I wake, hearing someone tapping at the door. "Florence! Time to get up, love. Breakfast won't wait for you." Newt's voice was muffled, as I was still half asleep.
"Be there in a minute!" I detangle myself from the blanket I had slept with that night and sit at the end of my cot. I look around, cautious not to hit my head on anything, as my room was also a storage shed. It was the best the gladers could do, as they didn't know they were getting a girl greenie. It was kind that they even let me have the privacy that the shed somewhat offered. I check my arm. The bandage is still there, and the pain has died down. I'm still careful not to hit it on any of the many novelties that still lay around the shed, as I don't want to hurt it anymore than it already is. I then stood and begun to fix my hair, looking at the matted mess in the reflection of a blade that hung from the edge of a shelf opposite me. This was the first time I'd actually seen myself since I'd come to the Glade. My dark hair fell to my tan shoulders, my eyes a chocolate brown, and my clothes simple. I wore a ribbed indigo top, army green pants, and combat boots. Not the best, but hey, there's not much I can do about it.
I struggled with my hair, trying to will it smooth with my fingers. After a couple minutes, I just let it be, dubbing my waves a lost cause. I open my 'bedroom' door and step into the light that is a morning in the Glade. Many gladers are just now heading to the canteen as well, though I knew most were already there, chowing down. As I hiked the short lived walk to breakfast, I caught a glimpse of Gally. He was sitting near the remains of the fire that was alive just yesterday. Immediately, my mind wonders about his whereabouts last night. I realize I'd said some harsh things that moment in the circle, no better than his comments, but still rude none the less. My usual need to apologize was suppressed this morning, I didn't know why. I should have my usual aching pain, urging me to do something to improve the situation and to settle the voice inside. But I didn't.
I saw Gally take a huge gulp from a large container in his hefty hands, him not even taking the time to wipe his mouth. I didn't know what the liquid was, but Gally seemed to enjoy it. I watched him for a few more minutes, him taking another sip and then staring into the distance. I wonder what he's thinking about. Maybe about last night's feud? I'm sure Gally will have something to say to me before this day's over. But then again, maybe not. By how last night ended, it seemed he didn't want anything else to do with me. He's probably just keeping quiet, building his hate towards me inside, planning our next discourse. Then, when he's ready, Gally'll blow up in my face. Before I got a chance to walk over and experience Gally's wrath, Chuck came up behind me.
"Hey Florrie." An attentive smile plays on Chuck's keen face. I return the smile, liking what seemed to be my new nickname. "You late to breakfast too?"
"Seems so." I kept walking, Chuck along beside me, me forgetting Gally for the time being.
Chuck and I reached the kitchen soon enough. We grab our plates of food, telling Frypan a quick thank you before heading to a table. The food tastes great. I try to savor each bit, the bacon being especially good. When I'm finished, I begin to think about today, as it's my first real day in the Glade. I recall Thomas' comment from last night, that today would be the day I would begin work. The day I would find my place among the gladers.
"Where's Thomas? Is he ready to show me the ropes? Help me find my job?" I ask, noticing I haven't seen him.
"Thomas left with Minho at daybreak," Chuck voiced in between a mouth of scrambled eggs. "So, running the Maze. But I heard him talking to Newt about figuring something out in finding someone to show you all the different jobs." He swallowed, then looking behind me said, "Speak of the devil."
"Look who finally decided to show her face." Newt put his hands out on the table, as if making a business proposition. "Good morning, greenie."
I give a subtle wave, mouthing a "morning" in Newt's direction.
"Seems I'll be the one given ya insight on the Glade jobs today. Hopefully you woke up on the right side of the bed, it's easier to get through all of them, especially slicing." Newt took a bite of bacon off Chuck's plate. Chuck looked appalled.
"She might need some of Gally's recipe for that one." Chuck spoke, trying to ignore Newt and his stolen goods.
"Honestly, shank." Newt rolled his eyes, probably annoyed at Chuck's mention of Gally. Chuck just shrugged his shoulders. I tried not to care, but the statement sprung to life my thoughts from earlier. Would I become a builder? I hoped not.
