Get your runtcheeks down those stairs, right now.
Tonight, they’d make their stand, once and for all.
Order,” Newt continued. “Order. You say that bloody word over and over in your shuck head. Reason we’re all sane around here is ‘cause we work our butts off and mantain order. Order’s the reason we put Ben out – can’t have loonies runnin’ around tryin’ to kill people, now can we? Order. Last thing we need is you screwin’ that up.
Thomas turned to see Newt there, smiling. That grin sent a wave of reassurance through Thomas, as if he were finding out the world was okay again.
You will and should do everything in your power to improve your actual writing skills. You’ll work hard to create characters that are compelling and unforgettable. But in the end, it’s the story that matters. Don’t ever let the other stuff get in the way of your inherent skills as a kick-butt storyteller. Move the reader, make them happy and sad and excited and scared. Make them stare into space after they’ve put the book down, thinking about the tale that’s become a part of them. Be unpredictable, be real, be interesting. Tell a good story.
What’s up, Tommy?” Newt exclaimed, his face filled with genuine happiness at the pleasant surprise that’d been sprung on them. Thomas couldn’t remember exactly how long it’d been since the last time he’d seen Newt. “You look bloody fantastic for three in the morning.
Thomas swallowed, wondering how he could ever go out there. His desire to become a Runner had taken a major blow. But he had to do it. Somehow he KNEW he had to do it. It was such an odd thing to feel, especially after what he’d just seen... Thomas knew he was a smart kid- he somehow felt it in his bones. But nothing about this place made any sense. Except for one thing. He was supposed to be a Runner. Why did he feel that so strongly? And even now, after seeing what lived in the maze?
One must know the problem better than the solution, or the solution becomes the problem.
Someday we’ll be bigger.
You don’t take away my freedom without asking first.
Don’t mess with Teresa. If I teach you nothing else in life, it’s that. Don’t mess with Teresa.
Who knows the true definition of real?
I am a Crank, Minho! I am a Crank! Why can’t you get that through your bloody head? If you had the Flare and knew what you were about to go through, would you want your friends to stand around and watch? Huh? Would you want that?
If we’re gonna die, let’s do it freakin’ fighting!
You won’t figure out anything if you give in to fear.
He shouted her name again, and in his mind he saw Chuck, falling to the ground, covered in blood, and Newt’s bulging eyes. Three of the closest friends he’d ever had. And WICKED had taken them all away from him.
Newt was sitting on the ground with Frypan and Minho, all three looking as if they were waiting for the end of the world.
The number one Runner rule: “Never. Stop. Running.
If you want to throw me in jail for trying to save someone’s life, then go ahead. Next time I promise I’ll point at them and laugh.
The kid was his brother in every way but blood – without him, Thomas would’ve broken long ago.