Year 231 - The Glade
Newt, he really wanted to turn everyone's frowns upside down after the whole incident, including his own. Since usually the Keeper of the Runner's just picks a new Runner and that's the end of that, he switched it up. Runner trials, it's apparently a thing for this Runner selection. A few boys offered up their names to become one of the prats who run the Maze like a bunch of nutters. Nick insisted that I do too, but I really don't want to be a Runner. Not yet. I will eventually, I'm not going to lie to Newt like that.
Of course in Minho's continued idiocy, he decided to throw his name in as well. So, for the past few days, I've been helping him "train". I'm just watching him run around in a circle and throwing obstacles in his way. That's really all I can do. I'm not a Runner, I don't know what sort of training you need. Yesterday I hit him in the face with some bread, he didn't like that, but I insisted that it was helping.
"Are you going to be useful in any way?" He asks me after I've been sitting in the shade for the past hour.
I bring out my hands from underneath my arms and I give him a sound applause. "You're doing really great, Minho! Keep it up!"
"Wow." He breathes. "You're so helpful."
"I know." I smirk. "What would you do without me?"
He snorts and starts running again. "I'd finally get rid of this headache."
"Oi!" I shout after him, chucking my shoe at his head. "Don't be a prat!"
Ever since I've been helping Minho, I've had that stupid feeling. I've definitely seen him running before, I've definitely sat on the sideline and helped him get better. What was I before all of this? A teacher, maybe? I'm not that old so I couldn't possibly be that. I guess - I was probably his friend. Definitely. Just a regular old friend that supported him through his struggles.
According to everybody else, they only really remember sensations. There has been absolutely no recognition in the others, at least not like I've had for Minho, for Newt, Nick, Alby, Winston. Not that I've told them or anything. It's at least got me curious. I don't remember anything specifically, but whatever process that caused us all to "lose" our memories, it failed on me. Or, at least it was faulty to some degree. And that makes me smile. There's a rebellious side in me somewhere. I like it.
Watching Minho running though, that's getting boring. He's not getting better. He's mostly just jogging along because he's not really fighting for it. He says he wants to be a Runner and I've seen nothing to support his claims.
I guess I'll step in now.
"Oi, wait a minute, Minho." I call out suddenly, standing and motioning him over.
Rolling his eyes, he complies. Jogging over to me with zero enthusiasm.
"I've got a couple of ideas to put a little pep in your step." I say with a mischievous grin.
"I do not like how that sounds at all." He admits, crossing his arms.
"And that's why I'm your only friend." I smile innocently. "You don't like anything."
He snorts. "Especially you."
"Hey, watch your gob." I threaten him whilst wagging my finger. "I'm going to kick your ass into shape, savvy?"
Suddenly, he groans. "Why do you talk like that, no one can even understand you."
"Newt does, and he's all that matters." I smirk.
"Bloody hell, mate. I'm touched!"
I look over my shoulder and it turns out Newt's snuck up behind me. Just like the carefree nutter he truly is, he swings his arm around my shoulder and we both admire the greenie before me, covered in sweat. When I try to address Minho, Newt suddenly noogies me. Bastard.
Feeling kind, I just barely nudge him in the side. "Arse, and you know I'm a romantic at heart."
"That you mostly certainly are not." Newt disagrees.
I nudge him a little harder this time. "Don't tell me what I am or what I'm not. You don't know me!"
"I know you're probably the most competent greenie we've ever gotten." He says honestly.
"Should I go somewhere else so you shanks can have this moment?" Minho asks out of the blue, arms crossed.
"No, there's plenty of time for that later, I know where he sleeps." I tease with a wink in my friends direction.
Newt laughs. "No thanks, mate. You're not my type."
"Of course not." I agree. "You like them stubborn, angry, muscly -"
"Jo, shut up." He almost hisses, but the look in his eyes tell me that it's all in good fun.
I pat him on the back. "Fine, I won't tell Minho about your ideal type. Help me whip him into shape, would ya?"
"I don't want to give him an unfair advantage." Newt laments, and he has a fair point.
"I'd agree with you, but he's got absolutely no advantage right now. He's a shuck-faced greenie that pisses off almost everyone he talks to." I explain. "He had the gall to tell Fry that his eggs were overdone this morning. The greenie nearly got a pot to the face."
"Yikes, mate." Newt visibly winces. "You sure he'll make a good Runner?"
"Alright, can you shanks stop talking about me like I'm not even here." Minho interrupts with a roll of the eyes.
Laughing, I nod and motion for the boys to follow me. "I have a plan that just might work on you, Minho."
He groans loudly. "You've said that already, care to elaborate?"
"The only reason why you're dragging your shuck arse all over the place is because you think you're the fastest bloke in this damn Glade." I finally explain, heading towards a set of Doors.
Minho audibly smirks behind me, if that's physically possible. "I am the fastest."
"Then how in the bloody hell did I manage to catch you?" I ask, coy as all hell.
