CH. TWENTY - ONE
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Panting, she awakes from the nightmare. It's nothing new, really. Visions of that desert, people who make disgusting noises right in her ear, so she's desperately turning to see them, yet she can't. It's just hearing the chokes. The cries of help, the pleases, or words she barely understands.

It's five AM, according to the watch Alby gave her a while ago. Normally, she wakes up at thirty past five, so she has an hour and a half to calmly eat breakfast, get ready, and get her supplies ready for work before the rest wakes up at seven.

Unfortunately, there's no other Tool-Makers yet, so there's not much people she's preparing for, but alright.

To her surprise, she's not the only one awake at this time. It's quite obvious Minho is already up, but that's because he needs to go run. She sees Gally in the distance with Fry, who's getting breakfast ready.

The grass is still damp, splashing up her legs with each step she takes. She doesn't care that she's still in her pajama shorts and an oversized shirt. She'll change after breakfast. Right now, just gotta escape the nightmare.

"Need any help here?" She asks Fry, giving Gally one quick glare.

"Sure," he laughs. "That shank over there ain't helpin' much."

She gets to work, smiling lightly. "Why up so early, then, Gally?"

He grumbles something.

As usual.

Joan decides not to go further into that and continues spreading the cinnamon over the dough, which soon will turn into cinnamon rolls. "Nice idea to make this, Fry."

"It's actually for tonight. Greenie Day, remember?"

Her back straightens, eyes widening. "Really? It's been a month since I got stung, too?"

"It's been five months since you arrived," he replies. "Time flies."

And she still hasn't really told anyone about her experiences here. Not really her true opinions. And also not about the Changing.

Well, she told Gally, but that's different! He also went through the Changing. And their memories match, so that's why.

"I think I'll be going to work," Gally announces from behind, then he has disappeared.

Fry chuckles under his breath. "Seems like you two finally solved things."

"Sort of," she mutters. "Why was he here?"

"Interested, huh?"

"Or just trying to figure out a good reason for his awful presence."

He chuckles another time, cutting the cinnamon roll she just slid over to him in pieces. "Well, let's see... we're friends?"

"Right." She nods. "Now you say that, I'd like to know what boys actually talk about when they're alone."

Frypan shrugs. "I'm sure Gally and I talk about way different things than Newt and Alby do."

"I don't think so. All you boys are the same, except some are nicer than others. So? What do you two talk about? How awesome Gally would look in the pink clothes he refuses to wear?"

"Well, he does grumble about his clothes." Frypan lets out a laugh. "And about your interesting color questions."

She gasps, heat increases in her face. "He told you about that?"

"He tells me a lot, trust me. I'd say almost everything."

"And?" Slowly, the grin starts to form. "Say he admitted how amazing my payback on Jeff and Clint was."

"He said it was 'a ridiculous way for a tiny girl to show her anger'," Frypan corrects.

She crosses her arms. "But he said it himself! He said to not solve everything with violence, and I didn't!"

"You should've, 'cause the Med-Jacks would do it again. I would." The sweet smile turns into a grin.

"Why? We've solved things as much as we could. I really don't feel the need to spend another awful hour in a room with him," she states. "Anyway, I think I might've added my red shirt in the white laundry again! And I think half of Gally's clothes were in there... what a coincidence."

"So you want his attention?"

Her jaw drops. "What? No. I just like annoying him because it's funny. And he gets angry fast."

"You do, too. Match made in heaven!"

"No!" She slaps him on the shoulder. "I do not get angry fast."

"Woman, you're slapping me because I said one little thing."

"My name is Joan," she tells him. "Not 'woman'."

"Oh, yeah. 'Cause he calls you that and he's the only one who may—"

"That is not true! Gally may shut up. Besides, he's the one who made me remember my name. Seems decent he also calls me by that."

"I'm pretty sure he's supposed to make you forget it, but alright."

"I'm out," she decides. Tosses the apron in his arms. "Don't ever say shit like that again, Fry!"

His laughs get cut off when she closes the door behind her and stumps through the grass, shaking her head.

"Not a morning person?" A familiar laugh on her side. "Sit down, Greenette."

Muttering a protest because Minho is the most gossipy boy here, she sits down. Fun company, really, just not right now. "Morning," she grumbles.

