A/N: I understand some parts of Jane's character could be confusing. She is meant to be superhumanly smart because of things in her past that will eventually be revealed, but she doesn't understand at first that her intellect is greater than others. She just thinks that whoever sent them to the Maze had installed all of this knowledge into everyone's heads, when really it's only in her's.
Keeper training begins shortly after Newt and I part. Alby finds me on my way back to the hammocks and intercepts my plans.
"No more shut-eye for you, little lady. Glade's awaken," He says.
"Awoken," I mumble.
He rolls his eyes. "You'll be with Frypan first since cooking's the longest training of 'em all. Help him get lunch together and all that. After that, it's to the Builders, then the Medjacks, and then the gardens. I'll put someone in charge of getting you to each."
"What about Slicers and Runners?" I ask, remembering the list of jobs Newt had rattled off yesterday.
Alby looks away and sighs. "If that slinthead wasn't such a slinthead, he'd have known not to mention all the jobs right away."
He was mumbling about Newt.
"Honestly, I couldn't care less about slicing up pigs and goats, but don't spare me the spiel on running," I say, a bit annoyed.
"It's not for everyone, Greenie. Especially not someone like…"
He trails off and my eyebrows shoot up.
"Like a girl?" I ask.
He shrugs. I am more than ready to elaborate, but Alby interrupts my thoughts.
"We'll talk later, but now Frypan's waiting for ya. Go on."
Cooking is simple. It is all potatoes, beans, and broth. Frypan continuously teaches as the morning stretches into the afternoon, but I anticipate everything he tries to say. Silently, I wonder why he feels the need to teach at all. If all the Gladers are like me, then shouldn't they already be installed with this knowledge? It seems to me like Frypan and the other cooks have taught themselves this art from stark scratch, while I knew it before I even knew my own name.
The "kitchen" the Gladers have built is a long hut filled with makeshift counters and numerous pots and pans. All the cooking takes place in front of a line of controlled fires, which are constantly being fueled by kids coming in and out with piles of wood.
"Now, when you're done with that batch just take 'em off the fire and cover it. If you take them out of the water too soon they'll cool before we can slice them and ship 'em out," Frypan instructs. He is across the hut tending to a stew. I am watching the potatoes boil.
"Soaking them after they've already cooked through will just make them soggy," I say. "Potatoes retain heat better than most vegetables grown here, so draining them would be best."
Frypan stops what he is doing, along with the few others in the hut, and looks at me.
"And how do you know so much about shucking potatoes, Greenie?" He asks, some humor in his tone.
I shrug.
"I don't know. I just do."
No one in the kitchen argues, and I know it's because they're all familiar with having knowledge about obscure topics yet no explanation for it.
Lunch arrives, finally ending my lesson with Frypan and the other cooks. I take my own lunch into the Deadheads for a few minutes of sanctuary, but am found shortly after by a boy called Callum, who claims he's been assigned to escort me to my building training. I sigh, scarfing down the last of my soup and opting to follow Callum without the usual resistance.
I have just deposited my food tray at the back of the kitchen where the hoses lay and am following Callum back through the area of picnic tables when I overhear an interesting conversation. It is between two boys I do not know and have never spoken a word to, but they are discussing me.
"I'm just saying," the boy with his back to me says, his voice hushed as he leans over the table on his forearms, "figures the Creators would tease us by sending a girl but then make her butch as hell."
I stop dead in my tracks at the word "butch." Something about it plucks a nerve deep in my stomach and I am suddenly filled with rage. I catch the gaze of the boy on the opposite side of the table, eyes wide with guilt because he knows I've just heard what his friend has said. The boy is not unattractive –dark hair and piercing blue eyes. I watch as his head shrinks down into his shoulders a little.
"We don't know anything about her really," I hear him say.
"Did you not see her put Gally in an arm lock earlier?" The other boy retaliates. "Any girl stronger than a kid like Gally ain't really a girl. Not a good one, at least."
A force unknown to me propels my legs forward and then I am rounding the picnic table, stopping at the blue-eyed boy's side. When I look at the other boy, he gulps and sits back.
I keep his gaze as I slowly slip off my denim over-shirt. Underneath, I wear a baggy V-neck.
"H-Hey Greenie," Blue Eyes stammers, though I am clearly uninterested in him. I have not said a word and I'm sure neither of them understands what's happening. Thriving under their doe-eyed gazes, I cross my arms and grip the hem of my T-shirt, slipping it over my head and tossing it to the ground. Now, I stand before them in only a tight tank top –the last piece of clothing before my bra- and it does little to hide the boobs no Glader has ever even got a glance at before.
The two of them relish in the sight.
"My name's Jane. What's yours?" I ask the kid across the table. His eyes quickly shoot up from my cleavage.
"Uh, Gunner," He says.
