Thomas stared at the maze's entrance. He didn't know how long he had been staring, but it didn't matter. There was something about it, something that was off. The maze gave him the chills, made his spines tingle. A single drop of sweat formed and trickled down his neck. Cold sweat.
His gaze shifted onto the people who were walking in to challenge the maze. He watched them, one by one, as they disappeared into the entrance. Consumed.
He saw their faces. All of them had a mixture of fear and excitement.
Thomas felt his own breathing fasten, his heart beating louder and louder.
Fear? Excitement? Fear.
He threw his gaze away from the maze, turned his back on it, and started walking away. Speed walking. His eyes lowered to the ground, stayed there. He didn't like how the maze made him feel. He wanted to get away from it. Fast. Fast. Fast.
And then he crashed someone straight in front of him.
"Ow!" the boy grumbled. "Hey, watch it!"
Thomas just realized who he had just bumped into. Minho. An upperclassman. A popular upperclassman, the ace when it came to any kinds of sports. And he was surrounded by his group of followers.
"I- I'm sorry," he stuttered.
"Are you blind?" A senior girl, one of the girls who were standing around Minho, scolded.
"First of all, how dare you!" another exclaimed.
"Who do you think you are, bumping into our Minho like that?"
"Whoa, whoa, girls, chill," one of the boys who had been with them said, all the while laughing. Then, he eyed Thomas as if he was that one thing that ruins the most beautiful views. In fact, everyone surrounding Minho gave him that look.
Dust, their eyes said, you may get lost now.
Thomas was more than eager to step away.
He was just about to walk off when he caught Minho's eyes. He just realized that, other than that first grunt of pain, the guy hadn't said anything else in his own defense. Thomas thought that perhaps Minho was just letting his followers do the defending, but then he caught the look in his eyes.
There was no annoyance, no disgust, no animosity, unlike how the friends around him were looking at Thomas. Instead, however, there was this sort of focus in his eyes.
And then he looked away, telling his followers, "C'mon, people. Let's move on."
And they left, not sparing Thomas another glance.
Thomas sighed, relieved that the whole ordeal had passed. But then he groaned as a realization hit him. Now he had to worry about the possibility of some popular kid's minions bullying him for the rest of the school years for one tiny mistake he had done.
He decided not to linger with the thought and continued walking. He should go and circle the maze from the outside, wait in front of the exit until every last person who entered the maze came out.
Now, he was more in a bad mood than anything. This fieldtrip was meant to be enjoyed. He had enjoyed it at first, walking around alone, avoiding people as he studied the Park's collection of rare plants. But things went wrong the moment he saw the maze from the distance.
It was a strange feeling. His heart throbbed. And as he got closer, something blossomed in his heart—fear. Why that particular emotion showed up, he had no clue. There shouldn't be any reason for his fear, and yet there it was, driving him away from the maze.
And then there was that incident with that popular senior.
Suddenly, Thomas just wanted the fieldtrip to end. Exploring the maze—which was this Community's Recreational Park's main attraction—was last on today's schedule anyways. After this, they would all return to the bus and then back to school, where then they could return to their respective homes. Yes, that sounded lovely, no doubt.
It didn't take long for him to round the maze's outer perimeters and stand on the other side, waiting for the other students to come out.
Waiting around, Thomas did one of the things he did most in the world—he chose to get lost inside his thoughts. Staring at the maze's exit, his fear was suddenly accompanied by something else. Curiosity.
Thomas wondered why he feared the maze. To be honest, before coming here, he was actually eager to explore it. It would had been his first time entering a maze. Now he wondered what it might had looked like inside the maze, how it would felt like to explore and search inside, what self-triumph he could had felt upon reaching the exit.
Maybe he should just go inside anyways. Maybe he should walk back towards the entrance and actually challenge the maze. What harm could be done? Even if they got lost and gave up, they could always shout for help to the security people that stood guard on a tower just outside the maze. The securities there had an overview of the entire maze, and they were placed there in purpose to give directions to people who were helplessly lost.
"Tommy."
