I wake up by the sound of soft rustling, which makes my head throb.

My eyelids feel heavy as I peel them open. The ground below me is hard. My muscles ache against it.

"Zee," a whisper, almost panicked. Hands shake my shoulders. "Zee?"

"Ow."

The hands stop shaking me. I blink a few times until my vision clears.

I see Minho through strings of ivy. His eyelids are so thick that I can barely see his pupils. Dark circles  shadow below them. His cheeks are sallow.

"Are you okay?" He whispers.

I lift my hand to touch my head, but he stops me. "My head hurts."

"Yeah. You got hit by either the wall or that monster. You've been unconscious the whole night."

Peeking past him, my mouth falls open at the sight of daylight. "And you didn't sleep at all, did you?"

"No," he sighs. "I was too... worried— panicked."

Minho moves the ivy away, an exit for me. I crawl out of the tight space as fast as I can. "Where's Gally?" I ask.

He helps me up. My feet are weakly shaking below me. Hunger is gnawing at my insides, along with another dull pain. My whole body hurts from lying on that stone. "Here. I didn't want to risk those monsters seeing us again, so I decided to let him there on his own."

We walk over to another wall that's completely covered in green plants. Minho, again, moves the strands to the side, revealing the still-unconscious boy.

Another sigh leaves Minho. "That thing slammed him against the wall. He seems to be alive, but barely. We should go back to the Glade. The Doors are open. Help me drag him."

He wraps his arms around Gally's torso, and I take his ankles in my hands. We're lucky we didn't go far. Just have to pass a few corridors.

"Was that one of the things that attacked George?"

"It did make the same sounds," Minho mutters. "The Maze is enormous, and this is the second time we see it, though. I guess there's just one of them, and that we've been lucky the past weeks."

"Why would it even be in there?"

"I guess they don't want us in the Maze."

"So you should stop," I state.

"No." He shakes his head, heavily. "It's the only way out."

"You haven't tried climbing up the walls?"

"Where do you want to go from there? The gaps are too big. You can't jump from wall to wall."

I look up. Yes, the distance between the walls is big, but it's not impossible. Not with some ladders.

So I tell him that.

"I don't know... it's a risk."

"I thought you weren't one of the wimps."

Offended, he glares at me. "Realistic thinking."

I get distracted by the Glade. It's right in front of us already.

And three people are waiting right in front of the Doors.

Minho and I speed our pace up. Gally doesn't look well. We need to get him help as fast as we can.

His face is pale, and I swear there's a stain of blood on his shirt.

"Thank God," Minho puffs when we arrive. "Nick, Alby, Newt— Gally got hurt and—"

"What. The. Bloody. Hell?!"

Minho and I share a glance, eyes wide in alarm.

This is not going to be a warm welcome.

"Y'all sneaked out," Nick says.

We share another glance.

"We did?" Asks Minho.

"I don't think we did," I peep.

"No. We, eh, entered the Maze this morning—"

"The doors opened not even five minutes ago," Alby says dryly.

"We... climbed over the walls—"

"There is no lying yourself out of this," Newt tells us. He crosses his arms, as if that will make his thin figure any tougher.

They all do that, I've noticed. Always crossing their arms to seem tougher.

So I cross them right back at him. "Okay, fine. We had a smart plan that did not end well. Gally wasn't supposed to be involved— this is his own fault."

Then we're all staring at the unconscious boy, who Minho and I have put down by now.

"Get him to the nonexistent Med Hut," Nick mumbles, followed by a string of fake curses (Glader slang). "Why the hell don't we have a Med Hut."

Alby shrugs, eyes on Gally. "You should ask the Keeper of the Builders."

"That's not funny, Alby," Nick snarls. "Okay, just make sure he wakes up... someone! CLINT!"

"And you two," Newt turns to us, "will—"

"You're not the boss, you can't decide anything."

"I'm the Third-In-Command."

"Is that even a thing?" I mutter. "How big is the chance something happens to not only the leader, but also the one who'll follow after him?"

Minho nods. "Yeah. And who is the fourth?"

"You."

