CH. TEN
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"Yup. There you go. And then you can either let this soak for a few days, boil it, or already squeeze it out," she explains to the Greenie. "I've figured out it's better to let this soak, but you've only got one day with me so I suggest we squeeze it out already."
He came up two days ago. Remembered his name, Jack, when Gally threw him out of the Box so violently. In that moment, when he barely seemed sorry for smacking the kid on the ground as if he was an object, Joan felt like punching that awful face, except Camil, of course, stopped her.
"Alright." Jack nods. He seems around fourteen years old, with brown hair that's swept across his forehead.
They're making lavender oil. To drop in bed sheets, massage with, or anything that has to do with calming things.
In the past month, she has finished her closet. Unfortunately, Alby didn't allow her to stack it against the Maze walls, so she did it against her hut, which Gally says will be finished tomorrow.
In there, there's Mason jars, (dried) flowers, oils she asked the Box for, handmade tools she needs for herself, and wood. It's pretty nice to have her own real thing.
Now, first Greenie training and she's lucky this kid is kind, careful, and obeys to the things she says. Who knows what jackass will come up next time?
Tonight, bonfire. Alby explained that the Greenie sometimes is so scared, like Jack (and maybe her), that they hold the bonfire two days after their arrival. That's the case here.
"So, interested in any of the jobs you've tried so far?" She wonders.
He shrugs. "This is nice because there's no annoying boys. And the kitchen was also great."
Joan nods in approval, holding a grin back. "Well, I wouldn't mind some company, so let me know if you want me to have a good word about ya."
❀
After taking a shower, getting dressed into something nicer than her usual dirty clothes, because she always manages to get herself covered in mud at the end of the day, Joan enters the Bonfire.
Boys are already fighting, drinking, laughing, and dancing. Honestly, after a whole month, Joan has gotten used to it already. The boys (most of them) soon stopped staring at her, and Alby has learned to give up on trying to keep her and Camil... calm.
First, the haircut she got, then Camil spilled lemonade on clean clothes and blamed Joan for it, who then blamed Gally, and there's been an uncountable amount of times in which they had to run away, except Joan once only remembered Camil can't run when she reached the other side of the Glade, and he was wheeling for his life as Alby yelled some angry crap because Joan put her red shirt in the white laundry, and somewhat Alby's whole closet was in there, too.
She chuckles at the memory.
"You." Ben points a finger at her.
She plops down next to him. "Me. What did I do?"
"You stole our Runnie Undies!" Minho yelps.
"...your what?"
"We asked the Box for comfortable underwear the second we found out the cheap ones didn't work while running, and you've stolen them!"
"Why would I steal your Runnie Undies?" She laughs out loud. "You think those fit me?"
"Cute you think I have a great ass, but lately, you and Camil have been involved with the laundry a lot." Minho's eyebrows fly up. "Where are they?"
"I don't know."
Suspicious, the boys hum as Joan turns to the fire next to them.
"Alright, I might've used them but they looked like these baby pampers so I thought it was a mistake the Creators made!"
"Oh my god." Minho leans forward at the same time as Ben, both palming their faces until their heads smack against each other and they also groan at the same time.
"Where are they now?" Ben tries.
"Well."
"Well?"
"Well," she says. "Hey, can I have a sip of that?"
"Not until you say where—"
"I might've cut them."
They stare at her.
"Into stars," she adds.
They blink.
"To decorate my hut with."
One of Minho's eyes squint. "Why the shuck would you use underwear for that? Ever heard of the term... paper? Ya know, the white leaves they make out of t—"
"But if paper gets wet, it'll be ruined."
Ben frowns. "And you think it's going to rain inside your hut?"
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Some sort peep until she shrugs. "Recycling, man! I didn't waste all your underwear. Like three."
"Give them back."
Minho's head now snaps toward Ben. "Dude, they're cut up. You really want them back?"
"Never mind," he exhales.
Then the Keeper turns back to Joan, smirking slightly. "You do know they once sat around my—"
"They were washed." She gives him a slap on the shoulder.
"So we're trusting the Sloppers now?" He leans back, groaning. "Imagine they weren't washed. Imagine—"
Ben tilts his head. "Are you saying you have brown stains in your underwear, Minho?"
Finally, Joan gives up and shakes her head so heavily it makes her dizzy. "Too far! No more talking about underwear for the rest of the night. Y'all are disgusting."
"At least we don't cut underwear!"
Waving them off, she walks over to the table where Gally put every single jar with moonshine on. The previous bonfire, her first one, she'd been afraid something would happen if she was tipsy. Now that she has a few friends and knows that except for a few sexist comments no one is a pervert (or seems to be), it doesn't sound awfully bad to have a drink.
Tomorrow is a Sunday, too. If she gets a headache, it won't matter because it's her day off.
"With your height, you'll be drunk within a second," Camil comments.
"Aren't I already drunk without alcohol? I'll only have like..." She trails her eyes over the table. "...two jars," she decides.
"You do you."
