THOMAS

"Thomas, there's two of you," she says.

Crap.

Her eyes glaze over. I slap her face. "Roz!" There's no response, so I slap her again, harder. "Roz!" My voice grows a desperate tone. "Rose! Wake up!"

"What's wrong?" Newt races up, the Med-Jacks Clint and Jeff on his heels. My desperation fades to the background. They can help.

"Knife in the shoulder," I say to the Med-Jacks. Newt makes a half-worried, half-impatient choking sound in his throat and bites his lip. I cast a glance at him sympathetically and turn back to Clint and Jeff. "She has her eyes open, but she's completely blanking out. Hey!" I shake her, hard, my panic returning.

"Don't do that, man!" Jeff snaps. "Clint, gimme a hand."

"What are you doing?" I demand.

"Get offa her, mate," Newt says gently.

"No!"

I feel a pair of wiry arms snake through mine, pulling me away from my half-dead sister. I lash out frantically, yelling. "You WON'T!" My fist connects with something solid. "Don't touch her! I hate you! You—"

Newt cracks me around the ear, releasing me so I fall to the ground. He plants a knee on my chest and glares at me. He's bleeding heavily from his nose, and when he speaks, he sounds congested. "They are helpin', ya bloody buggin' shuck shank," he snarls. "Put your ass on the ground and stop giving people freakin' bloody noses!"

Only a few words register: helping, ass, put, ground, nose. I nod weakly and Newt stands up, shedding his sweatshirt and holding it to his nose. I sit up and press the heels of my palms into my eyes, worry washing over me. Dammit, I want my sister to be okay.

"HEY!" There's a loud thud and a louder shriek of pain. Rose's voice sounds. "The HELL are you doing?!"

I spring to my feet, and this time Newt doesn't stop me, probably because he, too, is racing for my sister. He drops beside her, helps her up. Clint is bent double, groaning, and Jeff is standing several feet away, looking as though he jumped away. I stride over and heave back for a large slug.

"Never harm another Glader!" Newt shouts. I stop, thinking he's talking to me, but when I look over my shoulder, my fist still drawn back, he's standing and glaring flush-faced at Gally. "Never harm another shuck Glader, Gally! That was your bloody rule! The one you came up with! And now look at this: your knife in her shoulder! If that's not a direct violation of the rules, then ya can paint my freakin' nose bright pink and hang me upside down from the Glade walls!"

I let my hand fall and storm over to Newt, standing at his side. The enraged Glader has his knife out, his knuckles white around the grip. In one smooth motion, I unsheathe my two Runner blades and bend my knees slightly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Minho darts between us, hands held out in a placating fashion. "What the shuck is going on?"

By now, most of the Glade is up, people staring at us. I give Chuck a two-fingered wave, then turn my attention to Gally. He's smirking. I wanna punch him so shuck bad.

"He stabbed Rose in the shoulder," Newt shouts, looking angrier than I have ever seen him.

"Wrong," Rose's weak voice corrects. Everyone's heads whip to her. She casts Gally a full-fledged glare, then continues. "He tried to rape me on two occasions, and threw a knife at me, lodging the bloody thing in my shoulder." She casts a nervous glance at Newt when she says "bloody", as though it's something only he can say, but he hardly notices. Rose's voice hardens. "I'll tell the whole story tomorrow, in the Gathering where we decide exactly how we're going to Banish him."

She struggles to her feet in the shocked silence and nods at the Med-Jacks. "Lead on."

They turn and help her towards the Homestead. Over her shoulder, she calls, "I'd recommend locking him in the Slammer overnight, else he might run off."

Everyone looks at Gally.

He shrugs.

Nearly the entire group of Gladers swarms him, dragging him away to the Slammer. Newt and I exchange uneasy glances, then make to follow Rose.

Minho dances in front of us, placing gloved hands on our chests. "Hold up, shanks. Where are you going?"

