CH. NINE
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She's not really able to sleep, so before the Doors even open, she's already under the shower. The ice cold water matches with how cold she feels, so she doesn't feel much of the normally stinging feeling.
Then she dries herself, takes the warmest clothes she has, and crawls back in bed only to stare at the ceiling, overthinking.
She wants whatever is causing those weird hallucinations gone. She's not crazy. Doesn't want to be, at least. And that dream? A promise to Gally? She knew him, Minho, and Camil before the Maze?
Or it's all fake, just like the damn hallucinations.
Eventually, she gives up on trying to sleep and steps onto the damp morning grass. Water splashes up her legs, the fresh air sends a shiver over her spine, and her arms automatically wrap around her own torso to stop the cold.
She notices that besides the Runners, who are about to leave, most Keepers are already up. Clint is prepping the Med-Hut, Alby checks up on everyone, Fry is making breakfast, and Gally is carrying wood toward the Homestead.
She makes a mental note to start doing this, too. In a year, she might have more kids that are Tool-Makers, so she'll have to put supplies down every morning, too.
Wow. Her own job. Every month a Greenie she has to train for a few hours, and now that she's a Keeper, she's allowed to be at every Gathering.
But for long? When are they going to escape? She doesn't want to be here with the hallucinations for the rest of her life. Yet the thought of the unknown scares her. No one said paradise is outside the Maze.
"Hey, Fry." With a hoarser voice than usually, she enters the kitchen. "Need any hands?"
"Oh, hi." He smiles. "I've got bacon. Boys will appreciate it if ya warm it up."
"Will do," she promises, and gets to work with a pan and bacon. The fire that's soon coming of the pit also warms her up. "Do you think we have chamomile plants here? I might have a cold, and that helps."
He shrugs. "Not sure. You'll have to look for yourself. I'm impressed by your knowledge of plants, Greenie."
"Maybe I worked a lot with them in the past," she replies. Her mind goes back to the dream, but she doesn't remember any plants. Tubes, though. And liquids all over the floor, along with broken glass. "Have you always been able to cook this good?"
"Nope." He laughs. "I mean, I was alright, but got better through the years. Takes a lot of practice."
She shows she understands by nodding. "Are all the current Keepers boys who came up with the first thirty-five, or whatever it was?"
"Yeah. Except for Eric. He came up a little later, but they've all been here for over a year," Frypan confirms.
"Wow. It would be nice to know what y'all went through and how much y'all changed. For example, I'd like to know if Gally was ever a sunshine."
The boy scoffs as he cuts food. "As if you're that much of a sunshine."
"I'm not as grumpy as him. I mean, I can't blame him because he got stung, but there's no reason to snap at me."
"Well, you have been messing with everyone here." He chuckles again. "Gally doesn't like change. Let alone that he likes trusting someone."
"But he trusts you," she says. "Right? I'm talking shit about Gally to his best friend."
"I've heard worse," he assures. "You're right, though. He's my friend. So be careful before I'll hit you. With my name."
Joan lets a laugh slip. Then she gets serious again. "He's just been an ass. I was glad to discover something that proves I might not be crazy, and he got angry about it."
Frypan raises his eyebrows.
"I've been getting some kind of hallucinations." She sighs. "Like the sun I told you about? And the woods were on fire. I thought Nick was there while he's been dead for quite a while. But I heard him. And the fact he has actually existed makes it even weirder."
"And when a few days ago, the sun was weird again," she continues, "Gally saw it too. I confirmed I saw it, and he got pissed. Now he's been snappy and everything."
"Wow." Frypan exhales loudly, running a hand down his face. "Oh, man."
"What?" Her back straightens. "You know more?"
"Yeah," he says. "But he doesn't want me telling anyone, so I won't."
"At least tell me I'm not crazy," she pleads, dropping a teabag in the hot water.
"Never mind," he replies. "What I'm thinking can't be possible."
