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.*･｡. FLARES! .*･｡.
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017.
THE HEIGHT OF
DECISIONS.

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   Shortly after Kennedy had left the council house, and Minho had whisked Thomas away to the map room, Newt had tracked down his female counterpart to let her know that she had made a good decision.

Whether it was the right one, or not, only time would tell. But Newt supported her in it, and that was all Kennedy ever wanted.

If Newt was alright with her choice to make Thomas a runner — which had been very reckless of her, and impulsive — then she couldn't have made too much of a mistake. Since Minho had been the one to suggest it at Thomas' council meeting, she hadn't been able to rid it from her mind. Kennedy had heard his words loud and clear, and she trusted Minho. He had seen how Thomas was when they were stuck in that maze, for a night.

Gally, however, had not.

Her decision couldn't have been that bad... could it?

It stayed as a weight on her shoulders; the uncertainty. How had Alby ever managed to make decisions? She really wasn't sure, and she hoped she wouldn't have to do it for much longer. It was hard.

Kennedy didn't like the feeling that it gave her. With great power came great responsibility, and that was a heavy burden. Alby was a machine. Dealing with the responsibility of those boys every single day took guts. While Kennedy had always felt that responsibility, to keep them safe and sound, she had never been put in charge of them like Alby was. Everything went through Alby. He knew every single thing about every single person. Nothing happened without his word of approval. Alby had made difficult decisions from his very first day in the glade, and there had been some really difficult ones — Alby had watched boys die, and he had deal with it. Hell, Alby had decided some. All because he was their leader, and he did what it was that he had to do. Always.

As a leader, you made the big decisions. Tough ones.

Kennedy would have done anything for those boys, but if every decision was like this one, she wasn't sure how many more she'd be able to make. It was a lot of pressure, and it was stressful. And in times when she felt stressed, she went to seek out one person; the person that always made her feel better.

Chuck.

Having the authority to sweep the boy away from his duties as a slopper had felt incredibly rewarding, now that Kennedy was able to while playing leader. No one could argue with that decision, and no one would. Chuck worked hard slopping everyday, and the kid deserved a break as much as anyone. It was nice for the she-bean to yank the bad from his hands and toss it aside, tugging him to a quieter part of the glade and away from the disgusting work. She thought he needed a break — or, as much of a break that he could get, when she was constantly asking him questions. She was starting to sound an awful lot like Thomas. Was she really that stressed?

"Do you think I really made the right decision, greenie?"

She had promised to tell him what happened in their meeting, even if she wasn't supposed to, and so she had used that as excuse to sneak him off the job. Above all, Kennedy needed someone to talk to. She was struggling.

Chuck couldn't help but roll his eyes, "I dunno— I'm just a kid, Kennedy!"

Kennedy squinted at him playfully, reaching over to send a shove to his shoulder. He dramatically groaned, then returned to carve whatever piece of wood was that he was carving.

Sighing heavily, causing her pink lips to vibrate, she thought on his words for a moment. It was true, after all: Chuck was just a kid, in this whole situation. But so was she — they all were. A bunch of children who had been thrown into a simulation of hell, and who were expected to run a society like grownups. None of them were the age to deal with what they had dealt with. Grass and grievers were what nightmares were made of, for all of those kids.

"We're all kids, Chuck..." she muttered as she bit at the inside of her cheek to remain composed. The last thing she needed was to have a breakdown, or to yell at the boy for just being honest. She'd never yell at Chuck. That wasn't Kennedy. "I just don't know what I'm doing."

   At that, Chuck paused in his wood carvings, delicately designing the model in his hands, and instead watched closely as her fingers fiddled with the bracelet he had made her. It still resided on her wrist, and she had yet to break her promise to never take it off. He smiled at the thought. Chuck had noticed her play with it every now and then, rolling it in her hands when something was on her mind. That was something Kennedy did, when she grew restless; it made her fidgety, and she needed something to occupy her hands rather than using them to pick at her skin or pull the thread on her clothing. A nervous habit, he assumed.

He put the wood down, "Well...did you follow your gut?"

"What?" Kennedy snapped out of it, peering at him in much confusion. She echoed his words; "Did— did I follow my gut?"

"Yeah—" he nodded his head, "—did you? Did you follow your gut instinct?" Chuck continued on, shrugging his shoulders which sent his body wiggling, just a fraction.

She watched in curiosity and then frowned to herself, pondering his question as deeply as she could. Sometimes that kid was wiser than his age, totally beyond his years. Kennedy wondered what else went on inside that head of his — it must have been golden.

People would be paying for his smarts, one day.

She was sure of it.

Pursing her lips, Kennedy tried to think. Had she followed her gut instinct? Did that even mean anything, to her? Chuck's words sounded easy enough, but when it came to it, she didn't know how to tell if she had done it, or not. Was it supposed to be this hard? Was Chuck just too smart, for her? Perhaps Kennedy was thinking too much into it, but she couldn't help it.

She began to question herself; wondering what had coerced her into making the decision she had.

Thomas was going to be a runner because she had decided it. Of course, Minho had also deemed him suitable to be a runner — he had said so in their prior meeting — and Newt appeared to agree with him, but Kennedy had made the final decision. Two people she respected most had deemed him fit, out there.