"Me? I never signed any kind of contracts or anything." He gapes at Newt for a minute before a grin curls up his lips. "Wow, they're in desperate need of me."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, because the chance something happens to the first three is so big."

"You never know after this night. And George."

At that name, Alby immediately looks down so no one can meet his eyes. I swallow, hard. My heart aches for him.

He's carrying guilt on his back and it's obvious. Yet he didn't have much other options besides killing George. George would've killed many others instead.

"One of our rules is not to go out in the Maze when you're not a Runner. One of our sub rules is to only be in the Maze between the time the Doors are open. Zee broke two rules, and Minho one. Y'all took a risk and it did not end well," Nick says formally. "This is going to mean a night in the Slammer for the both of you."

Minho points at Gally. "And him. He was the dumbest of all. We had a real plan. So if you'd let me explain—"

"Later. Now, we need to treat this guy. CLINT, GET YOUR ASS HERE!" And Nick continues screaming until the boy arrives.

I nudge Minho in the side. "Why aren't they panicking? Why aren't we panicking? Why is no one panicking?"

"I guess no one cares about Gally," he says casually.

"I care about Gally." 

"Well, go panic, then."

My eyes fall on Clint. He's struggling to carry Gally. Nick is too busy confronting Minho and I, Alby has wandered off, and Newt is, I don't know, in dreamland or something.

I whoosh past Nick, towards Clint, and help him carry the boy. A grateful nod is all I get in return, and that's enough.

"Where are we taking him?"

"The edge of the woods. We have a tiny beginning of a Med Hut there. It's in the woods so that the patients aren't on full display for everyone. Or their screams, like George." Clint shudders at the thought.

"Okay," I say, quieter than I intended to.

A minute later, we enter the hut. It only has two walls for now, no roof, no door, and barely any furniture. We're lucky for this bed to lie Gally on.

Hesitantly, I lift his shirt up. Only a little bit, but far enough to see what caused him to bleed.

A tiny little circle. Bigger than a mosquito bite but tinier than a stab. It seems to be some kind of sting.

"Looks exactly like the wound George had," Clint announces.

My head snaps up so fast that I get dizzy. "What?"

When he realizes what he just said, his face pales. "Oh, God. Not again— where is that serum?"

"Serum?"

"Yes! We have a serum for it. It didn't work last time, though. Maybe we were too late."

"We're later now. But Gally is unconscious. If we... tie him to this bed so he won't escape, he won't even get the chance to turn wild like George, right?"

"Hm." He tilts his head up. His eyes carry some kind of look that make me think he has underestimated me. "Smart. Okay, let's do it. You go grab some robes and I'll search for the serum."

I nod. Again, the movements hurts. I should ask for a painkiller or something after this. My head's been weird ever since I woke up.

I slump through the woods, unsure who to ask for ropes. Fry seems to know a lot about where to get equipment, so I decide to go for that.

And indeed, I make my way back to the woods with multiple ropes in my hands. The sun burns against my skin, and the heat makes the air feel heavy and hard to breathe. Makes my head heavy.

The longing from my lungs for more air rather feels like it's my brain longing for more blood. I press a hand to my forehead to stop the feeling,

"Thanks." Clint takes the ropes from me and begins tying Gally to the bed.

"Do you have water?" I ask, taking a deep breath. "I don't feel very... my head's like... lightweight and it's... I don't feel very well."

Too busy with Gally, he mutters, "We have a tap close to the Homestead. But maybe just sit down first."

My knees buckle. I grab the hut's wall for support, and glide down to the floor. Spots dance in my vision. For support, I hold my head between my knees.

"I hurt my head in the Maze," I tell him. "Can you have a look at it? It's been hurting ever since I woke up. It made me faint in the Maze, too."

"Almost done here," he responds.

The world feels unsteady, like it's swinging below me. I press a hand to my forehead as I try to take deep, slow breaths.

"Okay. I'm done with Gally. Let's hope for the best. Now we'll have a look at you..." he trails off when he takes my shoulders. "Up you go— woah."

