Nine times out of ten, Ash would have bet she'd been dreaming. The idea that she could have actually found herself in a place isolated from the rest of the world, no one for company except a bunch of teenage boys and a dog, was quite simply insane.
Up until this morning, when the sunlight hits her face from the singular, small window, and she realizes with a vague horror that it's all real.
Nellie is still soundly asleep on the grassy floor below her, snoring softly. The walls are still roughly made, the same singular chest of drawers in one corner, the same cot beneath her body and thin blanket atop it. Her breath turns shallow as she scrambles to sit up, and the movement wakes the dog beside her.
A low growl— more grumpy than aggressive— resonates from Nellie's throat, and only a moment later there's a knock at the door.
Ash throws the blanket from her legs and stands, grabbing the knife from the dresser and retying the sheath to her belt loop. She peeks out the window and sees Alby, looking much more serious than when she'd seen him last, at the bonfire the night before. He'd been so relaxed, it had been hard to imagine they weren't all trapped here. Now it's much more obvious.
Stepping back from the window, she takes a moment to steady her breathing before opening the door. She tries to smile, but it turns out more of a grimace. Alby simply returns it before gesturing for her to follow him.
Neither say a word as he leads her toward a section of the wall near where the doors would be appearing in just a few minutes. As they approach, she can see scratch marks that reveal themselves to be names, carved into the concrete. Each and every name, the ones she'd learned at dinner last night. The respective faces pop into her mind as she reads them.
"We usually use that knife I gave you," Alby finally says. "With everything out there that we don't remember, sometimes it feels good to show off the one thing we do."
Ash manages a real smile this time, as she takes out the knife and picks a smooth spot at her own eye level. One letter at a time, all three of them, she adds her own name to the wall. The S looks more like a backwards Z, but she doesn't mind.
Alby pats her shoulder when she's finally done, and asks if she's hungry just in time for her stomach to growl.
The doors rumble and scrape open as they trudge back through the open field toward the main area, though neither of them turn to look. Some of the others are starting to finally wake up, and the pair passes Newt and Minho, already dressed and prepped for the day ahead of them out in the maze. By the time the doors stop moving, the boys are already long gone.
Among the other boys, a few have gotten breakfast already while the rest wait in line. The dog, Nellie, is curled up under the kitchen's window with her stick from the night before dangling from her mouth. Her ears are flattened back against her head, and she's resting her chin on her paws. She gives everyone who passes her a small whine and a sad look, but no one's willing to play with her just yet.
Frypan grins at Ash as she and Alby approach. She can already tell they're going to be great friends. He offers her a plate with scrambled eggs and a glob of mush, which turns out to be oatmeal.
Passing on the latter, she picks around at the eggs for a minute before actually beginning to eat. George takes the seat next to her, and Alby across from them.
"So," George says casually. "Got your name on the wall, right? You're one of us, now!"
"And I wasn't last night?" she asks, raising one eyebrow in skepticism. George shrugs.
"I mean like… it's official," he says. "Even if the Creators come back later with a new Greenie and tell us hey we didn't mean to give you guys a girl, please give her back, we'll be like no she's one of us now."
"I'm touched," Ash replies dryly, and Alby rolls his eyes.
"Moving on," he interjects before George can speak again, "we need to start working on figuring out what you'll be doing around here."
"I was wondering about that," she admits, and takes the last bite of her breakfast. "If you guys don't mind, I'd like to avoid the bloodhouse. I don't mind blood, I don't think, it's just… death. You know?"
They laugh, and Alby nods. "Yeah, it takes a special kind of person to handle being a Slicer," he agrees.
"We could start you with the Builders," George suggests, and Ash glances around to try to locate their grumpy Keeper.
He's sat across the meal area, scowling into his oatmeal and glancing over to where she, Alby, and George are sitting. She's not opposed to the idea of being a Builder, but…
"He doesn't seem to like me very much," she notes. "I dunno if he'd want me shadowing him all day."
Alby shakes his head. "Gally's not a fan of the Greenies in general. Give 'im a couple days and he'll warm up to you."
Another glance toward Gally's table, and both of her own eating companions join her. He's stabbing at the blob on his plate. Pursing her lips, Ash says, "you sure about that?"
Alby and George look back to her sheepishly. "No," Alby admits.
"Maybe not with the Builders," George agrees. "What about Frypan? He seems to like you already. At least, enough to not make today hell."
Ash nods, already feeling optimistic about the kitchens. "That sounds good to me— if it's okay with Frypan."
"If what's okay with me?" the devil himself asks, sitting down next to Alby with a portion of breakfast for himself.
"Can she shadow you after breakfast?" Alby asks, and the cook grins.
"Of course!" Frypan says, reaching over the table for a high five, which Ash shyly gives. "I could use the help, especially as time goes on and we keep getting new people. We'll get started as soon as I'm done eating, okay?"