"But," Joan adds quickly. "I've been feeling feelings that aren't mine, too. It's likely the Creators messing with me, but perhaps you can convince me otherwise. It's usually anger, and it rises every time things get heated between Gally and I."
"Damn," is all Fry manages to say for a while.
"Yeah."
"Well, if you add that, it does make sense what I'm thinking," he admits. "Perhaps y'all have some kind of connection."
Joan blows on her tea. "I've been thinking that. I hope not. Also, why does Gally get hallucinations like that?"
"From when he got stung."
She takes a sip of her drink. "Newt said that, but still."
Hold up— why does he get hallucinations in which her clothes are gone?
All the water in her mouth is on the ground three seconds later, and she coughs heavily. "I'm hoping this theory is wrong. I fucking hallucinated that my clothes were gone! He doesn't hallucinate that, does he?"
Frypan also spits out his drink. "Woah!"
"I know right!"
"So that's it." He almost makes a jump. "It's yours. Shuck yes, I knew that sweater—"
"What?" Her eyebrows furrow. "That's not what I meant— what sweater?"
Fry looks shocked; his eyes widen. "Nothing. Forget that."
"No, no. Now you've got to tell me about it too," she urges. "What sweater? He owns a sweater that belongs to me?"
"No," Fry says fast.
"Explain."
"Can't."
She needs to know more.
"I'll make you kitchen supplies. As many as you want. Just tell me about that sweater. I need answers here, Fry!"
His mouth opens, then closes, and he presses his lips together, shaking his head.
"I'll help cooking every morning for a month," she adds. Damn, so desperate for a freaking sweater.
Then he loses it. "It's just a sweater he had with him when we came up in the Box and he's attached to it, except it's for a female," he says, so fast that she barely understands.
First of all, Gally can't have a sweater that's hers. Second of all, Gally can't have a sweat that's hers.
"What does that have to do with the hallucination?" She then wonders.
"I thought maybe he fears losing it."
"So he hallucinates exploding suns, losing clothes, and dead kids?"
"I can't say more. I've spilled too much already!"
"Come on, Fry! You can—"
"Fry!" Someone, Gally, runs into the kitchen, then he freezes, trailing his eyes over the duo. He coughs and changes the excited look on his face into an emotionless expression.
The cook looks up. "Yeah, bud?"
Joan returns him the same nasty glance he's giving her, and he scowls.
"Eh." He then scratches the back of his head. "I figured out a way to make huts more stable. That's all I wanted to say."
"Well, awesome!" Frypan pats his friend on the shoulder, who's eye catches the pieces of bacon Joan just baked.
"Ah, thanks for the service." Now grinning, he steals two pieces before she can stop.
"Hey! Those aren't just for you!"
"They'll probably taste like shit anyways." He takes steps backward smoothly, shrugging. "Just sparing the boys from the horrible taste, Greenie."
She snarls, he gives her a triumphant look, then vanishes again.
"Moving on, how about you tell me—"
"I've said enough for today," Frypan decides.
❀
"Oh, fuck!"
Another mental note for Joan: don't work with an axe while wearing your hair loose.
There's a thick, dark strand on the wood she was supposed to cut in half. The piece of hair that used to touch her damn waist, it was super long, now makes it a few centimeters past her chest. Still long, but it must look ridiculous.
Sighing, she wipes the hair away. Then, on intrusive thoughts, she grabs the scissors she uses to cut plants with, walks over to the window of the Homestead so she can see a slight reflection of herself (they don't have mirrors), and starts chopping every piece until it's even.
Sort of.
From the front it looks great..!
She can't see the back.
Well, whatever. This already feels more refreshing. Less heat on her back. She does tie her hair up once she continues slamming the axe on the wood.
It's not an easy job, really. She's not extremely fit and all her arms can do is climb into trees, not slam a fifteen-inch tree trunk in two. Besides, she's been doing this for the past hour and it's starting to hurt.
She's sitting at the edge of the woods. She plans to make her own little storage closet or box against a maze wall, but she'll need wood to build that. And she's not going to ask the Builders to do it, because this is for the Tool-Makers, and she wants to be proud of something she did.