"Where do you think, Minho?" I'm in no mood for him right now, sarcasm or no. "To go make sure my sister lives through the rest of the night!"

"Let him go, Minho," Newt says softly.

Minho gives both of us a hard look, but steps aside, joining us as we head for the Homestead. None of us speak to each other for the rest of the night.

Clint and Jeff gently peel away Rose's shirt around her wound after laying her back-up on one of the beds and taking out the knife. They stitch the wound closed, making her hiss, squeeze Newt's fingers so hard they start turning purple from lack of blood, and punch me in the stomach. But none of us complain.

The Med-Jacks give her some sort of ten-hour sedative thing and file out of the room with a "call us if anything weird starts happening".

I groan, slumping to the floor. Newt gives me an odd look. "You okay?"

"Freaking tired," I say.

He tosses me a pillow. "Get some sleep. I'll stay up and make sure—"

I remember Rose talking to me about Newt getting zero sleep and shake my head. "No, you should sleep."

"Take turns," Minho suggests somewhat icily.

I stand up, stretching. "Thanks for the advice, genius. Guess we should go to you for all great, obvious ideas." My tone is so scathing that even Minho looks surprised. I turn away from him. "C'mon, Newt, I'll go first."

"How about both you shanks—" Minho starts.

"How about ya shut up, Minho," Newt snaps, releasing Rose's hand and standing up. "Because I'm gettin' sick and tired of your bloody jokes. You and Tommy go ta sleep; you'll need to run the Maze tomorrow."

"No we won't," Minho snaps back. "There's gonna be a Gathering tomorrow, plus we don't have to run the Maze. We already know what it's gonna look like tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. There's no getting out of here, Newt, and you of all people should know that."

Newt shoots him a depressingly dirty look. Before he can say anything, I step between the two of them. "I'll go first," I repeat, in a hard voice. "You two both go to sleep."

Minho starts to speak, but I glare at him. "Do. It."

He blinks, looks away sullenly, and exits the room. Newt moves to the corner and slides down, pressing his back into the space where the walls meet. "Wake me up when it's my turn ta watch her, Tommy."

"Alright," I lie.

Within a minute, he's fast asleep. I cover his legs with a blanket and sit by Rose's side. I have no intention of waking him up; he needs his sleep.

After an hour, I fall asleep too. I'm too tired to do anything else.

When I wake up, my watch says it is twelve forty-five. I bolt upright with a gasp, my eyes flying to Newt's corner. He's snuggled up under the blanket, his head resting on his forearm, snoring faintly. Phew. I don't have to face his wrath, at least.

Minho opens the door. "Tho—"

"Shh," I hiss, pointing at Newt. Minho understands and beckons me. I squeeze Rose's hand and follow the Keeper of the Runners out of the room.

"Anything weird happen?" Minho asks.

"Nope," I say, hoping I'm not lying.

"You fell asleep, didn't you," he says.

I blush. "Maybe."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Go back in there and make sure she doesn't have a heart attack or anything."

"Who?" Rose appears in the doorway, leaning heavily on it. She looks like she just woke up, zombie-style. She probably did, though.

"You," Minho says. "Come on. It's time for the Gathering."

ROSE

"Okay," I say, after processing Minho's words. "Let me just get Newt." Before he can say anything, I close the door in his and Thomas's faces and turn to Newt. Someone must have gotten him a blanket, because he's pulled it up to his shoulders. His head is resting on his forearm, his wrist. His mouth is slightly open. His hair is ruffled and messy. He looks beautiful.

"Newt," I say quietly, kneeling beside him, careful not to use my shoulder. "Newt, honey, it's time to wake up."

"Gfm wasy," he mumbles, turning his nose towards the floor.

I'm tempted to leave him like this; he's adorable. But I gently shake his shoulder, pulling the blanket off him. He groans and opens his eyes.

"Hey there, precious," I say.

He shoots upright, sleepiness fading. "Wh—what time is it?"

