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.*･｡. FLARES! .*･｡.
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003.
VAGUE FAMILIARITY.
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"Hey— we gotta runner!"
"Ay!"
"He's goin'!"
Every glader watched the greenie dash, shouting comments and laughing amongst themselves. Kennedy had quirked a brow as she observe the scene — she wasn't sure where this greenie planned on going, but he probably wasn't all too sure, either.
No idea, actually.
In a state of panic, people usually followed their instincts. Fight and flight. He had followed instincts, and instincts told him to run.
She had to admit, while his flapping and stumbling made him a bit of a loose cannon and amusing to watch, the kid was fast. He was very fast actually, and she wondered if the statement wasn't so far-fetched: greenie had a run on him. He flew across the glade in seconds, it seemed. He moved with ease — those long legs pushing him miles, a slim and athletic build that he carried weightlessly. As she watched, Kennedy didn't doubt that Minho would have an eye on him, later on. Minho would know if he had what it took to be a runner, or not. More than Kennedy did, anyway. He was keeper of the runners, after all.
Kennedy was quietly confident.
"That's it—!" Zart hollered, making the boys around him cheer like children. Even Newt got some kick out if it, and snickered just as loud. "Keep on running, greenie!"
"Alright! That's enough, shanks!" Kennedy clapped.
"Ah, c'mon!"
"It's just fun, Ken!"
"I don't care," she scoffed at their behaviour. Kennedy opted to play the disapproving — the bad cop, if it were. Newt was far too busy snorting to find it within himself to calm the crowd, and Alby had yet to make his appearance. Someone had to do it. "Quit it, you dumb shucks!"
She turned back to look at the greenie with sympathy, but deep down Kennedy was impressed. As much as she was wanting to cut the chaos and cool everyone down, she kinda wanted to see quite how far he could go. Someone would have to stop him eventually, else he'd run right into the maze and never come out, but Kennedy didn't want to stop him yet. The kid was still going fast and strong, well— that was until he had tripped over his boots and crashed to the ground, in one fluid motion. She winced, like freakin' bambi! His chest slammed onto the greenery before the rest of him did, head the next to follow, and a groan of pain echoed through the air just as his legs found the floor, too. Soon enough, the poor shank found himself sprawled out with his limbs all contorted and in the wrong places. Kennedy hoped nothing was broken, or bleeding — god, if he was bleeding... she didn't want to have to patch him up.
Partially because she wanted lunch, but mostly because he'd only just arrived!
He was going to be a liability, she could tell.
Great.
With a wince, the she-bean fastened her walk to a jog, not being as mindful of her hips as she should have been. Her plan was no longer to head for the rest of the graders, and instead changed her route towards the boy that laid in a heap. He had yet to move, and she hoped she'd make it to him before he even got the idea. If they did need to patch something up, he was best not moving. That, and she really didn't want to chase him.
"Greenie!"
He didn't respond.
"Hey, you good?" She called, her jog becoming a run.
Kennedy watched closely as he stood, ignoring her calls and the bitter laughter from behind him, and stared up at his surroundings with a gaping mouth. Unsurprisingly, the boy looked confused and the expression upon his face made Kennedy want to giggle at him, but she held it in. Poor shank really didn't have a clue! Then again, none of them ever did. He needed some time to adjust. After some time, he would get the swing if things. That always did. Kennedy's gut told her he would find it hard to settle, but he would. Maybe it would take a while.
"Hey— greenie!" Kennedy caught up to him quite quickly. She ignored the protest of her hips. She feared this kid would make a dash for it again, if they didn't calm him down. "Over here, bud!"
He immediately flinched, hauling his body around fast enough to give himself whiplash. The boy really hadn't a clue what a greenie was — nor why this girl was calling him one — but he could only assume she was addressing him, when no one replied. Last he had checked, he wasn't called greenie.
Wait...
What was he called?
When she finally was able to make out his face, he looked more terrified than she had seen a greenie look, in a while. Though, she couldn't blame him. It was a scary experience to come out of that box for the first time, the only time, and they all knew that well. It was wrong of Gally to haul him out of there before he was ready for it, and Kennedy made a note to give him a good telling off; if Alby wouldn't do it, then she definitely would. Two years ago, she had been in his very spot. She knew how it felt. It was awful. If she had been yanked out by Gally, or anyone, it would have been even messier. She would had flipped her lid, and this whole scenario may have seemed like nothing in comparison. Oh— it would have been worse! So much worse, than poxy running!
