I let Newt walk on his own for a couple minutes before following him. Every few steps, he glances back to make certain I am still there, but continues ahead of me nonetheless. Each time he glances, I make a new funny face at him, but he refuses to show any emotion in return.

Newt stops in front of a wall far from any action in the Glade. As I approach, I see the cement of the wall has been chiseled to make out the name of every boy in the Glade, some even scratched out. I hate to think about what those scratches mean.

"Woulda done this earlier if you told me what your bloody name was when you remembered it," He says. "But you can do it now."

"I only just remembered it last night. Quit acting like it was some personal vendetta against you."

I take the tools from his hands and get to work on carving my own name into the wall, which I know is what he's brought me here to do even though he hasn't said it.

"We spoke this morning all by ourselves, plenty of time for you to say it. But you didn't. Chose to go blab it to that slinthead Gunner instead."

I glance over at him leaning his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His head is turned to watch me work and I don't mean to blush when his eyes catch mine, but I think I do.

I want to ask him why he cares so much about my stupid name; about me not running to let him know the second I remembered it. I want to ask him why he dislikes Gunner and if he'd heard what Gunner called me. I want to know a lot about him –everything, really. But I fear if I start asking, I may never stop.

"Why'd you kiss Holden, Jane?" He asks quietly. I look at him. He is looking at the ground.

It is a complicated question and I don't answer right away.

"Did it bother you?" I ask.

With his eyes, he tells me to stop being a bitch. I sigh.

"It's programmed into the human mind from the moment we're born to place women on a shorter pedestal than men, no matter the circumstances. And being the only girl here, I have to establish some dominance somehow. And none of you guys have been laid in years, can't even remember the last time you were, if ever, right?"

Newt looks confused yet intrigued. He's turned his body to me fully, now leaning on only his shoulder.

"Even if I can build a hut better than Gally, which I can, or if I know more about the human anatomy and how to fix it than Clint and Jeff combined, which I do, I won't be taken seriously around 60 guys. But I can have every kid in this Glade under my rule by simply getting too close to his face, by licking my goddamn lips and running my eyes over his body, and if that's how I've gotta become queen of this place, then so be it. After all, a queen is a queen, no matter how."

"So you kissed Holden to show the Gladers what they're missing out on?" Newt asks.

"I kissed Holden to show Gunner what he's missing out on."

"Why Gunner?"

"You're just a fountain of endless questions today, aren't you?" I say, smirking. I'm having difficulty shaping the curve of the 'n' in my name into the cement.

"So I want to know things about you." He shrugs. "Sue me."

"You know everything already. All my intentions are bad, I'm hungry for power, and just as sex driven as you."

His eyebrows shoot up and he laughs. It's a sound I'd swear up and down that I've heard a million times before, but this time, it's new and beautiful.

"So you're not mad anymore?" I ask.

"No," He says, "But that doesn't mean I want you kissing any more boys and making them your bloody bloodhounds."

"A kiss would be overkill. I could flick my tongue and have half these boys on their knees."

"I doubt it," Newt says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I drop the tools to the ground, abandoning the hook of the 'e', and look at him.

He is watching me closely.

I cock my head to the side and slowly close the space between our bodies, keeping our faces centimeters apart. His eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips.

"You sure about that?" I say against his lips, nudging his nose with mine.

"Bloody sure," He whispers.

"Mm," I purr, using my right hand to lift up his shirt a bit. My fingers run over the bare skin above his belt and I hear his breath hitch.

"Not fair, you only said your tongue," He groans, batting my hand away.

"You mean you want my tongue down th-"

"No!" He's suddenly realized his words. "That's not what I meant."

"Mhm," I hum, moving in and attaching my lips just below his ear. One of his hands moves to grasp my waist. My tongue flicks over the skin just before I nip at it, and he shutters.

I draw back and look him in the eye.

"I felt you shake," I say.

"I'm not on my knees, though."

I roll my eyes. "I was being theoretical, you shank."

He smirks. "Slim it and finish your goddamn 'e,' Greenie. We've got things to do."

