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- Джеймс Дэшнер
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Newt
slapped
him
on
the
back
.
"
Let
's
make
a
deal
.
"
"
What
?
"
Thomas
felt
his
hopes
rise
.
"
You
keep
your
mouth
shut
about
it
,
and
I
'll
put
you
on
the
list
of
potential
trainees
as
soon
as
you
show
some
clout
.
Do
n't
keep
your
trap
shut
,
and
I
'll
bloody
make
sure
ya
never
see
it
happen
.
Deal
?
"
Thomas
hated
the
idea
of
waiting
,
not
knowing
how
long
it
might
be
.
"
That
's
a
sucky
deal
.
"
Newt
raised
his
eyebrows
.
Thomas
finally
nodded
.
"
Deal
.
"
"
Come
on
,
let
's
get
us
some
grub
from
Frypan
.
And
hope
we
do
n't
bloody
choke
.
"
That
morning
,
Thomas
finally
met
the
infamous
Frypan
,
if
only
from
a
distance
.
The
guy
was
too
busy
trying
to
feed
breakfast
to
an
army
of
starving
Gladers
.
He
could
n't
have
been
more
than
sixteen
years
old
,
but
he
had
a
full
beard
and
hair
sticking
out
all
over
the
rest
of
his
body
,
as
if
each
follicle
were
trying
to
escape
the
confines
of
his
food-smeared
clothes
.
Did
n't
seem
like
the
most
sanitary
guy
in
the
world
to
oversee
all
the
cooking
,
Thomas
thought
.
He
made
a
mental
note
to
watch
out
for
nasty
black
hairs
in
his
meals
.
He
and
Newt
had
just
joined
Chuck
for
breakfast
at
a
picnic
table
right
outside
the
Kitchen
when
a
large
group
of
Gladers
got
up
and
ran
toward
the
West
Door
,
talking
excitedly
about
something
.
"
What
's
going
on
?
"
Thomas
asked
,
surprising
himself
at
how
nonchalantly
he
said
it
.
New
developments
in
the
Glade
had
just
become
a
part
of
life
.
