He awoke with a start. After a second or two, he realized the cause of his awakening.
"Greenbean! Hey, Greenbean. Greenie?" A loud, obnoxious voice was repeating. Whoever was saying this was too close for comfort, for he could feel the other's breath hit his face with each syllable spoken. Eventually, he had enough of this boy, and decided to open his eyes. Though as simple as the task should've been, it was not.
Forcing his eyes open, he blinked as he looked up at another boy, whom for the moment was turned away. Probably the same guy who decided it'd be swell to spit and yell in my bloody face. He scowled up at the boy, before moving to sit up. Though, sitting up was impossible. The boy looked down at his wrists, to see that they were tied up.
He figured he'd have to say something at some point, so he decided to speak.
"Where in the bloody hell am I? And why are my wrists tied down? I was asleep or something, it's not like I was going to bloody attack anyone." He tried as the boy raised his eyebrows, which are very triangular, he noted. The boy just barked out an overconfident laugh.
"What's your name, Greenie?" The larger man asked, looking around until he had a sharp tool of some sorts, almost like a minature spear. He widened his eyes at the boy before him.
"Newt. Now, what in Heaven's name do you think you're doing with that thing? Why don't I remember anything besides my name and-" Newt stopped with a sudden realization. There was no 'and' in that question. All I remember is my name? How can this be? Newt thought to himself. Where have all my memories gone to?
"Calm down, Gree- Newt." An asian man with surprisingly perfect hair chipped in as he strided into the room. The man kept at his pace before stopping in front of the now sitting up Newt. He crouched down and looked Newt in the eyes.
"I'm Minho, and that pointy-eyebrowed shank is Gally." He said, pointing towards the boy who was still holding the spear, which only added to Newt's fear. "Now, I know what you must be thinking; 'Where am I? Why don't I remember anything?' To answer the first question: the Homestead. Well, technically, our home is called the Glade, though we're in the Homestead because this is where the Med-jack takes care of any patients." The boy- Minho- explained smoothly, like he'd said this a million times. Though Newt, on the other hand, was thoroughly confused.
"Med-jacks? What in the bloody hell is a med-jack? And what's that other word you said a moment ago? Sh-shenk?" Newt asked, a little more hesitant towards the end. Minho playfully rolled his eyes as he grinned.
"I think the word you're looking for is shank, genius. A shank is basically a term we use to replace the word 'idiot'. For example, 'Gally is such a shank, that I don't know how he's managed to survive as long as he has.' Now, a Med-jack is a term we use for our makeshift doctor, Clint. Like, 'We don't have any real doctors, so Clint has stepped up to be the Med-jack.' Make sense?" Before Newt could even open his mouth to reply, Minho began talking again.
"Come on, Newt. I can't necessarily show you around.. you were asleep so long that it'll have to wait for tomorrow... but I can introduce you to the last two members of the Glade. Sound fun? Let's go." He explained, grabbing Newt by the arm and dragging him out the door. Once out the door they made a turn to the right, went down some very narrow, rickety, wooden steps, and out the door of the Homestead.
As they walked together, Newt looked around, both amazed and terrified at the sights he saw. There was a barn with various animals in a pen outside it, another building in the opposite corner with a sign in the front that Newt could not read from their spot. But he was more focused on the huge stone walls that made a perimeter around the Glade. To stop the terror from getting to him, he shook his head, and turned his attention to the little hut with smoke coming out the top, which they were walking towards now.
Newt figured the hut had something to do with food, especially when he started smelling meat cooking as they approached it. When they arrived, sure enough, there was pork being grilled by a tall, buff man. The man wore a brown, long-sleeved v-neck with somewhat baggy pants. Everyone seems to be wearing the same type of clothing. Newt noted. Maybe that's all they have.
"Hey! Minho, I see Greenie here's finally up! Honestly, I was worried he wouldn't wake up. Though I guess my man Minho can accomplish anything, huh?" The man grinned widely at Minho, then reached over and took Newt'
s hand in a firm shake before going back to his task at hand. "Name's George, Greenbean. Glad to see you awake. And this little dude over here," he began pointing his thumb to the older-looking boy to his right "is Alby. I'm warning you, though.. Alby tends to be a serious grouch most of the time. He killed one of our old Gladers, you know." George whispered the last part, leaning in.
Newt's eyes widened as he looked at the african american man- Alby. He quickly turned back to George as George let out a hearty chuckle.
"Ha ha, same thing got Minho, too. I'm kidding, obviously. This guy couldn't kill someone even if he wanted too. He is grouchy, though. So watch out for that." George explained, leaving Newt at much more ease than before. Alby just rolled his eyes at the whole thing.
"Are you going to say your name, perhaps?" Alby said to Newt, a little impatiently.
"Oh. U-uhm, Newt. M-my name's N-newt. Hi." Newt stuttered before shaking Alby's hand. Great. He scolded himself. I have to live with these guys and I'm acting like a bloody scared puppy.
Newt's thoughts were inturrupted by George, who announced that dinner was done and ready to be consumed. Gally and Clint came running up and the six boys ate as Newt listened to the others chat about useless stuff.
Well, Newt thought if this is my life now, I might as well make the best out of it. He pondered before deciding to start chatting it up. Little did he know, these boys would forever have an unbreakable, brotherly bond.