Worse than thrown apples, that was for certain.
The boy shifted uncomfortably, eyes flickering back and forth in nervous glances, only pausing to take in everything around him — every person and object, psychoanalysing each of them in hope of a sign that he wasn't dead. Was he dead? Was he? Crap! He was a deadboy! Totally a deadboy! He twitched, as if debating running as his only option.
Although his gaze didn't quite reach her own, she proceeded to step towards him, calmly and quietly.
She hated that her arms were outstretched slightly, palms facing him by natural instinct. It felt like she was trying to tame some wild animal, which he wasn't: he was a boy. A scared boy, terrified. That was a boy who had no idea what was going on. He was just scared.
Caging him in? Not helping.
Kennedy didn't want to alarm him, but she didn't really want to dehumanise him, either. Few greenies had ever run off before him.
If he bolted, she may not be able to catch him. Then, before she knew it, he would be through those doors like a whippet! Kennedy didn't fancy losing a boy, on his first damn day.
Sure, kids had run — but not like that.
If he left, there would be no getting him back. Kennedy didn't think he would stop for anybody. Once he got going, he was gone and he was gone for good. She made a mental note to pitch him a good'n to Minho; he would want a kid that could run, like him. If they didn't lose him first, that is. Kennedy knew she had to get the boy calm before she went off, selling him to the keepers. If he had calmed down by the time Alby showed up, he might even end their day on his good side.
Rare, but not impossible.
She had done it.
"Quite a run you've got there, shank!" Kennedy told him with as light a tone as she could muster. She was only joking with him, a soft smile blossoming from cheek to cheek, but he didn't seem to understand. Or, if he did, he didn't show that. Opting to ring both her hands together, rather than hold them up like rounding sheep, Kennedy played with her fingers. "Pretty damn fast, kid."
Silence.
Okay— she pursed her lips, tough crowd.
"How ya feeling, greenie?"
His head shook in confusion, "Greenie? Where am I?"
"You're in the glade," Newt spoke, somehow being stood at her side before they had even noticed him approach. She wasn't sure when he hadn't gotten there but didn't question it, instead focusing on the trembling teen.
At the new voice, the greenie visibly recoiled. It was becoming clearer by the second, that the experience was too much for him to handle. Between the large group of unknown boys and huge walls surrounding him, it was already enough to call it quits — but, now that there was one girl in front of him, and one of the boys had an odd accent that he couldn't quite name off the top of his head, and his mind was ready to explode. He wondered if he was going insane for a moment. He wasn't sure. How did you diagnose insanity? His beating heart told him he was certainly mad, but he knew that was a pretty poor method of diagnosis.
"What— what's going on?" He huffed, out of breath and rather anxious. "Why can't I remember anything?"
"You will, soon."
"What does that mean?"
"Just calm down—"
"Where am I?" He snapped at them.
"Now don't sweat it, mate." Newt spoke, calmly. He turned to peer at Kennedy and nodded his head once; it was time to let her deal with it. The greenie was scared, and needed someone who would be patient and kind. They needed space. Newt placed his hand on her shoulder, "Our good ol' Ken, here, will help you out."
"Ken?"
It felt foreign on his tongue, but vaguely familiar.
His eyes veered back to the girl, who had lifted her hand. That smile on her face was still yet to waver, and he wondered if being here could really make someone that happy. He just felt caged in.
"That's me," she said.
After glancing her up and down, taking in her grubby shirt and muddy pants, the greenie finally let his eyes meet her own. He met her half way, as if she had been doing the same to him, and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. Ken... Ken?
"Take greenie to the slammer!"
————
"Seriously, Alby?"
"Calm down."
"No!"
"Ken, you gotta cool it."
"You seriously had to toss him to the slammer, Alby?" Kennedy seethed at the older boy, with a stomp that gave even the youngest of gladers a run for his money. "Poor shank was losing his mind!"
"Exactly, she-bean." He said.
"Don't she-bean, me! Not now, Alby!"
