231.04.03 | 11:21 a.m.
Kat returned to her daily not-yet-routine, working with the Brick-nicks this day, with the Sloppers that day, and in her free time kept to herself. From all Newt could observe in the rare time he was in the Glade and awake, she did not bond easily. Instead she was silent, grim or sad in turns. Not one unnecessary word left her mouth.
She kept to herself, during day time and even more in the evenings.
This day Newt helped with the Track-hoes. Minho's order. “Whatever is going on in your head, get it out of there. A Runner needs to focus. Best you get your hands busy. Tomorrow we try again.”
Today's job was grubbing up the area for an envisaged planting. While Newt and some other boys cut down the old, dead trees, others dug out the roots. Kat was among them.
Newt sighed and looked up. How was he supposed to get Kat out of his head, when she was workin' right over there?
He watched the girl. She was grimly hacking at a particularly persistent root. Suddenly she turned to him and snapped: “What? Anything wrong?”
He took a step backward, frowning. “N-no, I just...”
But Kat just aggressively went on: “What do you have to stare at me like that for? I'm just doing my work, okay?”
“Yeah, I can see that. But it's just work. It's not your enemy. Slim it, girl, you don't have to dig up the whole Glade.”
She glared at him through squinted eyes until he grabbed the roots and trunks they had uprooted so far and carried them to the fire place.
There was enough waste wood for an out-of-schedule fire this evening. Newt smiled with anticipation. The smile dissolved when his thoughts turned back to Kat – like a spinning compass needle that eventually pointed North again. He had really loved to talk to her. When she was in the slammer. Why was it that she was nice and kind only in that bloody slammer? Why not now? He knew why she was so angry. She felt this work inferior to the main task of finding an exit and leave the Maze. But shuck it! That was not his fault, now was it?