The meeting was dismissed and everyone except Newt and Minho left the room in a hurry. Newt hadn’t moved from his chair, where he sat jotting notes. “Well, that was good times,” he murmured. Minho walked over and playfully punched Thomas in the arm. “It’s all this shank’s fault.” Thomas punched him back. “Keeper? You want me to be Keeper? You’re nuttier than Gally by a long shot.” Minho faked an evil grin. “Worked, didn’t it? Aim high, hit low. Thank me later.”