Their leader pursed his lips and spoke softly, in attempt to not set her off like a flare, "Look— he just needed to calm down, s'all."
Kennedy knew he was right, but she still didn't think he needed to he thrown in the slammer. He was afraid, and she didn't think being thrown to a hole in the ground would do much good. Alby's leadership wasn't something she questioned, but sometimes she felt he could do things better. Or, things he could do differently. There was no intent to change his rules and regulations, although she did think certain situations called for different approaches.
"I know," she frowned, "But I could've done that."
Alby sighed.
She was also right.
He stood up from his seat in the homestead, stealing a glance at Newt in a search for some sort of help, scowling lowly when their second-in-command's response was to simply shrug his shoulders; sometimes, only sometimes, Newt wasn't as much help as they'd gave him credit for.
Newt was usually best at dealing with Kennedy when she found herself all worked up. There were somethings, however, that Newt wasn't even able to calm her down from. Greenies was all of them; they were what made Kennedy tick. Since being given the job, she had taken the greenie's experiences very seriously. They were there with no idea how they'd even got there, or why, and she recalled her time in that box. It was traumatic. For her, at least, the ordeal was terrifying. If she could stop the greenie's in their panic, then she was doing her job. But she couldn't do her job when everyone else had to intervene, could she? It irritated her — she hated when newbies got thrown into the slammer, without a second thought. But, their two leaders weren't as good at it, as she was. They knew what they were doing — after all, they had been greeting greenies before she came up — but they weren't as... natural at it.
They did what they could to calm the new boys down, and that was good enough for them. Calm kept order; it stopped them from making mistakes. Wherever they could prevent more mistakes from being made, they would. Order was key.
"I'm sure he's calmed down, by now." Alby placed a hand on her shoulder calmly.
Truth be told, if anyone else would have shouted at him like she had, he probably would have lost his temper. Alby wasn't angry in nature, not inherently, but he liked elements of mutual respect. He respected the gladers, and they respected him. That was all mutual.
Usually, shouting was lacking respect.
He didn't appreciate being shouted at. Not when everything he did was for the good of the glade. With Kennedy, however, things were different.
She didn't get to bend the rules, nor did she try to, but Kennedy was different. Perhaps because she was the only girl, or maybe due to her being one of the first ten up in that box — they had a bond that was different to the other boys. Kennedy and Alby weren't as close as she and Newt, or Minho. Their relationship was special; it was a bond shared between siblings.
Alby was special to her.
Really special.
Kennedy was sure she would crumble without him, regardless of whether she agreed with all of his decisions — which, she didn't. It was always Kennedy who argued with the decision she didn't like.
But, Alby liked that. He liked that she could keep him on his toes and wondering whether he could do things differently. And Alby'd listen to her, too. She had some good ideas for the glade. She cared for those boys as much as he did.
Kennedy had a huge heart.
The boys were always her first priority. Always.
Alby thought she would make a good leader, one day. Maybe a little emotional, but they could fix that. She cared about the boys; loved them like her own brothers. Sometimes her heart spoke over her head, and sometimes she was too invested in the problems for a rational decision to be made, but that could be learned. Perhaps caring was what made her flourish so much, whereas detaching was Alby's personal technique.
"Why don't you go?" He eventually suggested, "Get him out of there and sorted out nicely, before the tour, hm? Fifteen minutes."
"Really?"
"Really."
It was evident the girl didn't really have a choice, in that matter, even if she hadn't wanted to do it — which would have been large lies, because she really did want to go get him. So, Kennedy wasn't going to complain about the instructions. In fact, part of her felt a need to kiss Alby. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, in the first place. Thank gods!
Finally she could see the green bean and get him situated; maybe even calm his nerves a tad — before the poor shank lost his mind, completely! He had been pretty damn close.
Something was urging her to see the greenie, to go see him and savour any ounce of sanity he had, and she listened closely to that feeling. Kennedy was very attuned with her emotions, certainly if it involved the greenies. When her heart told her to do something, she would tend to do it. Not many people had that mindset in the glade, but she did. Without her heart, her head struggled to make good decisions. Listening to your heart was important, to her. She was sure she couldn't function without it. Her heart was loud; that was good enough reasoning, for her.