I stumble. The black dots increase until they have taken over every bit of my sight. I feel as if I'm flying for a moment. Everything spins.

Then, after a few times of blinking, I see Clint again, in the exact same position.

"I couldn't see anything." I groan quietly. "Did I faint?"

"No, but you were close to it. Maybe sit down again..."

He clearly is not very educated in the medical world.

But I trust him more with my wounds than Minho, that's for sure.

"I think it's a concussion." He places a wet cloth against my head. I wince in pain. "We don't have any painkillers here. Just rest a lot."

"Yeah..." I lean against the wall. Close my eyes.

"Not here, dummy. In a bed or hammock."

"I know. I also know that I am very freaking close to fainting right now," I murmur. My body slumps weakly after it. "Just let me do my thing. Thanks."

★

A few days and a night in the cold Slammer later, I have recovered.

And I will never go into the Maze again.

And I am suddenly very grateful that I get to slaughter animals instead of cross those monsters.

Every morning I say goodbye to Minho, I fear he won't return. Even while I'm working, I feel the constant pressure of it, subconsciously. He and the other Runners are running in bigger groups so they can explore more about the monsters. They haven't found anything yet. 

It scares me. With George, it was also out of a sudden. Nothing in three months and then just... that.

Gally is not okay yet. He has woken up and screamed and trashed around, but no proper words left him. No sign that he is back to the Gally I knew for one single night— no, an hour.

It's my fourteenth day in the Glade by now. Two weeks. I have gotten new clothes in the meanwhile, and my own shampoo.

My hair is so annoying that I have the urge to shave it all off.

It's a thick mess. It always has knots. It itches my neck when it's hot and it makes sweat trickle down my shirt. It never looks nice. And I don't have to look super pretty, but I'd like to look decent.

I do not look decent.

I don't know how to fix it. Alby has curls but he is basically bald and Jeff's hair is too short to be a mess. Minho tried to tell me he likes my hair, but I told him it wouldn't change my mind: if I don't find a way to calm it soon, I will cut it.

My attempt to put it in a tight ponytail this morning took half of my time away. I arrive late enough for only three boys to be left; Jeff, Minho, and his friend Ben.

The Runners have a day off today. Minho explained that it's once a week, and that they each get to choose what day they don't run, as long as they don't leave their partner alone.

"Good morning." I do cheer up at the fresh smell of the trees, and gentle sunlight on my skin. "How is everyone doing?"

I receive a few grumpy mumbles.

Boys.

"Okay..." I turn to my breakfast and begin eating without another word.

A second later, I give up, "Where do y'all cut your hair?"

Alarmed, Minho straightens. "Don't you dare cut your hair off."

"Unless you find a way to properly style it, I will," I sneer. "You don't understand how annoying it is."

"I can understand," he defends.

And he crossed his arms to toughen up.

They should really stop doing that. All it does is make them look foolish because they're all the same.

"No, because you have short hair with no curls. You will never fully understand."

"You can take braids," Jeff suggests, unbothered. He's reading the back of a cereal box.

My face lights up. "Yes!" Then... down. "Where do I get my hair braided? Who can braid?"

"I can try?" Minho offers.

I look up and down at him. "I don't know."

"You don't trust me?"

"Not really, to be honest."

"What can go wrong?"

Ben swallows his food away before he says, "A lot."

"Thanks, a lot," Minho mimics. "I will ask the Box for a manual or something. I will learn. And then I can braid your hair. In real braids. Like... dozens of them, so you can keep it in for a long time."

"You'd do that?" I ask, flustered. My stomach is twisting in... I don't know— excitement, or something.

He nods. "Yeah, I would."

Wow. He's not all tough about it. And so far, I have learned that he means it whenever that happens. 

"Thank you!" I jump up to give him a hug.

"AAA!" Jeff throws the cereal box at my head.

"Hey!" I rub my temple. "I just healed from a concussion."

Minho climbs on top of the table to smack the boy on the back of his head. "Yeah. What was that for?"

"Her organs are falling out!" He panics.

"What?"

Minho trails his eyes over my body— "OH MY GOD— get Nick!"

