For some silly reason, she was nervous. This was her first Greenie as the Leader. "C'mon, Newt. Let's get her."

Together, they flung open the doors – only to be met with the sound of muffled crying. There was a girl huddled in the back, hugging her knees, the streaming light barely illuminating her face. What Hedy always noticed was how clean they were. Each newbie from the Box always had shining, lustrous hair, thick and healthy, strong nails, and a healthy appetite. Another question. Why did they always come so regularly, and why were they sent in such impeccable shape.

Feeling the crush move towards her, she scowled. Not bothering to raise her voice, she held a hand out at them. Everyone stepped back, except Saph, who stood like a proud mother hen, waiting for her child to hatch. Stepping in, the chatter exploded behind her again, as if she'd never been there.

"Is she pretty?" Jeff wondered.

"Shut up," Rosie responded, and she heard quieter bickering between the two.

"C'mon out, we wanna see you!" Ben taunted.

She looked up at Newt, standing in front of the sun, his silhouette strong and authoritative. He nodded back, long hair falling into his serious face, his profile harsh as he turned. "Oi!" He bellowed at the chattering people behind them. "Shut your buggin' mouths for a split second, will ya?"

The girl looked startled at the strength of his voice, but Hedy looked at her steadily, smiling softly in a smile reserved only for the most timid Greenies and extended an arm, slowly, carefully. "That's Newt. I'm Hedy. I don't mean to scare you, and neither does he, all for that he looks like a great big demon from this angle."

She heard Newt's snort. Terrified, the poor girl nodded, stopping her crying a little. "Where… am I?"

"Do you remember your name?" Hedy asked quietly, calmly, ignoring her question, keeping her face neutral. "All I want is your name, and we can get you out of here. There are other people out there – sorry if they're loud. They're just excited to meet you." It was true. A newbie was always a stimulating event. They were always curious to meet new people, wondering at the possibilities of their beginnings, at the new face, features assembled in a way they'd never seen before, never could have imagined. A new person in this tiny world they'd made for themselves. It defied imagination.

"It's… I think… I can't..."

"That's okay. Not everyone can, not right away. Are you feeling okay? It's bright out there. It might hurt your eyes a little."

The girl, who looked about fourteen years old, or perhaps younger, nodded hesitantly, shading her eyes as she stepped forward, brown hair glinting in the sun. "Hedy is a pretty name… I think mine is… Joan." Taking Hedy's proffered hand, the girl got close to the exit of the Box, stopping and staring out at the vastness of the unknown before her.

Hedy nodded at Newt, and pulled Joan forward, his large hands closing around hers, comforting and warm. Newt hoisted her up, yanking her much more roughly than Hedy had, pulling her with a forcefulness that foretold both kindness and adventure, gentleness and fear.

"Welcome to the Glade, Joan."

Saying the words brought back a visceral memory of Nick, and she promised to herself that she'd always call it that. They were the Gladers.

Behind her, Hedy stepped out, staring in the face the other members of their small family. The girl blinked, dazedly at the dozen or so before her. Hedy held up a hand to keep the others from talking. "Everyone, this is Joan, our new Greenbean. I expect you to treat her with the respect and kindness afforded to you when you were a bedwetting newbie. Those who make any newbies feel anything less than comfortable will be punished. Slammer time, at least a week."

Saph stepped forward, slowly. "Howdy, sweetheart. I'm Saph. Nice to meet you. Me and you, we're gonna be buddies for the next few days, okay? Until you get the ropes."

"Ropes?" Joan's wide-set face crumpled. The girl began to cry again. "Back off!" Newt ordered. Hedy did not raise her voice – ever. It was part of the reason why most newbies didn't realize she was in charge. Most people dispersed, going back to regular activities. The air was far more subdued than usual. Last month, there had been the excitement of Nick's idea. This month, everyone recalled that Nick was dead. It was a visceral memory, as if he were standing there, solemn as they. A ghost, taking up space.

"Come with me." Saph said soothingly. "We're gonna go to the kitchen, and I'll feed ya somethin' real good. How does a sandwich sound?"

She obeyed, following Saph, only shooting a single helpless look at Hedy before moving into the Kitchen.

