Pasty was digging into a bowl of cornflakes greedily, a little milk dribbling on her chin. She was perhaps twelve years old, and surrounded by her friends. Newt sat opposite her, and Minho beside her. Teresa was perched on the table, legs crossed with her back to Pasty. She was chatting to Thomas again. She's always talking to him Pasty thought bitterly. Maybe that's why she doesn't have time for me anymore. As though on cue, Teresa poked her way into her head.

Stop dribbling milk. Newt will never fancy you if you do.

Pasty scowled as Teresa laughed, not even having to turn to know the effect she'd had on her.

"What?" Newt wanted to know.

"Nothing Newt," Teresa replied sweetly, and returned to ignoring Pasty, who was no longer so hungry. She wiped her chin, glancing to see if Newt had noticed. He hadn't. As usual, he wasn't looking at her. He had his nose in a book.

"Take no notice," Minho whispered to her. He took her hand under the table and squeezed her hand gently. Pasty managed a smile. Minho always managed to make her feel better, and he always knew when Teresa was taunting her in her mind. "Wanna go for a run?"

Pasty nodded enthusiastically, hopping up from their bench. She made to follow Minho, turning quickly to say goodbye to Newt. He barely even raised his head.

Pasty's shoes scuffed the floor the whole way to the gym. Minho kept trying to coax conversation out of her, but her previous enthusiasm for going for a run had fizzled. She was thinking about Newt and Teresa.

"I hate her," Pasty mumbled as they warmed up. "She's always winding me up. And she's so much smarter, and she thinks she's so special just because of her power. And she's prettier."

"No she's not. I'd fancy you before I'd ever fancy her."

"You have to say that. You're my best friend."

"And why do you think I picked you as my best friend? I want to be permanently surrounded by attractive girls..."

Pasty rolled her eyes, but she felt a little bit better already.

"Besides. Teresa couldn't run half as fast as you if someone was chucking klunk at her head."

"You're disgusting."

Minho bared his teeth. He had a large gap where his tooth had recently fallen out. "You love me really."

Pasty did. Just not in the way Minho wanted. She saw the way he looked at her. The way his smile inched higher up his cheeks when he saw her. He was cute. No, better than cute. All the girls wanted him (except the ones lusting after Thomas, of course.) But he was her friend. And she liked Newt. He was quiet, studious, devastatingly cute. Totally Pasty's style.

"Ready to run?" Minho asked, eyes twinkling.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Their feet were almost touching on their start line. Minho started left foot first, Pasty right foot. Minho caught her eye.

"Go," he whispered. And then he was away. Already miles ahead of Pasty. She was fast, but not as fast as him. And the harder she tried to go faster, the slower she went. It was frustrating. She finished the three lap race almost fifteen seconds after Minho and was red in the face, panting for air.

"Just face it. You'll never beat me," Minho said smugly.

"Just you wait, boy. Some day I'm going to run laps around you."

***

Minho had a girlfriend. Pasty didn't like her much. She took away her own precious Minho time. And she still hadn't gotten the courage to ask Newt out.

They were older now. Perhaps fourteen. Minho had filled out and Newt had got skinnier than ever. Pasty loved the way his dirty blonde hair fell over his eyes in a scruffy mess. Newt didn't care much about style. He was more interested in his books. He was in the process of telling Pasty about space travel, but she was more than a little distracted by Minho and his girl making out.

"Pasty? Did you hear me?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if you want to go for a walk?"

"Um. Yeah. Sure," Pasty stuttered. She cringed. She hated anyone who could take her breath away. The way Newt had for three years now.

The two of them walked in silence for a long time. Newt's hands were dug deep into his pockets as he walked.

"You know, I've been thinking for a long time...we're close, right?"

"Sure we are, slint-head," Pasty said, trying to play cool.

"I thought so, so I....agh, I'm no good at this," he said, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. "I was just thinking...you and me...might be good. Together."

Pasty wondered why her stomach wasn't doing somersaults. This is what she'd been waiting for. And yet it wasn't. She'd wanted Newt to take her some place and kiss her passionately, his hands in her hair. It should have been more spontaneous, but that wasn't really Newt's style. He moved slowly, deliberately. Pasty had always liked that. But now it didn't feel right.

"I...I think the same," Pasty found herself saying. Newt stopped, hands digging deeper into his pockets and his shoulders rigid.

"Cool," he said. He leaned forward a little and Pasty moved forwards to fast, their noses colliding. She giggled nervously and Newt's lips quickly bumped against hers.

So this is kissing? It sucks.

***

Minho and Pasty were on their way to the gym again. It had been a few months since Pasty's first kiss with Newt. They were still together, but it was awkward, forced. They'd always been easier as friends. Pasty was tired of meaningless kisses and fumbling hands.

She looked at Minho.

Why hadn't she seen it before, when he was hers for the taking? How perfect he was for her. He made her laugh so hard she cramped. Newt was nice, polite, all giving. But that was all. He wasn't the one that made her stomach sprint laps. Minho could do that to her with just a brush of his hand against hers. He made her cheeks heat up in anger and in embarrassment and in happiness all at once. Even the fact that he could make her feel everything to ten times the effect Newt could made him seem so much better. So much more exciting, almost exotic. Minho felt like a vacation. Her escape from the difficult training and the stress and the awkwardness with Newt.

