In the end, they stuck her on odds-and-ends jobs the next day. After some deliberation and the war story of what she'd 'done to Frypan's kitchen', none of the Keepers were lining up to test out the female greenie just yet. Even still, there were plenty of jobs around here that even she couldn't mess up.
Personally, she had to wonder if any of the other boys in the Glade could really fare much better than she did in the kitchen, but maybe that wasn't really the point. It was probably the principle of the matter. A form of punishment for disrupting the cook's flow—no one messed with a teenage boy's food and got away with it.
Elsie brought up the machete in her hand and swung it down. It sank mere inches into the side of the stump she'd been tasked with uprooting in order to make way for an expanded garden.
She sighed and wiped at the sweat on her forehead. "I thought this kind of thing was what the Track-hoes are here for."
Alex smirked at her. "Yeah, well, this is probably their grunt work."
"And you're telling me they have no better tools around here to use than this?" She held the machete aloft and noticed that there were a couple of chips missing out of the blade. "It barely looks sharp enough to cut paper. Wet!"
"Are you just going to keep whining all day?" Alex had made significant progress on his side, or at least it was significant in relation to hers. She tried not to scowl too hard. "I don't remember you being such a crybaby."
"You're one to talk," quipped a bored Clint from nearby. He sat off to the side like a baby-sitter, not helping, just observing with a book in his hand as he read. "What was it you kept saying yesterday?"
"When do we get to try out for the Runners?" Quoted a blonde boy in a cheap imitation of Alex's voice—Ben, she thought his name was.
Clint scoffed as Alex hid his face by leaning in to whack at the stump. "Oh, yeah. That's right."
Elsie rolled her eyes. "You're so predictable," she told her brother, beating the machete against the side of the stump again. A splinter of wood flew off and pelted her arm.
Alex gave her a dirty look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, like you weren't panting after that Maze the second you found out about it. We can always count on you to aim high." Ever since she spent another long, sleepless night freezing in her hammock, she'd started off the day in a foul mood. It hadn't improved from there.
Her brother was trying very hard not to look at the boys around them. "Yeah? Well at least I wasn't 'panting' after the second-in command."
Clint dropped his book and Ben's head swiveled around, both of them peering at her with great interest. Elsie thought her face would melt off she blushed so hard, and Clint leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees. "Say what now?"
"Don't listen to him, he's just being stupid!" Elsie hissed.
"Sounds like Newt's got his very own little fan girl over here," Ben chortled, and Alex stopped what he was doing to reach over and punch him in the shoulder. Hard.
He pointed at Ben's face as the boy rubbed at his shoulder, his smirk having vanished and replaced with a scowl. "Watch it, klunk-head," Alex warned. "That's my sister."
"You said it first!"
Clint stood to walk up with his hands on his hips. "All right, you two—that's enough. Just focus on this shuck stump. It's almost time for lunch."
Elsie rubbed at her wrist irritably and focused an intense, hateful glare on the side of Alex's head after he turned away.
"Hey—" Clint reached down and captured Elsie's hand. "What happened to your wrist?"
She ineffectively tried to pry it from his grip, but the older boy was unyielding. She noticed for the first time that he actually had grey hair already feathering out from his temples and into the rest of his jet-black hair, but his face looked as youthful as anyone else in the Glade.
"It's swollen pretty bad," Clint noted. He prodded at the knot and she bit her tongue to swallow a hiss. He eyed her. "That hurt?" She resisted the urge to snap at him, instead giving him only a hard nod in affirmation. Clint hummed disapprovingly. "Why didn't you tell someone?"
Alex had dropped everything to hover nearby. He craned his neck to get a look for himself. Elsie sighed. "It's not a big deal. I just fell on it the other night, it was dumb."
"Well, try not to use it. Let's go ahead and break for lunch early. I'll go see if I can dig out some ice for that."
Elsie's shoulders fell and she buried her grumbles behind a mask of resignation. Clint was already off, making a beeline for the kitchen, and Ben was practically skipping down to the Homestead in delight at an early break. Probably to spread the news of her crush, she privately glowered. Alex, however, lingered behind to fix his sister with a concerned look.
She promptly averted her gaze. "What?" She irritably snapped.
"Elsie, come on," Alex quietly said in a way that felt accusing even though it wasn't. "You flipped out over a couple cuts on my knuckles and dragged me off to wrap them up. But I'm not allowed to know about this?"
"It's not broken or anything," She dismissed.
"That's not really the point." Alex followed her as she walked around him. "Sure, it isn't broken yet, but you weren't even resting it. I saw you swinging the machete with that hand a few times. You'll only make it worse!"
"Ugh, fine! I'm sorry!"
