FOUR. 

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When I heard that Alex wanted to be a Runner, I nearly lost it.

"Absolutely not," I said as soon as Nick finished his sentence. My arms crossed over my chest as if that would make the point more clear to him. Since I was favoring my good leg, it probably seemed to him that I was standing like that in a sassy manner.

Nick appeared surprised, like he hadn't expected that response. "Nadia, it wouldn't hurt to use more Runners, and he's directly offering to be one." He paused. "I thought if anyone would understand, it would be you."

I shifted my weight and raised my eyebrows. "That kid is the most arrogant boy I've ever come across. He doesn't need any more special treatment than the Greenies usually get. It'll only feed his ego." I waved a hand toward the Blood House. "Hook him up with the Slicers like we do with every Newbie."

"Boys like him just need a reminder that the Earth doesn't revolve around them," Nick tried to reason, his voice low and steady.

"Exactly!" I exclaimed in an exasperated tone. "This is how I'm reminding him. When he goes through his training cycle and gets to me last, maybe things will have changed by then."

Nick pursed his lips, something he often did when he was deep in thought. There was a beat of silence as he debated on my opinion and his own. Finally, he sighed and loosened his tense stance.

"Fine," he said, "but you need to give him a fair trial at running, you hear me?" His eyes drifted slowly down to my cast and he cringed. "I mean, Minho better give him a fair trial. The both of you."

Nick scratched his neck in embarrassment and walked away. I watched him go, the sunlight bleeding in from the open windows and painting tiger stripes onto him from the curtains. He moved down the hallway at his usual brisk pace, hands now shoved into the pockets of his jeans. His brown work boots pounded on the wood floor with how heavy they were. I watched as he turned the corner and retreated down the steps.

With a heavy sigh, I went into my room and picked up a small notebook from my dresser, along with a pencil from the Runner Drawer. I had never used the pages in the notebook until now. I had also never been into drawing, but my injury inspired hobbies in me that I didn't have an interest in before. Part of it was also Minho, who wouldn't stop pestering me about trying new things.

The notebook went into my back pocket, along with the pencil. I shrugged on my red jacket and adjusted my grip on my crutches. I had become even more of an expert on using them, and it was now a lot easier to move through the long blades of uncut grass in the Glade.

A few minutes later, I was back downstairs and quickly crutching toward the Map Room. It was a small building in front of the Slammer, just diagonal from the Homestead. The Map Room consisted of a circular building made of stone, while everything else inside was wood. That and the Homestead had been the only buildings that were already there when we arrived in the Glade; we just chose to add onto the home.

I approached the large, metal door and took out my key ring. Quickly sifting through them, I found the appropriate key and stuck it in the lock. The door unlocked with a click. Now my only problem was that there was no way I could actually open it by myself. It was a struggle even when I could use both legs- I couldn't imagine what it would be like now.

What would I do? Newt was out in the Maze and I had no clue where Minho was. The Asian boy had kept more to himself lately, maybe because it was part of his plan to make me stronger. I wasn't sure on that, but I had noticed I was becoming increasingly independent. I was no longer asking people to hold my crutches or open doors for me- except this time.

I still hated asking for help. That was probably the reason why I stepped back and leaned my crutches against the wall of the Map Room, balancing on one foot. I slowly eased the other down onto the ground until the cast was brushing the grass. I wished the feeling wasn't starting to come back to it and that it could still be numb. Maybe then I wouldn't be feeling any pain as I rested almost my full weight on it.

Biting my lip to keep from crying out at the burning sensation that was frying up my nerves, I leaned forward and pulled the door open with all my might. My arm muscles shook as my feet dug into the ground. Tears pricked at my eyes from the agonizing, sharp stabbing sensation in my leg that was testing my limits.

Once the door was fully open, I quickly grabbed my crutches and picked my injured foot off of the ground. It relieved some of the pressure, but didn't stop the tears from slipping out of my eyes and down my cheeks as I moved inside as quickly as I could.

I sat at the table for a good ten minutes until the pain subsided and I stopped crying. I felt horrible for having done that to myself. It was stupid and I should've asked for help. Who knew if I had jacked up my leg even more from what I had done?

