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Alby noticed him goggling. "Shuck it, boy, what you lookin' at?"
Thomas shook his head slightly, feeling like he'd been in a trance. His mind was racing, wondering what Alby remembered, what he knew, what he might say about him. "Wha—Nothing. Just seems crazy you healed so quickly. You're fine now?"
Alby flexed his right bicep. "Ain't never been better—come on out."
Thomas did, hoping his eyes weren't flickering, making his concern obvious.
Alby closed the Slammer door and locked it, then turned to face him. "Actually, nothin' but a lie. I feel like a piece of klunk twice crapped by a Griever."
"Yeah, you looked it yesterday." When Alby glared, Thomas hoped it was in jest and quickly clarified. "But today you look brand-new. I swear."
AIby put the keys in his pocket and leaned back against the Slammer's door. "So, quite the little talk we had yesterday." Thomas's heart pounded. He had no idea what to expect from Alby at that point. "Uh . . . yeah, I remember."
"I saw what I saw, Greenie. It's kinda fadin', but I ain't never go
The scene from the day before flashed in Thomas's mind. Alby thrashing, trying to strangle himself—Thomas wouldn't have believed it had happened if he hadn't seen it himself. Despite fearing an answer, he knew he had to ask the next question. "What was it about me—you kept saying you saw me. What was I doing?"
Alby stared at an empty space in the distance for a while before answering. "You were with the . . . Creators. Helping them. But that ain't what got me shook up."
Thomas felt like someone had just rammed their fist in his abdomen. Helping them? He couldn't form the words to ask what that meant.
Alby continued. "I hope the Changing doesn't give us real memories—just plants fake ones. Some suspect it—I can only hope. If the world's the way I saw it . . ." He trailed off, leaving an ominous silence.
Thomas was confused, but pressed on. "Can't you tell me what you saw about me?"
Alby shook his head. "No way, shank. Ain't go
"Well, if I'm evil, maybe you should leave me locked up." Thomas half meant it.
"Greenie, you ain't evil. You might be a shuck-faced slinthead, but you ain't evil." Alby showed the slightest hint of a smile, a bare crack in his usually hard face. "What you did—riskin' your butt to save me and Minho—that ain't no evil I've ever heard of. Nah, just makes me think the Grief Serum and the Changing got somethin' fishy about 'em. For your sake and mine, I hope so."
Thomas was so relieved that Alby thought he was okay, he only heard about half of what the older boy had just said. "How bad was it? Your memories that came back."
"I remembered things from growin' up, where I lived, that sort of stuff. And if God himself came down right now and told me I could go back home . . ." Alby looked to the ground and shook his head again. "If it was real, Greenie, I swear I'd go shack up with the Grievers before goin' back."
Thomas was surprised to hear it was so bad—he wished Alby would give details, describe something, anything. But he knew the choking was still too fresh in Alby's mind for him to budge. "Well, maybe they're not real, Alby. Maybe the Grief Serum is some kind of psycho drug that gives you hallucinations." Thomas knew he was grasping at straws.
Alby thought for a minute. "A drug . . . hallucinations . . ." Then he shook his head. "Doubt it."
It had been worth a try. "We still have to escape this place."
"Yeah, thanks, Greenie," Alby said sarcastically. "Don't know what we'd do without your pep talks." Again, the almost-smile.
Alby's change of mood broke Thomas out of his gloom. "Quit calling me Greenie. The girl's the Greenie now."
"Okay, Greenie." Alby sighed, clearly done with the conversation. "Go find some di
"One was plenty." Despite wanting answers, Thomas was ready to get away from the Slammer. Plus, he was starving. He gri
Di
Frypan had known Thomas would be coming late, so he'd left a plate full of roast beef and potatoes; a note a
When they were finished, Thomas headed back to the secluded place where he'd slept the night before, in the corner behind the Deadheads. He thought about his conversation with Chuck, wondered how it would feel to have parents say good night to you.
Several boys milled about the Glade that night, but for the most part it was quiet, like everyone just wanted to go to sleep, end the day and be done with it. Thomas didn't complain—that was exactly what he needed.
The blankets someone had left for him the night before still lay there. He picked them up and settled in, snuggling up against the comforting corner where the stone walls met in a mass of soft ivy. The mixed smells of the forest greeted him as he took his first deep breath, trying to relax. The air felt perfect, and it made him wonder again about the weather of the place. Never rained, never snowed, never got too hot or too cold. If it weren't for the little fact they were torn apart from friends and families and trapped in a Maze with a bunch of monsters, it could be paradise.
Some things here were too perfect. He knew that, but had no explanation.
His thoughts drifted to what Minho had told him at di
And yet they'd never found an exit. And despite that, despite the utter hopelessness of the situation, they still hadn't given up.
At di
But not here. Here, all paths led back to the Glade. They had to be missing something.
Tomorrow, his training would begin. Tomorrow, he could start helping them find that missing something. Right then Thomas made a decision. Forget all the weird stuff. Forget all the bad things. Forget it all. He wouldn't quit until he'd solved the puzzle and found a way home.
Tomorrow. The word floated in his mind until he finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER 32
Minho woke Thomas before dawn, motioning with a flashlight to follow him back to the Homestead. Thomas easily shook off his morning grogginess, excited to begin his training. He crawled out from under his blanket and eagerly followed his teacher, winding his way through the crowd of Gladers who slept on the lawn, their snores the only sign they weren't dead. The slightest glow of early morning illuminated the Glade, turning everything dark blue and shadowed. Thomas had never seen the place look so peaceful. A cock crowed in the Blood House.