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A teen, about 17, reached his hand out into the box and she grabbed it. He pulled her out like it was nothing.

He was quite tall. Dirty-blonde hair. A square jaw, nice brown eyes.

"Welcome to the glade, Greenie." His accent threw her off. She felt like she knew him from somewhere, but she couldn't place it.

The boy looked away.

Bree looked around. She was so confused. She had no idea where she was, who was with her, why she was here.

Someone snickered and reached out to poke her, she smacked his hand away and there came a chorus of stifled laughs.

"We got ourselves one feisty shank."

Bree was confused at that, what even was a shank?

There were at least fifty boys. All different shapes, sizes and races. Some had long hair, some had short. All the clothes they wore were dirty, as if they had been hard at work.

She looked around and found that they were all surrounded by a giant, ivy-covered dirty cement wall. The walls had to be hundreds of feet high and formed a perfect square around them.

She studied all of the boys, then finally asked a question. "Where am I?" She was surprised her voice sounded so even.

"Nowhere good." Someone answered.

"Which keeper she gonna get?" Someone shouted.

"I told ya, shuck-face," a deep voice had said. "She's a Klunk, she'd be a cook or a slopper, no doubt about it! Aren't they supposed to work like that anyway?"

Some people laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Bree felt so much confusion all at once. What in hell was a shuck? Or a keeper, or a slopper, or a klunk? It made no sense to her whatsoever.

A scratchy-voiced teen was yapping about something. "-even do that much, not gonna get very far."

"I already said, shut your holes!" A dark boy yelled.

This must be their leader.

Feeling awkward, Bree studied the faces of these boys. One boy's eyes was filled with hatred, and that stopped her cold.

Suddenly, the leader- probably 17- took a step forward.

"It's a long story, shank. I'll take ya on the tour tomorrow. Till' then, don't break anything. Names Alby."

He held his hand out for her to shake.

Bree shook it, then with growing confidence said, "Really, where are we?"

"Already told ya. The glade. Where we live."

Bree shook her head. "I mean-"

"Just wait for the bloody tour, you'll get your answers then." The boy that helped her out had stepped forward.

"Name's Newt." He extended his hand for her to shake. He seemed a lot nicer than Alby.

She shook it.

"Anyway, we live in the glade. Call ourselves the Gladers."

She nodded her head.

"Night's comin', Runners'll be back soon." Alby turned to a younger boy Bree had never noticed before. He was about maybe 12 or 13. He was short and kinda fat. Curly hair.

"Chuck, find her a bed." Alby and most of the people walked away.

The boy named Chuck stepped forward. "You'll get used to Alby. He isn't so bad once you get to know him."

Bree nodded.

"So, what's your name?"

Bree noticed that he was one of the first people not to call her greenie.

"Bree." She said simply.

Chuck nodded. "I can see that."

Bree shrugged. "How old do you think I am? What do I look like?"

Chuck studied her for a minute then answered. "I think you're about 16. Obviously you're short.. Long caramel hair.. Hazel eyes. Some freckles. Not that bad if you ask me."

Bree nodded.

"Anyway," Chuck said. "You'll love my best friend, Thomas. He's about your age. He's a runner! I'm so proud of that boy.."

Chuck kept rambling on about god knows what, so Bree just tuned him out and thought to herself, "What did I do to get here?"

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A/N: Hey y'all! I'm just gonna write this in this font cause in too lazy to change it back. Anywho, hope you liked it! And sorry I literally wrote this like three months ago but it needed work, soo here it is!

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