I take my hair out of its tie and let it cascade over my shoulders, then bend a knee on the seat of the table beside Blue Eyes. I slap my hands on the middle of the table and lean over until my face is mere centimeters from Gunner's.
"Well, Gunner," I say. The boy is breathing deeply, his breath fanning over my mouth. He is struggling to keep his eyes on my face. "If I'm so butch, good thing you're not someone I'll be kissing then, right?"
"What?" He asks, but I am already drawing away from him.
I turn to Blue Eyes, who seems in a trance, and grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him up from his seat until he is standing just a few inches taller than me. Without thinking, I take him by the back of his neck and pull his mouth onto mine.
There is a collective gasp all around, but I am focused on making the kiss look as good as possible. I plan on having every Glader under my reign by the time I come up for air.
And halfway into the kiss, I'm sure I will, because somehow Blue Eyes has a clue how to kiss a girl. He moves around me, one hand gripping my face, and eases me back until I'm sitting on the table. Stepping over the table's attached seat, he positions himself between my legs and tugs my hips tighter against his. Somehow, our lips remain attached and slapping and, although I know the kiss is hot, I feel little for it.
I pull away from Blue Eyes a few seconds later, breathing deeply. There is no avoiding the multiple pairs of eyes attached to me; the corresponding mouths hung open. Despite this, the only pair I see are Newt's. He is standing a few feet behind Blue Eyes, arms crossed and clearly angry.
I know I should feel guilty.
Instead of apologizing, I hop off the table and turn to Gunner once more.
"I hope you squirm in your sleep tonight knowing you'll never get to do that with a girl, Gunner."
And then I'm collecting my clothes, pushing through bodies, and trying to get as far away from Newt's scorching gaze as possible.
Somewhere in the midst, Callum catches up with me and reroutes my trek towards my next training destination. Neither of us speaks on the way but when we arrive beside the Homestead where bodies are working on a new hut, Callum turns to me.
"Behave," He says.
I quirk an eyebrow.
"Gally can be an asshole, yes. But he's a nicer asshole without any daggers at his throat. Capisce?"
He doesn't wait for my response before turning and jogging away, and I feel weird without his presence beside me.
Unfortunately for me, the space is quickly filled.
"Quite the show you put on earlier," Gally says, his hands sharpening a knife between us.
"You mean the kiss or the arm lock?" I ask, smirking. "Or perhaps you're referring to the time I nearly snapped your neck in the box?"
"Well you're quite the showgirl then, aren't you?"
I roll my eyes, quickly tiring of the banter. Despite my earlier actions, I realize it's stupid of me to have made an enemy so quickly in the Glade –especially the enemy of a Keeper.
I grab at my back pocket and offer the makeshift dagger to the ginger-haired boy before me.
"Truce?" I ask.
Gally halts his sharpening and takes the plank from me, but doesn't look any more forgiving.
"Grab a hammer," He says.
Nearly two hours pass before I see Callum again. I am drenched in sweat, having stripped down to only my black tank top, and sitting crisscrossed, raking a saw along a thick tree branch beside two other boys. I haven't spoken with them much but they do their jobs without staring at my body, and so I decide they are good company. Despite this, I still don't know their names.
"C'mon Jane, Medjacks are ready for ya," Callum says, reaching down to lend me a hand. I take it and allow him to haul me up.
"How do you know my name?" I ask as we step in unison.
He shrugs. "Small Glade. I'm sure you'll be the talk of this place for a while, especially if you keep going 'round kissing whoever you want."
This sudden display of hostility catches me off-guard.
"Do we have a problem, Callum?" I ask him.
"I'm just saying. By being the only girl in a glade of boys, you've already got all eyes on you. No need to do all that. Anyways, two main Madjacks' names are Clint and Jeff. You'll see 'em."
I look to see we've arrived at a small building with a painted red cross on the wall. Callum takes my denim over shirt out of my hands and opens it up, waiting for me to slip my arms inside. I am confused but oblige nonetheless, listening as he continues to talk while I shrug on the shirt.
"Clint's the blonde, Jeff is the short black kid. They appreciate hard work and honesty but are definitely not the nicest gentlemen you'll ever meet, so you might want to keep your clothes on this time. Good luck, Greenie."
And then he is turning and jogging away again before I can even compute his words. He is one of the oddest guys I have met so far and I cannot tell if I like him or not.
Medjacking is as easy as the last two jobs I've been to, if not easier. There are very few materials to learn with and most lessons end with me correcting either Clint or Jeff on something they've been doing wrong for years. They are skeptical of my knowledge at first, but eventually submit to my reasoning once they set aside their pride.
I decide I like the two of them, but highly resent the idea of becoming a Medjack. Briefly, I imagine having to patch up a kid who's been stabbed by a Griever, and nearly upchuck all over the floor. After admitting this to Jeff, he starts laughing.