Newt and I started with Track-hoe. Figured we would start out easy. And it was, in the beginning. I picked the ripe fruits and vegetables, pulling up the weeds too, following Zart's and Newt's directions. It was going reasonably well until I started pulling up fruiting plants, mistaking them for weeds. But it was when I accidentally squirted an overripe tomato all over Newt that we decided to finally move on.
We tried Slopper, but when we came to the washrooms and the Blood House, the job stank so much Newt urged us on as I was near vomiting. Next: Slicer. The positive was that I was good with a knife, steady-handed and cautious but yet skilled and efficient. But on the down side, every time I would come near any animal to butcher it, I couldn't. I could eat the meat they provided, but I just couldn't make myself kill the creature. Weird, I know. I kept hearing their little hearts pounding in my mind, screaming for me to spare them. So I left Winston to his work, moving on to the next job.
We stopped for lunch next. Frypan showed me a few recipes and techniques on how to cook our afternoon meal. It went ok, but every time I threw another piece of meat into the pot, I thought about the chicken I'd nearly severed just moments ago. So, after we finished eating the poor creature, we decided to continue on. Hours went by, us now down to only three jobs left: Med-jack, Builder, and Runner. I was starting to doubt if I would even find my place here in the Glade today.
The building site was our next stop. Both Newt and I not too eager to see if I would be any good as a builder, as we both knew Gally probably wouldn't take it too easy on me. But we stalk our way to Gally, his back turned to us. He was yelling something, a command to "slim it and keep working" or something along those lines. I came up behind him and tapped Gally on the shoulder. I prayed he wouldn't explode at me for last night.
He turned, an irritable expression on his face. "What?"
Newt decided to do the talking. "Florence is here to try for a builder. None of the other chores have, er-- suited her." That's one way to put it.
"Florence?" Gally raised one of his boss brows, his tone still stone cold. That's right, he ran off last night right before I told everyone.
"My name," I stated simply.
Gally just grunted and strode over to a pile of beams. I guess I was supposed to follow after him. His choice of few words gave me hope, that maybe I had a while before we went at it again. Once I stood somewhat near the pile of wood, Gally lifted one of the beams and lugged it over his shoulder with ease. I noted his strength, probably something to be aware of if he and I ever had another dispute. Gally dropped the beam into a hole, a couple yards from another beam that was already solidly in the ground. "Let the shank steady the beam, fill the whole, make a strong post." He didn't even speak directly to me. Just threw words into the air, assuming I would get the memo. "Unless that would be too difficult for a girl greenie--."
"No, that's fine," I cut him off. Newt wished me luck as he headed off, him giving Gally one last glare. I grabbed a shovel and began filling the hole with dirt, adjusting the post every few scoops. Gally sat there observing me for awhile, then all of a sudden a sly smirk slid across his lips. "What?" I shoot him a confused look.
"You're doing it wrong, shank. It's crooked."
"No it isn't." I try to respond gently, regretting how harsh I'd been at the circle, and me wanting to avoid any more conflict.
"Yes it is." Gally took the shovel from my grasp and poked it around in the hole. He then took his hands and tried to straighten the beam. "There." Gally looked at me, probably awaiting gratitude of some sort.
I ignored it and put a couple more shovels of dirt in the hole. "Is that it?"
"Not quite. Let's see how good you are with a blade and a hammer." Gally led me to an area of the building site with more shaped, longer, rectangular pieces of wood. He passed me a saw, then a hammer. Me doing well with both, he concluded our work. "Not bad. You might make a good builder with a little more training." Was that a compliment?
"Maybe. I still have to try for Med-jack and a Runner."
Gally chuckled. "I'd like to see your short little legs make it out the Maze. Your teeny bones would get crushed in the doors on your first run."
I glowered at Gally. I was only a foot shorter than he was, my legs weren't that tiny! I could be a runner, surely. Thankfully, Newt came back, me ready to get away from this slinthead. Slinthead was one of the words I'd learned from being here, as Thomas and Newt have made an effort to teach me their slang.
