"What do you mean, 'he suddenly started acting crazy'?" Nick urges.

"Like I'm saying! We were just runnin' in the Maze, him a few feet in front of me. Some freaky mechanical sounds came from there and then I found him strugglin' on the ground before he attacked me like a wild fucking animal."

"Can you stop cursing all the time? It doesn't make you cool," Alby says.

I roll my eyes. "Let me live. Anyway— I don't know what it was. He just attacked me, so I started running back here."

"Well, we've got him locked in the Homestead. So far, he hasn't quit screamin', the shucking weirdo. What do we do?" Alby crosses his arms, leaning against a tree with a sigh so deep it must've gotten from the bottom of his throat.

Frypan clears his throat. "The Box sent us some kind of blue liquid labeled 'serum' today. I guess that's our only chance?"

"Go get it," Alby commands.

Three minutes later, a heavily-breathing Frypan reappears, now with a small syringe in his hands. "This."

Nick takes it from Frypan immediately, not hesitating at all. "I'm injecting it. I can't stand watching my friend act like that for a minute longer. Let's go."

We enter the Homestead without a word. The ceiling isn't there yet. It appears that the building is stronger than it looks, though; otherwise, George would've escaped in just a second, with his wild movements and all.

"Bad idea," I mutter. Once the kid sees us, he runs at us, giving Newt a push so hard that Nick is forced to slam the syringe in his arm, with such aggressiveness that I flinch.

"George!" Alby screams. "Calm your shuck ass down— ow!"

George pushes past Alby. Before I can react, the boy has disappeared outside. His screams are once again loud enough to catch anyone's attention. For a moment, I clench my jaw at the sounds, then run after him.

And immediately freeze again.

George has jumped on top of a kid, whose name I'm not sure of. It's like that serum made George even crazier. He's clawing at the kid's eyes like crazy. And the kid is screaming like crazy— valid.

Lots of craziness.

"George!" I try to pull him off before the kid goes blind or something, but George is trashing around so wildly that I get hit in the nose. Pain explodes along with a warm, thick liquid. I curse below my breath, taken aback.

Alby charges at George with a sharpened stick. First, he kicks him off the kid. George screams, clutching at his stomach, but then tries to attack the bleeding kid again.

To save his life, Alby takes one; the stick pierces through George's neck.

His scream turns into a choked cry. Blood splashes everywhere— onto my face, onto Alby's, onto George's whole body. Onto any bystander.

The sight is so horrible that I want to look away, but I can't. I'm nailed to the ground, my hands gripping the dirt from when I fell. George chokes some more, especially on his own blood.

It's like he's attempting to say something. His lips move. I get off the ground. Take a single step closer, but it's still not audible. Another step closer, and all I hear is a small exhale leaving George's mouth.

Then he stills.

My heart is pounding hard enough for it to hurt against my ribs. I can feel that my lips are parted, if not wide open, from shock.

But I still watch as Alby removes the pole with some horrifying sounds. I better learn to toughen up. Somehow, it feels like it's likely that something like this will happen again.

Because whatever that was in the Maze, was new. And as the Keeper, it's my job to find out what it was.

Unfortunately.

"Nick and Newt, help me bring his body to the woods," Alby says, his voice now quieter. I can see his hands are shaking from what he just did. "Someone go check up on the Greenie."

Right. Greenie Day. Completely forgot about that.

Though after three months, it's no longer that interesting. Just a scared little boy with a million questions—

"Minho, be nice."

"Woah." I take a step back. "It's my job to talk to the Greenie?"

"Unless you'd rather bury our dear George," Newt replies.

I cast a look at Nick. Tears stand in his eyes, ready to fall. I don't think he's capable of talking to the Greenie right now; George was Nick's best friend.

And I don't think I'm capable of holding a funeral for George. With a harsh death like that, I don't think it's very fitting to calmly do a whole ritual. Not on the same day, at least.

"Go on, hurry," Newt says, eyes on me. "Before she pees her bloody pants."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll— wait. She?"

Alby rolls his eyes as if it's the dumbest question ever. But it isn't. We only have boys here. Why now a girl? "Yes, she."

"Not the time for jokes, Alby."

"I ain't jokin', man. She really is a girl." He shrugs. "Go find her."

"Where?"