He steals a cookie from Ben's plate. "So. What's up? Remember anything about me from the Changing?"

"Yeah, you were a country guy with a guitar and no hair gel." She rests her chin on her hands. "No. I don't remember much about you. So let's talk about something else."

"Nah, we should totally talk about me. So handsome and—"

"Alright. I'm out... again. Anyone seen Camil?"

"Still lazy in his bed," Ben announces. "Hey, could you make a perfume like that, too?"

"Like what?"

"Like yours. It smells great," he says. "I saw you put it on and make it."

"You wanna smell like lavender?"

"Maybe something more... something else, but close enough." He nods in approval. "Thanks, Joan!"

She gives some kind of nod back, then disappears again, on her way to get dressed, when she passes a certain grump.

"What's this?" Gally holds the new dozen of pink shirts and sweaters up. "I've only got this brown shirt left now! Need me to wear that all the time?"

She has holds back a laugh. "I think I might be colorblind. Just tell me if I put something red in your laundry next time."

Gally groans. "Or just watch out. Not makin' me like you more."

"Can't give a care." And she continues making her way to her hut. Opening the door, she finally laughs out loud, but they fade as fast as they came.

"Gally!" She gasps.

On her wall, an ugly painted pink... member. And a note "Here lives a girl obsessed with pink".

"Is that graffiti?" Joan spins around, her mouth wide open. "You're gonna scrub that off!"

He smiles in satisfaction, a few feet away from her with crossed arms. "Thought you liked pink. Perhaps ask the box for soap before it comes up."

She pulls a face. "That's never gonna come off! Ha, you know what? Yours will come off—"

"Yeah, yeah." He waves the threat off. "We're equal now. And since I'm never gonna wear all these pinks clothes, you shuckin' have 'em. Make your weird ass hearts out of them." The boy drops loads of clothes on her floor. "Recycling!" And then he's gone.

Stunned, she's left standing. Her eyes flash to the drawing on her wall, and she takes one of Gally's pink shirts. Cuts it into a big heart, covering the thing on the wall with it.

Perfect.

❀

"You can't just toss stinky flowers all over his hut, Joan."

"He can't just draw a dick on my wall!"

❀

"Gally, you cannot add loads of salt into her jar of moonshine. So much salt is deathly!"

"But she cut a shuckin' heart in my underwear! The one with the good material!"

❀

"What have I said about putting bright colors in the white laundry?"

"How come you care, Alby? It's just Gally's clothes."

❀

Gally shows up at the bonfire in a shirt that was white at first, but is now blue, and she just recovered from all the salt he gave her.

Yes, they gave each other payback after payback in one day. Awesome!

"This is the perfect example of young love!" Camil encourages, wheeling in front of the girl. "I mean—"

"I don't think I want to hear it," she snaps. "As long as he gets payback, I will."

"Prank him by throwing water onto him. Wait, you know what? I'll spray water onto you two so the angry love confession in the rain—"

"Definitely not." She shakes her head so heavily it makes her dizzy for a second. A boy stares at her, snickers, then turns back to his friend.

Joan frowns. It's not like she never shook her head that dramatically before. "Do I have something on my face?"

Camil inspects her. "Oh, yes. Damn, Joan."

"What?" Her hands claw over her face. "Dirt? Paint? Did Gally do something?"

"Your love for him is written all over your face!" He explains, laughing at his own comment.

Her face drops, her hands lower, and she gives him a nasty look. "Funny. Very funny, Camil. Also very funny is that your face looks very punchable."

"Violence ain't the answer."

She takes a jar off the table with jars once they pass it. Groaning, she sniffs at it. No salt in this one, luckily. "Violence is definitely the answer. I've been holding back, y'know? Honestly, I'm kind of in for a round of wrestling. Bruise their egos."

"You do you." He sighs. "Ben, ya in for a wrestling round with Joan?"

"Ben's drunk." Minho slams a hand on his friend's shoulder. "So I don't think it's a good idea."

"I'm not drunk at all!"

"You just tried to kiss Zart. Something someone could only do after taking an unnatural amount of alcohol, because I don't think anyone would kiss him voluntarily."

"I heard that!" Zart calls. "The only person who wants to kiss you is you, Minho!" 