"Wasn't so hard." Newt said cheerfully. "At least she didn't swing at'cha."

"The damn crying is what I hate." Hedy shook her head. "Crying's tough. I can deal with the fighters."

Newt grinned, thinking of when Gally had decked her in his anxiety. The black eye she'd sported lasted for two weeks. Nick had been mortified – Gally had huge ham hands that made him perfect for building and perfect for punching.

"Don't even bring it up." Hedy warned him, but she was smiling a little. It was always the same smile – the upward quirk of the left side of her mouth, the sideways glance, the slight parting of her lips to reveal a tongue curved against her back teeth. "I swear if anyone ever mentions how newbie Gally punched the shuck out of me, I'll Banish them on the spot. That's privileged information. If a single newbie ever hears about that from this day forward, they'll be put in the Slammer until they feign memory loss. Again."

Newt chuckled at that. "Aye, Glorious Leader. I'll give her the tour tomorrow."

"Set up a sleeping spot for her first, will you? After Saph gets her settled, I'll hang out with her for a little."

"Good that."

As Newt departed, she turned to see Stan still standing, staring open-mouthed as Gally and Ben began to haul the supplies from the Box.

"That's the hole that guy went down," Stan said, staring. "And she came up it."

The boy always had a glazed look on his face, and Hedy answered cautiously. "Yes. So did you."

A slight look of disbelief crossed his face. "How?"

"Well, we aren't really sure," Meg came up and answered, preceded by the outrageously strong scent of manure. "We're really only sure that it comes like clockwork. Supplies every week, and every month comes a person, without a lick of memory." She turned to Hedy. "Ricky's at size. I just came to check with you, if it's cool."

Hedy nodded. "Go right ahead. Make sure Saph and Zora know he's coming."

Meg left, heading towards the Kitchen, leaving Stan confused. "What does that mean?" he asked.

"It means the pig is the right size to be slaughtered. For food. She and Saph have to cure it and cook it, essentially. Winston will help, since he works with Meg. Maybe Rosie. Not sure who Meg recruited this time."

"Oh…" Stan said.

Losing her patience, Hedy said: "Do you need something? I was gonna spend the day with Joan. I try to spend time with every Greenie."

"You didn't spend the day with me," Stan replied, almost accusingly. It was the first time she saw a real spark in his eyes, animation in his dull, depressive face. Annoyance.

"There were extenuating circumstances," Hedy stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "I can spend some time with you tomorrow. Is that okay?"

"Okay. I like that." He wandered away, and Hedy remembered Minho's words. Creepy. Stan was creepy. But watching a guy die within minutes of essentially being reborn had to mess somebody up, so she was halfheartedly willing to give him a chance. Besides, he was right. He was the only one she didn't know well, at this point.

Heading to the kitchen, she gathered Joan, who was clutching a piece of bread between her fingers as if it were the only thing anchoring her to the earth. "Come on," she said, hoping her voice sounded friendly. "We're gonna take a walk."

"Can we stay here? For a few minutes?" Joan asked timidly. "It smells so nice in here. In there… it smelled like…" Death, Hedy thought. Feet. Suffocation.

"I understand," Hedy assured her, settling down. Wiping a hand across her sweaty face, she sighed. She'd finished helping Tim weed today. Since he'd arrived a year ago, he'd been religiously dedicated to creating a farmland from the grass. Some was food for the animals, most for them, and he'd asked the Creators, as Minho had titled them, for different seeds to experiment with. Quite honestly, Hedy considered it awful, backbreaking work. Tim often recruited Clint and Newt and Jeff to help, and Hedy spent a portion of her morning with him every day, but regardless, it was her least favorite task.

"We're making a nice stew for dinner," Zora announced. "Saph is with Meg right now, so I figured we'd use the last of the beef."

"So what are you eating?" Hedy asked drily. Zora shot her a dark glance, putting down her knife.

"Beans. You know, the other white meat."

"You really need to get something else in your diet. Your farts are so loud sometimes," Rosie complained, entering brightly. "Seriously, for a lunch lady, you really don't eat a well-balanced diet."

