Florence wandered out of the Homestead with the three boys. The sky was growing dark but there was a large flicker of light around which crowds of Gladers were sat.
Minho sidled over to Florence, bumping his shoulder against hers. "You ready for this bonfire princess?"
"I'm never going to escape that nickname am I?" Florence asked him, and she saw his head shake furiously. She wouldn't let Minho know, but that was completely fine with her.
"You love it really, princess." Shaking her head to argue, she let a smile take over her face, feeling happy for the first time since she woke up. Minho slung his arm around her shoulder as he moved through the crowds and stood directly in front of the fire.
"Gally! Give us some of that stuff!" Minho shouted across the fire to Gally, who had in his hand a cloudy glass bottle of a clear-yellowy liquid.
Florence watched suspiciously as Minho took the bottle from Gally, tipping his head back and swigging from it, his hand dropping from her shoulder.
He visibly cringed whilst swallowing the drink, but let out a large laugh once done, looking to Florence for her reaction. She raised an eyebrow unamused, and Minho held out the bottle to her, giving her puppy eyes.
"Go on princess. Just one sip." She felt a surge of adrenaline, and snatched the bottle from his hands. Looking about the crowds, she felt the eyes on her, but it only spurred her on.
"Go on Greenbean!" Newt yelled, letting out a laugh. She looked to him, raising the bottle to her lips and taking an overconfident sip.
The liquid burned her throat, but she fought the urge to gag as she swallowed it. Letting out a cough after swallowing it, she shoved the bottle back into Minho's hands, pouting.
"That is awful." This only earned another laugh from Minho as he passed the bottle back to Gally, who was smiling surprisingly. He saluted to the girl who shook her head mock disapprovingly.
"Alright Gladers! Listen up!" Alby's voice suddenly boomed, clearer than any others. Silence fell among the group and Florence sat down beside Newt on a bench in front of the fire.
"Obviously we have a new Greenie today. Her name is Florence." Alby strolled around the fire, nodding towards her at the mention of her name. "If any of you shanks try anything - and I mean anything - you will be Banished."
Florence had no idea what being 'Banished' meant. However, from the looks of the Gladers, it wasn't hard to tell that it was not a good thing.
"Anyway. Gally give me some of that." Alby reached for Gally's bottle, to the cheers of the other Gladers who watched on in awe. It wasn't often that Alby would let loose and have fun like that, but the arrival of Florence had reminded him that not everything had to be the same all the time.
"Oh, hey Florence! You need to carve your name!" Frypan had caught the girl at a good time, and at her permission, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to one of the walls.
The flicker of the flames close by allowed Florence to see some of the names carved into the stone; Minho, Alby, Newt, Gally.
And then she caught a few of the names that had been scratched out; George, Nick, Stephan. She drew her eyes away from them, not wanting to think about those who had presumably died.
Taking the knife from Frypan's outstretched hand, Florence found a gap in the group of names, and began to carve out her own.
"You should've carved your real name, princess. Ya know, since it's actually princess." A charming voice purred from beside her, startling Florence, as she looked up to see Minho lounging with his back pressed against the wall.
Rolling her eyes, she shoved the knife into his hands and began to walk away from the wall, internally scolding Frypan for leaving her with this annoying shank even if she did think him good looking.
"That's not my real name Minho." She sung back, as he jogged to catch up to the girl speeding back to the bonfire.
"Sure suits you." He simply said with a shrug. Florence stopped to appreciate the glow of the fire on Minho's skin, before he had thrown her a wink and disappeared into the crowd.
That boy.
The Gladers watched on in glee as Gally fought one of his crones in the middle of a circle, both attempting to knock one another out of the arena. It was pure stupidity, therefore perfect entertainment. But for Florence, everything was once again catching up on her.
She found herself slipping away from the crowds, and wandering towards a group of trees. Slumping down against the back of one, Florence let her eyes shut and attempted to slow her quickened breathing.
She tried to imagine being somewhere else, somewhere safe, with her family. But she couldn't remember her family. She couldn't remember anything.
And so for the first time since arriving, she let herself cry.
Soft tears rolled down her cheeks, and she muffled her sobs by putting the back of her hand over her mouth. She eventually let the sobs wrack her whole body, the emotions taking over, becoming too much for her to handle.