Newt and I then headed to the med center, this the second time I'd been there. Clint greeted us at the door. After showing me how to wrap a bandage, he then told me to check on the kid Gally had beat up yesterday. Hank, is what Clint called him. Clint and Newt then went to Alby, as his shouts were becoming more apparent. I on the other hand, headed to the cot on the far end of the building, finding Hank. He had a black eye and a gauze at his mouth, keeping it from bleeding so much. Other than that, he didn't have any big injuries. Just a couple of bruises here and there. "Hey, how are you doing?"
"Not too bad, greenie. Just a couple bruises, and a headache." Hank tried to sit up, but I urged him to lay back down.
"Gally gotcha pretty good, didn't he?" I dipped a cloth into a bowl of water nearby, then wiping off a bit of the dried blood on his face.
"I told you. It's only a headache, I swear. Gally didn't mean for it to get out of hand. He's just a sore loser, that's all." A small laugh escaped from Hank's healing mouth. Is that really what he thought? That Gally was just a sore loser?
I plaster a smile on my face, trying to cover my disagreement.
Hank broke the small silence we held, "He visited me this morning." Is he reading my mind? Gosh, this kid's good.
I raised an eyebrow, wondering why Gally would even bother. "Oh? And what did he say?"
"He-- apologized. Told me that he took it too far."
I was taken back by this answer. "And what did you say?"
"I forgave him. Gally might seem harsh and uptight, but he really means well. He just pushed a bit too hard. He never meant to hurt anyone, definitely not this much anyway," Hank finished.
Is that what Gally told him? I tried to imagine Gally on his knees, his guilt getting the best of him. It was hard to believe. I'd never seen a soft bone in Gally's body, not yet anyway. I doubted Gally would be the one saying sorry. Usually, that was me doing all the apologizing.
Soon enough, Clint and Newt came back, Clint ready to teach me about treating wounds and the different medical equipment. For the next hour, I practiced Med-jack treatments and techniques, Gally on my mind for the majority of the time. Hank's words replayed in my head. "Gally didn't mean for it to get out of hand." "He apologized." "I forgave him." It might've been selfish, but I also thought: was I not decent enough to apologize to and forgive? Why hadn't Gally said anything to me about our feud in the circle, or even him accepting my sorry from earlier that day? Maybe he only felt guilty if he'd started the issue? I had technically started both of those disputes. I chose to sit at his table and settle my conscience. I chose to stand up for Hank last night and shame Gally for what he did. My conscience may have not been working this morning, but it sure was now.
I finished my work in the med center, now I was waiting on trying for a Runner. Clint said I did decent, but I had been distracted, which is probably not the best to be in the medical field. I knew why I hadn't been focused. I made a mental note to try and speak to Gally before the day was over. On the way out I heard Alby, which made me think of grievers, which then made me think of Thomas. It was late in the afternoon, he should be back from the Maze any moment.
Newt led me to the bonfire after we ate our supper. Chuck and I made good conversation, us three feeding the fire with wood every once and a while. Soon enough the doors start to move. We all crowd around them, waiting for Minho and Thomas. My heart raced as the doors made their grinding sounds. I was a bit impatient, me eager to see and talk to Thomas. Gally was there too, waiting their arrival. I remember my note about speaking to Gally, and decide to talk to him later. But just as Minho comes into view, I find Gally already by me. "Listen, greenie. About yesterday--." Gally starts. I try to focus my attention but I begin to worry as Thomas still hasn't been spotted. "It's usually not my thing to say this-- but--." Minho just came threw the doors when finally I see Thomas. Gally is still trying to talk to me, but I end up tuning him out. Thomas is slowing down. No! I start to really doubt if he's going to make it, the doors seeming too close. "Greenie, listen. I'm---," Gally still tries to continue. I'm still too focused on Thomas.
Then the unbelievable happened. Like, actually unbelievable. I risked it, my life. I ran as fast as I possibly could, ignoring what Gally had said about my short legs. The doors were closing in around me, and I heard several of the gladers shout my name. I heard Newt go, "Bloody heck, Florence!!!" But I pressed on, barely making it, someone pulling me inside just before I'm smashed like a pancake. "Screech! Thoomb!!" The doors shut behind me. Permanently, until tomorrow at daybreak. I heard another glader yell, not being able to make out the words. I then turn to my savior. Though, I guess I've in some way been his too.
"Shuck you, Florrie."