Thomas

They didn't talk for three days.

Three days in the Glade felt like an eternity. Lee pretended Thomas was nothing.

"You're good too," said Newt. "But he's going around in circles. You could at least spit or hit him."

• He kissed Katie.

Newt choked: "Thomas tried to pull a splinter out of Katie. She's a psychopath, Lee."

"I'm jealous. It's disgusting. Better to be angry at the walls."

• Silly girl..

Thomas came at midnight. With a wet rag.

• Get down, you'll catch a cold.

She got off. Not because he told her to, but because her legs were numb.

"I don't know how to apologize," Thomas said. "I only know how to remember your name."

• You didn't kiss Katie.

• No. She's not my type.

• And who?

— Someone who stays angry for three days but doesn't leave. You idiot.

Lee hit him in the shoulder.

• Don't you dare call me names after a fight.

• And after what can we?

• After reconciliation.

— Have we made up?

• No.

She kissed him first and then moved away.

— If you look at someone like cards...

— At the cards - with melancholy. At you - with horror. You can leave, but they can't.

— I won't go. Where? To the labyrinth? There are Grievers there.

• Then I won't go either.

Thomas smiled for the first time in three days.

• Don't stay angry for so long. I couldn't chew the bread.

• And I didn’t sleep.

• So we are fools.

That night, it seemed, there were no Grievers howling. Only his breathing. Even. No running.