"I'm a picky eater," Zora responded defensively. "If you don't like my eating habits, I can make sure we eat nothing but healthy crap for the rest of our miserable existences."

"If we're trapped here, why don't we get to just eat candy?" Joan asked, curiously. "There's nobody to stop us."

"What candy?" Zora grumped, setting a hand on her hip.

Rosie giggled. "I like that idea, but the last time Saph tried to make candy, it was disgusting. Just a sticky, sugary mess."

"Gally liked it," Zora argued.

"Gally would literally eat dirt if you put it on a plate." Hedy put in, putting on a show of camaraderie for the terrified girl next to her, though sometimes her own voice and words made her cringe. She couldn't stand the goofy banter. It felt like a waste of time. Right now, she could be helping Gally unpack the stuff from the Box, or helping Tim with some weeding, or washing some clothes with Rosie, or any number of more important things. She could be cleaning shit out of toilets with Maya. Anything but talking to people she did not feel comfortable with. The only person in the room that she enjoyed, truly, was Zora.

"Not since… well, not anymore."

At those words, Joan's eyes became huge. It was so easy for them to forget just how terrifying it was for a Greenie to come in, to have to relearn everything, to be shoved into a terrifying, alien situation with no explanation. Hedy wondered if her memory was stronger, since really, she was only a year old. Her brain had a lot of room to process other things. It made them all smarter, quicker. Perhaps it was to help them, after all. Not for the first time, she wondered if their past memories were bad. If they'd escaped some sort of hellish life. If this was a sanctuary.

But that didn't explain the Grievers. Or the monthly people deliveries. Or the Walls.

"You haven't met Gally yet," Hedy confided, breaking her earlier promise to Newt about Banishing the first person to mention that very fact. "His first day, he punched me right in the face."

"Probably 'cause he thought you were the freaking angel of death or something." Saph dramatically entered, draping herself on the door. "We all aren't as biologically gifted."

"You are so ridiculous," Hedy rolled her eyes. Joan perked up a little at the sight of Saph, and Rosie was chirping again, a sweet little hiccoughing laugh that matched perfectly her soft, angelic face and puffs of red hair.

"Not as biologically gifted as me, and not as ridiculous as me, though, I bet." Laverne's voice came up behind Saph, sending the shorter girl flailing through the air in delighted surprise. "What's up, Newbie, I'm Laverne."

"You think you're so cool," Minho rolled his eyes, shoving past her, eyes roving for something to snack on.

"Cooler than you," she retorted, standing taller than he, thin shoulders squared.

"Nobody is cooler than me," he answered breezily, shoving past Zora to sniff the stew she was making. "'Sup, Greenie?"

"This is Minho. He's a jackass." Hedy introduced for him. "And he should be in the Map room right now, but as usual, he's shirking his responsibilities." She was teasing, and Saph's eyes lit up at Hedy's rare show of genuine banter.

"I never do!" Minho argued defensively, raising his voice a little. Joan flinched slightly, and Hedy raised a pointed brow. Grabbing the bread Joan was clutching out her hands, he stuffed it in his mouth and he and Laverne departed.

"He was so rude!" Joan finally piped up, shocked.

"He's like that," Rosie and Zora said in unison. "Ignore him."

Zora hustled around the kitchen, putting together the final bits of the stew. "You better hurry up and go to Meg," she warned the senior chef. "She'll be wanting to get a good start on Ricky."

"I told her the thing was too heavy and could crush me," Saph said breezily. "I told Newt to go help her. I would've asked you, Gorgeous, but I wanted you all for myself."

"If nobody wants to do it, why does anyone do it?" Joan wondered aloud, slouching forward, cupping a pale hand around her chin, an anxious gesture, thoughtful and ponderous.

"We have to do some things," Hedy said firmly. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"For now, let's feed ya. You're a mite skinny, li'l gal. I can solve that problem." Saph soothed, walking past, touching the girl's back with a gentle, caressing hand. "Nothin'll make ya feel better than some food and company. 'Cept maybe good food and good company, but we're lackin' both 'round here."

"Oh, shut up!" Zora fired up. "I'm at least as good as you, if not better."