Joan takes a sip out of the drink. Gosh, it's as disgusting as the first time she tried it, and she's still convinced Gally does something weird to this, but alright. It is nice, in some way.
After her first jar, she's only a bit lightheaded. Lightheaded enough to watch the boys fight in the ring.
Gally just won a fight and now leaves the ring so other boys can fight, purposely avoiding Joan by standing on the other side of the ring. She doesn't mind in the slightest.
Winston wins from the other kid and also wins from another one, though the round took like fifteen minutes. It's getting boring already.
So eventually, the girl spins around, only to bump into someone. Once she recognizes the brown shirt, she accidentally spills the whole jar on top of him.
"My apologies," she mimics.
Gally grunts. "You did that on purpose."
"I did?" Joan holds up her hands. "I don't think I did. You might think I did, but I can't agree because I know I didn't."
"Looks like someone drank too much."
"Only one jar. Talking about them, I'm going to get one more," she decides. "Because you wasted the one I had."
"You threw it on top of me."
"Nope."
Ha, yes.
Joan takes another jar. Does she feel the need to prove Gally she can handle things like this? Kind of, yeah. Especially because he's so... tall and... strong? And she's so... she doesn't even know.
He follows her, crossing his arms as he leans against the table. "How easy it would be for me to beat you up now that you're getting drunk."
"Keep dreaming." She takes a few sips. "Like you've apparently been doing since I came up in the Box. Before that, maybe?"
Gally tenses. "As if I choose for you to appear in my dreams. Besides, all you do in my dreams is betray and kill everyone, so it's not making me like you more."
She smiles, yet her stomach does a flip. She didn't kill people, right? And she can't be a traitor either. Not from what she has seen so far.
But she did speak about breaking a promise. Whatever.
"When you told me," she starts, taking another sip between her words, "to not promise you anything ever again, you were talking about a promise I did break, right?"
He huffs, lifting his chin in a way that shows he doesn't even want to mention it.
"What was the promise?" She wonders. "Because I've been getting dreams too, and I'd like to know more."
"Then keep dreaming and find out for yourself," he snaps. "I'm leaving. You're reminding me of what you did and it only makes me believe you're here to ruin everything."
A slight anger rises in her chest. "How could I ruin things if I don't even remember anything? Cute you think I might be capable of that, but I'm not."
"Oh, yeah?" He turns back around. "Last time, you ruined everything for me. And I'm not even going to start about the consequences of that."
"You sound ridiculous," she spits out. "I can't know what I did and as long as you won't tell me, I won't tell you sorry or anything either. I don't fucking care about the consequences you might've gone through."
"If you want to know," he says, also spitting his words out, "go ahead and get yourself stung. See how lovely that is, to know everything about your past. I'm sure no one will mind."
Her eyes narrow. Both the emotions she can feel get anger, and that basically proves she can indeed feel Gally's emotions. Which she doesn't want. Never.
And it makes her get even angrier at him, as if he chose to make her feel his feelings and see the things he saw. "I guess I won't have to as long as I get the same hallucinations as you," she hisses. "Which, by the way, isn't very fun. Can you turn it off or something?"
"You think I can—"
"I know you can't control it and I'm not trying to blame you, but it would've been nice if it wasn't taking advantage of me too," she says. By now, she has to look up at him. They're standing close to each other. Too close to her liking.
"You're the one who sees the same things as me, yet you still understand worse than everyone," he tells her, pointing a finger at her chest as he moves closer. "I'm not choosing for you to have my hallucinations! And no matter how much I hate you, because I do, I don't want you to have them. You're seeing private things."
"Exploding suns? Disappearing clothes? Fires?" She nearly throws her hands in the air. "Yeah. Very private, Gally. And don't get angry at me for seeing those things, because neither can I help it. So if you would explain some things, I'll stop asking other Gladers about it, too."
He's starting to raise his voice. "You've been asking others about it?"
"Just Fry!" She takes a step back from him. Gosh, has it always been this cloudy in the Glade? "And he didn't help a lot, so I'll stop, then. Won't ask anyone about the lovely hallucinations again. Just explain."
"What?"
"Anything!" Joan now does throw her hands in the air. "The promise, what the consequences were, our status... anything!"
"No," he hisses.
"Alright, then you won't." She gives up. Anger mixing with alcohol can't be good, and she doesn't want to blurt out things she doesn't mean to say.
She hates Gally. Despises him. But it's not his fault she's seeing or feeling these things either. He might've not deserved to get stung and she doesn't want to interfere with his privacy.
Yet she's included, so doesn't she have a little right to know why he seems to hate her so much? Even more than she hates him?
"Your drinks sucks, by the way," she adds, slamming the half full jar in his hands before she starts walking away. "Good celebration night of the Greenie. It was a lot of fun!"
"You started it!" He yells after her.
"Fuck you!"
"You wish!"
"You're not Minho, so stop acting like you're him with these replies!" She sallies. "And I would rather get stung than wish that, by the way!"
"Good to shucking know, Joan!" He calls out, waves of anger in his voice and her stomach.
Really such an amazing second Bonfire.