"Good that..." she muttered lowly, exiting the homestead.
Alby nodded, "Good that."
"Good that," Newt.
The two leaders watched their only girl leave, still huffing about their decisions, and shared a questioning look. How odd; they had thrown greenies into the slammer, a million times before. This one wasn't the first time, so why had she acted as though it was the end of the world, this time? Of course Kennedy had never enjoyed that happening, when an innocent was thrown into their pits for a time out, but sometimes it was required. Hell— Gally had been stuck in the slammer for two whole days, let alone two hours! And Kennedy hadn't kicked off then, had she? Not nearly as much as she had just kicked off, now. What was so different? Why had she nearly ripped their heads off their shoulders? Newt was positive he would lose a limb! Alby rolled his eyes when he said that, "Maybe you would've been prettier without a head, Newtie boy. You're an ugly shank, ya know that?"
"Slinthead!"
"Tell her to stop shouting at me," Alby said.
"Me, and what army?"
"Fair."
"I'll try, but if she kills me it's your problem." Newt pointed two fingers the leader, whom nodded. Alby and Newt knew Kennedy was the flare of their society, but they needed her to stay focussed and stay calm. She was great with the newbies — she was the best they'd ever had — and yet, they couldn't let herself get wrapped in that. Not at the moment, at least. It was the first day of their plans to escape; they needed her strength to get them out of there; those flares were her idea, after all.
If it was going to change from then on, then they needed her. She needed to stay focused. No distractions!
No distractions!
No distractions!
No distractions!
Unfortunately for them, Kennedy was already distracted.
On her way to the slammer, Kennedy greeted several boys and allowed her temper to simmer at the lowest heat she could find. It was a hot day, which she supposed didn't help. Heat got her riled.
Being angry wasn't going to help the boy when she got to him, it would do anything but help, and she knew he was going to have far too many questions. If she was going to get on his good side, she'd need to be prepared to answer them — but not really answer them, because Alby liked their questions to wait, a while longer.
It felt cruel, but it was the rules.
She opted to pretend to answer them, instead.
Approaching the wood-incased ditch, Kennedy let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding, and crouched down in front of the caged door.
She peered in, silently at first. He was staring out at the gladers with intent eyes, the light sparking them a warm hazel. Kennedy'd never seen someone whose eyes spoke so much, before. Everything was a giveaway, when she looked at those eyes. Kennedy could feel his intrigue, his curiosity, his yearning to get out. And, she also saw his fear. Poor kids was afraid. Especially when she appeared out of, seemingly, nowhere. That was vert visible.
"How's it hangin', greenbean?"
"Woa— oof!"
He flinched, having not expected her. The sudden surprise made him fall back onto the hard dirt, his skin ripping under the rocks as his feet slipped out from beneath him. Kennedy smothered a laugh as she looked down at his flailing body. He groaned.
"You good, shank?" Kennedy teased.
"Huh?" He tilted his head, peering up at her. Staring up at her in confusion only lasted one moment, and he immediately resorted to asking questions as he hauled himself off the ground, anxiously.
"Where am I?"
Kennedy smiled sweetly, "You're in the glade."
"Glade?" He echoed. It sounded foreign on his tongue, "Where even is that? What's going on?"
Her lips pursed, and she glanced from left to right. Kennedy felt her hair sway over her shoulders, brushing over her cheeks, while she scanned the area around them. Not many boys were around at that time, other than the few that strayed about, and it wasn't as if they would snitch on her to Alby or Newt, for something so trivial; it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. Plus, there was a silent loyalty between herself and the boys— who cared if what Kennedy was about to do was technically against the rules? She couldn't get in trouble if she didn't get caught, could she? No one was gonna tell!
"You're not going to run again, right?"
"What?"
"Answer the question."
"Answer mine."
"I can't answer yours if you run off, can I?" Kennedy mused as she squinted her eyes, to which he furrowed his eyebrows. But that was clearly a good enough point because he nodded. He definitely knew that was far too mentally drained, and physically exhausted; running didn't seem like a good idea, right now. Kennedy grinned in appreciation for his compliance, "Good that."
Good that? Shank?
Again, he frowned; their language was strange.
Without hesitation, Kennedy unravelled the rope looper around the door that connected it to the frame, and swung it open wide. It made the greenie watch, intently.