"There are many things you're good at. We all got our talents, don't we?" Saph demanded rhetorically. "You're better at singing. You're better at waking up. You're better at jumping."

Saph went on, listing Zora's many, irrelevant talents, until the other girl was so flustered and flattered that she forgot why she was irritated to begin with.

"This is so strange," Joan said a few hours later, watching Saph hop around the kitchen, laughing madly and poking Rosie with her wooden spatula. "I think, even if I could remember, this would still be the strangest day ever."

"It doesn't get any less weird," Hedy advised her, standing. "You hang out here, I'll check to see where Newt put up your hammock."

"Hammock?"

"Not too many mattresses lying around these parts." Rosie put in, sighing at the almost-memory of a soft bed. "I never can get used to getting into swinging bed. It always feels so strange to float around."

"It sounds… wrong. To sleep in a hammock. Not a bed, I guess. I don't know if I've ever done it." Joan hesitated. "Will I remember soon?"

This was the part she disliked. Having to crush their fragile hopes and dreams. "No," Hedy said bluntly. "At least, none of us ever have."

With that, she turned, exiting just before the Walls began to close around them, causing the girl to yelp and cry, the shock finally erupting into hysterics that she'd been so bravely trying to control. Resolutely, she marched to find Newt, his huge stature a dead giveaway. He was walking in her direction when she found him, and she felt the sudden urge to thank him. Over the past year, he'd been everything to her. Nobody else could have coached her through this year as he did. Not a single other soul could have soothed her like he did. Regardless of his own misery, how much he hated the Glade, he'd always been the one solid thing by her side. Thanking him profusely, she watched his bemused expression grow concerned.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely confused at the emotion in her voice.

"They have to come up all alone… I had you. From the very first second. I think it made us all a little braver." She tried to imagine coming up, all alone, not a soul yet in the Glade. The madness would have overcome her. The depression. The fear. It shook her, turning her soul cold. She was fiercely glad for him. Thankful for whoever had decided to put them together.

"All right, all right," he chuckled. "Don't need you to break out the bloody water works too."

The fading light that was barely able to peek over the walls highlighted the gold in his hair, emphasized the strong planes of his face, hidden behind the shining golden strands. It was amazing that despite the grime and the puffiness beneath his eyes and the tiredness to his jaw that he could be so beautiful. She swallowed that thought. "Show Joan," she ordered, though she knew that was precisely what he was on his way to do. "I'm gonna go talk to Minho."

She abruptly left, walking towards the Map room, catching Stan's eyes as he puppied around Gally, the only one who could stand him. Gally had changed after he'd been stung. Most people disliked him now, for which she felt guilty. But Stan was equally as unlikable as Gally, and she'd hoped the two would strike up a friendship, and pick up her slack.

She wasn't looking forward to spending the day with him.

With that depressing thought, she made the trek across the darkening Glade, passing the Gladers, hooting and bickering and mindlessly looking forward to dinner. The Map Room was small and well-lit against the darkness, and she entered.

"Gotta bow," Minho said to Laverne.

"Huh?" she asked, confused, raising a brow.

"Since the Queen is here," he cracked.

"You're so annoying," Hedy responded, moving to stand next to Laverne as the girl's capable hands drew a beautiful map… the same one she had dozens of times before. Hunched over, Laverne perfected neat lines, more from muscle memory than from what she'd actually recalled while Running.

Many people had tried to run. While Newt and Hedy no longer did, Tim had tried out, for a sense of duty, but despite his good shape, was utterly incapable of drawing the maps, a skill that was arguably more important than speed. Rosie had attempted, but just a few feet beyond the walls, had grown so terrified she was utterly unable. Maya and Winston had asked about it, but Hedy decided that they needed to be around for three months before they could try out.

"I suppose Winston should try out to be a Runner," she said to Minho.

"Yeah, tomorrow, maybe the day after, he's training. If that's okay with you, Glorious Leader," he answered, scowling as he peered through the copies of maps. "We'll see if he has the kiwis to get past the West Door."

"Probably not," Laverne shrugged, shoving the map away, slapping down her pencil. "I need to eat, now." Without bothering to put it away, since she knew Minho would, she left, leaving nothing but the echo of her growling stomach, closing the haphazard door behind her.