I do as he says, stepping away and picking up the tools.

"What things? I'm ready for bed already," I say.

"That's what I mean. Alby didn't think it was safe having you sleep out there with all the guys, especially not after the stunt you pulled today."

"So, what? You planning on banishing me to the Deadheads?"

"No." He laughs. "I told him I'd split up my room for you. I've got one just like Alby's. They moved another cot in there earlier."

"Sharing a room with you? Sounds weird. Won't everyone hate me for getting special treatment?"

He shrugs. "Who cares about everyone?"

"Well won't Alby wonder whether we're actually only sleeping?"

"Says he'll pop in for routine checkups. Speaking of the new rule, I don't get how you can be so…okay with it."

"Why not?"

"Well 'cause you just said-"

"I never said I planned on having sex with anyone."

"Well, you wouldn't have to have se-"

"Didn't I just say even a kiss would be too much?" I interrupt him.

"But you kissed Holden."

"For a good cause!"

"What bloody cause?"

"Because Gunner's an ass!" I shriek. "And he called me a name and boys don't call me goddamn names, Newt!"

He looks surprised at my outburst and I feel more than embarrassed. Groaning, I lean my forehead on the cool cement wall, hoping it'll tone my face down a few shades.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

I hand over the tools and walk away from him.


The "washrooms" of the Glade are saddening. There is no door; just a hanging piece of cloth that can blow wide open with the weakest gust of wind, and the walls are made of imperfect bamboo sticks. I poke my finger through a fairly large slit between two of them and sigh.

I don't remember ever actually seeing a real sink in my life, but I know this sink is not actually a sink. It's a bucket strapped to a tree trunk, equipped with a sagging hose. When I crank the valve that sits in the ground, there's a hissing noise and then the hose is whipping violently around the little building. I shriek and scramble to control it, the shooting water blinding my eyes and drenching my clothes. My attempt fails, and so I try to find the wheel again to shut the water off, but I can't see anything in the midst of the darkening atmosphere and raining water droplets.

"What in the heck?" Someone shouts, and then a body comes into view.

"Cricket!" I yell, smiling. He is about to smile back but then I'm stepping and slipping, pulling him down with me.

He falls onto me and we grunt at the impact. Then he's clambering off hurriedly.

"Where's the thingy?" He asks loudly above the hissing of the hose.

"I don't know!" I shout, sitting up and trying to tame it once again.

A few seconds later and the valve is finally squeaking shut, ending the perpetual rain. As the last few drops fall and the air clears, I wipe my eyes of gunk to see Cricket kneeling by the valve, soaking. His hair is matted to his forehead and his blue shirt sticks to his small torso. He takes off his glasses to clean them with his sleeves. We're both quiet for a bit, sitting in our own puddles.

"Uh, turn the valve too quick and the hose will freak out," He says.

I laugh. "Good to know."

"What are you even doing in here?"

At first, I don't really know how to respond. But something about Cricket makes me feel okay; like I can tell him anything and he'll take it to the grave with him. I find this feeling weird since I've only met him once before, and briefly at that.

"Newt told me I'm gonna be sharing a room with him from now on," I say solemnly.

Cricket looks confused. "And you're upset about this why?"

"I'm not upset. I'm just…ambivalent."

He looks dissatisfied.

"Sorry, sorry. It means unsure. Doubtful. Slightly suspicious. Get me?"

"Suspicious about Newt?" He laughs a little. "Greenie, before you got here, Newt was the closest thing this Glade had to a girl."

"Cricket!" I laugh.

"I'm just saying! He's too nice. He's nice to, like, everyone. And that's weird. He's like a cute little deer or something."

"Hm. Had me fooled. He says I get on his nerves."

"That's just 'cause you're a girl and you don't take anyone's clunk. That surprised us all, I think. Plus, he's gotta like you at least a little if he's gonna share his room with you."

"He's only doing that 'cause I'm a girl."

Cricket stands. "Well there you have it. Become a boy and all your problems will be solved."

After he helps me up, I smile. "Wow, what great advice you give, Cricket."

He looks content. "One of my many talents."