I check my watch. "Twelve forty-three."

"Bloody shank," Newt mutters.

"Who?" I turn around and scoot into the corner beside him, wrapping my arm around him. He turns his head and kisses my hair. "Your brother. He promised me he'd wake me up after a few hours. He didn't, obviously."

"Obviously," I murmur.

He takes my chin and turns it towards him. "Do you . . ."

"Want to kiss you?" I say, smiling. "Yes, hell ye—" He cuts me off by pressing his lips to mine. I adjust my position, tilt my head, brace my hands on his chest. My body sings with pleasure, completely in love with the way his body fits to mine, like we're connecting puzzle pieces. I slip my leg over his lap, sliding onto him and deepening the kiss.

At last we break apart, both a little flushed and a little breathless. I bite my lip, losing myself in his gorgeous brown eyes. For a while, neither of us speak, we just sit there, me on his lap, gazing at each other. Memorizing the other's face.

I finally stand up, swing my foot over his legs, and heave him to his feet with my good hand/arm/shoulder. "We should probably go to the Gathering."

Newt gives me one final peck on the lips. "Alright." He laces his fingers with mine and we head towards the Gathering building, separating when we reach the deck. I go in first. Most of the other Keepers are gathered (I don't see Zart or Winston, the Keeper of the Slicers), and Gally stands in the middle of the room, arms folded like he's been waiting for a long time. Playing up my hurt shoulder, I walk stiffly to an empty seat and carefully sit down, hissing in real pain when I accidentally touch the back of my chair with my shoulder.

"Let the Gathering come ta order," Newt says, walking in and slamming the door. The caring expression he wore less than thirty seconds ago is gone, replaced by hard indifference. "Rose, what do you have to say?" He gestures at the floor.

I stand up and cross to where he pointed at. And, taking a deep breath, I tell everyone exactly what happened both times Gally tried to hurt me. And both times he succeeded. There are many interruptions, but after the first three Newt shouts that whoever next cuts in will be sentenced for a day in the Slammer, because he has no patience for the "shit" that they're protesting. I finish off with, "You say Gally's the one who thought up the rule 'Never harm another Glader'? Well, tell me this: do I not count as a Glader, and is Gally not violating his own rule?" I cross my arms and stare at him, a wolf stare that says Don't mess with me. "You may think Gally's a good leader, you may look up to him, but you don't know what he's really like. One girl comes into the Glade and he turns into a monster." I nod at Newt.

"Alri—" he starts, but when everyone's realized that I'm done they break out in wild exclamation. It's at least fifteen minutes of all-out shouting before Newt can finally make himself heard. "SIT YOUR BLOODY SHUCK BUTTS ON THE GROUND," he screams at last, his face going slightly red from the effort.

Most of the Gladers calm down a little, enough for Newt to ask Gally to speak. I sit back down with a slight smirk; whatever he comes up with won't be half as good as mine.

He crafts a somewhat decent explanation for his actions, and I don't comment: but when he comes to justification of his near-rape, I say loudly, "Ooh, this'll be a winner." Newt closes his eyes briefly as the Gathering bursts into a cacophony of yelled opinions.

After some time everyone settles down again. Newt seems to have given up on trying to mitigate the Gathering and is standing there, arms crossed, slouching. But he straightens up and gestures at Gally. "Continue."

Gally launches into some backwards explanation for what he was going to do, but all it seems to me that he's doing is digging himself a hole. At one point when he gets a bit flustered and is searching for a word, I take the opportunity to offer, "Would you like a shovel, Gally?" He shoots me a filthy look and finds the word he was looking for.

A few minutes later he stops, makes it obvious he's done. The Gathering erupts yet again, this time so loudly that I want to clap my hands over my ears. Again Newt seems to give up on mitigation and slouches where he stands. Minho finally takes it upon himself to do something and charges into the middle of the room, waving his hands and bellowing mingled insults and orders. He calms everyone down and says, "Let's take a vote."

