Season Two, Episode Nine: When You're Bored
Tyn was practically unapproachable after the incident, and Elizabeth kept her distance to save herself from further embarrassment. She missed talking to him, but...it was awkward. It was awkward with some of the others, too, P.F. and Dalton teased her whenever they could during Running. For some reason it made things that much more entertaining for them. She tolerated it in the beginning, and then it just got old.
"I don't see how it's a big deal," she told them one day.
"Of course it's not," Dalton replied, "not really, anyway."
"But that doesn't mean it can't be," P.F. had added with a snort.
Really. It was pretty immature. She let them get away with it, though, because she understood that being cooped up in a Maze for a year meant things were always the same. It was so boring nowadays, even with the dying crops and pigs. Even when said maze was wasn't much to do other than bet on wrestling matches or walk through the Deadheads as if you hadn't explored every inch of them before. There was only so much Glade a person could take.
Elizabeth and the other Runners weren't the only ones feeling restless. Frypan had started more experimentation with his alcohol-which involved mixing baking soda and sugar-water together for "taste." Jeff and Winston had started crafting together a mannequin made of wood, pillows, and anything else they could find to practice on. Nick declared he was leaving the Runners and Track-hoes and started flitting around with the other jobs. He wasn't any good at cooking or with the Slicers, but he found he appreciated building more than he used to. Unfortunately, he and Gally but heads a lot. According to Newt, there was many-a-time that their arguments could be heard throughout the whole clearing.
"USE THIS END TO POUND, YOU STUPID SHANK!" Gally.
"DON'T SHUCKING TELL ME WHAT TO DO OR I'LL BASH YOUR HEAD IN!" Nick.
Honestly. Elizabeth wished another girl would be sent up by-either by accident or on purpose-one day. There seemed to be only so much testosterone she could take. Even Newt got on her nerves sometimes, and she loved him more than she could explain. She loved all of them in a different way, of course. They were family. But Newt...well, of course he would be different.
"What'cha thinking so hard about?" P.F interrupted her thoughts. She realized she'd been holding her sandwich for quite some time now, without eating it. They'd stopped for lunch and were leaning against the side of the Maze. Minho was on lookout, though he had his own, half-eaten sandwich between his fingers instead of his Griever-sword.
"Daydreaming about a certain Track-hoe again?" P.F. snickered and Elizabeth felt her face go hot.
"I was not!" She totally had been. "I don't think about him as often as you think I do!" She totally did.
"Girl, you're lying through your teeth," Dalton said. P.F. nudged him and they giggled together some more. Elizabeth found herself rolling her eyes.
"Bloody hell, you're acting like schoolgirls. Most of my daydreams are about, you know, girl stuff." She was just digging a deeper hole for herself. And since when had she started saying bloody hell? Newt's face popped into her head and her blush deepened. They laughed harder like they could read her mind. She wasn't going to hear the end of this.
"Would you shanks stop bothering her?" Minho suddenly said, "I'm getting tired of all that Newt crap because of one time they kissed and we heard about it."
Thank you, Minho, Elizabeth thought.
"Find something else to laugh about," Minho stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. Elizabeth smiled smugly at Dalton and P.F. whose expressions had turned sheepish. She was about to gloat, but then Minho cut her off with a glare.
"And eat your lunch, Elizabeth," he said, "You're skinny enough as is."
"No problem, Dad," Elizabeth said.
And just like that, Dalton and P.F. had something else to laugh about.
Gally was having a lousy day. First he woke up to Chris rummaging around his stuff. Loudly. He didn't even try being sneaky about snooping around places he didn't belong. Gally should have been used to klunk like that by now, but it was just as annoying this time as it was the first time. Did the stupid shank not get that he didn't own anything even remotely interesting? The dude would probably get more satisfaction out of going through Elizabeth's stuff. A guy could dream.
Then his breakfast had been stone cold, as if Frypan had made the eggs last night rather than this morning. He would have been okay with it if the cook hadn't made some snarky comment about first dibs. It was idiotic because Gally was always one of the first awake in the morning and he'd never had a problem with "dibs," before.
Makes me want to scream.
To add insult to injury, Nick followed him to the unfinished hut he'd been working on. Alone. It wasn't that Gally didn't appreciate working with Doug and Louis, but sometimes he liked building things on his own. Nick could talk big, but he couldn't put his money where his mouth was. The most he'd done "helping" Gally was shredding up the rest of the wooden planks from last month's Box because he assumed the title "Builder" meant tearing up shit and prying nails out of boards.
"You should have stuck with mowing the vegetables," he said when Nick overlapped two pieces of wood together width-wise rather than length-wise for the umpteenth time.
"It's called plowing, shank," Nick said, scowling.
"Which is exactly why I'm not a Track-hoe. Do yourself a favor and stick with what you're good at."
"You saying I'm no good at building stuff like you are?" Nick's face was turning that angry-purple color again. Gally hated that particular shade. He could at least try make it a nice, pale lavender.
"Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying! I've been saying it for the last four days!" Could the guy be even more dense? Gally expected Nick to bust out yelling at that, but the man surprised him with no more than an exasperated glare.
"I'm not stupid," he said.
"Did I say you were?" Gally tried very hard not to raise his voice.