"So what was that idea you had?" she asked him. He turned towards her, grinning, leaning back in his typical arrogant fashion.

"So the Maze can only go so far, right? As far as the Cliff? It just ends there, right? So what's beyond there?"

"Nothing?" She furrowed her brow, staring at his smug face. Why did he look so proud of himself?

"No! Something has to be beyond there. The question is what."

"Or this place was built at the edge of a cliff?" she argued back, half for the sake of arguing with him, setting aside the strange intimacy they shared at the summit of the Wall.

"Grievers can go up and down. You saw it too! If those freaking things can climb a wall, they can climb a cliff, which is probably way rockier. Easier for those little spider legs to grip. And if we can get up a wall…"

"No!" she immediately cut him off. "For all we know, that's where the Grievers come from and that's their fucking lair. That is a horrible idea."

"I knew you'd say that. Which is why I'm going to figure out a way to convince you." He looked utterly determined. "The Cliff is important, I know it."

"Ideas like this get people killed," she replied curtly, meeting his eyes seriously. "Ideas like that are what got Nick killed and Gloria Banished."

"What killed Alice?" he asked, his voice hard and challenging. "What about that poor shankette? Did bad dreams kill her?"

He was being cruel, but she wasn't sure if it was directed at her or himself. She didn't falter. "Weakness," she answered cruelly. Both Alice's and her own. "Which is why we don't let just anyone be a Runner, and why we don't just let people do what they want. Including you."

"Without innovation, we're never going to get the shuck out of here!" he half-yelled with frustration. "Cripes, it seems like you want us to be trapped in this freaking place forever!"

"I don't care if we're here for another year if nobody else dies!"

"We could be here forever if nobody else dies!" he half-shouted back at her, barely keeping his voice down as his face erupted in fury.

"Then what's the problem!" she demanded. "Inside the Glade, people are safe!"

"Maybe some people are just going to have to sacrifice themselves for the greater good!"

Pausing, she stared at him. Resolutely, he stared back, his eyes dark and unreadable. "That is so fucked up," she said seriously. "All people are equally deserving of protection."

"Of whose shucking protection? Yours? Dude, we're just kids. Even you. Even Nick! And we're being freaking slaughtered! For what? Reality TV? A test? A crime?" He stepped closer to her, frustrated, but for some reason, it didn't irritate her the way it usually did, or make her uncomfortable. She felt almost sick. Every single one of her hairs stood to attention, pointing straight out, giving her goosebumps that traveled all the way to her bones, chilling her. At the same time, she felt too hot, as if she'd just exercised vigorously. She was sure if she touched him that a spark would flash from her fingertips. She stared at him, and his perfect, deeply tanned skin, smooth and supple. His skin couldn't be so perfect if their lives were that terrible before this. Surely he'd be scarred. A permanent allergic reaction to trauma.

"I don't know," she said simply, refusing to step away. He'd take that as her giving in. It'd be a dark day when she'd back down from a fight with him. "But I'm the Leader. I don't want you going over there. Not at least until there are more Runners. Please, Minho. I want answers, too. But I don't want to jump into something we don't understand."

His dark eyes glittered as he looked at her, his jaw stuck out stubbornly. "That's going to be so long," he said quietly. "I need to get out of here. We're all gonna be whacked by the time we get out."

"I think we're whacked already," she said, sadly, and the tension dissipated between them, a defeated moment sending them up and away from each other, pushing them apart like a balloon filling with air. "But we deserve a chance to really live before we die, Minho. We can't throw away our lives. They're already so precarious."

"Alright," he sighed. "No Cliff exploring. For now."

"I don't want you talking about this with anyone," she warned him.

Sheepishly, he grinned. "I already told Laverne."

Rolling her eyes, she fought her own smile. "Does she know not to tell Saph?"

"Runners only," he swore, the only promise she knew he'd take seriously. They broke away from one another and Minho put out the candle, taking the wick in between his fingers and snuffing it out with the same self-assuredness that made him the Keeper of the Runners.

x

"So how did you get here?" Stan asked quietly as they exited the Homestead, oatmeal still hot in their bellies. Hedy wondered if anyone had spoken to him about anything. The poor boy had such an odd aura about him that he was utterly unlikeable. "How long?"

