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.*･｡. FLARES! .*･｡.
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013.
MEETINGS OF WAR.
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   Within the hour leading up to the meeting that would designate her new role within the glade, Kennedy made efforts in hunting down the boy she had been looking for since she had finished with council business — while Minho was to conjure a statement and Newt was to settle Gally, Kennedy was to find newbie, Thomas.

   He hadn't been with Chuck, when she had found the chubby boy. Apparently Thomas had made a great escape upon realising that Gally was looking for him. Smart kid.

   Chuck had been plenty happy about his friends return. It was sweet to see him smile so big, and Kennedy had been sure to give his hair a ruffle and plant a kiss on his cheek before she had left to continue her search.

   He had swatted her away, but grinned even wider.

   Eventually, her search had come up successful. Kennedy didn't know how long it had taken, but she had found him, nonetheless.

There, Thomas had sat: half-hidden amongst the foliage and the greenery within the deadheads, his broad back leant against the same tree she had found him by, the last time. His large hands had made themselves busy, toying with the scabs and scrapes upon his forearms arms. He had gained some more, what with fending for his life in the maze, but there were none that needed immediate attention. Her diagnosis was that he would survive — something he happened to be been incredibly good at doing, thus far.

   If she were honest, he made a fair sight. What, with his wrinkled nose that flared in disgust at the dirt beneath his nails and the dry blood smeared across his skin. To say Thomas looked bemused would have been an understatement. Shank was in need of a hot shower and soap, as soon as he possibly could.

   Perhaps Kennedy would tell him, if she was feeling mean.

   She could smell him.

For a reason she was yet to become aware of, it hadn't been all too much of a surprise to find him in the deadheads. Not like she would have suspected, it to be.

   Kennedy would have thought that the mishap with Ben might have scarred the newbie out of the area — which most gladers had already claimed to be the spookiest part of the whole glade — but apparently not. It was endless surprises with that boy. No one had subverted her expectations so much, and not a single boy had acted the way that Thomas did. Different. That was the only word to describe him, and Kennedy felt like a broken record for saying it so often. Words failed to fit him as well as that one; as if it were made for him, and he was it's right only definition. Thomas was different to the rest of the glade, including Kennedy, and she had really wanted to find out why. What about him, made him so?

A sense of déjà vu overcame Kennedy, hitting her cheeks with a smack! From the moment her eyes had found his slumped figure, it had been uncanny to the day prior. The memory of when she had been the one to hide in the forest was fresh and new.

   She vaguely wondered if she had looked as tired as Thomas did in that moment, perhaps as tired as she looked now; whether the deep, purple nebulas beneath his eyelids had replicated her own.

Kid looked exhausted — she knew that feeling.

   Exhaustion greeted Kennedy like an old friend, slinging an arm around her shoulders to weight her down.

    "Hiding?"

Her words had made him jump, head snapping in her direction while a hand raised in defence. Thomas worried that if he were to be caught by any other glader he would've been in trouble, and thrown at Gally's feet. Rules had it that Thomas was supposed to be in isolation while leading up to the meeting, the one that was to feature himself as a leading topic. Something about refraining any influence unto the keepers...? He didn't fully know.

  Thomas didn't intend to badger anyone or try to change their opinion on what he had done, but isolation had sounded awful enough to force him straight back into the maze.

   Isolation was a no!

    "Jeez— Kennedy! You scared me," he held a hand over heart as he peered up at her. "But, yeah— you could say that, I guess."

    "My, my, Tom..." She grinned, "Breaking every rule, shank."

With a playful roll of his eyes, Thomas shifted three inches to the left to make room for the girl. Kennedy happily took the offer and plopped down beside him, settling against the tree and unfazed at the little proximity between them. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat. Inside, Thomas was screaming.

   A silence lingered, and he held his breath as to smother any of the thumps! of his heart that were audible in each breath. Thomas was embarrassed.

    "Why did you do it?"

   Off-guard, he blinked; "W— what?"

"Why did you do it? You ran straight in there," her voice was light, "What were you thinking?"

    "I dunno..." trying to play it off cool, instead of growing serious at the mention of his wild shenanigans (which would definitely get him killed, one day), Thomas tried to explain himself, "They were gonna die, I couldn't just let them go out there, totally alone."

