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- Джеймс Дэшнер
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Start
stompin
'
around
this
place
yappin
'
about
how
you
're
too
good
to
work
like
a
peasant
,
how
you
're
all
nice
and
ready
to
be
a
Runner
--
you
'll
make
plenty
of
enemies
.
Drop
it
for
now
.
"
Making
enemies
was
the
last
thing
Thomas
wanted
,
but
still
.
He
decided
on
another
direction
.
"
Fine
,
I
'll
talk
to
Minho
about
it
.
"
"
Good
try
,
ya
buggin
'
shank
.
The
Gathering
elects
Runners
,
and
if
you
think
I
'm
tough
,
they
'd
laugh
in
your
face
.
"
"
For
all
you
guys
know
,
I
could
be
really
good
at
it
.
It
's
a
waste
of
time
to
make
me
wait
.
"
Newt
stood
to
join
Thomas
and
jabbed
a
finger
in
his
face
.
"
You
listen
to
me
,
Greenie
.
You
listenin
'
all
nice
and
pretty
?
"
Thomas
surprisingly
did
n't
feel
that
intimidated
.
He
rolled
his
eyes
,
but
then
nodded
.
"
You
better
stop
this
nonsense
,
before
others
hear
about
it
.
That
's
not
how
it
works
around
here
,
and
our
whole
existence
depends
on
things
working
.
"
He
paused
,
but
Thomas
said
nothing
,
dreading
the
lecture
he
knew
was
coming
.
"
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
maintain
order
.
Order
's
the
reason
we
put
Ben
out
--
ca
n't
very
well
have
loonies
runnin
'
around
tryin
'
to
kill
people
,
now
can
we
?
Order
.
Last
thing
we
need
is
you
screwin
'
that
up
.
"
The
stubbornness
washed
out
of
Thomas
.
He
knew
it
was
time
to
shut
up
.
"
Yeah
"
was
all
he
said
.
