3. Tryouts

My lips parted and my eyes widened in shock, "What?"

"Newt is in the Medwing," Clint reiterated carefully, "he twisted his bad ankle, and he's on bed rest again for a while."

I blinked unintelligently, "How's he doing?"

Clint shrugged, "Pretty bugged about not being able to move around, otherwise he's okay. He'll get over it, shank."

"Has he had dinner?" I inquired, not feeling like eating anymore.

"Your boyfriend is asleep right now. He ate before everyone else," the Med-jack snickered, making Winston and Minho snort.

I looked away and gritted my teeth at the suggestion. I bit back my argument and carried on eating. I wanted to visit Newt but I probably ought to do it tomorrow, when everyone else was busy and I wouldn't get teased about being worried.

I finished eating and brought my plate back to the kitchen. Then I bid the guys good night, not without Alby reminding me to wake early for tryouts, and went toward Newt's room.

***

The morning after, I was woken by the Doors opening. I headed, half asleep, to the kitchen and had breakfast right after the runners left. I then waited by the Deadheads for everyone else to wake up, as I still wasn't sure where the Medwing was.

I was met by Winston, who greeted me and sat beside me on the bench. I kept my elbows on my knees, and my chin on the joined heels of my hands, as I contemplated which job I should tryout for first, and who was its Keeper.

I turned to Winston, "You busy today?"

He smirked, "I'm always busy. I'm a Keeper."

I smirked back, "I'm thinking I should get Slicing tryout over with today."

He frowned sarcastically, "The way you say it, one would think that you hate blood."

"I hate getting dirty. I'll start with the dirtiest jobs, then the most physical, and then those which fit me," I answered, thinking it up as I spoke.

He chuckled as he stood up and held out his hand, "If you will follow me, my Greenie. Your tryout as a Slicer shall begin now."

I took a look at my outfit: Black tank top and black combats. I wouldn't get too dirty in those, hopefully.

He led me toward the Slaughterhouse and hit the light switch. He reached for two of the five aprons and handed me one. I tied it around my waist, although the knot was in front for me. I looked around in search of gloves but I saw none. Great.

We then walked toward yesterday's carcass, half of which had disappeared. He explained that tonight was going to be a barbecue night and that there was meat and ribs to be chopped. I took the knife he indicated and he started on his instructions.

"Now what you're gonna do isn't too difficult," he stated, "I'm gonna chop the bones and you're gonna take the fat out of it. All I need to see is meat and bones in the end, all right, Greenie?"

I nodded, "Okay. I don't think I'm strong enough for bone chopping anyway."

He chuckled, "Good that. Now, slim it and work."

***

The least I could say, after three hours of cleaning ribs of fat, was that I was now certain I hated meat. I was not going to eat any of the ribs or steaks I had seen today.

I was wandering around the Glade, after Winston told me I was free to go. I remembered where Newt was, and went to find Clint. After asking three Gladers, I was finally able to find the Medwing.

I knocked thrice and waited, "Look who's here?" Clint beamed before stepping aside, "Come in, he's awake."

I took a hesitant step in and saw Newt sat on one bed, his legs straight in front of him. Something in his expression told me he was trying to hide frustration. I gave him a shy smile and his features softened, almost instantly.

"Look who's on bed rest again?" I mused as Clint dragged a chair to Newt's bedside.

Only when I sat down did I realize how close to Newt I was. I was pretty sure Clint had done it on purpose, to try and prove his yesterday's theory.

"I'm fine. Clint's just being bloody paranoid," Newt groaned.

I raised my eyebrows, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips, "How about the truth?"

"The truth is," Clint spoke from somewhere behind me, "that if he walks on his leg again with his twisted ankle, I might have to amputate. Try and make him work this out, if you can convince the slinthead of anything."

My almost-smile vanished at the Med-jack's words, "Seriously?" I uttered as I turned to face him.

He raised his eyebrows at me, a bunch of clothes in his arms, "Do I look like I'm shucking kidding? Hey, I gotta get this to the Sloppers. Make sure the shank doesn't leave this bed, I'll be back in a few."

Before I could object, the door to the Medwing closed and let an awkward silence settle in. I took a look around the room, for the sake of something to do, and saw six or seven beds. Each separated by a wooden "wall" like the showers, save for the absence of doors. Out of this frame were two items: a locked closet, and a desk.

Three seconds after the door closed, Newt muttered, "Bloody slinthead's exaggerating. A painkiller would fix everything, that's what he doesn't seem to understand."

As soon as he uttered his last word, he made to stand up but I pressed my hand against his chest, "No way, you're staying in bed."

He chuckled, "Like you're gonna keep me from getting off this bloody—"

I raised a threatening hand over his bandaged ankle, "Don't make me do this, Newt."

He smirked, "You wouldn't."

"Don't test me. Just stay in bed until tomorrow, all right? To soothe our paranoia."

He leaned back against his badly propped pillows, "Our paranoia?"

I felt heat rise to my cheeks when I realized what I had just said, "Well yeah, we're— we're all a team. The Gladers, I mean."