"It's been over a year," she answered, taking him towards Tim. "C'mon, first thing I do after breakfast is help out Tim."

Already there, Maya waved at them before turning back to her own planting. Tim had insisted that they add another few rows to his person garden every few days, planting all sorts of vegetables. Really, Hedy didn't listen to him when he spoke, a rare event anyway.

"I know, you told me," he repeated. "Tim's garden, then help Gally if he needs anything, then help Meg, then lunch, then see if Rosie needs anything, then the Map room, then dinner, then free time." The parroting was perfect, and she was surprised he hadn't repeated her words verbatim, he seemed so focused on her. "I want you to talk to me."

Willing, though his weirdness felt awkward to humor, Hedy shrugged. "I can give you the rundown. A year. It was me, Newt, Saph, Minho, Nick, and Alice."

"Who's Alice?" he asked, leaning down, helping her yank out the insidious sprouting green from the deep brow mud, depositing them in a basket she'd brought from the Homestead.

"A girl," Hedy said shortly. "She died." The memory of Alice's screaming still made her sick unto her soul with sorrow. A part of her wondered if her blood was still stained on sections of the Wall. She wondered if Minho ever ran past it. It was impossible to not regret the needless death of such a brave, young child. Innocent, childlike, terrified out of her wits. Slaughtered like Ricky.

The thought made her understand Zora's aversion to meat.

Stan pressed, his gray eyes fixed on her. "How?"

"In the Maze," Hedy gritted out. "She was attacked by a Griever."

"I thought they only stung? They stung Gally."

"I'm not really sure how it fucking works," she snapped. "But Alice died of blood loss in the Maze. We brought her back and buried her in the woods. That's why Minho calls it the Deadheads. That's why we buried Nick there. It's a graveyard, and hopefully one we won't need to use again." Even as she said it, she knew it couldn't be true. The thought of tragedy in their futures, of another young, unnecessary death, ached in her heart.

Nodding, and working almost as quickly as Tim, Stan continued to pester her, and she answered, mostly out of guilt and shame for the way he'd been treated thus far. A freaking leper, Minho had called him snidely.

"What's that?" he pointed at the small, silver bug that scuttled away rapidly.

"They're called Beetle Blades," she answered, not looking at them.

"What do they do?"

Irritated, she straightened, cracking her back, and leaning back down, placing the bulk of her weight on her hips and thighs. "Not much. They're just freaky. There's a conspiracy that they're video cameras."

"Do you believe it?" he asked anxiously, eyes distant as the bug disappeared into the grass.

"I don't know what I believe," she answered, sighing, standing. Her back ached already and they were hardly half an hour into their task.

"Can you tell me more?"

"About what?"

"The Glade," he clarified, turning back to his work. Tim sent an approving smile her way, and she sent him a thumbs up, cringing at her own action. It felt so goofy. Something Saph would do.

"I guess we ran first. Saph was always the cook. She just knew what she was good at."

"I like her," he said decisively, spraying dirt at himself as he yanked a particularly stubborn weed.

A little amused at that comment, she nodded. "Me too."

They made their ways down the row, and he peppered her with questions.

"Tim was the first real Keeper, I think," she mused. "He was the first one to buckle down and really decide he wanted to do this. Without him, we would be totally reliant on the Box. The Creators, I guess."

It was strange. He was asking her about things she rarely thought of. Not often did she dwell on the dark days. But he listened so intently, as if she were the most important thing in the world. It was flattering.

"Then what?"

"Well, Meg came after Tim. She was always great with the animals. We built a shitty pen for them, but when Meg came, she took over. And when Gally came, but that was a while later, he fixed them up. It was wild," she shook her head thoughtfully. "He just automatically knew what to do."

"It makes you wonder what we used to be good at. And what we used to be interested in."

The statement was so utterly profound that she stopped for a few minutes, shading her eyes to look at him. He worked vigorously, and she realized they'd come to the end of their section.

"Let's drop these off with Saph and Zora," she said. "They usually use it for something."

"What if they can't?"

"They give it back to Tim for composting."