"Elsie!" Alex grabbed her by the shoulder to pull her to a stop. She crossed her arms and glared at him. "What's going on? Are you mad at me for something?"
"Alex, I told you!" Elsie shouted, more exasperated than she intended to be and angrier than she knew the situation called for—she knew she was being unfair, but she couldn't help it. "It's fine! I'm fine! Just drop it! Please."
"Hey," said Newt as he materialized beside her, like he always did. He approached with his hands slightly raised, like he wasn't sure if he should really be inserting himself into the situation but felt obligated to anyway. Alex looked inexplicably irritated by the other boy's appearance. "Everything okay here?"
"Hey, don't waste your time. Didn't you hear? It's fine," her brother mocked.
Ire raised within Elsie, and she clenched her hand into a fist. "Alexander! Seriously, drop it."
Her brother threw his hands out. He backed away and narrowed his eyes into slits, his voice scarcely more than a hiss as he said, "Fine."
She watched him stalk off, a flurry of emotions flickering through her. Exasperation, irritation, guilt, regret. Elsie reached up to press a hand against her forehead and let out a long sigh, suppressing the burn and prickle at her eyes. She realized Newt was raising an eyebrow at her and dropped her hand to defensively straighten up. "What?"
He glanced at Alex's retreating figure, and then back to her. "What was that all about?"
"It's nothing," She said, a little harsher than she meant to. But Newt had been there for her last night, and she really didn't want to snap at him too. So she took a breath and looked at him apologetically, forcing some tension to leave her shoulders. "Ugh—I'm sorry," She sighed. "I don't know why I'm being such a slinthead right now. I'm probably going to have to apologize for that."
She didn't need to elaborate that she was referring to her public argument with Alex, but something told her it would be better to give him time to cool off. Newt looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but Clint was headed in their direction with a pack of ice in his hand.
He reached out to offer it to her. "Fifteen-minute increments," He instructed her. "I'm going to give you the rest of the afternoon off—Med-jack's orders—" he added with a pointed look at Newt, "—but this is the only one you get. Next time don't be such a dumb-klunk about it. I really don't have the equipment to deal with a broken wrist."
Wordlessly, she obediently pressed the ice to her wrist to convince him further. Clint eyed her for half a second longer before he apparently called his job done. He turned, leaving behind just her and Newt standing awkwardly beside the haggard looking stump in the ground.
"Boy, you sure are good at making friends." Newt offered her a wry grin and she rolled her eyes. He reached out to slap her shoulder. "Cheer up, greenie! An entire afternoon off? Most Gladers would kill for that."
Elsie frowned. "What am I supposed to do for five hours?"
Newt grinned widely. "Actually—I know just the thing."
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm on medical time out," she reminded him, and the icepack crinkled as she lifted it to show him.
"Slim it and follow me, greenie!" Newt announced, marching ahead like a subdued drum major with a limp. She couldn't help but laugh at him. "Keep up!"
As she trailed slowly behind him, she felt someone's gaze grilling into the side of her head. She followed it and spotted her sulking brother watching from his vantage point where he leaned against an outer wall of the Homestead with his arms crossed. Elsie hurried to catch up to Newt and tried not to look back.
They headed straight down from the Homestead, all the way to the very border of the woods. Newt stopped to peer up at the trees and Elsie made to venture forward, but he reached out and stopped her. "Ah, best not to explore too far in there just yet, greenie."
She frowned at the woods. "Why not?"
"The graves are in there," He simply informed her. At the expression on her face, he said, "What? You didn't think life was all roses and sunshine round here, did ya?"
"But—" She wasn't sure what exactly she wanted to say. Elsie looked back into the woods, which previously seemed shaded and enticing, but now looked sinister.
"Let's just keep moving." Newt led them onward and she hurried to follow, all too eager to leave the creepy woods behind. She was suddenly thankful to not have ventured out exploring by herself.
As they grew more and more distant from the woods, thoughts of graves filled with boys shed away and she could hear birds chirping, and insects contentedly buzzing. As the sun beamed overhead, it lit the field and cast an almost ethereal glow over the Glade. You could almost forget that this was fake; that they were prisoners to some unknown entity.
Almost.
Surprised at how far they'd walked, Elsie noticed that they were actually only a few steps away from one of the walls. The massive expanse of grey stone stretched so high into the sky, it pulled some far-away memory of a skyscraper into her mind and she couldn't help but gawk up at it. It felt as vast and unconquerable as the looking at the sea. A little bit of that creepy feeling from the woods crept back into her, and she was struck by the sudden sensation of being watched—and it wasn't Newt, because he was peering up as if to look for what she saw when she peered at the walls.