All she could think of was the fact someone told her she wasn't supposed to be there. Where was she supposed to be? She couldn't help but think there was a family waiting for her, friends, people who loved her, back in the world she had left behind.
Behind her, a branch broke. Instantly, Florence stopped crying. Glancing back, she wiped the tears from her face at the sight of Newt.
Her eyes were red and she could only imagine what her tearstained cheeks looked like. And then she remembered she had no idea what she really looked like.
Newt settled himself down besides the girl, a safe distance away, but close enough to comfort her. It didn't scare her, like she imagined it might. Instead, having Newt's presence beside her was reassuring.
"If you ain't scared, you ain't human." He spoke softly. Florence kept her eyes on the walls far away, her mind wanting to wander.
"That's what Alby always says. And it's true. We're all scared. We were a lot worse than you when we got here." Florence finally met his eye. His kind expression helped her relax, and she found her eyes closing again.
"I can't help but feel out of place." She admitted, before chuckling harshly. "Of course I do. I'm the only girl in a group of 60 boys."
Newt opened his mouth to respond, before closing it again. He couldn't understand her. None of them could.
Then there was a loud creak.
Florence's eyes shot open and she jolted, alert. The walls were closing. They groaned as the concrete slid across the ground at the middle of each wall, meeting like sliding doors.
"What's going on?" She murmured, hopping up and slowly approaching one of the walls. It didn't seem possible. It defied all the laws of physics, gravity, but somehow these ancient concrete walls were closing.
"They close every night, and open every morning. And that's curfew. You should be getting to your room." Newt advised, knowing that the girl must be exhausted from her confusing day.
She was, but how could she sleep? She still had so many questions, but was forbidden to ask any.
Florence let Newt guide her back to the Homestead, a hand on her back for support, as they made their way into the rickety building.
Florence had spotted the hammocks around the place, where the other boys slept, but inside the Homestead were a few rooms for the lucky few to sleep in.
Why they should get their own rooms was beyond Florence, but she was beyond grateful for the fact there was any sort of private room for her to sleep in, even if it did mean sharing with Minho.
Newt led her up the creaking stairs of the Homestead and down a corridor towards a peeling wooden door.
"And this is you." Newt gave her another smile and Florence returned it. Just as he turned to leave and was walking back up the corridor, Florence noticed something. She was stupid to not have noticed it before.
Newt was limping.
It was slight, but clearly there. Why did he have a limp? Florence was burning to ask, but knew it was none of her business.
"Uh, thank you!" She finally called after him, and he stopped, looking back to her.
"For everything today. You've been really nice." She told him graciously, and the words tumbled from her mouth.
"It's no problem Greenbean. Now get some sleep."
Florence turned on her heel and opened the handle to the room. Slipping inside and closing the door behind her, she found Minho laying out a sleeping bag beside the window.
The room was modest, a small bed in the middle, a desk by its side, and a few drawers of what Florence assumed to be clothes and other essentials.
She removed the shoes from her feet, placing them by the door, and looked out the window. A view of the entire Glade was before her. It was something, she had to admit it. And to think the boys had built this place up from the ground.
Minho got up from where he had laid the sleeping bag, and Florence noticed that he was lacking his blue top from earlier. She was not disappointed, the boy was extremely muscular and his prominent abs seemed to be staring her in the eyes.
She let her eyes linger there for a moment, before trailing back up to his eyes. Instead of flushing red - like earlier - she raised an intrigued eyebrow, and it was Minho's turn to blush. His cheeks filled with colour, so to distract himself he flopped down on the sleeping bag and threw the blanket over himself.
"You take the bed princess. You need good sleep." He told her simply, lying back on his pillow, and shifting to make himself comfortable. Florence frowned, she felt awful taking his bed.
"No Minho I can't-"
"-I'm already in the sleeping bag, there's no point arguing!" He met her eye with a cheeky smile knowing that he had won.
"Fine. But tomorrow we're swapping." She said with a warning glare, lifting the covers of the bed and slipping inside.
It was very comfy.
"Hey are you sure you're okay with those clothes?"
"Well it's not like you have any girls clothes lying around, is it?" Florence replied snappily, rolling onto her side so she could face Minho as they bickered.
"Well no, but you can always borrow some of mine." He offered, and Florence was glad it was too dark for him to tell her pink cheeks. Why did this keep happening to her?
