If Derek would have gotten his question out, Thomas wouldn't have had an answer. It'd just been a moment where he'd been caught up with something before it dissipated, lost in the breeze that ruffled his hair.

Thomas wiped his hands on his pants and then crossed his arms. "Race?" He'd never raced with anyone before. Maybe races would have worked better than the stupid Gatherings the Gladers had held in the maze. "What's the winner get?"

He knew that much about races, that the winner always got something.