Perhaps Kennedy had decided because Newt and Minho had already decided for her. No one had forced her, but they played a role in it.

Although, if it was friendly influence, then it didn't explain why she hadn't listen to Gally. Kennedy allowed her thoughts to drift to the builder who had been through more than Kennedy could ever imagine. He had raised several valid points, all that Kennedy knew were right to think, and yet she hadn't listened. She hadn't acted on his words, and rather gone against him in one of the worst ways possible. Of all things she could have done, this might have been the one that broke their friendship forever. It was tainted, now, as a result of her decision.

Gally did know the maze. He had been stung long ago, and had gone through the changing, only to never be the same him that he had been, prior to that day. Gally could still be tolerable, nice to whom he decided to be, to those he trusted. But, for some reason, he wouldn't trust the greenie to so much as to fetch him a bucket of water.

Kennedy couldn't shake the feeling that Gally knew something about Thomas that the rest of the gladers didn't. Whatever it was, it was enough that he wanted the newbie punished for his crimes.

He had always been a stickler for order, but never to this extent. There had to be something else — Kennedy could feel it.

But Gally did have a point. Even if he sounded very absurd.

Order was key. Kennedy knew that the glade would never work if they lost their order, and she also knew Thomas running into the maze should have received a harsher punishment than what she had given. However, having been a short-lived runner, Kennedy thought going back into the maze was punishment enough. She knew that better than most. Despite Thomas' eagerness to get out there, it wasn't all fun and games. It was dangerous, though this kid seemed to live for danger. Really, Kennedy should have given him a harsher punishment — she should have done what Alby'd have done — but making Thomas a runner was her final decision, and it was the one that seemed most fitting.

Maybe it was down to her liking towards him, or possibly the desperation to get out of this place; it wasn't their home. While Gally was blindsided by his comfort in the glade, Kennedy thought otherwise. That place was a damn prison, not a suitable home.

   Kennedy had been trying to find a way out, for years. And now it looked as though Thomas had a chance of finding one. He had come up in that box and created chaos, but he had gotten them one step closer to getting out of the glade while doing it. In three days, Thomas had found more than they had found in a year. If Kennedy couldn't go back into that maze, then Thomas could.

It felt right.

    "Yeah, I did..." she finally nodded, "I did follow my gut."

   Chuck beamed, "Then you made the right decision."

   Kennedy couldn't help but beam back at him. It felt like one of weights had been lifted from her shoulders, and she was no longer struggling to breathe.

In that moment, her entire mentality changed: Kennedy could do this. Chuck had just proved it — she was perfectly capable of good decisions if she listened to her gut, and went with it. All Kennedy needed to do was trust herself, and then she would so whatever it was that was right. She needed to trust herself.

She breathed a laugh, what a smart shank!

   For a young boy, Chuck was smarter than he looked. It made her even more upset that he had been labelled a slopper, because the others hadn't seen much potential in him. Chuck had struggled with physical tasks: slicing made him sick, he wasn't strong enough to build, and he had fainted as the sight of blood. The poor shank deserved a job that involved the mind; he was intelligent, more so than half the boys in here, and that needed to be utilised. Perhaps she should have taken him out of the slopping trade completely, and put him on their council as a new kind of keeper.

   Maybe they should have appointed Chuck as their leader, while Alby was out...

    "Thanks, Chuckie."

   And in that moment, Kennedy only wished one thing.

To get that boy out of there.

————

   Kennedy watched in amusement, snickering loudly. What a very pleasant surprise, it had been! Her day had gotten so much better.

Surprised, the girl could only laugh as the new girl bolted up the tower with sheer determination, making it to the top in a matter of seconds. It was quite a sight, and Kennedy wished that she had herself a remote that would replay it, over and over again with the single click! of a button.

"Ow—!"

"Cut it out!"

"She's crazy! Greenie's gone mental!"

Kennedy had been still talking with Chuck, leisurely laid upon the greenery, when the new girl had shot out of the med-jack hut in a blur. She had been screaming about the two boys inside being absolutely insane and demanding to know where she was. Unless she was mistaken, Kennedy could have sworn she had heard her ask why the hell are you keeping me hostage? at one point, which she couldn't have blamed her for. It was harder for her than it had been, for the rest of them. While they had all been scared and confused, they'd been conscious during their arrival — this girl had awoken on a bed, in a place she didn't know, surrounded by boys.

   Kennedy knew the feeling.

   But the only other girl in the glade hadn't the chance to attempt to calm her down, as the girl had already started throwing various items down from the top of the tower. Various objects; hard ones.

They hit the boys on their heads, eliciting groans and swears of pain, but — surprisingly — none of them had managed to hit the current leader. She swiftly dodged them, stepping aside, and she managed to make it unscathed. Although, the situation did make her wonder how much stuff they stored up there, and why. Some of it actually looked quite useful...hm.

    "Out of every greenie's reaction—" Kennedy howled when Gally was hit with a pear, "—this has to be the best, yet!"