"She's a Slicer," Nick mutters. He's staring at the ground, shaking even more than Alby. "Maybe in the Bloodhouse."

"Well, if she's a Slicer, she'll be able to handle some blood. Even from George."

Interesting. From all the jobs out there, a Slicer? No one but psychos like Winston want to be a Slicer. Even Runners are better.

In fact, Runners are better than everyone. And that really is a fact.

"Just go look for her, Minho," Alby sighs out.

With a tight jaw, I readjust my backpack, nod, and walk over to the Bloodhouse. The death signs on there are highly unnecessary. Make me cringe every time I see them.

"Winston!" I yell. I don't want to enter this bloody place— I meant that seriously, not in Newt's way. "Is your coworker in?"

"I have a coworker?"

"Never mind." I kick the door in frustration. My muscles ache from running all day and I can feel my clothes sticking to my body from sweating. Oh, and I just watched my friend get stabbed to death! Why is it my job to find this Greenie?

"Hey shank, I'd really appreciate it if you keep my workplace in shape," Winston calls out from inside.

"You should just go shape those chicken wings," I reply, then I take off towards the woods. Greenies have a thing for hiding in there when they're scared. Half of the group I came up with ended up in a tree, hiding like babies.

The woods aren't very big, though, so the chance I come across that funeral is big.

Also means the chance the Greenie comes across it is big.

I already know where to look. Kind of in the middle of the woods, there's an enormous tree. The trunk is as thick as Zart's head and my body multiplied by five. It's an easy thing to climb, and even if she's not in there, I can climb all the way to the top to look around the whole damn Glade. Easy peasy.

So I do that. Climbing up the tree goes smoothly. Soon enough, I'm sitting on a thick branch. The Greenie clearly isn't here, but if she walks below me or climbs any of the trees around, I'll see. And if she exits the woods, I will also see.

Better not be one of the dumb ones that decides to enter the Maze.

After what feels like forever—my butt is starting to hurt from sitting and I am close to giving up—there is rustling below me. I remain silent as I watch the small shadow. Leaves crunch below the shoes, then all the sounds stop, except for a unsteadier pace of breathing.

"No need to hide, Greenie," I say.

The shadow gets bigger before a pair of eyes meet mine. I hold up my hand, giving a small, mocking wave. The eyes are wide. Scared. Seems like it, at least.

"Hi," it comes out surprisingly soft. Not panicked at all. Did she even acknowledge the things that happened? She must've heard at least the screams. "I wasn't hiding. I was exploring."

"Exploring," I repeat. "Fun. Tiny woods with such adventures, right?"

Better than exploring the Maze, I guess.

"I found a kid in a tree," is all she replies, clearly referring to me.

I jump off the branch. It's so high that my stomach does a few flips before I hit the ground, straight on my feet.

Embarrassingly enough, she is taller than me. I take a step back to hide that, and cross my arms. "Hi, Greenie. Do you remember your name yet?"

She shakes her head. "No. What's your name? How did you remember?"

"Minho. I made Newt hit me with a block of wood."

She blinks at me. Her lashes are long enough to touch her cheeks when she does that. Her afro hair seems quite neat compared to everything she must've already been through; it's combed to the sides. Her eyes are still wide, though I now realize that's just part of her features. Big eyes.

"You're kidding," she says.

"I'm not," I reply. "Ask Newt. Have you met Newt?"

She nods. "Before he..." a frown appears on her face. "...ran off to that screaming kid. That kid was chasing you, wasn't he?"

I nod.

"Why?"

"I'd love to tell you if I knew." I shrug. Start walking out of the woods. She automatically follows, just like I wanted her to.

"How old do I look?" She then suddenly asks. Change of subject, jeez.

"Eh, twelve, thirteen? Can't be older than that."

"How old are you?"

"Newt says I look thirteen."

Her eyes trail up and down my body. The way too wide and long cargo pants. The shirt that hangs clumsily around my torso. The backpack, which is the only thing that does match my body size.

The backpack is tiny. Only fits a knife, my water bottle, and a mini lunch box.

I'm not that tiny.

"Well, Newt lied to you. You look three," she blurts out. I can tell she did because of the way her eyes then fill with some kind of warning.

