CH. FOUR
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The following week, she needs to try out all the jobs, except for The Runners, to see what's she best at. That job she'll become, no matter if she dislikes it or not.
Starting of with The Slicers. Maybe it's nice to start with what sounds the worst, though building doesn't excite her much either.
After her lovely night in The Slammer, she really started appreciating Gally's presence.
Luckily, he hasn't said or done anything else.
Then Camil volunteered to help her through the week as long as she isn't with a Keeper, so he's now leading the way to The Bloodhouse.
"Good luck. Try not to throw up. Bets might be going on and I want whoever expected you to be tough to win."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Exactly. Good luck!"
"See ya." She turns around to meet Winston. Shakes his hand as they both introduce themselves, even though they already kind of know each other.
The smell is awful and it's hot as hell inside the building, but she gets used to it after a while and watches Winston slaughter a chicken.
"You pluck the feathers off," he orders, giving her a nod of encouragement as he steps back.
She starts doing as she's told. "Random question... were you looking for me in the woods the other day?"
"Yeah," he says. "Alby's order."
"Were you alone?"
"Yup."
Awesome!
"Alright." She lets go of a breath. Soon, the job is finished and Winston instructs how to get the right flesh.
For the following hours, it's killing the animals, plucking feathers or taking their skin off, cutting the right pieces, and then getting those pieces in a basket, which a Slopper will get to the kitchen.
Sloppers are the boys who're not outstandingly good at anything. No job fitted them, so they clean up the toilets, do laundry, the dishes... She feels pretty bad for them, though she wouldn't want to switch places either.
Better make sure she's good at something.
Unfortunately, she's not good at this job, but does find out some boys are overreacting. How are they expecting to get food if they ever happen to be alone in woods or wherever they could get stranded?
With a bloody shirt, arms, and hands, she walks over to the smaller building next to The Homestead. There's a sink and about six showers, all with ice cold water, but it's the least thing they have.
She'll be cooking dinner tonight. Sounds pretty fun, actually.
Washing her hands is a quick job, but the shirt will be another problem. She can't walk around covered in blood all day. Camil must have something in store for her.
"There you go." Once she has found him, he hands her a shirt that's way too big, but she's thankful enough for it.
The kitchen is the only thing that seems a little more professional than the other unstable things. There's electricity, for an oven, microwave, et cetera... a window that's so enormous that if you open it, you can hand all the boys their food from behind the counter. Kind of like a bar.
A sink, hook with aprons, just a few boys walking around, and then The Keeper, who smiles a giant smile at the girl as soon as she enters.
"Hi!" It's a dark-skinned, lively boy. He holds out his hand. "Name's Frypan. I know, weird, but you'll get used to it. Call me Fry."
She nods. Interesting name indeed, but this boy seems kind enough. "I don't remember my name yet. Hope that'll come soon."
"I'm sure it will." He takes her to the kitchen counter, where ingredients are already spread on. "For dinner, we're making soup with bread. The others are busy with the bread, we'll do the soup. Just start off by cutting these vegetables."
She easily obeys. Takes a cutting board, the vegetables, a knife, and starts doing the job.
There's still so many questions. Also the most basic ones. What's taking them so long to find a way out? Why is she the only girl? Do they have seasons or is it always the same temperature like so far? Did she hallucinate Nick?
If she did, how could it have been so real? How come Nick was a living person in The Glade? She's not supposed to remember anything and she for sure didn't know who Nick was before... so why him? Why such a real hallucination?
And then the strange anger. It's not always just anger, though. In the three days of being here, it's been mostly anger, but also hints of sadness and then a little bit of happiness before it turned into anger again.
She can't be connected with Gally. That's impossible. It might match his emotions, like the time in the ring, but it can't be his emotions in her body. Must be The Creators, as Camil calls them, controlling her body.
Speaking of her body... "Fry?" She looks at the boy. "Is there any way I could get clothes... and everything else?"
A period in this hellhole sounds wonderful. Especially if she wouldn't have supplies!
"Just put a note in The Box and you'll get it," he replies. "TV doesn't work, though. We've tried it."
Nodding, she turns back to her work. "Also, what's with the weather? It doesn't even cool down at night."
"It's always the exact same. Well, perhaps it's a little colder one day and warmer the other day, but it never gets extreme. It never rained before."