Before leaving, Cricket shows me how to properly turn the hose valve, warning me that he won't be my knight in shining armor if it happens again. Above the sink-bucket is a mirror that almost was. It hangs on the wall of the hut somehow and is sewn together with many pieces of mismatched glass shards. When I look for my reflection in it, my face is thrown over the many cracks and scratches, but it works nonetheless.

Although much older now, I still look very similar to the small girl from my dream. My hair is long, brown, and messy, falling just past my chest. Fifty percent of my face is made up of just my eyes, huge and bulgy and green. I don't enjoy looking at them. From my dream, I remember the 9-year-old's eyes were asymmetrical, one green and one hazel. I lean in to get a better look at my own, but it is too dark in the hut to notice any difference between the two.

I let out a long breath and splash some water on my face, but it doesn't do much for all the grime that's settled on my skin from working with the Cooks and Builders. Unfortunately, there's not a single bar of soap in sight. Silently, I wonder if the Gladers built their own rig for running water or if the Creators provided the hoses.

When I leave the washroom, I see the sun's gone down completely now. The Glade is quiet, boys only visible where there are lanterns lit. I look at the space between the beds and the Deadheads, dumbfounded at how I could've walked all the way through it without waking last night.

All of a sudden, a flash of light comes from within the bare trees, and then it's gone in a second. I am frozen where I stand, watching and waiting for the light to reappear. When it doesn't, I begin moving towards it. Six steps in and I see it again, a bar of light passing over the ground hastily, and then disappearing. I start running. From then until I arrive at the clearing of the woods, it happens every twenty-two steps for 2.5 seconds each. Sometimes the light scans over the tree branches, sometimes along the grass, once it even shined right into my eyes for what felt like minutes. I tear through the first few trees until I'm standing exactly where I'd swore it came from, but the woods are quiet and lightless.

I turn to leave the Deadheads and squeal at the sudden sight of Newt standing before me. He slaps his hand over my mouth, silencing me abruptly. His face is flushed in saturated yellow from the lantern he carries at his side, and he looks unhappy.

"Keep it down, Greenie. Normal people are trying to sleep," He says as I rip his hand from my face.

"Was that supposed to be a stab at my normalcy?" I ask, irritated.

"You tell me, running like a bloody loon into the Deadheads this late! And why are you soaking wet?"

"I saw those lights," I say feverishly, glancing around.

"What lights?"

"The lights." I don't know how else to describe them. "You saw them, right? The lights, every twenty-two steps, two and a half seconds each."

Newt looks properly confused. "Greenie, I think you need some sleep before we shuckin' lose you for good."

I sigh but nod, letting him lead me out of the woods and back to the Homestead for the night.


"Can I tell you something weird?" Newt asks, startling me in the darkness. It had been quiet for at least 10 minutes before that, and I don't know how he even knew I was still awake. We lay in different cots on opposite sides of the small room, separated by a wall of hanging cloth in the middle. I cannot even see the boy, but I can hear his breathing.

"Can I make fun of you for it?" I respond.

He chuckles. "I hate you."

I expect him to go on but he doesn't.

"C'mon, now you've got to tell me."

"No, it's weird."

"Newt."

He doesn't respond.

"Don't make me come over there," I warn.

"Come over here then," He says, and I can practically hear the smirk he's wearing in his voice. Just before slipping into bed, Newt had given me his thin hoodie, saying I could wear it for the night since my clothes were drenched, and I tug it tighter against me now.

"Goodnight, Newt," I say.

He exhales long and loudly. "Night, Greenie."

The darkness drags on and, even though I am much more comfortable on this cot than I was on the ground the night before, I cannot bring myself to fall asleep this time. What seems like hours later, I am still half-conscious, switching between staring at the wall and my own eyelids.

"Jane?" Newt's husky voice cuts through the atmosphere.

I'm not certain about whether I'm dreaming or not, so I don't reply. Things feel muddy and I watch as the slits between the boards of the wall begin to melt together.

"I think I've been dreaming about you for a really long time," He says.

And now I'm sure this is reality.