She crawled a little further into the opening and perched on the very edge, her lean legs hanging above the ditch he was sat within. Swinging them idly, much like a child would, she smiled at him, as she had been doing since he arrived. The boy noticed how casual it was of her, how relaxed the movements were, and sighed. How did she feel so at ease, in a placed as odd as this? It didn't make all that much sense to him. Then again, what did?
"Name's Kennedy," she offered, hoping he would comply. "Can you tell me about yourself? Your name? Where you came from...?"
"No..." he spoke, panic in his tone. "No, I— I can't. I keep trying to remember, but I can't. Why can't I remember anything?" It was all dark in his head, fuzzy, and when he tried too hard it made him feel queasy. "What happened to me?"
"Hey, hey— relax," the she-bean hushed him, gently. Her tone was soothing and he liked it, even if he wouldn't admit it. A brief moment of silence lingered between them, and Kennedy kept her voice silky and smooth. "It's alright. Y'know— it happened to all of us; this whole thing. I know how you feel. I didn't remember, too."
"What do ya mean? What did happen? I don't understand any of this..." he pried, in desperate need of answers. It was a shame that she couldn't provide him with the ones that he wanted, there were some things that they had never learned themselves, and she knew she would have to leave that to Alby to explain, and even then he remained ominous with the answers he could give. He preferred it when greenies stayed in the dark for a couple of days, or at least until they were ready to find out more. Some never were, but this greenie seemed curious. More than the rest. Alby would find him irritating. That idea made her chuckle to herself, while he tried his best to ask again, "I— I'm not..." he seemed hesitant to ask, and a light blush tickled his cheeks pinker than plenty other boys, "We're not in heaven, are we? Are— are we dead? I just didn't think that it would be so... green."
"Green?"
"Yeah— ya know... heaven."
"No!" Kennedy tried not to laugh, "No— we ain't dead."
"Oh," he sighed, quite relieved. "Okay."
"Heaven this ain't!"
"Are you sure?"
"I am positive that you're perfectly alive, greenie." She told him with a convincing nod. It looked to work on him, and he hummed.
At least he wasn't dead. He supposed that was a good thing. And he was glad that heaven wasn't a big green field, closed in by those four walls. Then, he looked at her; "Greenie?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Greenie."
"What's that?"
"You," Kennedy explained. "You're the greenie."
"What does it mean?" The crease in his eyebrows grew deeper, not able to piece it together. He wondered if it meant something really horrible, and if these people already hated him. Maybe they were gonna kill him... hm, maybe not. Kennedy seemed very nice.
"Well..." she thought. "When you come out that box, you're the greenie."
"Why?"
"'Cause the shanks are so sick, they're all green in the face and stuff." Kennedy shrugged, "I dunno— you're just a greenie, and I was a greenie ages ago. We've all been the greenie, at some point. It just works like that. Greenie ain't something you become; it's what you outgrow, eventually."
He was still confused.
"How about we try to remember your name? Ya know— I have this thing I do, it sometimes helps the boys remember." She didn't give him a chance to respond, worried he would say no, and it'd be awkward. It was already awkward trying to explain greenie to him! No one ever asked that! But Kennedy wanted to help, so she tried her best. "I'm Kennedy, I'm seventeen years old."
"You know how old you are?" He asked yet another question.
It seemed unfair that she could remember how old she was, while he probably wouldn't ever. He couldn't even remember his name!
"Mhm." Kennedy decided to ignore it, however, and gestured a hand for him to copy her, "Now it's your turn, alright? It's easy, and kinda silly actually— but ya just keep saying it with the blanks and your brain might fill them in."
Was she serious?
The boy stayed silent, watching her intently. He didn't seem to understand much about Kennedy, namely how she was able to be so... positive about everything. He had no idea where he was or how he got there, he couldn't remember a single thing, and now this girl expected him to suddenly remember his name? Perhaps she was all calm and stuff, because she knew more than he did. She had been there longer, clearly. Or perhaps she was utterly crazy. Just now, he couldn't quite tell.
His verdict had yet to be determined.
Crazy?
Not crazy?
After a short silence, she shrugged her shoulders; "Maybe try it another time? I mean— it totally worked for Winston."