"What's up with the sun?" She peeks out of the window. The yellow ball is shining so brightly it hurts her eyes, and it's almost as if orange and red is interfering with the thing.
Fry looks, too. "Eh, nothing?"
"Why is it... like that? I can feel the heat of those red strikes."
"What red strikes? Also, it's not very hot in here. Or do girls have different body temperature?" He asks, softly tilting his head with a smile still on it.
"I—" she stares back at the sun. It looks as if it's about to explode. "Nothing. I guess I imagined it."
"Alright."
First Nick, now this. She doesn't remember having a disorder or anything. But that's funny, because she doesn't remember anything at all so she can't know. All she knows is that this is annoying and she wants whatever is causing this gone.
About half an hour later, they're handing boys their steaming bowls full of soup, a piece of bread, and glasses of water for whoever wants. Now that she sees them one by one, she realizes there's nothing these boys have in common. The Creators for sure didn't base anything of personality, features, or bodies.
From small to taller, to young and older, thin to muscular, clean to dirtier, pale to more tan or dark-skinned, shorts to pants, ripped clothes to new ones, short to long hair, baby face and facial hair.
It must be at least forty boys , if not more.
"Thank you. Remember your name yet?" Someone asks. He's one of the few people who actually speaks to her after she handed him his dinner, let alone thanked her for it.
She shakes her head at him. He's a tall blonde, but nothing like Newt. This boy is built with more muscles. His face matches his age, which she guesses is around eighteen, and a faint smell of sweat mixes with tons of deodorant he must've sprayed on this morning.
Well, it's the fact he at least tried to smell good. She has smelled worse, also.
"No. Suggestions on how to get it? Do I hit my head? Say all names in the universe until I get to mine?"
He lets out a laugh. "Most remembered it after a few days. Some got it back in the ring. I'm surprised Gally's hits didn't make you remember. He got you good."
She tilts her head. "But I got him better."
The boy turns around to take a peek at Gally, whose jaw is bruised along with some other spots on his face, and then looks at the girl again. She got a bit of a swollen jaw too, and a bruise on her elbow from falling. "I'll believe that, Greenie. He's not happy with ending a fight without a winner."
"Wouldn't I have won if we continued?" She blurts out.
Damn, where did that confidence come from? Or is her personality just now breaking through?
He chuckles again. "Sure, sure."
"Hey, Ben! We're trynna get some food here, yeah? Perhaps save the flirting for later?!"
The boy in front of her sighs, shrugs, mentions he wasn't flirting but just being nice, and then leaves the line with a last smile.
Alright. Camil and Ben both seem open to be her friends here. It's not too bad. And then there's Newt. She can't tell if he's naturally that kind, only takes care of her because he has to, or really wants to be friends, but she'll figure it out.
Winston was alright. Alby seems okay. Fry for sure is okay.
Minho is alright, too. Dramatic, yes. And Clint didn't lie about his ego, but sometimes it's the ones who pretend to be the most confident.
And she can't deny that Minho has all the right to have an ego like that.
Tomorrow she'll be going with The Track-Hoes first, where she believes she's gonna meet a boy named Zart The fart, according to Camil, and then The Builders, with Gally. Not looking forward to that, but alright.
Frypan hands her her food, knowing she never ate lunch because she was too busy in The Bloodhouse, and gives the advice to just join some others while he stacks the dirty supplies they used to make the food on top of each other. She offers to help, but he refuses.
So there she stands, with her food in her hands, eyes trailing over the picnic tables. Maybe five boys chose to eat there dinner alone or just not here, but besides those missing people, the tables are almost full.
She sees Ben laughing with Minho. Could he be a Runner? Maybe. She hadn't seen Ben before, after all. He might've been in The Maze.
There's Jeff, Clint, Camil, and two other boys she doesn't know. Should she join them? Or meet new people?
All these questions and the curiosity make her realize all the fear she had before is gone. She knows these boys won't hurt her. Not all of them, at least. She showed them she is able to throw some punches and had nice interactions with a few.
So why not join others?
Definitely not Gally's table. Newt's with Alby and another kid, but they seem to be talking so seriously she decides not to bother them. Minho and Ben, and whoever else sits with them?
She walks over to them on intrusive thought, greets, and asks if they'd bother her presence.
Minho immediately cracks a grin. "Not at all."
