"Greenie."

Your head hurt like hell, and you grunted quietly, not having any desire whatsoever to open your eyes.

"Greenie, rise and shine!"

The voice was masked by that same, strange accent that you had heard when you'd first woken up.

"She's not bloody waking up."

You knew you couldn't keep pretending to be asleep forever, and you reluctantly cracked your eyes open. The boy, whose name was Newt, as you had recalled earlier, was leaning over you with an expression that could only be described as an intense curiosity plastered on his dirt-smudged face.

You let out a low groan, bringing a hand to your pounding temple.

"'Hello Greenie, finally awake I see." He sounded much too cheerful for your taste.

"Y-yeah." You still hadn't quite gotten over the shock of waking up in a boxed-up prison, filled with nothing but teenage boys and you were feeling a little uneasy. Maybe "a little" was an understatement.

A quiet squeal came from the back of the room, and you lifted your head a few inches off your pillow to see a short, pudgy boy standing by the door. Then, without another word, he turned and ran out, smiling like an idiot.

Chuck. The name came to you suddenly. A small whisper almost lost in the chaotic buzz of thoughts and confusion bouncing around in your aching head.

"Don't mind him Girlie, he's just excited. We never thought we'd get another Greenbean, let alone another Greenbean who's a girl." This voice sounded to your left. You recognized it as the authoritative one that you had heard when you'd first gotten out of the box.

You turned your head to the side to get a glimpse of the boy who'd spoken. He towered above you, arms crossed, staring down at you. He had dark skin, and his hair was so short, you almost couldn't see it outlined against the light with the rest of his heavily muscled figure.

"I'd tell you who I am, but from what I've heard, you know every shuck name in the Glade." You were too stricken to speak.

Alby. His name is Alby.

"I'm the leader 'round here," Alby said. You nodded, somehow knowing without him having to say. "I have a few questions for you if you don't mind," he paused, "but that'll have to wait. For now, you need to rest." With that, he turned on his heel and pushed out through the door, slamming it behind him.

"What happened?" you managed to croak, asking the question that had been itching in the back of your mind through the whole exchange. Newt smiled, and you flushed, hoping nothing stupid happened while you were out.

"Turns out you have a mild concussion, and ya blacked out for a while. Half the boys freaked out, thinkin' you'd up and died or something." He chuckled. "Brought you back here a few hours ago." You sniffed, gingerly rubbing your forehead. You figured you hit it in the box... or maybe before you'd been knocked out. Wherever you'd been. Then, you realized with a jolt: How had you gotten here in the first place? How was it possible that you remembered this place -- and all the boys in it -- but not where you'd been before now? Who were your parents? How old were you?

"Do you remember your name Greenie?" Newt asked, tearing you from your thoughts.

"My name's not Greenie," you grunted, shifting into a more comfortable position. The boy nodded for you to continue. "It's (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N)." Newt just stared at you like you'd just grown a second head.

"(Y/N) (L/N)..." he echoed, gazing at you like he was searching for something, and your expression would tell him. You liked hearing him say your name with his accent.

"Something wrong, shank?" The word had slipped from your mouth, so naturally, it took you a moment to process what you had just said.

Newt raised an eyebrow.

"How--" but he was cut off as the door was swung open, so violently, it was almost ripped off its hinges. A dark, lanky boy stomped in, looking annoyed.

"Newt, I don't mean any disrespect, but visiting time's over. She needs sleep." He didn't at all sound like he meant no disrespect, and Newt glared at him, looking like he wanted to say more, but after a moment, closed his mouth and strode from the room without argument.

"I'm Jeff, by the way, one of the Med-Jacks." the boy told you. You mumbled a "hmm", the memory flooding back to you almost instantaneously. Him, and someone named Clint, you recalled. "Now, you should be restin'."

Sighing, you let your head fall back onto the soft pillow you'd been provided with.

You were out in minutes.

***

Left. Right. Left.

You turned corner after corner, stone walls rushing past you in a blur of grey and green.

Right, left, left.

A loud screech sounded, echoing like someone would sound yelling down a long tunnel. Still, you didn't slow. You felt an urgency to reach the end.

Metal ground against metal, getting slower and closer with your every turn. A thump behind you, Stone cracking and falling to the ground. You didn't change your pace, or even pause to look around. Keep moving forward.

Left, right, right, left.

"(Y/N)!" Someone was shaking your shoulder roughly. "(Y/N)!" You forced your eyes open, then looked away and threw your hands over your eyes to shield them from the bright light beating down on you.

Jeff stood by your bed, holding a steaming bowl in one hand, and a metal cup of water in the other. He smiled when he saw you were awake.

"You're next to impossible to wake up," he said with a light chuckle. You didn't say anything, just reached out as he handed you the bowl. You pushed yourself into a sitting position so that you could eat.

"Must be starvin' Greenie. Slept the day away, you did."

You brought the soup to your dry lips, sipping it and relishing the taste, as the warm broth trickled down your throat. It felt as though energy was already flowing back into your body.

You quickly polished the rest off, and moved to guzzling down the icy water.

"You haven't lived till you've tasted Frypan's cooking," he said, smiling. "He can make a gourmet meal out of pine cones and string."

You shifted up higher in your spot, glancing around the tiny shack, and wondered when you'd be let go. As if he'd read your mind, Jeff spoke: "You should be good to go soon. Your head's healed nicely, just needed a bit of rest and some food." You were glad for that, as you'd began to get restless after staying still for so long -- not to mention you wanted some answers about where the heck you were, and why you knew all of these boys you'd never met before.

Wiping your mouth on your sleeve, you leaned over, set the cup down the table beside your bed, and swung your feet over the side of the mattress, shivering as you bare feet made contact with the icy floor.

"Here are your shoes," Jeff said, tossing a pair of plain black tennis shoes at your feet.

"Thanks."

"I'll find Alby and tell him you're up and about now. He'll give you the tour." He turned to leave, pausing to mutter, "Not that you'll need it..." before letting the door swing closed behind him. You didn't know what to do, so you just sat, your gaze shifting across the scattered shelves and small, unidentifiable bottles leaning haphazardly on their sides. Outside, you could hear the faint bustle of activity as Gladers went about their work.

Gladers... You'd never even heard the word before... so why did it sound so familiar?

"There she is!" Alby's booming voice tore you from your thoughts. You smiled and waved as he walked over to you. "Ready for the tour?" he asked as you stood up. He was a good foot taller than you, so you had to look up at him when you spoke.

"Sure," was all you said, more wanting him to answer the millions of questions buzzing around in your brain than anything, but you decided it'd be wiser to just go along with it, and wait until the right time came.

He led you outside and into the bright sunlight. You blinked rapidly, the sudden flash momentarily blinding you.

The boys around the Glade all stopped and stared as Alby and you walked across the field. Your face burned and you kept your eyes on the ground the whole way.

"That over there is where we grow our food," he started, pointing to a large patch of grass over to one side. Tall wooden structures stood towering above it, vines and plants inching up it like they were trying to reach out for the sun. A few boys were working in the garden, weeding and picking plump pieces of fruit off the vines. Alby went on to explain all about the Track-hoes and their jobs harvesting the food.

You hardly caught any of it.