Leo 73

I move to sit at a table, folding my arms in my lap, then over themselves, then back in my lap again. The sight of the crusting burns makes me feel ill. I feel sicker knowing Alby is coming to talk to me about his whole secret situation. I don't know what to tell him. All night I sat awake, thinking of a plan, but none came to mind. All I can do is sit, my life on hold until his arrival.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be late," he sighs, sitting down. "I was just having a conversation with Winston."

I don't particularly care about that conversation. It's not on my list of things I need to know. I should have eaten today. Perhaps if I faint I can stall out Michelle's banishment. Maybe, while I'm asleep, I'll have some sort of epiphany like I imagine Ella does every time she closes her eyes.

"Are you feeling alright Leo?" He sits down across from me, eyeing me carefully. This is the most amount of concern Alby has shown for anything except the rules since I first got here. "You look like you shuckin' saw a Griever."

Well, if we mean griever like we mean someone who is mourning a loss, then yes, I did in fact look in the mirror today. I have seen someone grieving. I just haven't decided who I am grieving yet. Is it Michelle or is it everything I have ever seen? It feels like I have lost.

Although, there is not much to lose anyway. There's not much worth it here.

"I just, I need to tell you the truth," I breathe out, and breathe in. I think of my lungs rustling the trees like the wind, their leaves falling onto the tombstones below. Do we give graves to those we banish? Will there be a spot for the griever to visit, a ghost of a girl visiting a ghost of a girl like a poem I don't want to read? Like a poem I wish I wasn't the author of? Why is this life so hard, and why does Ella think this is the easy part?

"I'm listening Leo," he sighs, before he leans in closer to me. "Listen, shuck, I miss Nick. He's less of a shuckin' slinthead than I am, and he'd know what I should say."

"What happened?" The empathy in me takes over. If I can listening to a chorus of his suffering, maybe it'll drown out mine.

He shakes his head. "Story for another day. One where we've put all this stuff behind us."

Right, he doesn't want to think about it. I can tell from the way his eyes move to the wood on the picnic table, as if it's the most fascinating thing he has ever seen. We all have our pain, and I guess he'd rather forget his.

"Sorry," it's all I manage.

"Listen, shank," he sighs, although he doesn't seem to upset about this situation. "I ain't got all day, and if you're gonna waste my shuckin' time-"

"It was me," I stand up suddenly, trying to breathe. "I beat up Ben."

He gets up, pulling his legs out of the picnic table. "You really think I'm buggin' out that hard?"

"I swear," I race around the table, planting myself in front of him. Alby is much taller than me, and he crosses his arms over his chest as he stares me down, not buying my klunk.

That's fair. I'm not buying much either.

"Please tell me exactly how you, little miss skin and bones, beat up Ben."

Ben isn't a particularly big guy, but he's certainly more muscular than I am. Then I think about how easily Michelle can take anybody else in her path. Her anger; she feels it in her gut and it carries her. Somehow the passion overtakes her body, and becomes the power to her punch.

I can pretend I'm the same.

"I thought Ben attacked Dawn," I tell him carefully, "he didn't, as it turns out, but he attacked Michelle when he was shucked in the head the first night, so I thought he hurt Dawn too right? Things aren't nearly as complicated as we think they are. Things tend to have the simplest answers when we don't see them coming."

"So, you what, hit him?" He asks, doubting me.

I shake my head, "I found out from Ella, although she's pretty belligerent, that you don't lock the supplies up at night. I stole a shovel. I was just gonna scare Ben, but he was yelling at me, and I got all bugged out. It wasn't Michelle."

"And Ben didn't tell me because?" Alby waits for my response.

"Have you met Ben?" I turn around to see Gally coming forward. His eyes only catch mine for a second before he turns back to Alby. "He's the proudest shuck-faced shank I ever met. Always going to Fry to shuckin' wine his bugging mouth off."

Why is he here? How did he know we were going to have this conversation? Gally remains stoic as he looks at Alby, unfazed. This is the Gally I knew was under all that hard skin. Granted, he may be trying to get me banished, but he must know the alternative. I appreciate his help. Gally cares about the Gladers more than anything I've ever seen before. This is why he's one of the Keepers.

"Eavesdropping Gally?" Alby asks, glaring at the boy.

"I'd call it overhearing," Gally argues. "You aren't exactly keeping it quiet, are ya shank?"

Alby shrugs, looking from Gally to me. He seems to be buying the store, even if I can't lie to save my life. Gally is holding up the fort on my end. "So what Gally, you knew the whole time about this?"

"No, I just overheard the conversation," Gally rolls his eyes. "I have an invested interesting in seeing those girls banished, if you recall."

Gally, for some reason, thought we were in with the Creators. Either he has completely changed his mind, or he has something else in store. Never before, and hopefully never again, will I be thankful for Gally's paranoid tendencies.

"So what, you spilt the cleaning supplies on yourself?" Alby asks, as though he is doubting it.

"That's actually what I came here to talk about." I am so thankful Gally has taken over the conversation. Not only is he a much better liar, but Alby seems to trust him more than me.

Gally shows Alby his hands, covered in chemical burns. Is he admitting to doing it? I wasn't going to rat out Gally, since I didn't think it as worth it because I know it was an accident. I could see Michelle doing the same thing in different contexts. One act of desperation is not the same as deliberate violence.

Alby steps in closer to stare at the burns. They aren't as bad as mine, and I imagine not as bad as Newt's either, but they still aren't amazing. Michelle's probably look the same.