Honestly, Kennedy hadn't minded that he didn't really bother giving it a go. She had hardly expected him to. It made her feel a little sad that he didn't seemed to want the help, but she couldn't have blamed him — he was confused, stressed and overwhelmed, but anything was worth a shot, in her eyes.
When she arrived in the glade, it was like an automatic function in her brain. It kinda clicked: I'm Kennedy, and I'm fifteen years old. I'm Kennedy, and I'm fifteen years old. She wasn't exactly sure why that had happened to her, and seemingly no one else, but sharing the chant with a few of the gladers had helped them. Could have just been a placebo, but their names had just come to them. As for their ages? Not much of a success rate. So, the gladers had used her age as an average starting point for most of them; figuring how old they may have roughly been, through looks and height, was lots easier when comparing them to Kennedy. Although unsure, they had generally decided that the majority of boys were slightly older than she was, give or take a year or two — including Newt and Alby — while all the others were younger, like Chuck. For the most part, they figured they were roughly the same age. It made sense, putting teenagers of a similar age range into the glade together, though they had yet to know why.
Kennedy squinted at the boy, he looked her age.
"You'll get your name in a day or two," she promised, "It's the one thing they let us all keep."
He brushed the comment off and continued the listing questions buzzing around his brain like bees, yearning to have himself heard and get them answered, as soon as. "What is this place, Kennedy?"
"We call it the glade."
"The glade?"
He pursed his lips. It wasn't the answer he had wanted. It wasn't from Kennedy, either. That voice wad much too deep to belong to the sweet girl, in front of him. That voice belonged to put him in the slammer! boy.
He found himself scowling,
The pair looked up over her shoulder, to find Alby looming with his arms crossed. His face held the faintest of smiles, one that was forced. She didn't find the older threatening, having known him so long, but the new boy seemed to, somewhat. She wasn't surprised.
"I see ya met Kennedy, greenie." Alby concluded the obvious as he crouched next to her, with a firm nod, "Good that. She's gold."
"Stop calling me greenie!" He stressed the word with distaste. He had name; it was hidden somewhere deep within him, but he had a feeling it was there. Watching as the two shared this small look, a silent conversation taking place between their eyes that he couldn't understand, the boy rocked on his heels. Both of them knew fully well that he would be a curious one, and in turn, that would make him quite the handful. But Kennedy was up to the challenge of the greenie if Alby was. She was ready for it. Kennedy liked challenges; they were the most fun.
"I'm gonna take the greenie on the tour."
Greenie groaned.
Seriously?
Their leader ignored him. Kennedy found it weird, seeing as he usually waited until the next day when they were late. Alby looked at her, once more. "She-bean, why don't you head back over to the homestead? Jeff was looking for you."
Kennedy doubted that Jeff was actually in search of her, and if he was, then she knew it wouldn't be big — because Jeff was fully aware that she dedicated her time to the greenbeans, and he had a really awful habit of trying to grill every piece of information from her when she got back. He always wanted to know everything. His nosiness was shared by Clint, usually.
Plus, the day had been quiet.
There couldn't have been much harm done over the course of lunch, unless Frypan has cut off his pinky again. She hadn't heard any yelling or hysteria from the kitchens however, so Kennedy was inclined to doubt it. Jeff didn't need her help any more than he did on other days. She knew that he didn't. Alby just wanted her gone.
Nonetheless, Kennedy decided to listen. She glanced at the boy, and then the leader with a nod.
He looked calm enough for now, and she would be able to see him later if there were any problems. Kennedy had no doubt that Alby was going to be harder on him, than he was with Chuck; the kid had been too quiet at first, so his first day went swimmingly. If only they had known how much he would end up talking, ay? That made Kennedy smile to herself, but it dropped slightly as the tense air grew thicker around them. She had a feeling there could be an argument brewing.
Alby hated curious greenies.
"Alright— later, Alby." She relented, and stood from the grassy patch, wiping the dirt from her pants and taking a step back from the slammer. Kennedy lingered for a moment and peered down at newbue, sending him a wave of her hand.
"See ya, greenie!"
He watched her leave, brows meeting at the bridge of his nose.
An interesting girl, he noted, she seemed familiar.
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