   Newt quickly hid himself underneath the large plank of wood that Frypan had managed to grab in their blind panic, covering himself and a few fellow boys from the missiles. It was obvious that none of them had expected another girl to be quite so violent in her few conscious minutes in the glade. Kennedy was a spitfire, of course, but it usually occurred with more reason. She had always needed to be provoked — but, in a way, this new girl had been as well. She had no idea where she was; her instinct was to fight her way out. It was better than klunking her pants.

His eyes lingered on Kennedy for a second, reminded of when she had thrown an apple at him when he had fetched her from the box.

It all felt so long ago, and it made him nostalgic.

But then he was hit by peach.

"Leave me alone!"

    "Ken, do something!" Newt cried out desperately, watching as she stood and snorted. Was she really just going to stand there? This new girl had gone insane, and Kennedy was going to let it happen? He whined loudly, "You're a girl—!"

   She glared, "Wow—! Good observation, ya slinthead!"

   Gally merely scowled at her, and grit his teeth. She watched as his cheeks faded crimson, the shade of red rising up his face and to his forehead, and the tips of his ears. Kennedy debated leaving him until he exploded, but decided it was best not to, considering she didn't want to clean up the mess left behind, nor have to deal with the consequences. It didn't sound very fun. Plus, Newt had a look on his face that told her to stop screwing around, now.

"Go away!" New girl yelled, "I wanna be alone!"

Did Kennedy really want to do this?

    "Fine—!" groaning, she muttered a few choice words under her breath and huffed. "But if she hits me, I won't hesitate to hit her back— got it?" The boys nodded obediently, "Step back, then."

   As the crowd fell silent, the amount of flying objects gradually decreased. Chuck yelled something about girls being awesome! in the distance and was soon hushed to be quiet, although Kennedy didn't take much notice of who he had been talking to in the first place. A subconscious part of her had already decided that it was probably Thomas.

    "Hey, greenie?" Kennedy called, tone sweet. She usually had a gift with greenies and, being that she was a girl, she had a feeling that this would go quite smoothly if she kept calm and kind. "Feel like coming down?"

   No response.

   She pursed her lips, placing both hands upon her hips as she waited. Still, nothing.

"Okay..." Kennedy mumbled, eyebrows cinched in thought. She didn't want to push this girl, but they didn't have all day — she'd have to think of something else. Scratching her head, Kennedy let out a sigh. "Or, I could come up?" more silence lingered amongst them and she tried again, "Y'know— girl power, and all that?"

   After a couple more moments of waiting, the leader decided that no response was better than a bad response and shrugged both her shoulders carelessly. They'd soon find out.

What was the worst that could happen?

Heading towards the ladder, Kennedy ignored the looks that the boys sent her. While they were worried, if the girl wasn't throwing things or shouting at her to back off, then she took that as a good sign. Kennedy may have been a girl herself, but the past two years had been full of boys for her — she couldn't remember any other female, not even her own mother, and the idea made her hesitant all of a sudden. What if she had nothing to say? What if this girl didn't like her? Kennedy had waited two long years for another girl and there she was, wondering whether they would like her. Was she serious? Kennedy couldn't decided if it was pathetic, or not.

By the time that train of thought ended, she was pushing her way through the hatch that led to the top of the tower. She had to give the girl credit for fleeing to where she was, seeing as it was a great vantage point, but the structure was kinda unstable.

This girl was brave, as well.

"Woah—!"

She sucked in a breath and tried not to stumble back at the sight of a machete in her face. There was nothing behind her, only air.

The machete was very close to her face, and one foul move would probably slice off her nose. But, in the other direction, Kennedy would have fallen down and taken a mighty fall and likely died.

Niether sounded like it would be a good first impression.

"Hey—" she spoke lowly, her eyes meeting the girl's. She was scared, body shaking, but she held her position with purpose. As if she had done it before. Kennedy quirked a brow, "How about not putting that in my face?"

Her face hardened. Kennedy wondered if it was something she had said.

"We're not gonna hurt you," realising her approach might have been a bit brash and forceful, Kennedy's tactic quickly changed to a softer one. She was usually good with the greenies, but new girl seemed harder to crack than ant of the boys. "None of us. We all got here the way you did— okay? We know how you feel. Just— just put that down, and let me explain..."

New girl seemed to contemplate it, counting her choices. Deep down, she knew that they meant her no harm but it was the fear talking. She was afraid. This place was strange, and new, but if they were saying was true, then maybe she had to trust them.

She lowered the weapon slowly, hiding her shaking hands at her sides and watching closely as Kennedy crawled through the hatch and onto the tower's top. The structure shook and swayed at the movement, and new girl noticed the way Kennedy cringed. The brief horror on her face shocked the new girl a bit — the way that it contrasted with her calm and collected appearance had been unexpected. Even with a knife in her face, she remained fearless, but a shaky tower fazed her? Odd.

Kennedy wasn't scared of much.

Not spiders, or snakes, or death. She just wasn't scared of many things, having seen what was within the maze. It was nothing in comparison.

So, really, this should have been a doddle. Piece of cake.

   Crazed and terrified greenies, Kennedy could deal with — but heights? Not her forte.

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