"LISTEN UP, SHUCKFACES!"

Every Runners ever recruited were stashed into the Map Room. Frankie craned her neck and tried to count the amount of heads left.

Stephen was back. That meant his broken leg was perfectly healed now.

"The Council agreed that you're all getting running buddies. You gotta make sure that you and your partner survive, preferably unscathed, in case you meet a Griever or the Creators say hello.

"Section One, Marc and Jacob. Two, Alfred and Dan. Three, Justin and Adam. Four, Joe and Kaye. Five, Sean and Lee."

Frankie's eyes met her former partner's and Stephen shot her a knowing smile.

"Six, Frankie and me. Seven, Stephen and Will. Any question?"

Frankie pressed her lips together and wondered if this was a deliberate attempt on his favor. She reminded herself that she would have a lot of time to ask him anything in private when they were out in the Maze.

"Good that," Minho said, "Take your time to study your new sections, shank. Stay safe and remember the rule still applies: thirty minutes before the Doors close, or you wish you're Ben right now."

As if on cue, Ben's alien scream erupted to fill every Glade's corner, including the Map Room.

"That's unfortunate," Stephen grinned as he passed her spot, "I was kind of hoping we'll end up as partners again. I can always count on you to have my back."

"Will's not bad."

"Will's not the best. You are," Stephen shrugged, "See you around, Frank."

"You too. Stay safe."

The boy jogged over to his new partner, leaving Frankie approachable for Minho.

"You ready, partner?"

"Is this what people call taking advantage of the situation?" Frankie inquired.

"What?" Minho grinned. It wasn't his usual full, genuine one, but it was definitely better than the look he had on his face during yesterday's Gathering. "Might as well have some fun ourselves, right?"

"Ugh," Frankie scrunched up her nose, "That sounds so wrong."

"Wrong? It sounds wrong if you have a dirty mind, and I certainly don't. What were you thinking, huh?" Minho teased.

"I'm gonna feed you to the Griever, I swear."

"But I'm all muscle, they're gonna need some time to chew."

"How do you manage to make everything revolves around you?"

"It's a talent, babe. Ow!"

"I dare you to call me that one more time—"

"Babe. Okay, Frankie, I'm just kidding. Frank, Frankie—"

〰️

MINHO TURNED OUT to be a pleasant partner, mostly due to the fact that they didn't exchange words during the run to save their breaths.

Frankie could see why he was named Keeper; He was strong and agile. His stubbornness and urge to show off worked in her favor, too. She didn't need to cut any vine or take any note. He did all the work himself.

By noon, they were already hanging their feet over the endless chasm. The smell of Frypan's baked lamb wafted around the Cliff as the two enjoyed their lunches.

"How's your arm?"

"Fine," Frankie looked at him and knew that it was an unsatisfying answer, "A bit sore. But I can manage."

"Okay," Minho nodded, "If you need anything, you tell me."

"Good that."

"I have a feeling," Minho paused and looked out to the vast blue sky with squinted eyes, "I have a feeling that we're going out of this shucking place soon."

Frankie played with the spoon and whatever left in her lunchbox. Conversations about hope like this one and yesterday's Gathering sent painful pricks to her heart. A part of her wanted it to be true, so much, while another part of her was filled with too much doubt.

Then, Minho smoothly snaked his right arm around her bandaged one and intertwined his pinkie with hers.

"I promise, I'll get you out of this shucking place soon."

"Okay."

A pinkie was enough. Just right.

"And even if I don't," Frankie found herself saying, "You have to keep going."

It was a peculiar feeling. She said it, yes, and her lips moved accordingly, but it wasn't her. It wasn't her.

It's not me.

It felt like... Like some thought was inserted deep within her mind. Something sparked in her brain that caused her jaw to speak of whatever was planted there.

Minho tensed, "What do you mean?"

"If I don't make it out of the Maze, you have to keep going. For everyone else."

Minho, Minho!

"Nobody wants to admit it but you're the most important person in the Glade," Frankie's head lolled down so she was staring at their hands, "Keeper of Runners. You have to lead the Greenies out."

Minho, it's not me!

"Frankie? You good?"

Minho lifted her chin so she was directly looking at him and she prayed that he would wake her up from this paralysis.

"Good," she smiled, then the spell broke. "Minho—"

It's not nonsense, though, she thought to herself. It's for the best. It's precaution.

"Hey, you don't look so hot."

"I'm good," Frankie gulped down her last spoon of food and closed her lunchbox's lid. She tightened her pinkie's grip for two seconds, savoring the moment, before releasing him. She stood up and tried to pack with her one good hand.

"Let me help."

Minho immediately followed suit and took the liberty to arrange both of their backpacks. He helped her wear one and wore one himself.

"Minho."

"Yeah?"

"I meant it. Promise me you will keep going."

Minho frowned, "What's wrong with you? I'm not leaving anyone behind, moreover you. Even slintheads like Gally would shucking kill me if we all left without you."

"Promise me," Frankie repeated.

He paused to think for a few seconds before saying, "Only if you promise to do the same if I don't make it out of the Maze."

"Deal."

"Okay, then," Minho shrugged, "Sure. I promise."

Frankie stepped closer towards him and hooked her pinkie with his once more. She lifted it and said in a voice that was 100% hers, "Okay. You can't break a pinkie promise."