"How's your hand?" Newt almost whispered it to himself while we walked out of the Homestead. Fortunately, I'd managed to get on my feet.

"Huh?" I asked just to make sure.

"Your hand." He looked up at the sky. "Is it okay?"

"Oh, yes. It's much better!" I bit my lip. Lie.

Newt gave me a disbelieving look. "Gally is such a piece of klunk." He shook his head.

Yes, he is. I thought but said the complete opposite. "I just acted overly dramatic. I can't fight, I guess."

He glanced at me. "How about some training, then?"

We walked over to the Blood house in silence.

Newt stopped by a tall boy and tapped his shoulder. "This is Zart, the fart. The keeper of Track-hoes. They're the ones who take care of all the heavy stuff for the Gardens. Trenching and whatnot."

Next were Slicers. "They feed and raise these animals. They also clean, fix fences, and scrape up klunk. "

"Med-jacks, the doctors. Clint and Jeff." He pointed at the two boys. Jeff turned out to be the one who gave me breakfast this morning.

"That boy with freckles is the keeper of Bricknicks. They do all the building and repairing stuff. Doesn't sound much good for you."

"Baggers are the ones in charge of burying dead Gladers."

"Dead?" I asked in confusion. Had any of these teenager boys died?

Newt didn't replied instead walked away motioning me with him. "And the last one, Sloppers who aren't good at anything. They help around the other Gladers by doing dirty tasks that other Gladers don't want to do, such as cleaning up the Blood House, the kitchen, toilets, and showers."

"Cleaning?"

"Yep. Try not to fall in that group." He nodded his head. "Let's go now. Time for dinner. Fryapn won't be happy to see us late."

He'd mentioned all the jobs except one. The Runners.

"Wait. What about the Runners?"

Suddenly, Newt's smile was replaced by confusion. "That's not for you."