Offended, I shoot back, "We lied to you, too. You're actually a boy with long hair and a very female voice, but we didn't want to make you insecure about it."

At first, she stares at me. I can't read her emotions. Her face is blank. Then a small smile curves the corners of her mouth up, and the tiniest chuckle leaves her mouth. "I like you."

"I like me, too." I continue walking. Then stop. Frown. "And I guess you're fine as well."

"Thanks. Really thought you were going to leave it like that. Thought you were arrogant for a second."

I scoff, shaking my head. "Me? Arrogant?"

"Sorry," she apologizes fast. The girl has to quicken her pace to catch up with me. "Have you been here as long as Nick?"

"Yeah."

"What's your job? I'm a Slicer."

"I know you are. I'm a Runner."

"Really?" I'm surprised by her surprise. Isn't it obvious that I'm a runner, based on just my looks? "Cool. Wait— is it cool?"

"Very. I mean, I risk my life out there for you people everyday," I say, sticking my chest forward. "Trying to find a way out of whatever this is."

"And have you found anything yet?" She asks.

"Eh..." For a moment, I'm not sure what to say. There's a slight urge inside of me that wants to impress this girl. The only girl here. Surely there will be other boys—my friends—who also want to impress her in some way. I'll be the first, and better be the last.

"Yes," I then say, the fake confidence overflowing. "I've ran miles already." True. "And I found a secret path I haven't told anyone about." Lie. "And I'm going to explore it." Lie. "And then I'll find a way out." Hopefully true.

She nods. By the look in her eyes, I can tell she's still listening attentively. "What was going on with that George kid?"

"To be honest, I don't know. He ran past a corner while I stayed behind a bit. Then I suddenly heard some... mechanical sounds. I ran after George and found him lying on the ground. Then he started attacking."

"So you always run in duos?"

"Yeah."

"But why was he much further ahead than you?"

Eh. I was walking because my legs hurt from all the running and it felt like my lungs were gone?

She doesn't have to know that either. "I was jogging because I always look very well at the walls. For hints, you know? If you run as fast as George, you will miss the hints."

"Did you find any hints?"

"Not yet." To change the subject, I ask, "How's being a Slicer? Did you do anything yet?"

"Yup. Slaughtered a whole pig on my own. Didn't need Winston's help. He saw my natural talent."

I stop walking and turn around to look her directly in the eyes. "Liar. Winston doesn't even know he has a coworker. I talked to him a while ago."

She crosses her arms. "Well, you're a liar, too. I bet you're just a slow runner and that that secret path doesn't exist."

"Ah, so we're both liars." I cross my arms right back at her.

"Yes," she says. "But I will slaughter a whole pig without Winston's help."

"And I will find a secret path."

The new girl holds out her hand. Her nails are cut short, and surprisingly not covered in dirt yet. "Okay. Next month, when there's a Greenie, I will have slaughtered a whole pig, and you will have found a secret path in the Maze."

I shake her hand firmly. "Okay, deal. What does the winner get?"

"Just the honor."

"No, it needs to be something better."

"Why? Because your ego is already that high up or because you aren't motivated enough with just the honor?"

"Ah, so you're scared you'll lose and I'll get something good," I shoot back.

"You're scared," she corrects.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not. Now hurry up. What do you think the winner gets?"

"The honor," the girl repeats once again.

Sighing, I lean against a tree. "If I win—if I find a secret path in the Maze—I want you to get me desserts from the kitchen whenever I ask for the following three months."

"And if I win—if I slaughter a whole pig on my own in the Bloodhouse by the next month—I want you to get me desserts whenever I ask for the following three months."

"Okay—"

"But what if both of us succeed?" She then asks.

"Then both of us get desserts by stealing them together at night," I say.

"Wait." Her eyebrows furrow a bit. Along with that, her nose scrunching, and I find myself admiring the way it does that. I mean— Newt frowns a lot, but other than his eyebrows, nothing changes. "Isn't it harder to find a secret path? It has to be fair."

"I automatically need a harder level than you. I mean, obviously I'm way stronger," I explain. "So it's fair."

"So you lied about that too? Being arrogant? Because you are."

"Thanks." A smile touches my lips. "But it is a deal?"

"Sure," she says, holding out her hand for the second time. "Deal."

I slide mine into hers. "Deal."