Good That

Newt's POV

The tone announcing a new arrival rang throughout the air. I groaned, not wanting to leave the only bed in the Glade, but it was my duty as second in command. I sniffed disdainfully, wondering who in this tiny place had decided to make me second in command. I certainly don't think I'm commanding in any way, and it's not like I was one of the first gladers. I was a Greenie once. Also I have this bloody limp.
"Bloody hell," I muttered, pulling on the cleanest shirt I owned. I followed the trickle of gladers jogging toward the box, doing the best I could with my limp. "Come on Newt!" Alby shouted at me. I joined him close to the box and waited for it to open. The box shrieked as it opened, and I winced visibly, along with most of the other guys. Light poured into the box, illuminating the supplies that came with every rise of that ghastly elevator. Then a boy was revealed. He looked about my age, but I couldn't see his face, as he was blocking his face with his hands to shield himself from the light. Tufts of brown hair stuck up from his head, as if he had just woken up. He might have, who knows. I was the only Glader to ever come up in the box asleep. It's one of those stories that always come up when we're having a camp fire or something. Everyone always remembered when they had first come up the box, and how their eyes had hurt. I felt a little sympathetic for this new boy I hardly knew. His hand slowly lifted off, and I caught a glimpse of his face before he was hauled up into the Glade. My breath caught and I stared at the spot where he had been sitting, mouth open. He was gorgeous, this new boy. Never thought I would say that. A little dribble of drool ran from the corner of my mouth. Before anyone could notice, I snapped my mouth shut and wiped it away to join Alby to size this green bean up. Alby was making a lame attempt at a welcoming speech, so he quickly called me to help him out. "Hello, and welcome to the Glade," I managed, looking at my feet. "My name is Newt, and that's Alby, our klunk for brains leader. Can you tell me your name?" I looked at him and felt my mouth opening again, some more liquid slipping out of my mouth. I licked it and hoped I wasn't reddening. "Thomas, but I can't remember anything else," he replied. Alby told him the rules and the limited amount of knowledge we would allow him, and then assigned Chuck to take care of him. I was instantly jealous, but at least maybe I could keep some pride by not salivating whenever I saw him. Chuck was the last green bean so I guess he can sort of understand Thomas' confusion. As the gladers scattered, Minho walked over to me. "I saw you staring at him like some love struck shank," Minho almost glared. I sort of blushed, glaring back. "I'm here to remind you that we're all a little gay here from not having females around for almost two years, but this Thomas is mine. I dropped the note saying asking for a boyfriend, not you, so be careful around him or some grievers gonna find you," Minho warned me. "It doesn't matter who sent for him, since we all know that once a month a new guy comes up. I claim Thomas, Tommy. And you'll think twice before you kill the second leader in command," I crossed my arms using my hands for emphasis. I guess the title does have some use. No, I thought, I won't let Minho have him, even if he is (or is it was?) one of my best friends. No, it's just a piece of klunk. This Thomas was going to be mine, not Minho's, I had said so myself. I claim him. My Thomas. My Tommy. I ran the words over in my head, savoring them. Mine. Tommy. God, what am I getting to?