Shouting begins.

"SHUT UP!" Minho screams, cutting them off. He waits a few seconds, then continues. "Let's take a vote. Rose, you don't get to participate since you're not a Keeper."

Neither is Newt, I think, but I'm not going to decrease Gally's chances of Banishment, so I just not once and sit back to watch.

"All in favor of Gally's Banishment, raise your hand!" Minho says loudly. About half the hands in the room go up, including his and Newt's. Minho looks to Newt, who appears to be counting. He faces Minho and mouths, Ten.

The Runner nods. "Okay, put your hands down. All in favor of Gally not being Banished, raise your hand."

About half the hands in the room go up. I'm surprised: I didn't think that a) there were so many Gally supporters, and b) that so many people had actually bought his pathetic excuses. Newt counts, then turns slowly to Minho. Ten, he mouths again. Minho rubs his forehead, closing his eyes. I bite my lip. What happens now? Do they make some sort of deal?

"It's a tie," Minho announces. "Any ideas?"

I smack my forehead with my palm as the Gathering goes ballistic. I can barely hear myself think over the noise. I stand up and walk out into the middle of the room, waving my hands in a "quiet down" gesture. Surprisingly, everyone goes silent.

I collect some of my thoughts. "If one person speaks while I am still talking, so help me God I will break your neck." I give everyone a hard stare, softening it when I look at Newt and Minho. Then I whirl back to Gally. "This man—if you could call him that—is a liability. Newt once told me that this Glade revolves around trust. And you Banish anyone you can't trust, correct? So how do you live with Gally, always wondering what he'll do next?" I raise my hands. "That's all I have to say."

"I have an idea," Gally says, before anyone can speak. "Seeing as about half of the people in this room still trust me, I'm going to go ahead and say this. If you can survive one night in the Maze—this night—then I will let you Banish me."

I lift my chin. "Let's take a vote, then."

"Whoa, hold up," Newt says. "No. There is no way in—"

I give him a look. He closes his mouth, blinking slowly.

"A vote," Minho says tiredly. "All in favor of Gally's idea, raise your hand."

About three quarters of the hands go up. Minho's face grows slightly pinched as he looks at the results. He doesn't speak, so I do.

"It's decided, then." I hide my nervousness. "I'm going into the Maze tonight. Gathering dismissed." And I leave, throwing the door open and stalking through it, away from the silence. As I round the corner of the porch, I'm assailed by Thomas and Chuck. "Well?" my brother says. "How'd it go?"

I want to burst into tears and fall into his arms. I am a stupid idiot (redundant, I know). There's no way in hell I'm going to be able to survive a night in the Maze. Thomas barely did that, and he's a guy. They just seem to be tougher, you know?

But instead of crying, I smile, not letting my always-confident exterior crack. "Great. We got Gally Banished."

"How?" Chuck says excitedly.

"When?" Thomas asks.

I do some calculations. "Tomorrow evening." I don't answer Chuck's question. I'm not ready to break it to Thomas.

"Why not tonight?" my brother says, frowning.

Minho brushes past me, bumping my shoulder with his. "Because your shuck sister has to prove she can spend a night in the Maze. And she agreed willingly to it. It was Gally's idea."

"What?" Thomas stares at me like I'd driven a knife into his skull.

"How stupid are you?" Chuck asks me, sounding almost curious.

"Nowhere near as stupid as you," I snap. God dammit, can't people leave me be for five seconds without telling me how freaking stupid I am? I get it! I'm an idiot! I—"

"May I speak to you?" Newt's voice is acid, so cold it burns. He marches off the porch before I can reply. Thankful for the interruption, I follow him into the forest. We walk for maybe ten minutes. Then Newt stops but doesn't face me. "Explain."

It's about four thirty; the doors close at five thirty. I don't want to fight with him. I stare at the ground, tirades piling up in my head. I don't allow them to escape from my mouth. I don't want to mess up.

