WINNING OPTION:

Chris (named after Christopher Columbus)

chosen by May A Chance, amycahill57, nataliez, thegirlwiththerainboweyes and two guests.

Thanks to everyone who voted, and to those of you who said that there is already a Chris in the original book/movie series — I did some research and I could not find anything on a Chris, not online, in the books or in the movie. But thanks for the heads up!

V

NICK, KING OF THE GLADE

Stephen is by your side in a second. "Whoa, you okay there?"

You realise that you're standing on one knee, doubled over with your hands over your face. Stephen pats you once on the shoulder, then grabs you by the arm and pull you to your feet. You hold out a hand to show that you can stand, and he backs off, studying you.

"You sure you're alright?" he says sceptically.

You breathe, try to compose yourself. You hone in on that single thought that brought you to your knees. "I… I think I know my name." No, you're sure. Absolutely certain. You pick it apart, syllable by syllable, and it feels right.

"That's… that's awesome, then," Stephen chuckles. "And your are..?"

"Chris. I'm Chris."

"Chris." Stephen seems to try the name, giving you a once over. "Chris," he says again.

A sudden feeling of being exposed washes over you. "You don't like it?"

"What?" Stephen says, frowns, then gives a hearty laugh. "No, no, no, I just thought Oliver suited you. But Chris it is."

He shoves a fist into your arm, a bit too hard for your liking but you recognise the gesture of friendship. You walk together towards the Village and Frypan's kitchen. The place is packed, just like any other given day, with sweaty Gladers either waiting their turn by the tables or standing in line with bowls in their hands. To you it all seems almost a bit too human. You've fairly quickly gotten to terms with the fact that you do not understand nearly as much as you'd like, but when you enter the dinning area you are hit by a tremor of disbelief. All these boys, fifty of them at least, talking and laughing and behaving like… well, humans. Not like they all were robbed of whoever they were, sent up in some horrifying elevator ride to this prison yard of a home.

You're about to double over once more, the wave of thoughts and worries crashing into you, when Stephen's hand is on your shoulder again.

"Yo, listen up, you shanks!" he calls, several times, slowly getting the attention of the Gladers. You realise that no one's looking at Stephen, but at you. "Greenbean here has a name after all! Give it up for Chris!"

Immediate shouts, catcalls and woop-woops erupt inside Frypan's kitchen. Several of the boys closest to you come up to shake your hand, pat you on the back, ruffle through your locks. When the first excitement quiets down, two boys are standing in front of you. One of them you recognise — the same dark-skinned boy with your scratch marks across his cheek. Alby, you recall his name to be. He takes you by the hand, then pats your shoulder with a grin on his face. The other is taller, much taller, and slouching. A bush of reddish-brown hair on his head, freckles on his face and deep green eyes with dark circles around them. He takes your hand once Alby lets it go.

"Name's Nick," he croaks in an edgy dialect. Literally croaks. "Welcome to the Glade, Chris. I kinda run things around here, or so they tell me." He glances sheepishly Alby's way.

You have a hard time forming words with this guy. After just one look you're absolutely certain that he is not well. Those dark circles speak of weeks without enough sleep. He is pale, but not like most white kids. His skin is ashen, a deathly greyish hue, and his cheeks are sunken in.

In your observation you almost miss that Nick keeps talking. "Sorry that I didn't get to meet you 'til now. I've been kinda out of it, ya know."

You nod, give a half-hearted smile in return. You're genuinely concerned for Nick. But as you do not attempt any conversation, both boys leave you alone. A few more people come up to congratulate you on your name. It's insane, really. You'd think a birthday would stir things up half as much under any ordinary circumstance. Yet here you are, in a big stone square with fifty teenage boys, promoted to the life of the party for remembering your own name.

Stephen and you get your plates and have them filled with potato cubes and meat patties, tomatoes and green beans. Greenbean. You almost laugh at yourself. Then Stephen has you sit and eat with him and his friends, consisting of Gally and a few others who you do not know. Conversation is easy — you're the subject of interest, it seems. The boys mostly mock your fainting in the box, and Gally adds to it with excerpts from today's working with the builders. You know that they're just joking with you. You laugh along and let them have their fun. They all seem to be deprived of fun.

After dinner you find yourself wandering the Glade alone. Stephen vanished with his friends before you could follow, and no one asked you to come with them. You don't complain. You walk slowly around the whole square, observing and taking it all in. Go through everything that Newt told you about the place during the Tour. But it's different now, as dusk has fallen. A silence has fallen over the Glade, a peacefulness you'd never imagined could exist. And in this silence, your thoughts a set free.

You're scared, yes. You feel this constant, unnerving worry about this whole thing. You've put it away, impressing the other boys with your calm demeanour, but it's eating away at you. Your pulse is up, your breathing shallow. The sensation of having your memories cut off halfway — knowing how the world works and what life should be like but without any kind of details, names or experiences — is frying your brain. And then there's that question you were forbidden from asking more than once by Newt.

Why were they put here? Newt's answer had been as short as it was clear. "No one knows."

You try to focus on anything but the bad things. How fresh the air is here. Frypan's food wasn't nearly as bad as you'd been told. Stephen is a really nice guy, so is Newt. Gally is decent enough in your opinion. You feel genuine trust for these people. They took care of you, and you promise right here and now that you would return the favour several times over.

You've been were you are now before, in front of the enormous doors on the western side of the Glade. They're closed now, like two giant slabs of cement pressed together almost seamlessly. You couldn't for your life imagine them moving, but they had. Before dinner they'd been wide open, allowing you to glimpse into the unknown outside. You'd heard them move while eating, a horrible grating noise like nothing you'd ever heard before. And now they were shut.

"Hey, Chris!"

The voice startles you enough to have you stumble forward, then spin around on your heels. You know the voice, though, before your new companion is close enough for you to see his face. Nick, sounding impossibly worse than he'd done before dinner. He walks up to you, weakness showing in every step. This guy is really sick, you think. Just then, Nick starts coughing. Violently.

"You okay?" you ask, daring to put a hand on Nick's shoulder. He brushes it off with a smile.

"I'm a'right. Like I said, kinda out of it still." He straightens up, towering at least a foot above you, and flashes a wide grin. "I wanted to show you something, a kinda tradition with us Gladers, but I forgot to bring a knife. You think you could get one for me? I don' s'pose you know where to find one?"

Although stunned by the thought of what kind of tradition required a knife, you want to help this kid. To you he looks about ready to fall over and die any second.

"I'll ask someone," you assure Nick, give a quick nod and head straight for the village.

Or should I get that doctor guy, Clint, who took care of me? you wonder. Maybe not. If Nick really did run things around here, he certainly did not need the new guy to tell him that he needed medical care.

But you can't let it go. The dark circles, the ashy skin, the coughing… a sudden fear twists your heart.

Do you find a knife and return to Nick?

OR

Do you search for Clint?