· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

This Sunday, the Gladers are there again. The movie night had been so much fun that I've been praying for them to show up again—and now they have.

A blonde, beautiful girl sits next to Newt. I've never seen her before, but she looks a lot like him. Same nose, hair color, and eyes.

"Quinn!" They greet happily, except for the Asian, Minho, who I have never really met. He doesn't seem interested in changing that, either.

"This is my sister, by the way." Newt pats the blonde on her shoulder. She smiles at me. "Sonya."

"Quinn," I greet. "So, what's up?"

"This." Thomas puts a map down in the middle of the table. "We are struggling to find a nice location. Everyone wants something different."

I shrug, hesitant. It's not like I've ever been on vacation and now know what places are nice. "Go to multiple places."

"We will. But we don't know a route," Thomas continues. "Like, everything is so far away from each other." He points at the marked spots. "It'll cost a fortune."

I stare at it for a while. The dots are spread around the United States and Canada, nowhere else. "I think it's going be even more expensive, but another option is to go to Europe... right?"

"Expensive, indeed." Newt rubs his chin, frowning. "It's like nine-hundred dollars to fly, since it's summer. That's way too much for each person."

Thomas and Frypan both turn to Minho with twinkling eyes.

He nearly throws his hands in the air. "Oh, no. Nope. Not happening."

"Dude, you're like, very rich. And so are your parents!"

Minho leans back in his seat, bothered. "This is rude. You can't just expect me to pay for everything. Get a job yourself."

He has a point.

"You never spend your money!" Frypan adds. "Come on, you can help a little bit."

"No," Minho protests. "I have better things to spend my money on."

Bills? Does he have debts? That would be insane: he clearly has a lot of money, so those debts would be a crazy amount.

"I'm not doing that. I'll pay just as much as all of you will."

"But why? Don't you want to take care of your dear friends?" Thomas pouts dramatically.

Minho's gaze says enough

Newt sighs as he puts his hands on the table. "This indeed is very rude to ask."

"Thank you!" Triumphant, Minho makes himself comfortable again, shifting in his seat.

His eyes flash to mine for a quick second. I smile at him. Just a little smile. He doesn't smile back, but his face lights up.

"We can ask our parents," Sonya suggests.

Newt looks at her as if she said the most offensive thing ever. "Ain't no way Dad's going to allow that. Besides, who said you're coming with us?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't say that you don't know I will be able to get that money, Newton. Not my fault you're the least favorite."

His eyes narrow. "Fine, you bloody—"

She cuts him off by pulling a strand of his hair. A high-pitched yell escapes from him, causing plenty of strangers to look up. I have to cover up a laugh.

"Okay. Parents, we will ask," Thomas agrees. "Try and see how much money you have yourself and what you feel like spending. Tomorrow we'll—"

"I have to work," Minho interrupts.

Thomas sighs. "Okay, then we meet in two days and—"

"Work."

"Man, how many times do you have to work?" He spits out. "Tomorrow, eleven o'clock, in here. I don't care, whatever. We'll share how much money we have and make a decision."

Everyone eventually agrees to that. I sit completely still, as if that will make me less noticeable.

But out of a sudden, Fry speaks. "I suggest that Quinn comes with us."

My head snaps up, eyes widening, though I feel a warmth fill my body at the thought of them inviting me. "Sorry—I, well, I have to take care of my mom," I stutter, trying not to share too much information about my home situation. "She's doing bad. Can't just leave. But, uh, thanks for the... invitation, Fry. Really."

A few seconds of silence, then, "Oh. That's a pity." Newt looks down. "I wish we had more—"

"It's okay," I assure, forcing a big smile. "I'll be fine just here. Now, sorry, but got to work again. Break's over."

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I walk through the streets at night once again. I miss him. So much. Walking at night is scary. He'd be able to protect me. Aiden would've been able to protect me. I should've never left.

Especially right now, as it's not just my footsteps echoing through the houses.

I glance behind me. The male dressed in black stares at me, his eyes the only thing visible below his cap.

Panic rises in my body, and I speed up my pace. My breaths fasten. I do my best to keep myself organized, but when his footsteps speed up too, I somewhat start sprinting.

My palms are sweaty in my pocket. I keep my head down, trembling from fear—

He blocks my way. I glare at him, my face betraying me by showing how frightened I am.

For a moment, I blink, considering when would be the best moment to run, but then he holds out his hand.

My first instinct is to defend: I raise my hand higher than is, swinging it backwards to—he grabs it before I even have the chance to do something.

"Calm down," he says through his teeth, his gaze meeting mine before he removes the cap.

I gasp. "Minho?"

As he grabs something from his pocket, the grip on my wrist tightens. I would still prefer to run. I don't like the way he's holding me.

"Sorry," he mutters and places a whole stack of money in my hand. "Here."

I stare at it for what feels like forever, as if my brain can't register what it is. "What—why? I—"

"Take it." He closes my fist around the paper.

"I can't just take money. I... I don't even know you. I don't know where you got that money. Where it's been. Or—"

"Take the money," he urges, slower now. "Take care of your mother."

"I'll use my own money." I try to push it back in his hands. "You said you didn't want to spend it. Please. I don't need it."

"Yes, you do," he hisses. "They care about you, so if realize the real money problems you have, all their eyes will turn to me."

"That's not how it works."

"I don't care." Minho looks around, like he's scared someone is watching, and turns back to me. "Plus, it's not just for my sake. You do need it and I'm here to help."

"You don't even know me. You don't know what's going on with my mom. You—"

"Yeah, but I do know that you don't have enough money." He pauses. "I don't get why you won't just take it."

At a loss of words, I eye the ground. Minho takes his chance and walks off, the money lonely in my hands.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

I sit on the couch, my mom on the bed, unconscious. Minho's money is still in my hands, along with everything my dad gave me, and the money I have left.

This is ridiculous. He gave me one thousand. That makes about one thousand two hundred total.

I stare at my mom. Sooner or later she will have to go to some kind of addiction clinic. It has gotten out of hand. She has stolen my money plenty of times before—I can't keep doing this.

I spread the bills over the couch. I will spend twenty-five on food this week, for both me and my mom. Fifteen on period products.

I will save the rest to pay rent and a clinic for my mom. Once I've organized it, I take an envelope. The rent is supposed to be delivered through this.

And curse under my breath.

The envelope always carries a letter. A reminder of how much I need to pay: eight hundred every month. I bury my head in my hands. I will never get enough salary to pay that, Minho giving me money was a one time thing, and my father has quit giving me money, too.

A knock on the door. I flinch, jump up, and open it fast, not thinking it through.

It's the apartment owner. The one that delivers the bills and makes sure all the electricity is on. The one that sells the apartments.

"Quinn." He smiles, though it isn't a real one. His stubbly cheeks move along. "What do you want to know first? The good news or the bad news?"

"Bad news. So I'll cheer up from the good news," I mutter.

He nods. "Alright. Bad news is, you haven't paid the rent in three months."

The ground is pretty fascinating as my cheeks become crimson.

"Good news, someone's interested in buying this apartment."

How is that supposed to be good news?

"Okay," I swallow, mentally cursing. "So I will have to leave, won't I?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he confirms awkwardly, yet formally at the same time.

"Okay," I murmur again. "Thank you."

He nods politely before I close the door. A loud sigh leaves me, and it's not a sigh of relief.

One benefit, maybe I am able to pay for a trip to Europe.