You already have.

"This is a death wish," Newt says, when he seems to realize I'm not going to speak.

"I know." My voice comes out in a whisper.

"You think you're bein' brave," he says coolly. "But suicide isn't brave, it's cowardly."

"Is that what you think this is about?" My head jerks up, horror and anger making a deadly mix in my veins. "Proving exactly how brave I can be?"

"It isn't?" His voice isn't rising. It hurts. I want him to shout. "Then what is it? Provin' how many people ya can hurt with one blow? D'ya think I haven't suffered enough? So many of my friends are gone, but I have to watch you join them too?"

"I . . ." Speak, Rose, speak! "I'm not going to die, Newt." There, that's it, force some of that shattered confidence back into your voice.

"How d'ya know that?" He's still not looking at me.

I rub my nose. "Well, I'm the only girl, right? So they must have sent me up here for a reason. They being the Creators."

"What, ta split the Glade in half? Ya think you're special, Rose? Ya think that because you're the only girl here, the Creators won't let you die? You're not special. You're replaceable. There're other girls out there."

I try to ignore the knife that he just stabbed through my heart by saying that I'm not special. "And you know this how?"

"Well, if there's a Maze of boys, it makes sense that there's a Maze of girls, too. If they need another girl, they can find one."

I'm replaceable. To you. I thought you just said that you didn't want to watch me die!

"Ya just got yourself killed without a second thought," Newt goes on. "It's like ya don't even care anymore. Ya just wanna get out in the fastest way possible."

"If I wanted that, I would have stabbed myself in the heart already," I shout, losing all my forced calm. "Kind of like you just did!"

"Welcome to the club," he says acidly.

"Stop," I yell. "Just stop, Newt! You really think that I haven't been over this already? You think I don't know that I'm going to die? You think I don't know how stupid I am? I'm trying to do what's right for the Glade. I'm trying to keep you and everyone else safe. I—"

"Okay, Rosie." Newt's voice is dead. "Whatever ya say." He turns and limps past me, not touching me.

He doesn't look back.

I slump to the ground and cry.

THOMAS

I pass a stricken-looking Newt on my way to find Rose at five o'clock. They talked earlier, but he stumbled out of the woods twenty minutes after they went in, staggering to the wall of names. He dropped to the ground beneath it and didn't let anyone near him. Now its starting to get dark, and I have to find Rose so she can pack and get into the Maze before the Doors close. As much as I love her, and don't want her to do this, I wouldn't be able to stand another day of waiting.

I pause by Newt, opening my mouth to speak.

"She's in the woods," Newt says hoarsely, not looking at me. It pains me to see my best friend like this. Rose probably broke his heart with her rash decision.

"Eh, sorry?" I hear myself say.

Newt lifts his head. His face is thin, pale, drawn. His eyes are dark and haunted. There's a tenseness around his mouth that I've never seen before, not even when Alby and Minho were out in the Maze for too long. "She's in the woods," he repeats slowly, as though he's talking to an infant. "Rose is in the woods."

If you hurt her . . . I let the thought die. It's more like he hurt her, probably. Knowing that my sister has volunteered to commit suicide is trying to kill me. The only way it isn't is because I know I can't let her go into the Maze with everyone having turned a cold shoulder on her. Then she will have given up hope entirely. I can't have that.

If it's this hard for me, how hard is it for Newt?

"Thanks," I say, a little belatedly. I want to say something else, but don't know what it could be. So I offer a sympathetic smile that I instantly regret—does it look like I want my sister to die?—and trudge off, towards the forest. I walk for maybe three minutes through the trees without seeing a single sign of my sibling. Then, just as I'm about to bellow her name, I hear a slight snuffling sound somewhere behind me. I spin, not realizing I'm reaching for my Runner knife until it's gripped safely in my hand. I force myself to say my sister's name. "Rose?" My voice nearly cracks, and if she has ears she'll hear the amount of control it takes for me to keep it under control.