"Good that. But you'll have to stop by sometimes and keep us updated with all that doctor stuff in your head there. Seems your brain was born to be a Medjack, but your heart just ain't in it."
"Or just my gag reflex ain't in it," I say.
Jeff laughs. "That too."
Our conversation is cut off when a shadow falls over the place. I look up to see Newt's silhouette in the dimming sunlight of the cutout doorway.
"Hey Newt," Jeff says, turning away from me, "What can I do for ya?"
"You're good, Jeff. I'm just here for the Greenie."
He is not happy.
"Aw," Jeff replies, "So soon? Was just warming up to the lady."
I smile and walk to Newt's side.
"Don't miss me too much." I wave and follow him out of the hut.
"Bye Jane!" I hear Clint and Jeff yell in unison.
Newt cocks his head, stopping his footsteps.
"What'd they say?" He asks.
"Bye."
"Bye what?"
"Bye me."
"Bye Jane?"
I freeze up.
"See, sometimes nice people respect newcomers by using their real names instead of things like 'Greenie,' but you-"
"Why didn't you tell me your name was Jane?" He asks, looking hurt.
I shrug. "Didn't think it'd matter."
"Of course it matters!" He yells, grunting and taking my wrist, pulling me along as he begins trekking across the fields. "Man, you sure know how to pluck a guy's nerves."
"I wasn't trying to pluck your nerves, Newt," I say, struggling to keep up with his pace.
"Sure," He says.
"Where are you even taking me so goddamn quickly?" I am beginning to get agitated.
"To a meeting with Alby," He says.
"A meeting? What the hell for?"
"For you."
We reach the Homestead and I climb up the stairs after Newt, following him into a room with a hanging sheet for a doorway. Alby is inside, sitting on a small cot beside a poorly made nightstand. The room is all shabby wood panels and dim lighting, but surprisingly spacious.
Newt and I are both a bit out of breath.
"God, Newt, what'd you make her do, race you here?" Alby says, getting to his feet.
Newt and I respond in unison, but he says "no" while I say "basically." We glare at each other.
"So what's this about?" I ask. "I'm missing my garden training."
"You'll do your garden training tomorrow. Right now, this is a little more important," Alby responds.
"Get on with it then," I snap.
"Look, I know you're probably getting tired of hearing this, but you're the only girl here. The first girl here. Which means, since we don't know all that much about your species-"
"Species?" I interrupt.
"-We're gonna have to lay some ground rules."
"What's this about, Alby?" I ask, irritated.
"What the shuck you think it's about?" Newt snaps.
"I think it's about you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, Newt," I bark.
"Oh is that so?" He responds.
"Alright, alright," Alby interjects. "We're not here to argue, we're here to get things straight. Greenie-"
"Jane," Newt quips. "Her name's Jane."
"Jane, whatever, your stunt with Holden at lunch today was…" He trails off for a moment, "Inappropriate."
I squint. "Who's Holden?"
"God, you didn't even know the kid's name?" Newt says.
"You had all the boys here distracted by just coming out of the shuckin' box, Jane, and they've got it even worse now that they've seen you…" Alby suddenly looks uncomfortable.
"Strip and bloody make out with some random kid," Newt finishes.
"What business is this to either of you anyway? It's my body. I can use it for whatever reasons I want to," I say.
"We're only doing this for the greater good. We don't want anyone getting distracted from their daily tasks, and drama between Gladers is the last thing we need," Alby says. "And, plus, there's over 60 boys here and ain't all of them good. And Newt and I can't keep track of every one of 'em at all times. I just don't want to see anyone try and take advantage of you, thinking your body's up for grabs and all."
"Will you get to the point already?" I ask.
Alby sighs. "As leader of this shuckin' Glade, I'm putting my foot down. No more sexual relations with Gladers."
Newt's jaw drops.
"I never bloody agreed to that rule," Newt snarls.
"Yeah? And what were you planning on doing, jumping her bones the second the meeting's over? You're the one who said we should have this meeting!" Alby says.
"Not so you could-"
"Whatever. Can I go now?" I say, interrupting Newt.
They both look at me in confusion.
"You're alright with this?" Newt asks.
I shrug. "Sure."
I step out of the room and descend the steps, listening to the sounds of close footsteps behind me. I don't address them until I'm 30 feet from the Homestead and they're still there.
"You gonna follow me all the way to go pee, Newt?" I say, turning around and stopping.
"I've got something to show you," He says.
"Thought you were mad," I say.
"I am. But it's important."
"I'm a little tired of following you around everywhere. And I've gotta pee. So I think I'll take a rain check."
"Don't be difficult, Jane. First couple days are never very independent for the Greenie. Got lots to learn." He is looking for validation in my eyes, but they remain unforgiving. "Just come on."