"No. But you were thinkin' it." Frusterated, Nick threw down his hammer.
"Shut up. Don't tell me what I was or wasn't thinking."
Nick went quiet. Gally was even more surprised about that than the sissy glare, but he'd take it. As long as he didn't get in the way of things.
"You don't think I'm stupid?" Nick's voice five minutes later startled Gally.
"NO!" he shouted. All he wanted was to work in peace, was that too much to ask for?
"Oh," Nick sounded smaller than usual. It was weird. Maybe the slinthead was stupid. Why were they still talking about this, anyway?
After another few minutes had passed, Nick picked up the hammer again. "Thanks," he said, "I don't think you're stupid, either."
Gally blinked. He looked over at Nick, who seemed to be trying, actually trying this time to do a good job on piecing the side of the hut together. He didn't remember the last time the guy had thanked anybody for anything. He was always so arrogant and stubborn to do so. But he wasn't stupid. Gally wasn't stupid, either. He knew that already, of course, but it was...nice hearing it from somebody else's mouth. Maybe that was why Nick was so upset. If he thought about it, he realized that everybody always just talked about how ornery and fierce-tempered Nick was. Everybody expected him to be yell and get angry and argumentative. That was just the type of person he was and everyone knew and expected it.
They thought about him that way, too. He remembered something Elizabeth said a long time ago, back when they were Greenies: Are you always so broody? No. Well, yes, he supposed he was "broody" in a sort of way, but he didn't always mean to be. He was just Gally.
Nick, too. He wasn't stupid, he was just Nick. And just Nick wasn't always so predictable, either. Gally remembered when Dave was suffering from a concussion and when Elizabeth had just heard the news about Newt jumping off the wall. Those instances opened a different side of Nick; more subtle but no less Nick.
"Here," Gally held up his portion of the wall beside Nick's. "You keep them connected at the corner and I'll pound them in."
"Have you ever been in the Maze?" Damon was asking Snow. The older boy shook his head.
"Nah, it's sort of an unspoken rule that only the Runners go in."
"But why? What's so great about keeping the rest of us locked up?" Damon continued. He and Snow were standing around with Story and Chris with nothing to do but be bored.
"It's not the Runners' fault we're stuck in here," Snow pointed out.
"He has a valid point, though," Chris said. "According to Elizabeth we're being tested on how long it takes us to get out of here. Logically there should be more than just four of us going out to look for a way out."
Snow frowned. He wasn't fully on board with the whole "everything is a test" theory. Tests came with rules, and he wasn't quite sure what those rules were, apart from just living life.
"We can ask Minho if he'd let us go with them one day," Stoy suggested. Snow liked that idea. It seemed fair, and Minho was fair.
"We could ask," Chris shrugged,"Or we could pretend that we're old enough to make our own decisions."
"But we are old enough," Stoy said, confused. He was what, thirteen? Fourteen? Snow guessed.
"Yeah, that's what I meant," Chris said casually. He was always so casual with everything. Snow didn't like that about him, but he did like the way he always spoke his mind and didn't stand for getting bossed around. Honestly, the people here were too stiff-necked. Sure, Chris could be a jerk, but at least he stood up for himself.
"Why should we have to ask permission from some random shank? If you want to have a look around the Maze go do it."
"Won't Nick and Alby get angry if we do that?" Damon asked.
"Maybe. Who cares?" Chris shrugged and looked to Snow with an amused expression on his face.
"What about the Grievers?" Damon was still hesitant. Snow didn't blame him for that. From what he knew of them, those were the one thing you didn't want to come across in the Maze.
"We're all fairly bright," Chris said, "You know the danger. If you decide to go into the Maze and get killed it's your own fault."
"Stop scaring the kids, Chris," Snow said. Damon and Stoy didn't look scared. They looked thoughtful. "It doesn't matter if we don't go in the Maze or not."
"Doesn't it?" The edge of Chris's mouth turned up in a cocky grin. "We live here, too. If we were all out looking for a way out, maybe we wouldn't still be here."
"It would be respectful to ask Minho, anyway," Snow frowned. He didn't like the direction this conversation was going.
"Chris is right," Stoy spoke up, "Minho's not the boss of us. I should be able to do what I want freely."
"Now this is where it gets interesting," Chris said under his breath. Snow ignored him.
"I said to ask him out of respect, not because he's the boss."
Stoy looked like he was about to say something else, but Damon stopped him, "You're right Snow, we should ask Minho, first." He glared at Stoy. Snow was relieved, but still felt some explanation was necessary.
"Besides," he went on, "the whole reason we have rules set up is so people don't do stupid stuff in the first place. You think a world without any laws and people did whatever they wanted is really safe? It sounds nice, sure, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to lie without the knowledge of consequences."
That shut them up. Good.
"You're quite the philosopher, Snow," Chris said, almost in admiration.
Snow shook his head, "It's not philosophy, it's common sense."
"Of course. Whatever the man says."
Snow wasn't convinced. He changed the subject to girls, which was much more interesting, in his opinion. Stoy entertained them with his cringy ideas of an ideal woman and he forgot about the Maze. As long as they were all surviving, it wasn't that important, anyway.
*Special Author's Note*
Thanks for bearing with me. The next chapter will be up sooner this time.