"Thomas." Her voice is thick. She makes a small noise as though she's trying to speak but is unable to.

"Where are you?" I ask, peering into the dimly lit forest. The thick canopy above us makes it seem like it is three hours darker than it actually is. "I can't see you."

"Bushes to your left," she replies.

I find her huddled at the foot of a somewhat steep slope behind the bushes on my left, tears streaking a thin layer of dirt on her face. She looks devastated.

I hide my feelings of betrayal and anger, at least until I make my mouth say something, and then it's out of my control. "What did he do?" comes bursting out. I no longer feel like I'm Newt's friend. I drop to the forest floor beside her and pull her into a hug.

"I don't think it was just him," she says, understanding who "he" is, "so much as a combination of both of us."

I knew it wouldn't work out. I don't say that; that would make her cry more. Already I can feel my shirt dampening. "Hey, hey, don't cry. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not scared," she croaks. "I'm not afraid to die. I'm not afraid of the Maze—if you've survived a night in there so can I. I'm scared that I won't be able to say goodbye to everyone I love if I do die. You, our mother and father . . . Newt . . . I want to die having made my peace with the Glade. The world."

Holy mackerel. That's a lot to ask for. And an impressive fear. "You can," I say. "You can die at peace with the world. But first you have to survive a night in the Maze. You should probably pack. A knife, water, non-fragrant food—"

"No," she says, a snarl in her voice. She presses the bridge of her nose against my shoulder. "I don't want any of that. I want to Banish Gally with nothing but the clothes on his back. I don't want him to be able to survive."

I close my eyes. Her streak of dislike for him runs deeper than I originally thought. "Okay, Rose."

She pulls away from my hug. "It's Rosalyn."

"Sorry?" My voice squeaks. What is she talking about?

"My name's actually Rosalyn," she says, lowering her gaze. "You can still call me Rose, I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, when I remembered it."

"Rosalyn." Her name rolls off my tongue as though I've said it countless times. Seeing as we're siblings, I probably have. "Alright, cool."

She smiles tentatively, then drags herself to her feet, piecing together her confident façade. I admire her endless strength and stability, her courage and neverending capacity for smart comments. She's what I've always tried to be, I realize. She's like my role model or something. Ha. My little sister is my role model. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

"Your face looks like a butt," she says.

I sigh, smiling, and accept her helping hand as I get to my feet. Seeing a softer side of her was nice, I guess, but now the smart aleck her is back.

Ten minutes later, the entire group of Gladers are gathered around the North Doors. Rose stands between said Doors, all traces of her earlier breakdown completely hidden or, in the case of the dirt and her tears, washed away.

She smiles sweetly at Gally. "I'm not taking anything with me, Gally, so when I get back and it's your turn to be Banished, you don't get squat."

"You're not going to survive," Gally says arrogantly.

"He says to the Runner who knows the Maze better than she knows the back of her hand," Minho snarls.

A wind picks up, signaling the soon-to-be closing of the Doors. It blows Rose's ponytail partly over her shoulder, the curls of brown lit gold by the dying light. She looks heroic, ready. "Bye," she says. She smiles confidently and I sear this image into my mind, hiding from the panic that is trying to well up inside me. This is how I want to remember her: strong, confident, smiling.

"Thomas, I love you," she says. A twinge of sorrow flashes in her eyes. She knows that this may be the last time we see each other. Before I can stop myself I dart forward and pull her into a bone-crushing hug. "Be safe," I say into her hair.

"Don't die," she responds. I release her and step back into line with the other Gladers, feeling a little awkward.

Rose glances around at everyone, her gaze lingering for a fraction of a second on Newt, a bolt of despair flickering across her eyes, a crack in her brave exterior. But she breaks her gaze off of him, says, "See you suckers tomorrow," and jogs through the closing doors.