"So when did you- you know- fall in love with her?" Thomas smirked, knowing he had him right where I wanted him, with his head in Fionaland.
"Woah," Newt defeated with his hands up, "What?"
"I may be slow to getting to know things around here, but...
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The first thing I remember seeing was the sun. It was bright and warm and most importantly, familiar. That was before the questions and the confusion. It was the only memory I have of pure peace. In the next second, I saw Gally. I didn't know it at the time, but that was the beginning for me. We all had the same beginning. You start at square one, a rusty box with no memory, no friends, no family, and not even a name. The name comes with time but the rest hides away in your brain as a tease of what once was.
"Day one, Greenie."
Those were the first words we all heard. Of course, Gally had to be the center of everyone's first memory. He did his signature move and jumped into the box, seeming more daunting than he actually is. The poor shank shook beneath his boots.
"Rise and shine," I commented, not even bothering to look at the new one, just focusing on the new supplies we were sent up.
Mike narrowed his eyes to get a good look, "He looks like a slopper to me."
"I could use some help in the kitchen." Frypan teased, smacking someone with this spatula.
"Why don't we ever get any girls?" Another sighed as if they could even handle another.
"Maybe if we sacrificed Fiona they would send us a new one." Zart laughed.
I chuckled under my breath, "Zart, there are fifty teenage boys surrounding you right now. Please tell me which one of us is replaceable?"
More laughs came from that as Gally helped the Greenie out of the box. He fell to the ground before he could even take his first step. His life was cornered into two options, fight or flight. With all the panic bottled up inside him, he burst out into a sprint.
"Hey, we got a runner!" Zart hollered.
Even though I couldn't see him as I started throwing boxes of food up to Frypan, I still listened to the greenie trip and fall. He grunted as he hit the dirt. The Glade was never forgiving.
"Ohh!" Fry winced for him.
"A good one?" I asked him since I couldn't see with my head digging through this month's supplies.
Fry took a sharp breath in through his teeth, "A face full of dirt for the poor shank."
"At least you don't have to feed him dinner," I smirked, earning an open-mouthed laugh in response, as I handed the next box I threw up to Wes, having him deliver it to the kitchen.
--
"I got a bad feeling about this one, Blue," Gally told me, wrapping vines around a rung on the ladder he was making.
I continued writing my notebook, not terribly considered with his usual paranoia, "You don't like anyone that comes up in the box anymore."
