Though I must look horrible, Newt's face still lights up the second he sees me, and for the first time ever, his arms wrap around me, embracing me into a hug.

About time. I absolutely love hugs, but last time I got one was when Dad left us at the camp, and that was two weeks ago. Way too long. Besides, this is Newt.

His smell isn't like in books, where things get described as cinnamon, chocolate, and caramel-smelling, but there for sure is a hint of vanilla in his shampoo. I bury my head in the crook of his neck, wishing I wasn't the one who's an inch taller than the other. If it were like that, I would've been able to bury myself in his arms even better.

"I missed you," I tell him. "It was horrible in that thing. I couldn't sleep and spent the whole night on a stupid chair."

He lets out a laugh. "If it helps, I couldn't sleep either. Because I missed you." A pause. "And why didn't you tell me you don't like the dark?"

My face falls. "What—"

"Lelia told me," he says. "The thing is, I don't like the dark either. We've both slept in the bloody dark, thinking the other was comfortable."

Now I do manage a laugh as I let go. "Well, if this helps, I wasn't uncomfortable. I'm able to sleep in the dark with someone I trust close."

His eyes get big, and smile wider. "You trust me," he says. It's barely a question.

"Of course." I smile, then my eyes trail behind Newt. I see Minho, Fry, Alby, Thomas, Teresa, and Sonya. No Lelia, so a frown forms on my face.

Quickly, I make my way to their table. "Where is Lelia?"

"Before you get pissed, perhaps get some food first," Newt suggests. I'm in such a hurry to hear what's going on, even though my mouth waters at the sight of food, that my toast with scrambled eggs, and my other toast with avocado, look messy as hell. A minute later, I'm sitting at the table.

"Spill."

Sonya points at Minho. "Blame that idiot."

And Teresa points at Alby. "And him."

"Yeah," Thomas agrees gingerly. But it's really only because Teresa is touching his arm and he's listening with one ear, staring at her with twinkling eyes.

"I didn't do anything!" Alby defends. "I said that if I knocked on the door three times and blew on my fingers, Janson would be coming. Not my fault that Lelia didn't listen!"

"Exactly!" Minho joins in.

Sonya sighs. "And when did you agree to that again?"

"On our way to Janson's office."

"And did she reply to y'all?"

"...no."

"Well, then!"

"I assumed the silence was a yes!" 

With my mouth half open, I stare at Minho. "She could've been zoned out!"

"How should I have known?" He spits out, now pissed, too. "It's not my fault. I hid and expected her to do, too. Now she isn't, so Janson made her spend two extra days in the Shack. I still need to go there, but only for one night. I have to go the last night that she's in there."

I sigh at the ridiculous of this. "What were you even doing?"

"Trying to steal the extra key to the Shack."

My face lights up, but only a little bit. "To save me?"

"Uhm." Alby and Minho share a glance. "More like, to save him and Lelia," Alby points at Minho, "but if the thought crossed our mind, we for sure would've saved you."

Sonya buries her head in her hands. "You know she's gonna hate you two for the rest of her life now, right?"

Full of confidence, Minho leans back, scoffing. "Nah. I'm getting that key and will take her out of the Shack tonight. She'll forgive me."

"Oh, you're gonna have to do more than that to make Lelia Blake forgive you." I snort.

"And I'll apologize," he adds.

"Won't work. Especially not because you're a boy."

Just then, Fry gets distracted by something behind us. His eyes wide in interest. "Well doesn't she look like a ray of sunshine today."

I turn my head, only to see the person who I didn't want to see at all today.

Noelle passes us without a look or smile, her chin high. She roughly grabs food, then slams her plate down on the table behind ours (which makes Fry, Sonya, and Minho's back turned to hers, and my, Thomas, Newt, Teresa, and Alby's sight on Noelle perfect), and starts eating.

Then all eyes turn to me. "What the hell did you do that made her this moody?"

I feel my cheeks grow red. One, because all eyes are on me, waiting for me to say something I don't want to say. Two, because I'm deeply ashamed of what happened. I should've moved away the second she got close. But no, I had to freeze. Had to tell her a lie because I'm too lame to just tell her I'm not interested. Too afraid I'll hurt her, even though I dislike her.

The part of not hurting her apparently didn't really work out, though.

"Nothing," I lie, and I hate lying.

Good thing is, she now believes I'm gay, so won't try anything again— I hope. And even if she is going to spread the lie around, no one has been homophobic to Newt here, and I've now got friends who'll help if anyone does change sides.