A smirk was nearly visible on his face as he spoke calmly, "I take it you're worried about me, aren't you Greenie?"

I cursed myself for being so see-through, "Well yes. Yeah, I'm worried about you and I'd be reassured if you followed Clint's instructions."

A soft smile took over his features. "All right then. I'll stay in bed."

I blinked several times and frowned, "That easily?"

He nodded once before lifting his forefinger, "I have one condition, though."

I sighed. I knew it. "What is it?"

"It is that you tryout as a Med-jack next," he requested before adding, "by being the one to bring me dinner tonight. After you shower though, because you have that funny smell."

He snickered at his last sentence, making me scowl, "That's because I wanted to be done with my Slicing tryout today. Of course, I had to choose a day when they're preparing a barbecue."

He laughed then, high and clear, before surveying me, "You tried out as a Slicer?"

His surprise at the fact rather annoyed me, and my scowl deepened, "What is this with you misogynistic guys, around here? Would you think I'm only good at cooking, gardening and slopping as well?"

His laughter died and turned into a slightly worried frown, "No. No, I think you can do anything you want. Why would you think that?"

I sighed and looked away, "It's just that bet with Minho, yesterday. It kind of bugged me, having to prove myself just because I'm a girl."

"You know, you can't really take Minho seriously. He sasses people half the time, and—"

"No, it was a condescending sort of remark. Like I'd end up there whatever I did," I complained before scoffing. That was typically girly.

He gave me a long look before placing his hand on my knee, "Well let's prove him wrong then, shall we?" I was nearly smiling when he added, "Preferably not as a Slicer though, all right?"

I exhaled sharply from my nose, "I couldn't agree more."

"So what'd you say? Med-jack next?" Newt perked up suddenly and I let a giggle escape.

Before I could answer though, the door nearly broke open to reveal a flustered Gally. I felt cold air hit my knee and realized Newt had retracted his hand. I saw, from the corner of my eye, one of Gally's fists ball up. His face was flushed and his eyebrows were raised.

In that second it took me to scan him, we heard hurried steps coming and Clint appeared in the doorframe, "Hey, they're only talking, Gal—"

My eyes bulged slightly at his statement, "Is... something wrong?"

"You tell me," Gally panted as he tried looking casual, leaning against Clint's desk, "first I hear you wanna tryout as a Slicer, of all things. Then that you're in the Medwing."

"Actually, you only got mad when I told—" Clint started to object but was cut off by Gally's glare. He cleared his throat, "Oh Newt stayed in bed, that's good."

I poked my tongue on the inside of my cheek doubtfully, "What's wrong with trying out as a Slicer?"

"It's not all right for a—"

"—for a girl," I cut him off, glowering at him. I stood up, "Fabulous. Just great. To think I was glad I wasn't sent in a Glade of only girls."

"You think such a thing exists? Girls are probably extinct by now," Clint snorted.

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to hurt Gally's ego, so I sighed mock-disappointedly, "To think I wanted to tryout as a Builder next. Shame, really."

He blinked several times and stood straighter, "Hey you can still—"

I turned away from him and towards Newt, who looked like he was trying to figure out the circumference of Jupiter, "No, it's okay. Building isn't suitable for a girl, you know. There are heavy loads and technicalities. Not to mention the intellectual part of it, girls are too jacked in the head for that." I saw Newt hiding a snicker, and I almost lost my flow.

"Hey I never said you couldn't tryout as a Builder," Gally sounded dumbfounded.

I turned to him, my glare icy, "Listen here, I will tryout as a Builder. And a Bagger, Track-hoe, and any other job that guy Greenies tryout for. I'll start out with the Keepers who don't undermine me for being a girl. Gladly, there's no Running tryout, but Building is on my to-do list."

"What say you tryout as a Med-jack next?" Clint asked as he unlocked the closet.

"That's what I meant to ask you, yes I'd love to," I wanted to smile at him but I was too pissed at that moment. "I'll be having lunch for now. I hope there's no meat."

I had no such luck. When I saw the meatloaves, I thought I could feel my actual guts churn. Frypan was nice enough to heat some of yesterday's stew for me. I sat at an isolated table and ate slowly. My tryout for the day was done and the outcome certain.

I was poking at my food boredly when I felt someone sit in front of me. I didn't look up, but he spoke, "Hey Greenie."

I finally spared him a glance to find that young boy who had called me for the Closing. I gave him a tight, barely believable smile, "Hey."

"I'm Doug," he introduced himself, "and you're Elizabeth."

"Eli," I corrected him automatically before surveying him. He looked young, barely fourteen, "were you the Greenie before I arrived?"

He gave a hearty laugh of his not-yet-matured voice, "I was actually the first Greenie."

I frowned, "Wait, so that means you were here before everybody else, right?"

He shook his head, "No, that means I came here after the first month. The very first were a group of around ten."

I frowned and looked around, "Who..?"