Perhaps it wasn't the whole truth, but Thomas was hardly going to tell her that he had run in there so that she wouldn't. He wasn't sure he could play that one off, no matter how hard he tried. Even he couldn't make sense of it, himself — there wasn't a particular reason that he had rushed to his death for the sake of Kennedy, it was more a plethora of things he couldn't explain, but he'd done it and that was that.

    "I get that..." she hummed, and nodded once. The strands of hair framing her face fluttered in the breeze, "Y'know— I think you're a good guy, Tom. I think you're stupid, but really good."

He couldn't hide his boyish grin.

It wasn't so much a compliment, not any more than it was an insult, and it was rather back-handed. However, it had been a compliment, nonetheless. Kennedy had complimented him, and he would take it with open arms. It made him all giddy.

Kennedy then sighed, "Your actions could have killed all three of you, though."

    "I know," he brushed off the moment of happiness like a bug on his shoulder and let his gaze drift to his fingers. Thomas played with his thumbs, "But it didn't."

"But, it could've—"

"It didn't," Thomas said. "I'm here, Ken. I'm alive."

He hadn't said her nickname, before. It made her heart flutter, and her eyes met his. Kennedy couldn't look away, after that.

Like a pair of hopeless romantics, they stared into each other's eyes for a whole. It wasn't for very long, but it was long enough to resonate with both of them. Kennedy noticed the sparkle that sat in Thomas' bright eyes, the twinkle and glimmer of something. She hadn't a clue what it was, exactly, but it was there. And Kennedy could see it. She clung to that twinkle.

During that time, Thomas allowed those twinkling eyes to look at Kennedy — really look at her. While he had been seeing her, he hadn't seen her. Not in the way he would have, had they been else where. His time in the glade had been to hectic to really look, and so he took the chance now.

Kennedy's cheeks were naturally rose, a flush that hugged the freckles on her cheeks. There weren't many, but enough to show against her skin-tone, and he assumed it to be from living under the sun. Most kids were sun-kissed in the glade, but Kennedy.

She was paler, yet still glowing.

Thomas thought she looked beautiful.

    "It's good that you didn't die," she finally spoke, and then sent him a cheeky smile. "Would've been a whole lotta hassle for me, if you had."

He breathed a laugh, "Why? Cause you'd miss me?"

"Bold of you to assume," Kennedy winked. "But yeah... I guess, I would."

More than you even know.

Cheeks red, Thomas ducked away from her gaze and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't sure he'd be worth missing.

"I'm sure you would've survived."

"Bold, again."

Another silence settled, and Kennedy pursed her lips. She sent him a sidewards glance, unable to believe that he really was there, and fought a shit-eating grin when she realised that he was. Her new greenie was there, and he was alright. Thomas has survived a night in the the maze — this kid had been interesting from the moment he'd shown up, and he only continued to get more so. His presence was as refreshing as it was worrisome.

"Tom...?"

He hummed, distractedly.

"Thanks for not dying," she said, softly. "I don't think I could've handled that, today.

————

Kennedy's eyes followed Newt's movements as he paced, back and forth. The role of leadership really suited him, and she had admired it every time. Now, however, it worried her.

Would she be able to lead, like he did?

She wasn't sure, but she hadn't much time to question it. This was happening, and it was happening now. There was no time.

    "Listen up!"

The gladers collapsed into quiet, and their attention was taken by Newt. That was an affect that he had on people — whatever he said, they would listen. Newt was captivating, and inviting, and all they ever did was listen to him. He had never lead them astray, not once, and they trusted that whatever he said would be well worth it. Just as it would be honest, and fair. Like him.

"Reason we're here, is because almost every lovin' kid has come up to me in the last day, or two, either boohooing about Thomas—" his voice echoed through the council house, "—or, begging to take his bloody hand in marriage!"

Gally stood, "We need to decide what to do with him."

    "Right," Newt threw him a glare for interrupting, to which the builder sat back down. "But we've got something else to deal with, first. Kennedy— stand."

Ignoring the brashness of his command, resisting the urge to yell that she wasn't an animal to be ordered at his every beck and call, Kennedy decided that it had only been said to fit with his formal persona. With a deep breath, the girl glader followed in suit and arose from her chair. She stepped forward some, until she was in line with Newt at the centre of the council house — his tall frame towered several inches over her, and Kennedy suddenly felt very small. She wasn't the shortest in their glade, not at all, but she was certainly shorter than her blonde counterpart. Kennedy had never really noticed the height difference, before, but come to think of it she did perfectly rest her head in the crook of his neck when tired.