"Trust me, Zart, if it weren't for my jawline that's so sharp that it scares people off, I would've pulled half the Glade."

Joan rolls her eyes. "Yeah, you would."

"Tell me," he pats on the seat next to him, "what you thought when you first saw me."

"Honestly?"

"Mhm."

"I found you dramatic. Whinin' in the Med-Hut about a little scratch."

He pulls a face, the rest laughs.

Once she finishes drinking the moonshine, she decides to maybe think of something to make it taste better. Less bitter, so it's more enjoyable, and not a drink you just have to get used to to like it.

"I think I'm going for a round," she decides. Their talk is about the Maze, in which she still has no interest.

"Good luck," they encourage.

Joan joins the boys around the ring. It's mostly Builders, Slicers, and Bricknicks. Funny how most jobs actually include certain types of boys.

The Track-Hoes are cool, not very annoying. Runners too. Some have a bigger ego, but they're nice. Bricknicks are just idiots who are sometimes so dumb she has to rethink her life. Slicers are alright. A few a bit creepy, but not worse than the Baggers.

Newt was right about the Builders. Don't have a lot going on upstairs, but they're okay. Most of them, at least. Not Doug, who's even worse than Gally.

"In for a round?" Winston raises her eyebrows at her.

"Not standing here only to watch," she replies, kicking her shoes off. She keeps her socks on, ties her hair up, causing a few whistles, and joins Winston in the ring.

It's a nice way to let go of thoughts and anger. Just pushing and rolling around a bit while the rest cheers. Good way to show she's not that weak. However, it can always be improved, 'cause Winston wins from her.

"Good round." He shakes her hand, smiling. "You weren't bad."

She nods. "Neither were you."

Doug steps forward with a grin. "In for another round?"

Hell yes. Beating this sexist boy up is—

"She isn't."

Her head snaps toward the speaker. Immediately, her face darkens. "That's not for you to decide, Gally." And she turns back to Doug. "Sure."

He rolls his sleeves up while she shoots Gally another dirty glare. He's rubbing his chin. Shakes his head, mouthing 'no' at her. But what's his voice got in this?

Nothing.

"Alright." Doug finishes stretching. "Let's—"

"No," Gally repeats. He steps between the two of them. Though Doug is tall, Gally easily overtops him. "You're not wrestling with her."

"Cute you're worried for your girlfriend, but I promise I'll take it easy," he mimics.

"This ring is for wrestling, Doug," Gally snarls. "So stop pretending you're not going to take advantage in touching her."

Oh.

Her face gets red from embarrassment. Sure he had a grin on his face, but she couldn't have predicted he wanted to do this only to touch her inappropriately. She thought he just wanted payback for that time she punched him.

"Fine," Doug snaps. "Then you go shuckin' wrestle with her."

"Hey, I can hear you two," she calls, anger rising along with Gally's, because of course, she can still feel that. "So y'all mind? I just want to wrestle."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Gally starts.

"I don't think that's for you to decide," she hisses. Slaps the arm he tries to reach out away. "Anyone in for—"

"Joan," he says sharply. "You might want to... not do this. Come shuckin' on." Before she knows it, he has a hand on the small of her back and is pushing her out of the ring.

"Hey! Excuse you? I want to—"

He stops when they're away from the rest. "This doesn't mean anything. Me getting you away from Dough neither. I would've done that for anyone— but anyways, you might want to... go change."

She frowns. "What did you do? I swear to god if you ruined my shirt—"

He clears his throat. "No. You've kind of..." leaning closer, he lowers his voice. "...leaked through?"

Ah, this day can't get better!

"Oh." Her eyes squint. "Well, thank you for announcing that, then, Gally," she says. "And for stopping Doug from... you know."

"I would've done it for anyone," he repeats awkwardly. "Now hurry and change before people will think I like you. Which I don't."

"I don't like you either," she calls, then makes a sprint to go change.

Because of the Changing and everything going on, she forgot to take the pills that 'T' gave her.

Would that have been Thomas? Perhaps. The handwriting was sloppy, so maybe. Quite boyish.

Whatever. She just mentally thanks Gally again, taking some breaths as she changes.
He should stop towering over her like that, though. It's very... well, she's not sure what it is, but it makes her feel weird. Breathless.