62 Dawn

I wake up, early as I can, and look to see Minho but he is gone. Klunk.

I slip out of bed, tumbling onto the floor in a mess of sheets and hair. My butt hurts as it slams against the ground, my hair falling around me. I quickly pull on my jeans, searching the floor for my button up shirt, but I can't seem to find it.

I throw the covers back up on the bed, ruffling through the fabric. When I glance out the window, I notice the sun is about to rise.

Damn it. I can't leave shirtless, or at least in my only-a-tank-top current state of existing. However, if I don't leave soon it'll be bright out, and people will be able to see me crawling out the window.

I abandon my search, lifting my arms up to search the clothes Minho owns. The boys all have multiples of the same shirts but I am resigned to one shirt. The shirt doesn't bother me so much, since Fry and Frankie loaned me a few of theirs. It's the jeans that drive me nuts, since I can maybe wash them once a week.

I sent down a request this week for more clothes. Hopefully they should be arriving today.

It's too late to keep searching. I quickly give up, searching through Minho's clothes for anything I can wear. I pick up one of the many similar yet slightly different blue shirts he owns and throw it over my head. It doesn't look too different from mine, and so long as I keep it unbuttoned, people won't be able to tell it's not mine.

I can tell my hair is messy in the braid I have it in, but I don't pay much attention to the mess. I attempt to pull myself out of the window haphazardly, before practically face planting on the ground. There are boys gathering around the box hole, and I don't think any of them see me.

"You should hide better," Michelle shoves past me, and I can only glare at her.

I roll my eyes, turning to her as she turns around to smirk at me. No one else seems to have noticed besides Michelle. She never seemed like the gloating type, although I can't say I'm particularly surprised.

"You just wish you could get some," I joke with her, although I'm unsure why she is being so friendly.

She pauses, shaking her head at me with a smile playing on her lips. "You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot."

I'm not sure we were on a foot at all. Michelle doesn't really talk to me, or anyone I guess. All I know is that she's pretty violent, which I had no respect for.

But then Ben was there, and he attacked me. So maybe I do get it. After all, I did hit him in the face. From what Minho tells me, she didn't really go at Ben when he was all over her either.

When exactly was she violent anyway? When she didn't attack those Baggers? When she hit those guys when we first got here, since they were already trying to lock us up? When she hit Ben the first time, on the first night?

"Is there a bloody right foot?" I ask, not sure if I am referencing her or this place in general.

She shrugs, although she isn't quite sure what to say. Neither am I really. I always thought she was both paranoid, and very distant. Not quite Curly levels, but as if Michelle sees the world through tinted glasses.

"I get plenty," she circles back to the first topic, but I can't help but feel surprised.

"Really?" I ask, confused as to who might give her some. I get the feeling she is playing with me, but doesn't know how. "You know, I've shacked ten different shanks since I got here."

She scrunches her nose up for a second as she thinks. I can't tell if she realises I'm kidding. I find myself moving away from her towards the gathering of boys as she slinks up behind me.

"Only ten?" She asks.

I stop dead in my tracks. Seeing her face confused confuses me. Every word seems foreign in her mouth, as if someone took them from a dictionary and placed them on her tongue. As if they sort of taste foul, or they are confusing.

"See, I did six this week alone," she continues, turning her nose up. When she tries to be playful, it is hard to understand her sarcasm. I guess she seems like she is being rude and condescending in her flat tone and eye roll, but there is this feeling creeping up on me. It's like I know Michelle, like I really know her, and this is just her way of living.

"I only shacked ten," I correct myself, I smile across my cheeks. "Doesn't mean I didn't do other stuff with them. If we count that I'm at eleven this week."

Were too close to the group for her to fire some sort of clever retort, but she rolls her eyes as a sort of "I still have done more than you". I follow her further in to the crowd, while she snakes her way away from the Builders. Dave's arm brushes against me, and when I see him, I realise he was reaching for her.

Maybe that's what Michelle meant. Maybe I'll ask Dave about it.