   Oh— klunk! Kennedy was short!

Would these boys listen to a five-foot-five female? Alby hadn't been the tallest around, so it wasn't totally hopeless.

    "While Alby's out, things will he changing." Newt cleared his throat, wanting rid of the lump forming, and nodded his head to the girl. "Kennedy's gonna be taking temporary role as leader, just until he's recovered and back on his feet. No questions, just time to vote. Keepers?"

    "I'm down," Frypan said immediately, with no hesitation.

   Winston agreed, as did Clint, and their appreciation for the idea wasn't hidden in the slightest. Kennedy sent them all a grin, relief flooding through her bones. That was a good proportion of their vote already, and it would take a lot for her to be booted from the role at this point. That was a good thing— right? Kennedy still felt the twisting in her stomach; she doubt, creeping back in, gnawing at her sides. She still worried, it was hard not to.

    "Do we have a better choice?" Gally asked, and crossed both his arms in defiance. She was a bit taken aback. He loved her dearly, but he worried that the other boys may not take her as seriously as they should if she was in charge.

   Nonetheless, Kennedy was quite offended.

"Thomas," Newt deadpanned.

He narrowed his eyes, "Alright... but if anyone hassles her, they deal with me."

    "No ones gonna hassle her, shank!"

   Trust Minho to count his vote as a smart remark to Gall; she was close to rolling her eyes. That was Minho' only response on the matter, other than grinning widely, and she resisted the urge to let out a snicker when Gally smacked his shoulder and Minho shot a dark look at the builder. A warning stare from Newt split them up, but Minho kept his prized smirk. Some vote, she thought to herself.

   As if he would've voted no.

And as for the last few keepers, they either nodded or mumbled a yeah, cool which wasn't too helpful, in the grand scheme of things, but baggers and sloppers didn't tend to talk much. Only Chuck.

   Although, in the long run, it worked out better for Kennedy and Newt — being leaders, it meant that they weren't opposed very much. The likely arguers had gone first, and the others weren't too opinionated. Not enough to vote against her, at least. It meant no one could really disagree with them, not cared enough to try, and thus made the process an awful lot easier. Before she knew it, all of the votes were in and not a single glader had elected anyone else to act as leader while Alby was rehabilitating. It was a nice feeling, to know that the boys really did respect her, and she tried to rid her stomach of nervous butterflies.

    "That sorts it, then."

   There was a cheer, and Newt waved a hand to quieten down the plethora of boys, "Sh—! Alright, calm it! Ya bloody slintheads!"

    "So, it's decided." He spoke again when they had fallen into a silence, looking over at his very own greenie — although she was no longer a greenie, at all — with a proud smile. "While Alby's out and unable to delegate, Kennedy is leader. Effective the second, and moving on."

    "Effective!" Minho.

    "Effective!" Winston.

    "Effective!" Zart.

    "Effective!" Clint.

    "Effective!" Frypan.

    "Effective!" Gally.
   
It was simpler than Kennedy had originally expected.

   Being made their temporary leader had sounded scarier than a handful of votes and some cheers of support, but she wasn't quite sure why she'd thought it to be complicated. None of those boys were going to object, realistically, since they all trusted her. What was the worst that could have happened? No shank would jump up and kill her on the spot! How ridiculous!

    "Time to talk about the greenie," the new leader finally found her voice. She made her way to Alby's chair, now her chair, and she took a seat. "As we know, Thomas here, took it upon himself to run into the maze — opinions, on this? Anyone prepared?"

Kennedy cringed at the lack of authority in her tone, clearing her throat and hoping she would warm to the role soon enough. It sounded a bit awkward.

   While she was good at telling people what to do, she had never done it with official power.

   Dictatorship wasn't her thing.

Not caring to raise a hand, Gally stood and took centre stage. He had been waiting for this one. As he passed Thomas, he sent him with a nasty look. It was no surprise to anyone, not even to Thomas himself. Gally wasn't his biggest fan — he knew all about that.

    "Things are changing."

   Kennedy squinted; it was a rather dramatic performance, and she wondered how long she had to listen before overruling him.

   Was there a rule for that? Did she have to wait?

    "There's no denying it," Gally said. "First, Ben gets stung in broad daylight, and then Alby. And now our greenie—" he pointed at Thomas, "—has taken it upon himself to go into the maze; a clear violation of our rules, here!"

   "Yeah..." Frypan frowned, "But he saved Alby's life."

