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Just as Newt had ordered, the top beds had been unhooked from the lower ones and placed around the room against the walls, creating enough space for the nineteen other Gladers and Aris to sit in a circle, everyone facing each other. Thomas almost wanted to smile. Newt was a born leader, a sensible decision-maker. Thomas's head was too full of confusion and fear to even think about things like that and yet Newt solved the problem so naturally.
When Minho saw Thomas, he patted an empty spot next to him.
"Told ya, dude. Have a seat and let's talk. We waited on you. But close that shuck door as much as you can first - smells worse than Gally's rotting feet out there."
Without responding, Thomas pulled the door shut, then walked over and sat down. He wanted to sink his head into his hands, but he didn't. Nothing indicated for sure that any kind of danger threatened Teresa. Something weird was going on, but there could be a million explanations, and plenty of them included her being okay.
Newt was one bed to the right, and he shuffled closer to the end as Thomas sat down, looking like he was just getting more comfortable, but his eyes raised to meet Thomas's and they told him he wanted to be closer to Thomas just like Thomas wanted to be closer to him. They were in trouble again, safety had been ripped violently away again and Thomas's feelings for the blonde only made it harder to not dissolve into the fear. He'd thought Newt safe, and now…
He forced a small, pained smile, casually reaching out his hand to touch Newt's knee where it rested beside him. Newt flashed him a brief smile before it faded. He jostled his knee once, acknowledging Thomas's touch before Thomas had to withdraw his hand. Thomas wished the others weren't watching. He wanted to litter little touches like that all over Newt, reassure them both that he was safe.
But now wasn't the time.
Newt turned back to the Gathering, sitting so far forward that just the edge of his butt rested on the mattress.