Gally speaks. “I think I’ve made my opinions pretty clear already.”

“Good that." I say with yet another roll of the eyes. “Go on then Minho.”

“No!” Gally yells, making a couple of Keepers jump in their seats. “I still wanna say something.”

“Then bloody say it,” I say exasperated.

“Just think about it,” Gally begins. “This slinthead comes up in the Box acting all confused and scared. A few days later, he’s running around the Maze with Grievers, acting like he owns the place.”

Gally continues his rant. “I think it was all an act. How could he have done what he did out there after just a few days? I ain’t buyin’ it. How can we trust this shank after less than a week? Quit voting me down before you even think about what I’m saying.”

“Fine, Gally,” I say. “I’m sorry. We heard you. and we’ll all consider your bloody recommendation. Are you done?”

“Yes, I’m done. And I’m right.”

With no more words for Gally, I  point at Minho. “Go ahead, last but not least.”

Minho stands quickly, taking everyone off guard. “I was out there; I saw what this guy did—he stayed strong with Vivian while I turned into a panty-wearin’ chicken. No blabbin’ on and on like Gally. I want to say my recommendation and be done with it.”

I suck in a breath at Vivians name. “Good that." I say. “Tell us, then.”

Minho looks at Thomas. “I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners.”

Complete silence fills the room, as if the world had been frozen, and every member of the Council stared at Minho. I sit stunned, waiting for the Runner to say hes kidding.

Gally finally broke the spell, standing up. “That’s ridiculous!” He faces me and pointed back at Minho, who had taken his seat again. “He should be kicked off the Council for saying something so stupid.”

Some Keepers seemed to actually agree with Minho’s recommendation—like Frypan, who claps to drown out Gally, clamoring to take a vote. Others didn’t. Winston shakes his head adamantly.

"SLIM IT!" I yell. “Shuck it. I’ve never seen so many shanks acting like teat-suckin’ babies. We may not look it, but around these parts we’re adults. Act like it, or we’ll disband this bloody Council and start from scratch.” I stand walking from end to end of the curved row of sitting Keepers, looking each of them in the eye as he spoke. “Are we clear?”

Everyone nods even Gally.

“Good that.” I walked  back to my chair and sit down and rock Valley to sleep again. I then looked up at Minho. “That’s some pretty serious klunk, brother. Sorry, but you need to talk it up to move it forward.”

Minho sighs, but he starts defending his proposal. “It’s sure easy for you shanks to sit here and talk about something you’re stupid on. I’m the only Runner in this group, and the only other one here who’s even been out in the Maze is Newt.”

Gally interjects: “Not if you count the time I—”

“I don’t!” Minho shouts. “And believe me, you or nobody else has the slightest clue what it’s like to be out there. The only reason you were stung is because you broke the same rule you’re blaming Thomas for. That’s called hypocrisy, you shuck-faced piece of—”

“Enough,” I say. “Defend your proposal and be done with it.”

The tension was palpable; I felt like the air in the room had become glass that could shatter at any second. Both Gally and Minho looked as if the taut, red skin of their faces was about to burst—but they finally broke their stare.

“Anyway, listen to me,” Minho continues as he takes his seat. “I’ve never seen anything like it. He didn’t panic. He didn’t whine and cry, never seemed scared I mean afterwards he did. After Vi was taken.. Dude, he’d been here for just a few days. Think about what we were all like in the beginning. Huddling in corners, disoriented, crying every hour, not trusting anybody, refusing to do anything. We were all like that, for weeks or months, till we had no choice but to shuck it and live.”

Minho stood back up, pointed at Thomas. “Just a few days after this guy shows up, he steps out in the Maze to save two shanks he hardly knows and a baby. All this klunk about him breaking a rule is just beyond stupid. He didn’t get the rules yet. But plenty of people had told him what it’s like in the Maze, especially at night. And he still stepped out there, just as the Door was closing, only caring that two people needed help.” He took a deep breath, seeming to gain strength the more he spoke.

“But that was just the beginning. After that, he saw me give up on Alby and Vivian leave them for dead. And I was the veteran—the one with all the experience and knowledge. So when Thomas saw me give up, he shouldn’t have questioned it. But he did. Think about the willpower and strength it took him to push Alby up that wall, inch by inch, help Vivian deliver a baby. It’s psycho. It’s freaking crazy."