"No thank you." She turned on her other side now, away from Minho, signalling that she wanted to sleep. He didn't take this hint.
"Hey princess?" A voice came from the sleeping bag again and Florence sighed heavily, turning once again in her bed.
"What is it now?" Florence was too tired to let her tone be harsh, she was almost asleep and Minho was ruining what she already knew was going to be a deep sleep.
"I just wanted to say you've been through a lot today. It's impressive." Her eyes peeled open to see the boy propped up on his elbow. She gave him a questioning look, to which he continued.
"Most of us spent our first week or so here crying. Hell, you've taken everything in your stride. I haven't seen anyone take it that easy. It's shucking incredible."
Minho's words were honest and pure. Florence let them sink in, realising how true they were, although she felt self-absorbed to admit it.
"Thank you Minho." She muttered quietly, and she heard his familiar chuckle.
"No problem princess."
And all of a sudden, just as she was drifting to sleep, she remembered the voice she heard in the box. If she wasn't supposed to be here, where was she supposed to be?
Florence must have fallen asleep swarmed with unwanted thoughts, and when she woke, the room was empty.
Minho had said he started his 'work' early, whatever being a Runner meant. Florence sat up in her bed, hearing a rustling from the end of it, and realising something laid on the covers.
Slipping out of the bed, she picked up the piece of paper that was left on the end, on top of some clothes.
In case you change your mind about the clothes - Minho x
Florence couldn't help a smirk from appearing on her lips. Lifting up the clothes he had left her, she decided it would be better than staying in her current sweaty clothes.
She changed quickly, pulling on the pair of dark gray sweatpants, folding them over at the top to keep them from falling down. Minho was a lot taller than her after all.
Then she pulled on the t-shirt. It was plain black, the sleeves comfortably close to her elbows, and the fabric reaching the top of her thighs.
Moving to the window, Florence caught sight of the early morning Glade. Boys were bustling about the place, some working away already, and some coming from the Homestead with plates of breakfast, making her mouth water.
Slipping on her shoes, Florence left her room and returned down the stairs of the Homestead, the smell of food growing stronger with each stair.
She entered the kitchen, the tables filled with hungry boys already stuffing their faces with food, and with a grin on her face, she made her way over to Frypan.
"Hi Fry." She greeted him quietly, the tiredness in her voice clearly present.
"Good morning Florence." He replied cheerfully, handing her a plate with strips of bacon and a fried egg. Her stomach growled and her smile grew even wider.
"Thank you." She went to turn away, but Frypan put a hand on her arm, looking down at the clothes she was wearing.
"Are those-"
"-Minho's? Yeah."
Oh shuck.
Even when he wasn't there, Minho was continuously embarrassing her. With a sheepish smile, Florence finally turned away and scanned the room for a sign of either Newt or Alby.
Luckily, she spotted the both of them, making her way over and sitting down besides Newt. Both boys eyes widened when they saw what she was wearing. Neither spoke a word, at first.
"I'm sorry but-" "-his clothes?" The two boys spoke over one another, cutting themselves off and looking at Florence expectantly.
"You really think I understood that?"
Rolling his eyes, Alby ate a bit of bacon, and pointed at her shirt. Florence shook her head dismissively, furiously sawing through her own bacon.
"It's a shirt. There's no big deal!"
"And the sweatpants."
"Yes, thank you Newt." Florence fixed her eyes on him, glaring at him for adding to her current struggles. He winced at her death glare, choosing to set his eyes on his plate to avoid her anger.
After breakfast, Florence followed Alby out of the Homestead quietly, knowing that he would answer her queries if she just listened.
"Right Greenie, tour time." His stern voice did nothing to intimidate her, her stomach practically bubbling over with excitement, keen to know everything.
"No questions till the end, good that?" Despite being in the Glade for less than 24 hours, Florence had begun to understand the Glader slang so commonly used by the boys. She gave Alby a single nod, straightening up to mock the likeness of a soldier, to which Alby rolled his eyes.
They started at the Box, unwanted familiarity gnawing at Florence's chest as she was reminded of being trapped in there less than a day before.
The metal double doors of the Box currently laid on the ground, smothered in white paint which was cracked and fading.