I wiped my face with the collar of my shirt, removing the layer of sweat that had accumulated there. I put my head in my hands and sniffled. The pain had subsided to somewhat of an ache, but it was still annoying.

I spent my day in the Map Room and perfecting drawings from the Runners. Ben, one of the more careless Runners, had imperfect lines that I had to straighten out with a snapped ruler. Newt's maps were always a bit too light as if he didn't apply enough pressure onto the paper. Minho's, unsurprisingly, were so impeccable that it was almost bothersome. I never had anything to correct.

With some (okay, much) effort, I had tugged the giant crate of the newer maps closer to the chair I sat in. There were around three wooden boxes pushed against the wall, each filled to the brim with stacks of paper from the past year and a few months. The room was pretty sparse otherwise. There was a single window above the boxes, of which I had opened halfway to let even more air in. The metal door was propped open with several chairs that I had removed from around the rectangular table in the center. Sunlight shined into the room and brought in a gentle breeze that blew the stray hairs that had fallen out of my ponytail.

Every so often, I'd switch from correcting maps to drawing in my notebook. I started off small with cubes and shading. My style was rough and pointy, which I didn't like very much because it didn't have the tendency to flow. The strokes of lead were harsh and short. I huffed in frustration, trying to force myself to make them longer and softer.

"Nadia has finally found a hobby? Who would've known?" Minho's voice sounded. He stood, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. There was an unbearably smug smirk on his face as his eyes scanned over the contents spilled across the table. The light from the sun shone in the sky behind him, making him slightly difficult to see with how the light was peeking around him.

"I like drawing," I responded as I turned my attention from him to my current picture. The pencil moved across the paper lightly in case I needed to erase anything. I bit my lip in concentration, tilting my head to the side to view it from a better angle.

Minho uncrossed his arms and walked further into the room. That caused the sun to flood into my eyes, making me squint and blink rapidly. He came around the sides of the table and leaned his elbows against it as he watched me draw. He pointed to my current picture. "What is that?"

"A tree," I answered as I rounded a branch. I set down the pencil and pointed to different spots on the plant. "See? That's the trunk, and these are the branches. I have yet to finish them and add some leaves."

Minho squinted so hard that his eyes almost seemed to close. He craned his neck to the left and leaned back a bit. "It almost looks like a tree if I look at it like this."

I frowned and let out a sigh, letting my eyes wander over the sketch sadly. "Is it really that bad?"

Minho laughed and stopped squinting. He returned his posture to normal and tugged on my ponytail lightly. "I'm kidding, buttercup. It's good." He leaned closer. "Really good, actually. Have you considered asking the Creators for some art supplies?"

"They don't seem to send us anything involving fun," I spat lowly, resting back in my chair. My spine had started to ache from how I had been hunched over for so long. "The last time we asked them for something, nothing came."

"That was because we asked for a TV," Minho pointed out.

I blinked at him. That was completely true. "Right. Well, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. I don't know how seriously I'm going to take this; right now it's just something to pass the time."

Minho crouched down so he was balancing on the tips of his toes with his knees bent, his head at my elbow as he gazed up at me. "Yeah, but what about when I go back into the Maze? What are you going to do all day? Nadia, you need to let yourself be selfish once and awhile. Think about what you want."

I sighed. I knew he was right, but it was going to be a weird transition to allow myself to invest in other things than running. As a Keeper, I ran in the Maze every day. It didn't give me much of a chance to figure myself out. What did I like to do? Run? What about in my spare time? Train for running. And if I wasn't doing that? Organizing supplies and weapons.

Loud voices caused me to look up. Gladers were laughing and talking as they passed the Map Room, clearly heading for the back of the Homestead where the kitchens were. The time on my digital watch - something exclusive to Runners and Keepers - said it was noon on the dot. It was lunchtime.

I stood, grabbing my crutches from against the wall and fitting them beneath my arms. Minho got up as well and held out his arm with a boyish smirk on his face. "Escort?"

"I got this one," I replied, picking up the maps and setting them back inside the crate. Minho lifted it and set it back beside the others against the wall to the left of the table. Before he could react any further, I had already placed the notebook and pencil back in my pocket and was grabbing the chairs that were propping the door open.