And she doesn't want to be around that jerk of a Keeper.
With a final slam and a yelp, she finally manages to get the trunk in two. Proud, Joan lets herself fall onto the grass. A relieved breath at the cool grass against her hot skin leaves her mouth, and she stays there, lying, for a while.
"Girl," the familiar voice. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Mental and physical break," she calls.
Camil wheels over to her. Peeks at her face. "Me everyday. Well, not physically, though. These paralyzed legs just double into mental crap."
She laughs as she gets back up. "I was cutting some wood. Not an easy job!" And the axe is back in her hands. "I also cut my hair off, by the way."
"Really? Lemme see!" Camil already tries to look, but the ponytail in her hair doesn't reveal much.
Then she unties it, and he gasps.
"That's... as uneven as my sleep pattern."
"Ah, man." Her shoulders lower. "I don't wanna walk around like a clown either. Know a midnight barber?"
"Minho," he says. Then he shakes his head. "He can't cut hair, though. Jeff does that for all the boys."
"I'll go talk to Jeff soon, then."
"Right now," Camil decides. He runs a hand through the light locks on his head, then takes Joan's arm. "Coming. Mind pushin' me? My arms will be my death, one day."
"Sure, sure." Joan wheels him into the Med-Hut, along with herself, and they greet Jeff with their kindest smiles.
"Could you do us a favor? Joan likes to take care of her intrusive thoughts."
The Med-Jack inspects the duo. "What now?"
"Cut my hair," she says. "Camil says it's uneven and that you can fix it."
"Let's see." He makes a movement with his finger, telling her to turn around. "Oh, shucking hell, Camil's right. As uneven as my love for some people here. Sit down, Greenie."
She obeys. "Can I trust you with it?"
"Yes."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"If you mess up, I'll—"
"I'm not the one who messed up in the first place." He chuckles. Takes scissors that look a little more professional than the ones she used. "What will it be, Greenie?"
"Do the haircut Flynn gives Rapunzel," Clint suggests.
"What? No." Joan shakes her head. "Keep it a bit long. To my chest. That's it. No layers 'cause I don't want to not be able to put a braid in."
"Alright." Jeff goes to work. In the meanwhile, it falls silent and they all just enjoy the moment. Joan closes her eyes at the feeling of his fingers brushing over her scalp once in a while, and that's when she feels the lack of sleep from last night coming.
"No, I want it short." She pouts, crossing her arms. "Please? It won't get into the lab either, Mom. I'll look like a real scientist, unlike the ones at WCKD."
"But it's so long and beautiful." Fingers run through her hair. "Are you sure?"
She nods heavily. "Yeah. So Camil can't keep pulling it. He's giving my new friends a bad example."
"You've got new friends? Whose kids?"
"They don't live with us," she says. "Camil met them on the radio. They said they want to escape the place they're at now, and we're going to help them. But I can't share much about it."
Her mom hums, believing this is a child's game and nothing serious, then takes the scissors. "Short it is. To where?"
"Just past my shoulders so I won't regret it too much," she decides. "But my hair will go fast."
"Yeah?"
"Making a serum for it. Trying to, at least."
"Just don't turn into a hairy monster."
"I won't."
She blinks a few times. Did she fall asleep? No, it feels like she just zoned out. Is anyone telling her anything? Nope. Just Jeff cutting her hair and Camil, the perfectionist, turning the bottles of medicine around so the labels are facing them.
Was that a dream or a flashback? A dream that really happened? It's weird. She doesn't mind, but isn't she supposed to have a memory loss? Isn't it supposed to be just her name that comes back?
Whatever, it's good to know more about the past. Perhaps she'll find out more about the sweater Gally has, or the hallucinations, or why there might be a tiny chance she's connected to him.
❀
A/n: I've seen a few theories (of anything in this story) flash by and I love reading your predictions, so feel free to share them all :))
Hope you're enjoying so far!!
Tips?
x Vera