Ash nods, smiling to herself as Nellie comes over and puts her head on Ash's knee. The stick from earlier lays at their feet, and she sighs. "Yeah, yeah," she mutters as she rubs Nellie's head and picks up the stick. The dog perks up the moment Ash's fingers brush against it, and runs off as soon as it's thrown.
"You guys think we should be worried about her trying to like, eat the chickens or something?" George asks, but Ash shakes her head as Nellie returns.
"I think she'd do a good job of keeping them where they belong," she says, throwing the stick again.
"I got this picture in my head of a dog that looks like her being good with sheep," Frypan adds. "Isn't that what some of 'em are called? Sheepdogs?" George shrugs, and the topic changes.
Soon enough, Frypan finishes his breakfast, and directs Ash to help him gather and wash the dishes. The other boys have helpfully left them piled on the counter, just beyond the kitchen window.
Almost immediately, Ash manages to splash water from the sink down the front of her, and she bites the inside of her lip to keep herself quiet. It's not hot water— in fact it's rather cold— but the very sensation of wet fabric against her skin is setting her on edge. The way it clings to her skin, chafing when she bumps against the counter. For some reason, it makes her teeth hurt.
Between the two of them, they manage to get the whole kitchen cleaned up in only half an hour. Unfortunately, her wet shirt only serves as a distraction for her, making the next part of her day more difficult. Frypan sets her up to chop some vegetables, and has to snap her out of whatever daze she finds herself in a couple of times. She's lucky she doesn't accidentally cut herself at any point.
When it comes to actually cooking everything so it's edible, Frypan takes the reins. He clearly doesn't want to take the chance that Ash will either burn herself or the food, and she doesn't blame him. She takes the time to finally do something about her shirt, using a towel and squeezing out as much of the water as she can, then drying off her stomach.
"So how'd it go?" Alby asks as Ash helps serve lunch a couple hours later.
"Not too bad," Frypan reports. "She's a little spacey, but we can work around it if we need to."
Ash's cheeks turn pink, her lips drawn into a small frown as she serves the next Glader. By the time she and Frypan get to eat, most of the others have already finished. Alby sticks around to sit with them.
"Wanna try something else?" he offers, and Ash shrugs as she picks at her meal.
"If you guys want me to," she mumbles.
"Don't take what Fry said too personally," Alby says knowingly. "Trust me, that's the highest praise he's ever given a Greenie in the kitchen." The cook nods along to agree, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth.
"How 'bout I put you in the fields with Zart this afternoon, see how you do out there?" Alby says, but Ash simply shrugs again, glancing at him before finally beginning to eat.
Zart is a lot more laid back than Frypan had been, showing Ash how to identify weeds and pull them, how to figure out which veggies are ready for harvesting, how to prune back dead branches. It's much hotter out under the sun than it is inside the kitchen, and sweat quickly covers her.
Clothes sticking to her, she's reminded of the incident with the dishes, and forces herself to focus on the tasks Zart's given her. She doesn't want a repeat performance review.
Nevertheless, focused or not, she ends up needing help rather often. She simply doesn't have the upper body strength to get the weeds out properly, roots and all, and her arms are too short to reach all the best harvestables.
Overall, it's boring work, and she hates it.
By dinner time, she's covered in sweat and dirt, her muscles aching, her skin burnt. She looks around for Alby, and sees him talking to Gally near the homestead. There's a small structure framed out beside them, though nowhere near complete.
She waits awkwardly, returning a couple friendly hey's from other Gladers.
Newt appears at her side, smirking as he takes in her appearance. "Gardens, huh?" he asks, and she scowls.
"Started off with Frypan this morning," she tells him. "Apparently I'm too 'spacey', so Alby moved me to the Gardens after lunch."
"Hey, I also said I'd work around that," Frypan calls out from the kitchen window nearby. Newt's brows go up in surprise.
"That's high praise," he says, and Ash rolls her eyes, crossing her arms.
"That's what Alby said," she replies, quickly uncrossing her arms again when the pink skin begins to sting. Looking down at herself, she groans. "Can I get a shower or something? I feel gross, and my skin hurts."
Newt laughs, and gestures for her to follow him. "I'll stand watch for you, just in case anyone gets any ideas… or just has to use the bathroom themselves. There's a few towels in there, some soap and all that. Not much hot water, unfortunately."
"I think that would just hurt worse," Ash sighs. Stepping inside the rather small building, she closes the door behind her and trusts Newt to do the job he's volunteered to do.
She grabs a towel off the pile— none of them folded on their shelf— and steps into a shower stall. There are five of these "stalls" divided only by plastic sheets nailed into the ceiling. setting the towel on the stool just outside, she quickly strips and turns the water on.
Humming to herself as she gently scrubs herself down in the cold water, Ash tries not to think about anything beyond the room she's in. It's just her, taking a shower to clean away the excess residue from the day. She can almost pretend, just for a moment, that she's home, wherever that may be by now.
Maybe she plays a sport, and she's in the locker room after a hard game. Maybe she has a part-time job. Maybe she's getting ready for a date, or just a night out with friends.
The cold water kind of ruins the fantasy.