Ben's eyes wide. "CLINT!"

"Zora. Is. DYING!"

I twirl around as I look down at my body, but I can't seem to find my... organs falling out.

"What do you mean I—"

"CLINTTTT!"

Why do they always yell so much?

"Minho." I take ahold of his shoulders so tightly that he squirms in pain. "How are my organs falling out?"

"They're going down the drain!" Jeff peeps.

"Down the... what?" I look down again, a little further, then slam a hand to my mouth. "Did they send me pants with blood in them?"

"No, it's fresh," Ben gasps. "You're dying."

I take a step back. "But I don't want to die— Clint!"

After an eternity, both Clint and Nick arrive. They inspect the problem for a while.

Then they're also jumping around in panic.

Why do I know how to slaughter animals but not why I'm bleeding?

Who the hell was my teacher? Because whoever it was, was not teaching the right things.

Why does no one here know medical things, actually?

"Wait, we got a manual," Jeff realizes.

Minho stops running around the place, his face dropping. "We did, yes. Ben, go get it!"

"Manual?"

"Someone asked the Box for a manual on women," Minho explains.

At the sight of my narrowed eyes, he quickly adds, "It wasn't me!"

"Neither was it me!" Jeff says.

A few more defensive words follow. I give up already. On one side, if that 'manual' will fix this, it's not that bad.

Ben returns with a few papers. "It seems to be like... a lot of information, not a manual— who the hell even asked for a manual? Zee has been easier than most boys here."

"Thank you, Ben," I say, patting him on the shoulder. "Can you now find the right page that will explain this?"

He searches, nods when he has found it, and begins reading, "The uterus lining—"

"What is that?"

"A womb," Alby says lazily. Our yells have caught even his attention.

"Okay, so the womb lining sheds and flows out of the—" Ben stops. His cheeks grow completely red. When they urge him to continue reading, his whole face morphs into the color. "And flows out of the... the private part."

"That's kind of disgusting."

"Your period contains mostly blood. The average length of a period is three to seven days."

I am gaping at him. "No way."

Ben shows me the tiny text. "Sorry," he says, as if it's his fault that I will have to deal with this for that many days.

"And why does she get it?" Nick asks.

Ben reads, "To prepare the uterus for pregnancy—"

"SHE IS PREGNANT?"

Horror fills me.

"I haven't had my period yet. Does that mean I'm pregnant?" Jeff panics.

Alby smashes his forehead onto the table.

Through the chaos, I sit down in front of him. "You seem to know all of this. Why do you know all of this?"

"Because I check the things that come up the Box. I already read that."

"Why didn't we know of important things like this before?"

"I wouldn't know, Zee." He shrugs. "We're educated in the basic things."

"This seems like a basic thing, if I will get it every month!" I yelp in frustration. "Ben, how do we fix it? I'll stain everything— never mind, I'll ask Alby. He is calmer."

I turn to the boy, waiting. He blinks a few times. "Eh, I'm pretty sure it said something called... pats... pads... peeds— something like that. And something else that will stop the bleeding— just read it."

I snatch the paper out of Ben's hand, and begin. A frown forms on my face at some of the hard words. Some aren't even in my vocabulary.

Partly because these boys around me are still panicking. With a lot of noise.

I sneak away unnoticed, eyes buried in the paper. It all starts to make sense, slowly.

I stop at a tree. Before I lean against it, I check if there isn't one of those Beetle Blades on it. Minho introduced me to one of the insects a couple of days ago. You don't want to come in contact with them, he had said.

They're scary. Like mini scorpions— almost like the monsters in the Maze, but way smaller. And longer.

Unfortunately, there is one crawling right up the tree.

I frown. My hand rips the note off it's body. My eyes scan the text.

We hid it in the Box so that boys wouldn't touch it: unsanitary. You'll be able to find it in the corner of the Box. Good luck!

Love, T & T & C.

★

A/n: that was so unnecessarily cringe and just... weird

But alright, in The Maze Runners books, the Gladers were low-key childish at the age of 16/17, so this at the age of 12/13 can't be too crazy