    "He has a point," Newt agreed.

   It shouldn't have been this way, in his eyes, but he wanted to get a good word in for Tommy. Things had gone awry when he had arrived, but the teenager didn't deserve banishment for saving his friends. Deep down, despite the external need for order and rules as his job suggested, Newt couldn't help but sigh in relief — he was glad Frypan thought so, too. He knew Kennedy felt the same.

    "Did he?"

   Had Thomas saved Alby's life?

Kennedy blinked, "Yes."

The builder rolled his eyes and continued, "For years, we have co-existed with these things. And now, you've gone and killed one of them! Who knows what that could mean, for us?"

   That was where Gally had a point. Killing a griever could have serious consequences for the glade. Could.

Sparing a glance at the helpless boy whom sat in the centre of the room, all eyes on him, Kennedy cinched her brows. A valid point, or not, the scrutiny was unfair, Thomas had done what he had to do to save himself, as well as Minho and Alby. Really, these shanks should have been thanking him! Alby was alive. Thomas had put his life on the line to save them, and perhaps more of the kids would have seen that, if it wasn't for their need of order. For Alby, Thomas had been a saving grace. Minho couldn't have gotten him out of there on his own. They all knew that, surely.

    "Well, what do you suggest we do?" Genuine curiosity in her tone, Kennedy awaited for a response. She hoped desperately that wouldn't mention a banishment. She couldn't deal with that, not when she had just gotten Thomas back from the maze.

Gally look at her, as though she were an idiot.

    "He has to be punished."

    "Come on—!" Thomas groaned, his huff one of detest. He was sick of hearing the boy talk. Kennedy stared at him, eyes in slits.

   The group of boys either opposed the idea or they supported it; it mostly depender on their role in the glade, and hardly their own opinions. Gally's gladers would follow whatever he said, whenever he said it — Kennedy had little doubt about that.

   It was unhelpful, but there was less of them than those who had opposed punishment.

Gally near screeched in exasperation as he eyed up Newt and Kennedy, who were conversing with only their eyes, "He killed a griever!"

Eventually the gladers quietened down, and they all waited for the Kennedy to do something. As she thought, sucking on her teeth, she found herself wondering whether Gally was right. He did run into the maze, he did kill a griever, but he also saved their friends. Risk and reward, it seemed to be.

    "Minho," she said. He looked up, having already expected to be called on, and awaited for permission to speak his mind. Kennedy nodded once, "You were there, with him. What do you think?"

    "I think..." he paused momentarily, glancing at every glader for effect. Minho continued, "I think, in all the time we've been here, no one has ever killed a friever, before.When I turned tail and ran, this dumb shank stayed behind to help Alby."

Thomas ducked his head when Minho jabbed a thumb at him, over his shoulder. Poor greenie was clearly tired of being judged and spoken about as if he wasn't sat in the room with them, and it was a feeling that all of them could relate. Gladers weren't allowed to speak if they were on trial. They had to sit tight, and ride it out until they reached their sentencing. It was painful, the girl had to admit, watching him look so uncomfortable. For a kid like Tom, being so quiet for so long must have been killing him. A part of her was tempted to bend the rules, but she couldn't. This was going to be her job for now; deciding what happened to who, at least until Alby got back on his feet. It was time for her to get used to it.

    "Look— I don't know if he's brave, or stupid. But whatever it is..." the runner clenched his fists at his sides, "...we need more of it."

   His eyes lit up, meeting Kennedy's.

   She shuffled in her seat.

   "I say, we make him a runner."

    "A runner?" Gally exclaimed, baffled. "W—what?"

    "Minho, let's not jump the gun, here—"

Kennedy's lips twitched, and she attempted to prevent the smile she wished to gleam after her friends marvellous suggestion. Make him a runner. Minho's eyes didn't stray for hers, not even when half the council house shot up and shouted protests or agreements, and the two were in their own little bubble. He was a smart shank, in the time when he wanted to be. Minho knew that the power was in her hands, now. No one else's.

    "Thomas! Thomas!" Chuck cheered, "Thomas!"

Gally frowned, "If you wanna throw the newbie a parade, that's fine. Go ahead!" He made sure that his cold eyes hit Kennedy's warm ones, "But, if theres one thing I know about the maze, it is that you do not—!"

Though, before he had the chance to finish his speech, the familiar churn of mettle on metal broke them from the meeting.

She knew that sound — that was the box.

   It was coming back up.

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