Newt's POV:
Bloody hell, these shanks are the worst. All me and Minho do is walk in the shucking kitchen, and we instantly get wolf whistles and get yelled at. Like, seriously, what the shuck? Me and Minho had sat down, and we're halfway done, when the yelling became too much to bear, and I just covered my ears. It's okay, who cares what they say?
"Why don't you go back down the box?"
"Ewwww."
"Stay away from them."
Alby had arrived, and saw what was happening.
"Hey, you slintheads! Slim it!"
That quieted things down, but I could still hear the words echoing in my head. Minho must have seen my distress, because I felt him grab my hand. I let him drag me outside, and push me down onto one of the logs we use as seats.
"Newt, ignore them."
I nodded, fighting tears. Why did I care so much? Minho had brought our dinner with us, and we sat there eating and talking contentedly. That was, until the section eight people came up to us, looking angry.
"What's wrong?"
I genuinely wanted to know. I didn't exactly know their names, but I recognized them. The taller one answers.
"We wanna know why you two got the day off today, just because you slept in."
Minho looked slightly angry
"I don't know, ask Alby!"
That didn't satisfy them. Now the shorter one spoke
"Well, we want the day off tomorrow."
Me and Minho glanced at each other, communicating with our eyes.
"Fine, you can have the day off tomorrow. I'll cover your area, and Minho will go the normal route."
That satisfied them all right. They walked away with smirks on their faces. Minho turned to me.
"Newtie, are you sure you can do it?"
"Yeah. I'm sure."
Minho looked suspicious, but nodded.
Minho's POV:
After me and Newt finished eating, I started walking Newt to the homestead, making a promise in my head that I wouldn't stay there tonight. As we were about halfway to the homestead, when we heard yelling. Since Newt is the second in command if Alby's not around, we went towards the sound of fighting. We got into view of one of the runners, I recognized him from around, but never really knew him. That was an unwritten rule of being a runner. Don't get too attached, because they could die any day. Another rule me and Newt broke. Anyway, it was one of the runners, and Winston. I think that was his name. I walked up to them with Newt.
"What the bloody hell is it now?"
Winston and the runner glared at each other, and Winston answered.
"This slinthead says he and some of the other runners wanna go on strike."
The runner nodded
" Yeah, we do. There isn't a reason to risk our lives every single day."
My turn to step up.
"You guys will do no such thing."
The runner started walking away grumbling.