The two tramped off to see Gally and Ben, who were fixing a hole in one of the goat pens. Coincidentally, it was made by the kid of the goat that had once frightened Alice up a tree in the grove where she was now buried. They declined help from Hedy, as Gally usually did, unless he was undertaking a particularly large project.

"Really, only when he's working on the Homestead does he let me help him," she admitted. "I don't think he likes being near everyone without me. Especially Saph. Those two don't know how to take each other."

His inquisitive glance asked her to elaborate, and she did, curtly: "The only time I've ever seen Saph angry is when she's around Gally. And I've known her longer than anyone."

Puppydogging her until they reached the other side of the pens, Stan stayed at her heels until they found Meg, rubbing the belly of a small pig, as it rolled around in pleasure.

"Hello, pretty girl," she cooed to the animal for a minute, scratching gently, before standing and stretching. "Hey," she said more easily to Hedy and Stan. "You're early."

"Gally didn't need anything, and I had help weeding," she shrugged. "Stan's been quizzing me on the social evolution of the Glade, though. You can help with that."

Meg handed him a bag of feed. "Yeah, the story of a shucking utopia," she shook her head. "Come on, I'll fill you in. Hedy, can you help Rosie clean out the troughs?"

Relieved to leave behind the talkative newbie, even just for half an hour, she agreed, finding Rosie by the stream, scrubbing out the filthy trough, humming to herself.

"Good morning," Rosie said cheerfully, looking up as Hedy's shadowed approached. "You're early. Good thing I have a project today."

"Great," Hedy scowled. "What is it today?"

"We have to wash clothes today," Rosie was undeterred by her Leader's tone. Twice a month, Rosie insisted that everyone's spare clothing get washed and dried. It was an all-evening event, and the harsh soap that Saph made always left her hands dry and chapped to the point of bleeding.

"Aren't we a few days early?" Hedy wanted to know.

"Well, I figure with so many people coming to the Glade, we need to do it more often. So we'll do half of it today, half of it tomorrow. Maya said she'd help us when she's done with Tim, since Winston's not here today. Besides, we're almost done here, so you get started on the clothes."

Obeying, Hedy began with socks. They were the worst, because they were the dirtiest and the most difficult to clean. She had hardly made it through the pile before Rosie and Stan joined her, and they'd hardly finished before it was lunchtime, and time to go to the Homestead.

"The day goes by so quickly," Rosie lamented. Hedy was inclined to disagree, and stared darkly as Zora handed out egg sandwiches and cups of water.

"I hate egg sandwiches," she said, biting into it and frowning.

"Can you please name one food you do like?" Zora yelled back, shoving one into Rosie's eager hand. "Seriously, Hedy, all you do is freakin' complain about the food! But can you even cook? No! So shut up! Eat it, or eat Tim's stupid shucking weeds!"

She marched away, and Rosie giggled at Zora's indignance.

"Her attitude is out of this world. She should be punished," Hedy remarked to nobody in particular.

"Yeah right," Rosie giggled, already over the fear that had taken them all after Gloria's Banishment.

"Nobody should talk to their Leader like that," Hedy said again, speaking mostly to the air, biting into her egg sandwich. At least it had tomatoes. She liked tomatoes.

"Nobody does, 'cept her and Minho," Rosie answered, settling herself down comfortably, downing her cup of water.

"And nobody gets away with it except for that idiot shuckface," Zora called, marching back, Newt taking wide, uneven steps behind her, sandwich already nearly gone.

"What does Minho do?" he wanted to know, taking Hedy's half-eaten sandwich out of her hand and handing her an apple.

"Talk to Leader with an attitude."

"Oh. So does Zora." Newt grinned at the back of the retreating girl.

"Her bravery is completely newfound," Hedy munched on the apple, wondering if it was one of the ones that had finally begun to sprout from Tim's cultivated trees. "He's always been a dick."

"Watch your bloody language around the children," Newt admonished playfully, a few bits of half-chewed bread falling out of his mouth.

"Watch your open mouth," Hedy retorted.

Rosie giggled, and Stan smiled, and Hedy wished they could sit there forever instead of going back and washing dirty underwear.