"This is the Box. Every month - same day, same time - we get a Newbie and it's never once failed. 'Cept this time, you were a girl." Florence frowned. As much as she wanted to not be the same as anyone else, she hated that she was different in this way. She knew certain boys were suspicious of her. But she was just as clueless as them.
"Once a week, we get supplies up in the box. Clothes, food, whatever we need. Don't really need a lot; we pretty much run ourselves here." Florence found herself nodding. The crates she had with her in the Box suddenly made sense. Supplies.
"We don't know shuck all about the Box. Where it came from, how it gets here, who's in charge. The shanks that sent us here haven't told us a thing. Tried to send a slinthead Greenie back in the Box once, but the thing wouldn't move till we took him out."
Her mind wandered to what she thought laid under the Box doors when the Box was gone. An elevator shaft stretching into darkness. Had they tried going down after the Box?
Alby continued to talk, his expression evident in the fact he had repeated this a hundred times to a hundred boys.
"The Glade has four sections. The Gardens, the Blood House, the Homestead and the Deadheads. You got that?" Alby paused for Florence's expression, which was blank.
"The Blood House?" She finally stuttered out, her voice quiet and anxious. Alby only waited a beat before launching into explanation.
Pointing to a corner, Alby continued to talk, and Florence followed his finger to see a grove of fruit trees and a few fields.
"Gardens - we grow the crops, water's pumped through pipes. Always has been, or we'd have starved a long time ago. Hasn't rained once." Alby's finger moved to another corner, and a shiver ran down Florence's spine.
"Blood House. That's where we raise and slaughter the animals." A barn stood in the corner, guarding a selection of animal pens.
"From your expression I can tell you're not going to become a Slicer." Alby bit back a chuckle at the sight of Florence's sudden paled face and wide eyed expression. Clearing his throat and pointing now to the Homestead, Florence snapped from her trance.
"Homestead you know of course. Shucking place is twice as big as when the first of us got here 'cause we keep adding to it when they send wood and klunk. It's not pretty, but it works. Most of us sleep outside anyway."
Florence's head was beginning to brim full of questions; she focused carefully on the ones she found most important, taking care to not let them float from her mind. Lastly, Alby's finger rested on the last corner. A forest area with a few benches,
"That there's the Deadheads. The graveyard's back in the corner through the thicker woods. You can sit and rest there, ain't much else." Alby didn't hesitate to move on from the heavy topic, clearing his throat.
"You'll spend the next two weeks working one day each for our different job Keepers-"
"-No." Florence's voice scared herself. She didn't even realise she was saying it when it came out of her own mouth. Alby looked affronted and deeply furious.
"What do you mean no?" His voice began to raise, but Florence kept a level-head, maintaining her calmness.
"I mean, you tell me the jobs, and I'll decide what I want. No time to waste, is there?" Alby's expression remained stony and angry.
Clearly, no one had challenged him on this, but Florence was not keen to work her way around the jobs when she was certain that she would know what she wanted to do when Alby explained the jobs.
But then his expression changed. Florence couldn't quite make it out, but a flicker of amusement passed over Alby's face.
"I'll consider it Greenie. But if you're backing out of the one you pick after three days, you're spending a night in the Slammer." A moment of silence passed between the pair.
"And the Slammer is...?" She waved her hands out in front of her expectantly and Alby grumbled.
"It's our jail. Behind the Homestead. You don't wanna get stuck in there trust me."
He turned on his heel and instantly made his way towards the wall that stood proudly behind the Deadheads and the Blood House.
"Out there's the Maze. And of course, you've gotten a lot more close and personal with it than most of these shanks." Florence felt her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the memory of her run in the Maze.
"Two years I've been here." Florence's eyes immediately snapped to Alby. He just stood, looking out at the Maze, expression unreadable.
"Ain't none been here longer. The few before me are already dead." Florence felt her heart drop.
"Two years we've tried to solve this thing, no luck. Shucking walls move out there at night just as much as these here doors. Mapping it out ain't easy, no way." Alby paused, and Florence could see the frustration in his eyes. For so long he and the other Gladers had been trying to find a way out, with no luck.
"Rule number one, nobody - and I mean nobody - is allowed in the Maze except the Runners. Break that rule, and you'll be killed by me if the Grievers don't get you. You're being let off 'cause ya didn't know klunk yesterday."
"Grievers?" Florence repeated, and Alby shook his head with a chuckle.