"Easy there, buttercup," Minho chuckled, holding a hand up to stop me. He shook his head with a smile on his face as he took a chair from my hands. "Don't wanna hurt yourself even more, do ya? All you gotta do is stay right there and I'll do the rest." He paused, eyeing the door. "Actually, take a few more steps in. I wouldn't want you getting crushed by that shuck thing."

I did as he asked, moving back inside the Map Room as he put the chairs in their original positions around the table. The door was so heavy that it started to close on the last chair. Before it could slam shut on it, Minho grabbed it and the metal closed with a bang. Now the only source of light came from the open window. Shadows danced across the room like silhouettes from a candle. 

He let out a low whistle. "Swear that thing's a beast."

Soon we were on our way to the Kitchens for lunch. Mostly everyone was there already, tightly packed in the areas outside. The picnic tables were more crowded than usual, it seemed, and then I realized why. Some of the Cooks were sitting outside as well. 

Usually, the single, long table inside was reserved for Keepers only. It was where we updated our progress and discussed certain things during dinner. However, upon seeing the black smoke pouring out of the open door, I knew I'd have to sit outside for a while.

"Wonder what happened," I mumbled, stopping a little ways from the entrance to the Kitchens. Minho whispered something beneath his breath that sounded a lot like, "Holy shuck."

Frypan emerged in a coughing fit, choking so badly he could barely breathe. I crutched toward him as quickly as I could with Minho trailing behind.

"Frypan, what happened?" I asked worriedly, being careful to avoid the smoke that was still pouring out of the room. Yells and shouts could be heard from the inside, as well as furious beating and the pouring of water.

The Cook stood, hunched over, as more violent coughs fled his throat. When he finally calmed and looked up at me, his brown eyes were glistening with tears from the acrid air. "That little klunkhead put beans in the microwave. That - the Greenie, Alex."

Minho's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with that?"

Frypan straightened to his full height and directed a glare toward the doorway. "They were still in the can. Closed. Whole appliance exploded and the sparks caught onto a bit of wood, startin' a shuck fire." He sighed and wiped his forehead. "We got it out alright, but the smoke won't quit. I'm gonna beat that kid to a pulp."

"I thought he was supposed to be with Link today," I mused with a confused expression on my face. It was customary for the Newbies to start off their job-hunting with the Slicers in the Blood House. They slaughtered animals for a living, and it was fun to see the Greenies squirm at having to kill a pig.

Frypan squinted in distaste. "He was, but he almost killed a man on accident when a cow got squeamish about bein' cut open. Knife flew and almost impaled poor little Johnny in the head, and that was the end of that. Nick sent Alex over here in hope that he could deal with cows that are already dead." He let out a dry laugh. "Ain't nobody been so wrong before."

One of the Cooks came out holding two plates stacked high with food. His eyes were squinted heavily against the smoke as he choked on it. I recognized him immediately- his name was Alfie and he was just barely thirteen. At first I thought he would tip over, but he just barely made it out the door and handed the plates to Minho and I. He pointed to mine, breathless and panting.

"Yours has the special bone-mendin' stuff in it, so it might taste a bit off," he informed me, then coughed into his arm. Tear tracks were running down his face from having stayed in the Kitchens for so long.

"Alfie, you go along and get everyone out of there," Frypan ordered gently. "Every last Glader- even the sorry shank who caused this."

Alfie nodded and headed back inside. He was swallowed by the black smoke almost immediately.

"Why did you send him back into a burning building?" Minho questioned incredulously, eyebrows raised as he held his plate clenched in both hands. His nose was wrinkled against the smell of charred wood.

The Keeper of the Cooks waved his hand. "He'll be fine. He's small. And besides, it ain't burning anymore."

A few moments later, Alex emerged with his tanned face covered in soot. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath of the clean air. When his eyes opened, they directed on me and a smirk carved into his mouth. I gave him a blank stare as he retreated back to his table with not so much as an apology to Frypan for endangering lives.

All I could think about was how I would rather be stuck in the Maze overnight than have him become one of my Runners.

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we need a ship name pronto. what do you guys think? ninho? nadinho? madia? minadia? comment your thoughts below!

also: you may have noticed that i made ben a runner. like i said before, this book is a mix of the book and movie (with most of it from the book, but minor details are taken from the movie), so i'm sorry if there's any confusion.

-kristyn