"Michelle and I tried to lift off the shelving unit together," Gally corroborates our story. "Or not together, but we found her. Ran off to wash our hands."

"I dropped the unit on myself, like I told you," I pretend to be frustrated, but the pretend anger still sinks into my stomach. I am not angry, I am nervous. I've not been in the Slammer since my first day here. Seems fitting I might spend my last day in it.

Part of me wants to drop the shelving unit on myself again. To feel is to feel.

Alby places a hand on his chin as he thinks over the story. He doesn't like it, but he doesn't have to like it. I don't know where I'm going with this. I want to throw up all over myself. I can feel myself losing balance, but I feel Gally's hand on my arm. He lowers me down to the table, not gently but at least he isn't aggressive.

"Yeah, I'm not buying your klunk," Alby begins. "At least, not about the whole Ben and Dawn fiasco."

I can't really speak to argue with him, since the whole world has kind of gone pretty much black.

Gally hands me flask that is around his waist, and I shrug it off him. He rolls his eyes, placing it in my hands. "It's not going to shuck you up. It's just water."

I take a swig of it, and find myself unable to stop until there is no water left in the container. When I'm done I hand it back to Gally.

"You coverin' for Michelle or Dawn?" Alby asks it straight, but I can't bring myself to answer him. Somehow, I find myself in a spot where the answer is yes. Maybe covering isn't the right word, but sacrificing might be closer.

"It's the truth," I tell him.

He kneels in front of me, so that we can see eye to eye. Staring in to me, he searches for an answer. "Gally, leave. And if you tell Michelle a shuckin' word of this, I'll actually have you banished for touchin' her."

Gally backs off. I can't see him, but I can imagine his frustration and anger. I wonder if he will tell Michelle, or I wonder if he'll keep his mouth shut. Knowing Gally, both seem equally likely. Both cannot happen though, so of course one will happen.

"I don't believe you for one shuckin' second." Alby's face is so close to mine it's hard to discern the differences between our skin. "I'm not that jacked. I have half a mind to throw you off the Cliff for suggesting something so shuckin' slintheaded. Mind ya, I like you too. Very few people could get away with this klunk."

Alby shakes his head, waiting for my answer. "Honestly, what kind a shuckin' shank ya take me for? You're a klunk liar."

"Yeah," I sigh. "I know."

He moves away slowly, before sitting down next to me. "Tell you what, apparently threatening your grubby friends ain't the way to do it Greenie, since you just decide to throw yourself under the bus, I take it I can't threaten you no more."

"I'm barely a Greenie." I shrug as I offer it, although I know that's not the point of this conversation.

"Slim it," he says it, and then he allows the silence to settle on us. "Look around us."

Nobody is paying much mind to our conversation. The break for lunch is pretty much entirely over, and people are relishing in their last minutes of freedom. Clint and Jeff sit together, and whatever Jeff has just said made Clint turn a sheet of bright red. Fry is talking to Minho, who for some reason is still off from running, and Michelle, Dawn and Ella are nowhere to be found.

"Do you see him?" Alby asks carefully.

I do. Newt is pretending to pay attention to the conversation he is having with Zart, but I can see his eyes darting over to us. His hands are wrapped up in bandages, and from the bulk under his pants I imagine his knees are too.

I never had the chance to thank him. I haven't seen him in days, since well before I got burnt. Last I saw Newt, before all that, he was apologising for not telling me Michelle was locked up. That seems so long ago, it hardly matters now.

Before that, he sat with me outside of Ella's room late at night.

Now, his glance catches me out of the corner of his eyes. He's listening. I wonder what Alby told him about this meeting, if anything. Does Alby know Newt is in on it?

"Newt's got a big heart," Alby remarks carefully, "and I hate to do this to the shank, but he knows what's happening I'll bet. Just like you do. If he were anyone else I'd think he was shuckin' in love with you. But, as I'm sure he told you..."

Neither of say it out loud, since its neither of our places, but I guess he knows Newt loved him. Which means he will never care for me.

"How long have you known?" I ask Alby.

He shrugs, carefully. "Since Newt got his limp. That too is a story for another day."

I still haven't asked Newt about how it happened. I get that he was a Runner, so I assume it happened in the Maze. He seems as though he'd rather forget about it, so I try my best not to bring it up.

Newt must've tipped off Alby on that day. I guess it doesn't matter how Alby figured out that Newt loved him, but he knows all the same. Obviously, Alby doesn't feel the same, or else they'd be thick as Clint and Jeff.

"Why are you telling me this?" Everything Alby says has a point. He doesn't just make casual conversation; that's not the kind of guy he is.

"Newt is a good shank," he admits, turning to face me. "But he's hiding klunk from me, and him and I ain't like that. I'm going to throw you in the Slammer."

He won't tell Alby the truth. Newt is a good person, but he knows this is what I would want. He also wouldn't want Minho banished, and even though he and Dawn aren't that close, he wouldn't let her get banished either.

"That's not going to work," I tell Alby, and he can tell I'm not lying.

"It might if we are about to banish you," Alby tells me. "I'll tell Newt to call the Gathering. If he doesn't rat, unfortunately, you'll be sleepin' with 'em Grievers."

Alby doesn't wait another second, before he stands up, grabbing me by the arm. He begins to drag me towards the Slammer, and I don't bother to put up a fight. It isn't worth it.

~~~~

Woops. I'm mean, but there are also four chapters left until the next book. I'm feeling ready. Legit, nothing in the world could stop me from having them published. Are you ready?

I'll see you soon, in Dawn and Catastrophe