To everyone who is still reading this, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've been flooded with homework and have spent almost all my free time studying for finals, which left me no time to write. Well, here's the story. Enjoy!


I start munching on my food. Suddenly, someone plops down in the seat next to me. "So, Greenie, I heard from those shanks over there that you practically ran screaming out of the Blood House," someone says. I look up and see Minho, who is back from running in the Maze.

"I did not run screaming," I said indignantly. "I just plain ran."

"Like that makes it any better," Minho replies.

"It does! It makes the situation a whole lot better."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Greenie."

"My names not Greenie!" I exclaim loudly. "It's Adelynn! I told you to stop calling me Greenie. By the way, how did running in the Maze go today? Did you guys find anything?" I ask curiously.

"Same old same old," is Minho's reply. He sighs. "We haven't found anything new. People are getting dejected and losing hope, but we can't risk not running. We don't know if anything will just suddenly pop up one day." He pokes at his food and then looks up, smirking. "Want some food?" he asks, sneakily while holding up a piece of meat.

I groan and put my head in my hands. "You've even heard about that? Word really does spread fast around here."

"There, there," Newt speaks up for the 1st time since had Minho shown up. He pats me consolingly on the back. "It's not that bad that people know about the fact that you ran out of the Blood House and have decided to become vegetarian. Most people not only run out of the Blood House, they run out while puking too."

I look up, grinning, and ask him, "Were you one of those people too?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Newt replies ambiguously. "But, I did know that I definitely did not want to become a Slicer."

"Then, what did you want to be?" I ask.

"He wanted to be a Slopper!" Minho says cheerfully.

"I did not," Newt says crossly. "I certainly did not want to become a Slopper."

"Of course you did! You were really good at it too," Minho says.

"Just because I was good at washing a few bloody clothes, doesn't mean that I wanted to become a Slopper, you shank," Newt replies.

I watch their conversation, well, technically argument, while absent-mindedly flipping and catching my knife that I had pulled out of my boot, over and over again. I'm actually surprised I haven't cut myself yet. I'm barely paying attention to what I'm doing. Newt and Minho's "conversation" finished with Newt winning. Apparently being adept at washing and cleaning is not a good reason for becoming a Slopper, and Minho has accepted that reasoning. Minho and Newt quietly watch me flip my knife for a while.

"Hey, you're pretty good at that," Minho speaks up. "What job do you think you're going to use that skill in? Do you know what job you want to do?"

"I want to be a Runner," I immediately say. "I want to help find a way out of here."

"You do know that we may never find a way out of here, don't you?" Minho asks me.

"Gee, that's reassuring," I say sarcastically.

"Reassuring is my middle name," Minho replies without missing a beat.

We fall into a comforting silence that lasts for a while. I continue to distractedly flip the knife, I suddenly wince. "Ah," I say. "That hurt." I look down and see a deep cut in my right hand. The blade is sitting on the table top with blood dripping off of it. 'Great,' I think sarcastically. 'I probably jinxed myself thinking about being able to flip a knife without much focus and thought.'

"Are you okay?" Newt asks me worriedly. He reaches for my hand and I give it to him. "Well, I'm no Med-Jack, but I think we should get you to the Med-Jacks and get that disinfected."

I sigh. "I'm fine, really, Newt. It was just a little cut."

"Just a little cut?!" he repeats incredulously. "You're bleeding so much! Come on," he says, and grabs my wrist of my non-bleeding hand, dragging me towards the Med-Jack's hut. I make a grab for my knife and grab it just before Newt drags me out of reach.

'Help me,' I mouth at Minho, but he just smiles and shrugs.

Mouthing back 'Good luck,' he goes back to eating his food.

'Thanks a lot, Minho,' I think sarcastically. 'You were sooo much help.'