She sits down next to the boy she doesn't know. "Hey."
He refuses to make eye contact, a blush immediately on his cheeks. "Hi."
Some kind of snort escapes from Ben. "Sorry. Hank is just a tad shy."
"Ohh! So you're Hank." She nods. Inspects the boy for a while.
Honestly, he's not that bad. Green shirt, brown hair that sits messily on his forehead, and tired eyes that do have something to it. Seventeen, maybe sixteen years old?
"Nice to meet you."
He murmurs something in return, his clammy hand shaking hers.
"How'd the jobs go?" Minho saves Hank with a clear of his throat. "I'm sure you must've been thinking about The Runners all day. Or in fact, The Keeper."
She squints an eye at him. "You wish. Fortunately, I was too busy in The Bloodhouse."
"Did ya throw up?" Ben leans closer. "Most Greenies do. I would. Glad I never had to try it."
"Why not?"
"I came up with the first thirty boys. Immediately got crowned as a Runner once we figured out we needed people to run in there."
"Thirty boys got sent up all at once?"
"Mhm. Chaos. Then one every month."
"So..." She does a quick calculation. "Forty-six boys are here now? And I'm the forty-seventh, but a girl."
Ben nods. "Pretty much. But we've lost a few on our way, so I think there's like forty now."
"Oh."
"Moving on." Minho coughs. "Ben asked something. Did'ya throw up, Greenie?"
"No."
"You didn't go into The Bloodhouse at all, then? We had others do that before."
"No." She almost raises her voice in defense. "I can handle some blood. Besides, how would you want to get food if you end up in the woods alone? You can't eat an alive rabbit with skin and everything."
Ben cocks his head to the side, humming.
"What? That others threw up doesn't mean everyone does."
Minho laughs under his breath. "Alright. We understand. Right, Hank?"
The boy straightens his back immediately. "What? Oh, yes. Mhm." And his face is back to red.
Frowning at his behavior, she finishes her soup. "You alright, Hank?"
Minho and Ben both scoff at the same time. "Mission failed, Hank."
"What--"
"No questions." Minho holds up his hand. "If you don't bother, I've got maps to take care of. I understand it's gon' be real borin' without me, but live with it."
"Gosh, so boring that I'm excusing myself, too." Ben dramatically sighs. "Also got maps. See you, Hank. Greenie."
They're left alone for just second before Hank has vanished with a last murmur. Slightly taken aback, she runs a hand down her face. Boys are... interesting things.
Then she gets up, without looking, and turns around only to bump into someone, hard. She barely holds her balance until she notices—well, looks up to—whoever it was.
"Watch where you walk," Gally grumbles.
"Then don't randomly appear behind me like that," she snaps back.
"I didn't see you," he says, obviously shooting the words at her height.
"I did see you," she replies. Man, she really doesn't like this boy. She'd almost say he bumped into her on purpose. "The blue on your jaw really attracts attention. What's it from again?"
His eyes narrow. "Sounds like someone got hit too hard to remember."
Did he just manage to insult her insult?
"Then why not remind me?"
Gally's jaw clenches. "I was letting a fragile idiot win from me."
"I'm sure you were."
"You—"
"Gally." A familiar voice behind him. Gally turns around, revealing Camil. "I prefer you leave The Greenie alone and let me get her somewhere to her liking."
Gally lets out some kind of grunt. "I don't mind at all," he spits out, giving her an extra bump in the shoulder while he walks away.
"Thank you." Gratefully, she nods at Camil. "He's annoying as hell." And she follows the boy through the grass. "What did I even do to him?"
"Nothing. He's just grumpy after things in the past. Can't blame him much." Camil shrugs. "Need to take a shower? I'll keep watch and... wheel after creeps. Maybe my legs start working if I get angry."
She chuckles. At the mention of angry, that angry part in her lights up. It's has been there for such a long time this night that she started ignoring it, but now it's clearly there again.
"Thanks," she says. "What do you mean, though? What happened in the past?"
"Not for me to share. Either ask him or—"
"He got stung," she cuts him off. "By what? A wasp?"
"Ha." Camil throws his head back with a laugh. "I wish. He'd be a big baby if it was like that, though."
"Then what?"
"Ask the professionals. I'm not risking more enemies and I don't know much about it."
There's probably a lot more left to discover than she thinks.