𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

I think you'd be a pretty
decent Med-jack.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

After Chuck pulled me out of my hammock way too damn early this morning, I find myself awake and in the Kitchens before most of the Gladers have even opened their eyes yet. The only people that seem to be up are the Keepers, and I like it that way. There's less people, less noise, and more of a chance to actually hear my own thoughts.

Currently sat in the Kitchens are Newt, Alby and Minho, who are all sat on a large table in the centre of the room, speaking in low voices to each other. Then on a separate table sits Gally, Zart and Billy, who are much louder about their conversation. Their laughter echoes through the otherwise silent room, giving it a warm, albeit awkward atmosphere. It's strange to hear the almost silence coming from the Gladers.

"I decided you're my new recruit," Chuck says as he digs into his porridge. I ignore the fact that he's talking with his mouth open, allowing me to see the oats rolling around in his mouth. I wrinkle my nose.

"For what?" I say. "I don't fancy babysitting you all day."

Chuck lets his fork drop into his bowl with a frown. "Do ya want to be my friend?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Ya might wanna give that a second thought seeing as I'm the only one you've got."

I scowl at him before eating the porridge in front of me, which, unlike Frypan's infamous stew, is actually really good. Something I've learnt since being here is that the talk of Frypan's food being inedible is just a joke, and all of the Gladers gobble up his meals like there's no tomorrow. The only dish I struggle to stomach is the stew, but I seem to be the only one to have that opinion.

"What do you bloody need my help with then?" I say somewhat impatiently, though I am intrigued by the glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Pranks. A lot of them."

"This is my fist week, Chuck. I'll say it again. First week. I'm not shucking up this early on."

Chuck scowls.

But before he can protest, I lean in and add, "Give it another week or two."

His glare very quickly turns into a beaming smile. We fall into silence before Newt approaches our table with tired eyes. I roll my eyes. I'm not in the mood for yet another rundown on day ahead; they're all pretty much the same.

"Hey, Chuck," Newt greets with a tired smile. He frowns when he catches my deadpanned face. "Don't look at me like that, Greenie, come on."

"Every damn morning?" I mutter as I get up from my seat.

"Language," he says, chuckling as we walk past the tables in the Kitchens, the few Gladers in there not paying us any special attention.

"Shuck you," I challenge.

"So kind."

"Sure is." I smile sarcastically at him. "You're so lucky to know me."

"I don't know if lucks the word."

"Try amazing."

"Try boring."

I throw as much feigned hurt into my voice as possible as we wait for groups of boys to come into the Kitchens. "I'm hurt."