Newt leans closer, his breath on my neck. "What happened in that hut, Lynn?"

I feel myself swallow. It goes automatically, and it's one of the many body languages Dad, Mom, and Lelia know how to read on me; I'm uncomfortable, am lying, or don't want to say anything, because I'll lie. Dad says I'm an open book, the opposite of Lelia, and I think Newt has gotten the hand of it by now, too.

"We're gonna finish breakfast somewhere else," Newt decides. Before I can protest, he has pulled me with him.

On one side, I'm glad he gets me away from the embarrassment and Noelle. On the other side, he'll probably make me explain everything.

He must think I'm awful for telling someone I'm gay for a stupid reason like that— Newt often laughs; will he laugh because I froze— He must secretly think I'm ridiculous for feeling as if ten bricks lay on my chest the whole time I sat on that chair— Will he—

"Lyndon."

I stop walking. Look to my side. Newt's hand is on my shoulder. He looks concerned.

"Yeah?"

"You zoned out."

"No new information."

"And your hands are shaking more than usually."

At those words, I look down at my hands. My plate is shaking in them. I look back at Newt. "Happens sometimes."

"And your breathing's fast," he adds, pulling me down on the grass. Behind us is a hut, so our backs lean against it. "Stop overthinking."

"I wasn't. I don't overthink."

I was imagining what ifs.

"Lynn," he sighs, then pulls himself together. "Okay. Just tell me what happened in the Shack. You trust me, right? You told me not even an hour ago."

Slowly, I nod. He has a point. And of course he wouldn't laugh at me. I'm stupid for thinking that in the first place. So I start explaining.

I tell him how I made her take the bed and how I claimed the chair. How it slowly got dark and I started to feel trapped. How she went to sleep, and in order to do that, pulled off her shirt. How she blamed me for looking while I wasn't. How uncomfortable it made me.

I tell him about the flashlight. The things I saw on the wall. The way she asked me to get off the chair so she could write something all the way on the top of the wall. The way she was suddenly close. The way I froze. The way I was an idiot. The way she leaned closer. The way I was lame. The way I told her that stupid thing only to get her away. The way she then walked off, glaring at me. The way I had felt bad the whole night. How happy I was when Vince let us out. How the daylight was like fresh air in lungs that hadn't breathed for years.

I tell him all of that. Maybe even more. By the time I'm done, my chest has tightened again. My windpipe seems blocked a bit, though I can still breathe. I have to wipe sweat off my palms.

Newt then grabs one of those hands. I let him. He holds it. Squeezes it, and says some reassuring words. I let him. I feel my chest open up again. My windpipe unblocks. My palm gets warm, but not uncomfortably warm under Newt's touch.

When he finishes speaking, he takes my palm and traces the lines with his fingers. I let him. "You know what I think?"

I hum.

"This weekend, we're gonna get away from this camp. We visit my home. You'll get to see my room and meet my parents. We can chill a bit before we go back to this busy place. Sounds good?"

I don't have to consider it for long. "Very good."

His gaze softens. "Awesome. I'll tell my parents to come pick us up."

I nod, a bit happier now.

"Also," Newt then says, a bit more serious. "I think that—please don't take it offensively—you might have anxiety or something. Nothing wrong with that. Perhaps it's even better to find out if you have it, and then try to do something about it."

My eyebrows scrunch a bit. I haven't thought of that. I did like to do studies on psychology in school, so I know what it is, and Newt's not wrong for thinking I might have it. I just hope I don't and that this whole phase is because I lost my friends and am a bit confused about the whole Noelle thing.

"Maybe. I'll see if I'll talk about it with Dad." I smile at him to let him know I didn't take it offensively at all.

In fact, it's nice he brought thought to me.

He smiles back. My stomach does a twist at it. "Nice. And you better let me know if Noelle does something again. I'll call the fellow people from history. As Isaac Newton, I have the right to point out witches and let them burn on the stake."

It's a really, really stupid joke, but I laugh. Probably at the stupidity.

And then Newt laughs, too. And then I start laughing louder because his laugh is so beautiful and I kind of want to hear it all day. I'm so happy that he also laughs louder at this, that I laugh even louder.

And then we're laughing into each other's shoulders, until they turn into chuckles. And then we look at each other again, and laugh again.

His damn smile. His eyes squint as in 'everything will be okay' and his face is like... the sun when he smiles. Is that a weird way to describing it? I don't know. I do know that I love the sun.