Thomas blinked in surprise before turning his head towards the direction of the voice that called him. He spotted an upperclassman walking over towards him. Newt. The one who knew everyone and gave them nicknames. The vice president of the student council. The one who was also extremely popular. He wasn't surrounded by a group of followers like Minho had, though, so Thomas relaxed.
"Gee, Tommy. Don't recognize your own name, do ya? I've been calling out over and over."
"Oh," he answered. He obviously had been too focused with his thoughts, then. Or maybe it was because Tommy wasn't his name in the first place.
Thomas wondered why Newt had called him, and why he had to deal with another popular guy in such a short time frame. Not that he disliked Newt. He just didn't like how people stared at him whenever he simply stood near a popular person, as if he wasn't allowed to.
"You've obviously been spacin' out," Newt said, a bit amused by Thomas' I-just-snapped-back-to-reality face, "but I hope you remember what the teachers said back when we were assembled before the maze: 'Immediately return to your bus after finishing the maze.'"
Right. Thomas forgot about that. "Am I still allowed to go back inside the maze? I haven't actually gone inside."
Newt raised an eyebrow. "Too late, Tommy. Sun's almost down, we're tight in schedule. Maybe you haven't noticed, but almost everyone had gone out of the maze. They did say the maze wasn't that big, but I don't think chaps would be pleased if they had to wait for one more person to do it with such a late-start."
"I'll be quick. I'll sprint around the maze if I have to." Thomas suddenly really wanted to test the maze, already forgetting the inexplicable fear he felt just a few moments ago. Newt telling him not to do it only made his desire stronger. "I'm a really fast runner. If what they're saying is true and the maze is small, I'm sure I could finish it in-"
"No!" Newt snapped, cutting Thomas' sentence. He was stunned. He had been prepared for a rejection, but he didn't think it would be that strong. Newt realized how he had sounded, too, and then his voice softened, "Sorry, didn't mean to sound so harsh like that. Just… Sorry, Tommy, really am. Stop gaping like that. Makes me feel worse."
Thomas closed his mouth. Nodded.
"Sun's almost down, I doubt you would want to wander in a bloody maze when it's dark. Go back and report to the bus."
Thomas paused for a while before asking, "When will you go back to the bus?"
"After every single person has come out of that bloody maze, Tommy. Now go on before I escort you there myself."
Thomas felt not the need to be escorted, so he obeyed. As he walked away, he let out a long sigh. The fear was mostly gone, and now Thomas only felt stupid for letting that unreasonable fear hold him back from entering the maze. They were leaving the Park soon. The next time he came here he would have to pay the admission fee himself. Such a waste of chance.
Thomas reached his bus and 'reported' his attendance to the teacher. Reported. Interesting word choice. And it sounded strangely familiar.
He took one of the front seats, where it was still mostly empty. Many of the other students crowded the back. Thomas didn't mind sitting alone. He wasn't fond of a lot of people, anyways.
Before long, everyone had returned to the bus. The teacher did one last headcount, and after confirming that everyone was present, ordered the driver to take them back to school. The bus roared to life, and their journey back started.
The ride wasn't going to take a long time, as the school wasn't very far off from the Park. Thomas had no intention of sleeping, and instead stared out the window lazily. However, the day's activities caught up to him, and he felt a wave of exhaustion. Slowly, his eyes started to flutter. Once. Twice. Darkness.
Tom.
A voice. Like an echo. Far and distant. Ignored.
No, Tom. The voice rose in volume. Loud. Clear. Urgent.
Wake up!
He shot up, eyes wide open, heart racing, wheezing for breath. His back scratched with something hard and rough—the bark of a tree, the tree he had leaned on while sleeping.
He noticed sheets of blankets, they almost got thrown off when he jolted out of his sleep. Funny. There wasn't a blanket when he fell asleep on the… bus?
He looked up, saw the forest, and one very surprised Chuck, staring at him with wide eyes.
He wasn't in the bus, wasn't on his way back to school, hadn't been leaning on a soft, cushiony seat.
He was in the forest.
In the Glade.