He freezes, and I turn to see Newt holding in a laugh behind his newest trainee. The look on Minho's face is utterly priceless. Apparently he's completely forgotten about his arrival, when he ran like a total prat towards the Doors and almost got eaten by a Griever. Good times.
"That was just a fluke." Minho mutters.
I'm smirking uncontrollably. "That's what we're about to find out."
His face just falls suddenly, like he's had the most horrible revelation in the world. And maybe he has. That I'm going to whoop his arse at his own game, just like I always have.
Always have? I say to myself. How long have I known this kid?
"You ready for this, Minho?" I say as I jog off towards one of the Doors and ignore the damned voices in my head.
He's hesitant, and I'm not surprised. "And what exactly is this?"
"He's challenging you to a race, mate." Newt chuckles behind us.
"What." Minho questions, almost panics.
I can't help but laugh. "He's right. We're about to see if me tackling your arse to the ground was just luck."
You could almost hear him swallow past the lump in his throat.
This is going to be fun.
"Well, it was." He tries to bolster.
We're both just in front of the doorway and some of the other boys have gathered to see what's up. They're muttering to themselves, seems like they've sort of figured it out because I could swear that I hear Nick in the crowd taking bets. Newt's standing beside us, hand raised in the air, ready to signal Minho's ultimate demise.
"On the count of three, yeah?" Newt says calmly.
We both nod our compliance and assume the position.
"No crying after I wipe the Glade with your rear, got it?" I smirk at Minho.
"As if." He retorts weakly. He knows what he's in for.
"One… Two… Three… Go!"
Suddenly we're off like a couple of well oiled bullets. This is the first time I've run in a long while where I have any end goal in sight. Beat Minho to the other side of the Glade, and it's a simple task. There's something about air flowing around you, not due to wind or anything, but from sheer force or yourself, that's absolutely ethereal. I honestly don't give half a damn if Minho beats me to the other side, I never run for competition, other than competition against myself. Mostly, I run for the feeling of being unstoppable.
When I look back at Minho who's only a few steps behind me, I hear something in the back of my mind.
"You're never going to beat my scores with that weak pace of yours, Minho!"
For a mere second, I slow down to make sense of what I just heard. I only slow enough for Minho to get an edge on me, but I feel everything slowing down around me again. I started to recall a memory, or at least a brief piece of one. One of Minho specifically. That's - disconcerting, and the others can't know about it. There'll be too many questions that I'll have zero answers for. So, for the time being, I'll keep that to myself.
"You seem a little slow today, Jo!" Minho laughs.
And that, of course, kicks me back into gear and time is flowing normally again. I pick up my speed and pull up to Minho's side.
"Maybe you should learn to watch your mouth!" I manage to say before taking off like a rocket.
"I appreciate this competition but if either of you run into that Maze that's a night in the Pit for each of ya!" Nick hollers behind us.
I take note of what he's said because I actually hadn't formulated that into my plans. Not only that, we're approaching the Doors alarmingly fast. Minho doesn't look like he's slowing in the slightest, so I decide to call it. I'll let the bloke win so we don't get thrown in the slammer. I stop running, turn to the side, and start skidding towards the Doors. Soon, Minho follows suit and a huge dust cloud kicks up around us. Once the dust finally settles, I can see clearly that has Minho won the race. Laughing, I look up and concede my defeat.
"Alright, you win, Minho." I chuckle. "Looks like you're pretty -"
Out in the Maze, I see one of them. I've never seen one of them before, that I can remember, but I know.
"Griever." I mutter underneath my breath and scramble to my feet. "Minho, we need to get back to the Homestead."
"Want to go cry into your pillow?" He jokes, totally unaware of what's going on.
"No time for games, mate." I try to persuade him, offering my hand.
Finally, he quirks his brow at me and looks out into the Maze.
"Is that -"
"Yes, now get off your ass and lets get out of here."
He nods briskly, quickly finding his feet and immediately running back towards the Homestead. I obviously should follow behind him, but I can't bring myself to turn away. For what feels like forever, I'm simply standing there, watching this grotesque creature whiz and whir its way through the Maze like an old windup toy. There's something dragging behind it, a piece of metal that looks almost like at arm. Sparks are flying off of it and it seems to be completely nonfunctioning. Whatever it is, I'm smiling again. Smiling like a damned fool.
I did it.
Now, what exactly it is, I apparently have to find out. Because there's a piece of me that remembers everything from before, I'm learning that slowly. I'm just separated from it for some unknown reason. Maybe that's how it is for the others as well, it's all there but hidden behind some sort of wall. Why I'm able to recall these fleeting thoughts and memories is beyond me, maybe my connection is stronger than the others or - it's weaker. Far weaker. For whatever reason, they screwed up with me.
And their mistake will be their absolute downfall.
Author's Note: Another chapter that was mostly done apart from a little bit of finesse. Thanks for the review and for hopping onto the Jo band wagon! Next chapter will probably be out as soon as I figure out what the content will be. I'm the worst, sorry guys. Keep the reviews coming I'm absolutely in love with them.