Elsie looked around, but they were alone. It didn't feel that way, though. It felt like there was someone just out of her range of vision, hidden, and watching her. Watching them, studying them. For the first time, she wondered if her sense of paranoia in the Glade was really so unwarranted—if the shadows here really were so empty—or if something hidden within them looked back at her.
Something about the wall caught her eye. She frowned, noticing that it looked like there were scratches in it. She squinted, and upon further scrutiny she realized they were actually names.
She quickly closed the distance between herself and the wall, mouth hanging open in awe as she looked at dozens of names. She actually had to tilt her head back to see them all, they went so high up.
Rob, Joe, Alfred, Clint, Wes, Gally, Minho, Doug, Nick, George, Adam, Dan, Zart, Scott… To name a few. Some of them were underlined. Others, crossed out. When she saw one that said Alex, she slowly reached out to touch it. The deep grooves that made the letters were tan, which made her wonder if the walls were older than she originally thought, and her fingers came away with a white residue.
She wiped the powder onto her shirt, still staring up at the names and wondering how they got there, and if maybe she'd met most of these people, or at least seen their faces.
Newt stepped up beside her. "I saw how you were today and I thought seeing this would help." She closed her eyes. "It's okay to feel angry, greenie. Every sorry sack in this dump has been there before, and if they tell ya different they're lying. Klunk, I was furious for the first two weeks I was here—Alby had to bloody well knock me out to snap me out of it—but I don't wanna see you get bitter."
She blinked forcefully to stop the telltale burning in her eyes, as shame and regret burned in her gut because of the way she behaved. And because of the way she'd been feeling since she arrived, pretty much nonstop. Her emotions that had stewed finally reached a boil, and something about the sight of all the names scratched into the wall pushed her past her breaking point. Her chin trembled and her nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath, crossing her arms to try and hold herself together. She covered her mouth and refused to cry in front of him, but at the same time, she couldn't bear to let him look at her like this. It was pathetic. She turned away.
He didn't touch her; he didn't come closer or offer her a shoulder this time. His voice was oddly tight and he didn't even look at her—he stared up at the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. "This place will break you if you let it."
Elsie hung her head and gave in. She let the first tear fall, and the others followed soon after. Newt didn't say anything or outwardly judge her. He didn't reach out to stop her or even follow her when she stumbled forward to brace her hand against the wall, feeling the texture of the letters scrape against her fingers.
She wanted to shout—to scream at the top of her lungs about the unfairness of it all—but it wasn't even necessary. It felt futile. It felt dumb. She felt silly. But that didn't stop the hurt or resentment that swelled inside her, it didn't dry her tears to know that she was being ridiculous.
Finally, she turned around and slid down the wall, almost falling to the ground to sit. "When I first got here, I thought…" She almost didn't have the courage to say it out loud. But something pushed her forward. "I kept waiting for the adults to show up. I kept imagining that this was… all just some sick—joke." She laughed humorlessly.
Newt reached out to offer her something. She blinked at the icepack she didn't even realize she'd dropped at some point, but she scoffed and glanced at him for a moment before she took it and held it against her wrist.
"I'm sorry there aren't any better answers for you here." Newt's voice was low, and it struck her for the first time how deep it was as he stood there and looked from her to the wall again. "And I wish that I could tell you eventually it starts to make more sense, but it doesn't. If anything it gets worse. At least in that aspect." He paused. "But you'll make friends. You'll fall into a routine. You'll figure it out—at least—as much as we're able to."
"I just want to go back," she said, and Newt looked at her with a frown.
"Back to what?"
She choked out another miserable, short laugh. "I don't know!" The ice fell into her lap and she dragged her knees to her chest.
Newt apparently didn't know what to say to that. He sighed heavily and slowly trudged over, his bad foot dragging the ground lightly as he came to sit beside her. He kept a generous distance between them, like he wanted to be there for her but didn't want to get too close, either. He seemed at war with his thoughts.
In their silence, she could hear the insects lazily buzz around them again. The gentle breeze that blew from god only knows where. The sun streaming through the leaves. Her thoughts ran rampant, and long after her tears had dried, she stayed rooted to that spot. She'd picked the icepack back up—though it was more water than ice by that point—and pressed it into her wrist until the skin was numb. She wished she could do the same thing for her emotions. And then she immediately snorted at that melodramatic, angsty thought. A lot of time passed, but she stopped keeping track.
A little later on, Elsie sighed. "Um… I should probably tell you something." She pressed her lips together. "I mean, I would really rather not—but…" She blinked slowly without looking at him. "I'd also prefer you heard it from me first. That way… it's just better that way."
Newt shifted. "What?" He asked, his accent thick. "Did something happen?"
She pursed her lips and adjusted the bag of ice to give her hands something to do. Suddenly, she was nervous. She almost backed out, but before she could say the wrong thing she blurted out, "Ben thinks I have a crush on you."