“But that wasn’t it. Then came the Grievers. I told Thomas we had to split up and I started the practiced evasive maneuvers, running in the patterns. Thomas, when he should’ve been wettin’ his pants, took control, defied all laws of physics and gravity to get Alby up onto that wall, diverted the Grievers away from him, beat one off, found—”

“We get the point,” Gally snaps. “Tommy here is a lucky shank.”

Minho rounds on him. “No, you worthless shuck, you don’t get it! I’ve been here two years, and I’ve never seen anything like it. For you to say anything…”

Minho pauses rubs his eyes, groans in frustration.

“Gally,” Minho says in a calmer voice, “you’re nothing but a sissy who has never, not once, asked to be a Runner or tried out for it. You don’t have the right to talk about things you don’t understand. So shut your mouth.”

Gally stands up again, fuming. “Say one more thing like that and I’ll break your neck, right here in front of everybody.” Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke.

Minho laughs, then raises the palm of his hand and shoves Gally in the face. I half stood as he watched the Glader crash down into his chair, tipping it over backward, cracking it in two pieces. Gally sprawls across the floor, then scrambles to stand up, struggles to get his hands and feet under him. Minho stepped closer and stomped the bottom of his foot down on Gally’s back, driving his body flat to the ground.

“I swear, Gally,” Minho says with a sneer, “don’t ever threaten me again. Don’t ever speak to me again. Ever. If you do, I’ll break your shuck neck, right after I’m done with your arms and legs.”

Frypan and Winston were on their feet and grabbing Minho before Thomas even knew what was going on. They pulled him away from Gally, who jumped up, his face a ruddied mask of rage. But he made no move toward Minho; he just stood there with his chest out, heaving ragged breaths.

Finally Gally backs away, half stumbling toward the exit behind him. His eyes darted around the room, lit with a burning hate. He backs toward the door, reached behind him to grab the handle.

“Things are different now,” he says spitting on the floor. “You shouldn’t have done that, Minho. You should not have done that.” His maniacal gaze shifts to me. “I know you hate me, that you’ve always hated me. You should be Banished for your embarrassing inability to lead this group. You’re shameful, and any one of you who stays here is no better. Things are going to change. This, I promise.”

Gally yanks the door open and steps out into the hall, but before anyone could react, he pops his head back in the room. “And you,” he says glaring at Thomas, “the Greenbean who thinks he’s friggin’ God. Don’t forget I’ve seen you before—I’ve been through the Changing. What these guys decide doesn’t mean jack.”

He pauses, looking at each person in the room. When his malicious stare falls back on Thomas, he had one last thing to say. “Whatever you came here for—I swear on my life I’m gonna stop it. Kill you if I have to.”

Then he turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

The Council members stood or sat in silence, seemingly as shocked as Thomas at what they’d just seen. Frypan and Winston finally let go of Minho; all three of them sullenly walk to their chairs and sat down.

“He’s finally whacked for good,” Minho says, almost in a whisper.  I nod slowly.

“Well, you’re not the bloody saint in the room,” I say. “What were you thinking? That was a little overboard, don’t ya think?”

Minho squinches up his eyes and pull his head back, as if he were baffled by my question. “Don’t give me that garbage. Every one of you loved seeing that slinthead get his dues, and you know it. It’s about time someone stood up to his klunk.”

“He’s on the Council for a reason,” I say.

“Dude, he threatened to break my neck and kill Thomas! The guy is mentally whacked, and you better send someone right now to throw him in the Slammer. He’s dangerous.”

“Maybe he had a good point,” Winston says almost too quietly.

“What?” Minho asks, mirroring my thoughts exactly.

Winston looked up  surprised at the acknowledgment that he’d said anything. His eyes darted around the room before he explained. “Well … he has been through the Changing—Griever stung him in the middle of the day just outside the West Door. That means he has memories, and he said the Greenie looks familiar. Why would he make that up?”

“Winston, did you see what just happened?” Frypan asks looking incredulous. “Gally’s psycho. You can’t put too much stock in his rambling nonsense. What, you think Thomas here is a Griever in disguise?”

Thomas finally speaks up from his spot putting a end to some of the arguing.