He scoffed before tossing a piece of bread in his mouth, he spoke while chewing, "You won't find them here. One's busy, the other in the Maze, and the last in the Medwing."

My frown intensified, "You said they were around ten..." I popped the last of my bread in my mouth.

He swallowed, "At first. There's only three left of them: Alby, naturally, Newt, and Minho."

I narrowed my eyes before gulping the dry mouthful and asking, "Where are the others?"

He nodded towards the Deadheads, "Somewhere in there. Big klunk happened, we call it «The Dark Days»... you don't wanna know."

I pressed my lips together and considered how much I wanted to know: Not enough to insist, for now. I finished my plate and picked it up. He followed me. I would have been irritated by his presence if he didn't prove so valuable— informatively speaking. He could've written the History of the Glade if it held any importance. Or Greenies for Dummies, so that every month it'd be passed on to the new Greenie without having them— and me asking so many, and probably repetitive, questions.

I walked towards the Deadheads, where Alby had agreed for my cabin to be, with Doug. Not that I had any choice on the latter fact. I found the Builders, including Gally, working on the cabin.

It was against the West wall, although just a wooden floor for now. The surface was considerably more spacious than Newt's room, which confused me. Why bigger? I'd have to ask— I groaned inwardly. I'd have to talk to Gally, misogynistic Gally, to understand why it was bigger.

The importance of the matter decreased considerably as I directed my steps towards the nearest bench. I sat, Doug following, and leaned back. It was peaceful; I could almost take a nap.

***

The next day, I was eating breakfast alone again when Clint sat in front of me. He had a secretive smile on his face as he folded his arms over the tabletop.

I swallowed, surveying him suspiciously, "Good morning...?" I trailed off.

"Good morning, Greenie. Ready to really tryout as a Med-jack?" Clint asked a malicious glint in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, "Isn't that what I did at dinner?"

He scrunched up his face, "Cleaning a patient's mouth with your tongue doesn't exactly classify—"

He didn't finish his sentence as I leaned over the table to punch his shoulder as hard as I could, at which he winced, "I gave him food, and we were talking. That's it. Now if you want me to tryout for your own personal account, I wouldn't be against it. I'm not in the mood to see new faces, today."

He rubbed his shoulder, a chuckle escaping his lips, "All right, come straight to the Medwing when you're done eating, then."

At that, he stood up and walked to his destination. My gaze followed him before eyeing my unfinished plate of omelet. I wasn't really hungry to begin with, but it didn't mean I should go without breakfast. I didn't know Clint would require another tryout for his job, so I thought I might as well stock up for the day.

I took my plate to the kitchen and apologized to Frypan for the waste. I was making my way towards the Medwing when a strong, dark-skinned hand fell on my shoulder.

"You're trying out as a Track-hoe today, Greenie," Alby announced darkly.

I narrowed my eyes at him and gestured towards my initial destination, "I promised Clint I'd tryout as a Med-jack today."

He scoffed, "Sounds likely, shuck-face doesn't wanna lose his bed."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

Alby flung his arm over my shoulders, digging my small frame into the ground with his weight, "That, Greenie, means you're the new attraction of the Glade—" I glared at him, first-in-command or not, "—with that bet that you made against Minho, people started betting as well. Some taking your side, and others Minho's. Never seen them so jacked about something so simple..." Alby trailed off.

His statement arose my suspicions as I asked slowly, while we were making our way towards the Garden, "Whose side are you on?"

For the first time, I saw him smile. It was not a mere extent of his lips, much more like a snicker. Alby was amused. I didn't know he knew about fun. He always seemed so business-y and never taking part in conversations... I was frankly surprised he still had a heart to joke around.

He exhaled sharply from his nose and, keeping his heavy arm on my shoulders, lead me forward, "Thought you would've guessed."

I gasped slowly as realization hit me. I extracted myself from his arm, "You're betting against me! I can't believe it; I thought you had some brains!"

He chuckled lightly, "Go on and tryout with Zart. His bet is with you, though, so it might help."

My mouth gaped, between outrage and amusement, "This is... outrageous! What'd you have to lose?"

His face was serious again, but still had the softness of fun, "My room. Newt takes my room for himself until your place is built, and I have to sleep outside. You don't know what it's like to sleep outside with those shuck-faces."

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms over my chest, "Oh boohoo."

He gave my back a friendly tap that almost made me topple and smirked, "Try it out, at least. Bet aside, it might suit you. You never know—"

I scoffed, "Oh sure. I'll make sure Newt gets your room for good."

He gave me a condescending glance, "Don't try to botch your tryouts, the Keepers will tell me everything."

I sighed, "Fine. Just go and have fun being a leader, I'll be over here growing lilies."

He walked away, shaking his head and probably chuckling. This side of him took me aback almost as much as the globalization of the bet. So it had turned into a Glade-wide bet and people had stuff to lose if I ended up where I wanted? My first feeling was offense at being so vulgarly objectified, until I realized that it meant at least half the guys in the Glade had faith I'd beat Minho. That afterthought warmed my heart as I made my way towards one of my supporters: Zart.