𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲 || 𝐚 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜

To Be a Runner or Not To Be a Runner

I wake, hearing someone tapping at the door. "Florence! Time to get up, love. Breakfast won't wait for you." Newt's voice was muffled, as I was still half asleep.

"Be there in a minute!" I detangle myself from the blanket I had slept with that night and sit at the end of my cot. I look around, cautious not to hit my head on anything, as my room was also a storage shed. It was the best the gladers could do, as they didn't know they were getting a girl greenie. It was kind that they even let me have the privacy that the shed somewhat offered. I check my arm. The bandage is still there, and the pain has died down. I'm still careful not to hit it on any of the many novelties that still lay around the shed, as I don't want to hurt it anymore than it already is. I then stood and begun to fix my hair, looking at the matted mess in the reflection of a blade that hung from the edge of a shelf opposite me. This was the first time I'd actually seen myself since I'd come to the Glade. My dark hair fell to my tan shoulders, my eyes a chocolate brown, and my clothes simple. I wore a ribbed indigo top, army green pants, and combat boots. Not the best, but hey, there's not much I can do about it. 

I struggled with my hair, trying to will it smooth with my fingers. After a couple minutes, I just let it be, dubbing my waves a lost cause. I open my 'bedroom' door and step into the light that is a morning in the Glade. Many gladers are just now heading to the canteen as well, though I knew most were already there, chowing down. As I hiked the short lived walk to breakfast, I caught a glimpse of Gally. He was sitting near the remains of the fire that was alive just yesterday. Immediately, my mind wonders about his whereabouts last night. I realize I'd said some harsh things that moment in the circle, no better than his comments, but still rude none the less. My usual need to apologize was suppressed this morning, I didn't know why. I should have my usual aching pain, urging me to do something to improve the situation and to settle the voice inside. But I didn't. 

I saw Gally take a huge gulp from a large container in his hefty hands, him not even taking the time to wipe his mouth. I didn't know what the liquid was, but Gally seemed to enjoy it. I watched him for a few more minutes, him taking another sip and then staring into the distance. I wonder what he's thinking about. Maybe about last night's feud? I'm sure Gally will have something to say to me before this day's over. But then again, maybe not. By how last night ended, it seemed he didn't want anything else to do with me. He's probably just keeping quiet, building his hate towards me inside, planning our next discourse. Then, when he's ready, Gally'll blow up in my face. Before I got a chance to walk over and experience Gally's wrath, Chuck came up behind me.

"Hey Florrie." An attentive smile plays on Chuck's keen face. I return the smile, liking what seemed to be my new nickname. "You late to breakfast too?"

"Seems so." I kept walking, Chuck along beside me, me forgetting Gally for the time being. 

Chuck and I reached the kitchen soon enough. We grab our plates of food, telling Frypan a quick thank you before heading to a table. The food tastes great. I try to savor each bit, the bacon being especially good. When I'm finished, I begin to think about today, as it's my first real day in the Glade. I recall Thomas' comment from last night, that today would be the day I would begin work. The day I would find my place among the gladers. 

"Where's Thomas? Is he ready to show me the ropes? Help me find my job?" I ask, noticing I haven't seen him. 

"Thomas left with Minho at daybreak," Chuck voiced in between a mouth of scrambled eggs. "So, running the Maze. But I heard him talking to Newt about figuring something out in finding someone to show you all the different jobs." He swallowed, then looking behind me said, "Speak of the devil."

"Look who finally decided to show her face." Newt put his hands out on the table, as if making a business proposition. "Good morning, greenie." 

I give a subtle wave, mouthing a "morning" in Newt's direction.