"That's for tomorrow Greenie. Okay, since you wanna be difficult, I'll tell you about the jobs."
Florence's eyes lit up, hoping that there was something that would stick out to her immediately, since trusting her gut was always the best option.
"Each job has a Keeper, basically a leader of the group. They represent the group in Gatherings which are called whenever needed. It's also when a Greenie gets chosen by a Keeper for a job. Quite a few people round the Glade have more than one job, so don't fret if you can handle more than one thing."
Florence settled herself in a spot on the grass, intent on listening to Alby, who rolled his eyes, before sitting next to her.
"Newt and I are also on the Council at Gatherings, myself as the appointed leader and Newt as my second in command. We have our Builders, repairing broken things around the Glade and expanding the Homestead way too often than necessary. Gally's keeper. No surprises there. The shuck has to have a say in everything."
Florence's eyes turned to where Gally was working away with a group of boys. He was yelling out instructions to them as they worked. There was something about Gally. He had the mean guy façade up, but it didn't take much for Florence to see he was just a scared, lonely boy. It was a shame he didn't feel he could talk to anyone, he had built up such a reputation for being tough and angry.
"Frypan's the Keeper of the Cooks, because he's shucking good at it. There's nothing like finishing a hard day's work with a meal from Frypan." Florence kept quiet as Alby spoke. There was something about the way the boy was giving her the information, but also opening his heart up a little, making her happy to see the boy so relaxed despite not knowing him long.
"There's Winston, Keeper of the Slicers. They raise and slaughter the animals. Winston likes his job, a lot. It is worrying." Florence chuckled softly at Alby's words as he continued his explaining.
"Zart's the Keeper of the Gardeners. They harvest the crops, do the weeding, just all the work in the gardens." From Alby's words so far, Florence already knew she didn't want any of these jobs.
Although she recognised Gally's hidden self, he scared her. So working for him would be impossible. She also wouldn't want to be a Cook, something inside telling her that she would be awful at it, and so she listened. Florence shivered at the thought of becoming a Slicer, and Winston sounded too creepy for her to even consider it. And Gardening? Her back began to ache at the mention.
"Then you have the Baggers, Billy's the Keeper, and the Sloppers, Lee's the Keeper. The Baggers are our guards. They also deal with bodies, if needed. The Sloppers are for odd jobs about the place; housework, dirty tasks."
"And then there's the Med-jacks. They're the doctors of the group. Clint's the Keeper. But I guess you wouldn't be much interested in that, not liking blood 'nd all."
But Florence's ears had perked up and her eyes widened. "No, no. I would want to be a Med-jack. I like helping people."
Alby raised an eyebrow. "You sure?" He asked her carefully, but her mind was already made up.
"Absolutely." But then she realised something.
"What about the Runners?" Alby's face darkened slightly.
"Minho's Keeper of course. The Runners run the Maze everyday, taking note of the turnings, the walls, to try and find us all a way out. At the end of the day, they head to the map-room to draw up maps of the Maze from memory and their notes."
Florence leaned in, her ears perking once again. "So... You said some have two jobs, right?" Alby let out a groan, standing up from his settled position, and making his way across the grass to the homestead.
"You can't be a Runner Greenie." Florence was taken aback by this. She pushed away the hurt, catching up to Alby as he strode to the Homestead.
"Why not?"
"We ain't had any new Runners in a long time. The Runners we have are the ones who've been here long as me. Nobody new." He was stern and firm with his words, but Florence had changed his mind before.
"You saw how fast I was Alby. You know I could handle it." The truth was, Florence had no idea if she could. But she wanted to.
"There's no point talking to me about this. Minho is the Keeper." They stopped outside the Homestead and Florence thought this over.
It's certainly possible to persuade Minho, right?
"Anyway. This is the end of your tour Greenbean. Now, you can ask your questions." Alby said this as if she hadn't been asking questions for the last five minutes.
"Who arrived here first with you then?"
"About thirty of us. Me, Newt, Minho, Gally, a few others. This place has come far since then." Alby admitted, his face softening slightly.
"What does it take to be a Runner?" Alby let out another groan of frustration, entering the Homestead and walking straight through a doorway to the right of the entrance.
"Listen greenie; forget about this Runner nonsense, it ain't happening. But this, this is your new job."