Michelle stops, far away from them, on the edge of the group. I heard last night that Alby was going to make an announcement today, but I chose not to think much of it. There is a lot more rumours circulating now than there were before the last announcement. That time, he announced that he'd banish both myself and Minho (although he did so indirectly) and my whole universe exploded.

My world is klunk because of that shucking dumb idea.

Michelle doesn't whisper to me, though she knows what is going on. From the front, I can see all the Keepers lined up behind Alby, who stands on some sort of bench above the rest of us. The Gladers form a sort of line before them, but also a sort of clump. Regardless, it is pretty easy to make out the faces of the members of the Council.

Leo raises both her eyebrows when she sees Michelle next to me. She stands still with her hands behind her back, to the left of Newt. I don't know how to tell her that Michelle and I are being friendly, and I guess amicable, since I'm sort of confused as to how this happened, so I just shrug, raising my hands as if to demonstrate that there are no ideas in my palms.

"You think he knows?" I turn towards Michelle, my voice barely a whisper. There's no need for me to ask if Alby has caught on to the fight in the woods. There isn't much else I could be talking about.

I'm not worried like Leo. She stands their nervous, her foot tapping and her hands sweating. I, on the other hand, am sort of fed up with this whole thing. I don't realistically think I did anything wrong. Alby is wrong, and it's blowing up in his face.

Michelle shakes her head. "Minho is up there on his left."

I wasn't looking for him, since I thought he'd be running. He is looking at me. Not really at Michelle; if he is surprised he doesn't show it. Minho didn't tell me the decision they came to last night. Whenever he is upset, he sort of shuts down. It suddenly is him and me in our physical existences, and he clings to me in an attempt to ground himself in this reality. He avoids his thoughts, dodging them but also catapulting himself away from them. He uses me as a route to salvation.

From the way he looks at me, I can tell he is very worried.

"If he knew, Minho would at the very least be demoted," Michelle continues over my shoulder. "And, I'd be in the Slammer."

I can't take my eyes off Minho. He mouths to me, and I know his lips well enough to read them.

I love you.

It makes my stomach twist, because it is not affectionate. It is a plea for help.

It's the first time he has told me in so many words, and it sounds like it could be the last.

"So, I'm know y'all know about all the shuckin' injured Gladers," Alby begins speaking, cutting off the whispering. "I ain't screwing around when I'm sayin' that this is gonna end."

The whispering rises again, a biting white noise that infects us. I can't tell if Ben has spilt the beans or not. Maybe he hasn't said anything to anyone. Minho stiffens, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye before turning back. He holds down at his side, and the one I can see is a shaking fist.

"We're gonna figure this klunk out, if you'd all slim it," his voice rises at the end, cutting off the conversation, "y'all know that I ain't punishing the witness who didn't come forward. We only want to know who hurt Ben."

"How do we know it wasn't you?" One of those dumb shucking Builders has to heckle out.

"Why would the shank launch a shucking investigation into himself?" Newt steps forward, cutting the kid off.

Alby glares at Newt, but continues. "Listen, I don't give a klunk about secret-keepers, but we've got rules for a reason. No Glader hurts another shucking Glader. Good that?"

When no one else says anything directly to Alby, since they are all busy whispering, Alby nods. "Good that. Get back to work."

People start to move. Gladers walk around me, forwards and backwards, as I move towards the direction which Minho is walking. I can't quite get to him through the bodies that infect us, so I simply find myself standing still.

Minho stands still too, staring at me. We're really in it. it's no longer just a little slip up, if we are found out, at least he is getting shucking banished now. From here I can tell we are breathing in sync.

How can our universes exponential expansion in infinite directions cause our futures to collapse in on themselves?

What have we done?

I feel Michelle's arm on me, pulling me back as I see Newt draw Minho's attention away from me.

As I turn away, I realise that my universe is infinitely small, and impossibly lonely.

~~~~~

Poor Dawn. This can't go well. If only the world wasn't crumbling around her. Too bad.