Newt's jaw dropped.
Elsie pushed on. "And Clint too, probably. It was just dumb—something my idiot brother said to them because I embarrassed him, so then I think he tried to embarrass me—but it doesn't matter now. Everyone's probably gonna talk about it. I mean—not that I'm super self-absorbed and I just assume that people care about—what I care—or what they think I care about—ugh." She covered her face. Her voice was muffled now as she continued. "What I mean to say is, judging by the way Ben and Clint reacted, people around here are super interested in gossip like that, so… I just…"
She shrank down and snuck a peek at Newt. His face betrayed absolutely nothing, which only drove her crazier, and he let his head fall back to gently knock against the wall. Then he laughed at something.
"What?" She asked, unable to help herself.
"Nothing, it's just that… well, I'm sure it wouldn't have been that big of a deal, except I decided to drag you off to come look at this wall, and now we've both been missing for hours, and…"
Elsie's eyes widened in horror. Her face flamed bright red and she sank even further down. She pulled the neck of her shirt over her face, and she probably looked like a turtle hiding in its shell but she couldn't even bring herself to care. Newt laughed at her as she groaned. "Ohhh, my god… this is—" she choked out her own laugh. "This is humiliating!"
"Well it's not like it's true, so what's the big deal?" He laughed. "Personally, I'm looking forward to thumping the sorry shank who says the first word to me about it."
She pushed her shirt harder against her face and forced out a laugh. "Yeah," She agreed, her voice coming out strained. "So… you're not, like, upset or anything? Are you?"
"Oh, stop taking everything so bloody serious," He teased her. Newt reached out to poke the side of her head that wasn't covered by her shirt. "This is not the worst thing, greenie."
Elsie let her shirt drop and the air felt cold as it blew across her face. She knew her face was beet red but there was nothing she could exactly do about that, so she just let it air out and stubbornly refused to look at him.
"I told you on day one, didn't I?" Newt suddenly said. "I told you to get in line if you ever tried to hit on me again—"
She cut him off by bopping him over the head and he protected himself with his arms, laughing loudly. Elsie gave his shoulder one last shove for good measure. "Slim it, you smug bastard."
Newt was still chuckling when he pulled something out from his hip. Elsie's smile dropped into a frown when she saw him holding a rather imposing blade. Newt saw her face and was quick to reassure her. "Oh—this is just for the wall." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder and indicated the names up there. "Like it or not, you're one of us now, greenie. Your name belongs up there."
Elsie was quiet as she accepted the knife when he handed it over to her. She stared down at it and absorbed his words. She felt overcome without quite knowing why. She felt better, better than she had in days. Newt got to his feet and offered her his hand to help her up.
She still couldn't look at him as she climbed to her feet, leaving the icepack on the ground for the time being. The wall was absolutely covered in names, leaving very little in the way of space. "So… where should I…?"
Newt shrugged a shoulder and gestured widely. "Wherever you fancy."
Elsie ran a hand over her braid and shrugged to herself. She picked a spot at random and began to carve out her name.
After a while, she stopped halfway through the first mark of the 'd' to look at Newt from the corner of her eye. "Can I ask you something?"
"Aaaand she's back," Newt said with a wry grin. He sighed like she had made the most unreasonable request in the world, though it the impatient expression didn't carry to his eyes. "Go on then."
Elsie hesitated. She turned back to her work and carved at the wall for a moment. "Why are you spending so much time around me?"
A beat passed before he responded. "Elsie…" He started, drawing her gaze. He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Look, it feels bad to say this now, but I was being honest with you before. Alby really did tell me to keep an eye on you."
She felt her hands drop to her side, the knife still wrapped in her grasp. She felt, at once, confused and inexplicably disappointed. "Oh. Well. At least you've been honest."
Newt didn't look satisfied at that, but he didn't refute it. "I try," he said, though it lacked his usual flourish and sounded weak by comparison. He watched her finish up her name on the wall and dust her hands off. "Listen, I'm sorry."
"For what?" she asked without looking at him.
Newt look conflicted. "I don't know—I just am."
Elsie shrugged a shoulder. "Don't be." She handed his knife back to him.
But he looked almost sad as he took it and they turned to make the journey back to the Homestead. Elsie felt like some sort of chapter closed for her as she walked away from the wall, and maybe a little more at peace with her place in the world. She also felt a little embarrassed around Newt, though she wasn't entirely sure why.
For anyone reading this who cares about songs that inspire fics, I listened to Are You Even Real? by James Blake on a loop while I wrote this chapter. Kinda fits the overall tone/emotion of Newt/Elsie, in my opinion.
Something tells me this fic will stretch into Scorch Trials and possibly beyond. I just don't think their time in the maze will do the story justice.