"You're getting too good. I'm not sure I like that you can beat me now," Minho said as they pulled on their running shoes. Pasty grinned devilishly.

"Maybe we should raise the stakes of our little races."

"How'd you mean?"

"Make some bets. The winner gets something."

"Like what?"

"Anything you want."

Minho grinned. "OK. I'll think of something while we race. You know, for when I win."

"In your dreams, klunk head."

They got themselves set up on the starting line. Minho nudged his foot against Pasty's. She nudged him back gently.

"Go," Pasty whispered. Then she shoved Minho aside so she could get a head start.

"Oi! Come back you dirty cheat!" Minho laughed, racing after her. Pasty's feet thudded hard on the ground. She was faster than she used to be. But so was Minho. And when he cut the corner of the gym, he inched ever closer.

"Says, you, you rule breaker," Pasty gasped as she ran hard. Minho caught up and wrapped his arms around her waist, whirling her around. They stumbled together, laughing hard. Pasty leant her back against the wall, trying to steady her breathing. Minho's hands on her waist had felt electric. Minho leant his hands on the wall behind Pasty's head, enclosing her. He was sweaty, grinning. He smelt of lemon shower gel, as he always did. And Pasty was dizzy, seeing stars. She was always seeing stars when Minho was about.

"Life's no fun unless you're a rule breaker," Minho said. He caught Pasty's eyes and they searched one another for clues as to how they were feeling, like trying to solve a riddle.

"Fine," Pasty whispered "I forfeit the race. So what do you want as your prize?"

Minho was breathing hard, his eyes studying every inch of her face. He leaned closer, their noses almost touching. And then his lips crashed into hers, and her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. His hands wanted to touch everywhere; they tangled in her hair for a moment, then they hooked under her knees. She wrapped herself around his waist, his hands supporting her thighs as he pressed her against the wall. Her hands touched his soft dark hair almost with caution, before she gripped it hard, pulling his lips in closer to hers. Minho's teeth nipped her bottom lip.

Now that is a kiss, Pasty thought.

***

"Don't go," she whispered.

"I don't have a choice."

A lot had changed in the past few years. They had been prepared fully for the Maze. Minho and Pasty had broken up their past relationships in favour of each other. Newt had taken it pretty well. He and Pasty were closer than ever. So their goodbye had been hard to say the least. He and Alby and some of the others were already in the Box. But if saying goodbye to Newt had been hard, saying goodbye to Minho was impossible.

Minho stroked her face gently. She'd miss those hands. The hands that knew her body like a map of the Glade. Hands that touched her so carefully. Hands that would never hurt her. Hands that were all giving. She couldn't lose them. She threaded her fingers through his.

"I know you don't. If I could choose, I'd go with you."

"I know. But Pasty...either way we won't remember. You know that."

"I know. But I will. I'll be here. I'll remember for us both."

Pasty wasn't being sent to the Maze. WICKED had decided that she was more use with them. But Pasty wished she was. Everyone she loved was leaving. And they'd all forget her. She never wanted to forget.

But she didn't want to remember either. She didn't want to remember all the times they'd ate lunch together. Trained together. Loved and laughed together. Kissed. Hugged. Poked. Taunted.

WICKED is bad. WICKED is taking everything from me.

"Don't make this any harder. Just go," Pasty whispered. Minho tried to kiss her, but she pulled away. She didn't want a last kiss. She didn't want this to be goodbye.

Minho left. Pasty didn't watch as all her friends left her. She turned her back, and closed her eyes. And she felt hands on her arms, holding her steady.

"WICKED is good," Teresa whispered.

***

A year passed. Pasty had changed. She stopped eating dinner. She kept much to herself. She slept a lot. She refused to help WICKED.

All she did was run. Because when she ran she could pretend Minho was running with her. And somewhere he was running too. That's what he did best. He was lost in trying to find his way out of that Maze, but she was losing herself trying to get in.

And Ava Paige watched. She knew that Pasty could ruin everything if she went into the Maze. But she was wasted here. And Ava Paige didn't like to see wasted materials.

Pasty was ready when she was informed she'd be taken to the Maze. Teresa wanted her to stay, but Pasty was done with her sister. Done with her love for WICKED, done with her always lording over her. Pasty was ready to leave. She knew some day she'd be back. But for a while, she could forget.

And maybe in the Maze, she could fall in love with Minho all over again.

***

Pasty's eyes snapped open. Minho and Newt were looking down at her. Alby too. She suspected she'd been asleep for a while since her claim that she had remembered.

"You said you remembered. What did you remember?" Alby pressed. Pasty's eyes drifted to Minho. She remembered how she'd felt before. But right now, she didn't feel it. She didn't know whether she and Minho had been lovers while she was in the Maze. Because as much as she remembered before the Maze, she remembered nothing about coming up in the Box for the first time. All her time from the Maze had been erased.

"Nothing of importance. Nothing about how to solve the Maze," she whispered. Alby groaned in frustration, slamming out of the room. Newt sat down wearily, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. But Minho stayed at her bed side, staring her down.

"Do you remember...anything about us?" he asked. And she wanted to tell him. But she still didn't know what to make of her feelings. How could she tell him about a love he didn't remember? How could she explain feelings to him that he might never recall? How did she know if she was in love when she couldn't remember either?

Pasty sighed. "Nothing of importance."

Even though she knew deep down that what she'd remembered was the most important thing in the world.

She'd remembered Minho.