway, you should get some sleep. It's" - he checked his wristwatch - "two o'clock already, and I'll be waking Thomas up at, say, seven. I'll probably let you sleep in too, because, you know." He gestured around him and I smiled.

"Thanks, Newt," I said softly as he started to leave, and he turned around.

"Go to sleep." He smiled at me and walked away.

---

"Get up, Stonehead!" someone yelled in my ear and my hand automatically flew out. It grazed someone's skin and I opened my eyes to see Newt on the ground, scrambling away from me.

"Told you," said Minho smugly and I noticed him standing a few feet beside me. "He's got, like, a built-in punch button." He held out his hand and Newt groaned, handing him a large chocolate square.

"You were betting on me?" I flared and Minho quickly backed up.

"Chill, Greenie," he said quickly. "We weren't betting on you, exactly. . ."

"More like your tendency to punch people when you wake up," Newt chuckled nervously. "There was an extra piece of chocolate, so. . ." He trailed off, not wanting to finish.

"Junkheads, both of you," I grumbled, rubbing my eyes to get rid of the sleepiness. "I want some chocolate!"

When the two exchanged a nervous look, I added, "Or else I won't think twice about hitting you next time."

Reluctantly, Minho passed over the chocolate and I broke off a chunk, immediately tossing it into my mouth. I sighed in satisfaction then suddenly jerked up.

"Shit, I haven't brushed my teeth!"

They laughed and Newt said reassuringly, "Don't worry 'bout it, shank. Just do it later." I looked skeptically at him and gave the chocolate back to Minho, who devoured the rest.

Newt tapped a sleeping Thomas on the arm and he groaned.

"Get up, ya lug."

"Yeah, good morning to you too. What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock." Newt smiled dryly. "Figured I'd let ya sleep in after such a rough couple of days.

Thomas opened his eyes and sat up, looking like he hadn't slept at all. "Sleep in? What're you guys, a bunch of farmers?"

"Uh. . . yeah, now that ya mention it." Newt plopped himself next to Thomas, letting his feet rest on the ground. "Gonna put ya with the Track-Hoes today, Greenie. See if that suits your fancy more than slicin' up bloody piggies and such."

Thomas sighed. "Aren't you supposed to stop calling me that?"

"What, bloody piggies?" I reached out to poke Newt from my hammock and he grinned at me. God, that smile. 

Thomas forced a laugh and shook his head. "No, Greenie. Isn't Neil technically the Greenie now? Morning, by the way."

"Morning, Greenie," I said, making sure to put as much emphasis on the last word as possible. Minho snorted but quickly turned it into a cough. He stood up, staring at the Maze doors, and left.

"Technically, yeah," Newt conceded. "But there ain't no space for technicalities here."

"That's a double negative."

"That's a technicality."

Thomas groaned and asked, "What's a Track-Hoe?"

"It's what we call the guys workin' their butts off in the Gardens - tilling, weeding, planting and such."

"We call them Gardeners back at my Glade," I said. "Don't you think that's a bit better?"

Thomas laughed - a real laugh this time - and Newt shoved me off my hammock.

"HEY!" I yelled. "Bully!"

"Whatever," Newt said, rolling his eyes.

"What's Minho doing?" I asked suddenly, watching as the Maze walls ground open and Minho picked something up.

"That's -" Thomas's voice was shaky. "That's Ben's collar." And it was. Minho was holding a section of the aluminum pole with the leather loop stapled on it. I shuddered, chills creeping on my spine, as Minho casually tossed it to one of the Runners who put it back into the shed.

"I, uh, think I'll go brush my teeth now," I said, standing up and making my way to the bathrooms as Newt and Thomas continued talking. Alby had dug out a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste for me and I quickly cleaned myself up, yanking out knots in my hair. It wasn't really all that long, but it sure as hell was longer than the other guys' hair. 

After a quick shower, I walked out, piling a mountain of food on my plate. Chuck offered me some bacon but I politely refused it, explaining how I was a vegetarian.

"Suit yourself," Chuck said, stuffing his face with more bacon. "It's really good though!"

"I'm sure it is," I said, my stomach feeling a bit queasy.

About five minutes later, I waved Thomas and Newt over to our picnic table next to the Kitchen.

"Someone's hungry," Thomas remarked as I drowned my stack of pancakes in sticky syrup. I laughed and pointed at his plate, which barely consisted of anything compared to mine.

"Four waffles and some blueberries aren't a very good breakfast," I pointed out and Thomas stuck out his tongue at me. I laughed, but it died away as a group of Gladers got up and started running toward the West Doors, talking excitedly.

"What's going on?" asked Thomas, also noticing.

Newt shrugged as he shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth. "Seein' off Minho and Alby - they're going to look at the buggin' dead Griever."

"Who killed it?" I said suddenly. "Grievers don't just drop dead - or at least, not in the Glade I came from. So what happened to it?"

We turned to Newt but he stayed silent, looking thoughtful. He obviously didn't have a clue. 

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WORD COUNT: 2199

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Longest chapter so far (I think). I haven't really been editing anything, so don't mind if there are a few errors or two. Vote, Comment, Follow, Share!