You have no idea how sorry I am that it's been a whole week since I updated. Sorry. I have been so busy and last night, my high school pulled an all nighter…so I am super exhausted…anyway. Short chapter. Hope it's okay. Love you all!

Acknowledgments:
Favorites: MrsAlyssaSangster (the story), nataliez (the story and me)

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Reviews:

Sydney: Thank you! I hope I didn't resolve the job thing too quickly.

Lovely Unicorn: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I have never seen any of those shows, (I don't have cable or Netflix) but I am interested in Supernatural and Psych. Do you recommend them?

PrincessEnchilada: Me too! Thanks and I'm sorry this is so late.

"Hey," I call out to Minho, whose back is facing me. "Hey, Minho!" I shout a little louder.

"Oh, hey, Syd." He glances at me as I catch up to his long strides. "You freshen up nicely."

For that, I punch him in the arm.

"You are one of the most abusive people I've ever met," he says with a smirk.

"I have to take my anger out on someone." I pause. "Duh," I add as an afterthought.

"Why is that someone me?" he questions. I just roll my eyes and look away.

"Anyway," I say as we approach Frypan's. I'm starving; I haven't eaten since before I entered the maze. "I was actually just coming to say thank you."

"Um," he says, while picking up a bowl of delicious looking chili. My stomach aches at the thought of food. I gingerly pick up a steaming bowl of my own. "Um," he says again, drawing my thoughts away from the bowl of warm goodness in my injured hands. "Thank me for what? I haven't exactly been an awesome friend."

"For the clothes, shank. Thanks for the clothes." I roll my eyes.

"Oh, right. Well, no one wanted to smell your old clothes anymore, so…"

I whack him again. "Shut. Up. I am sick and wounded and you have no right to say I stink."

"Sick and wounded? Please. You're fine." He says with a smirk.

"You're right. It doesn't hurt as much as the bruise. That I got under your watch." I stuff my mouth with lumpy chili. Yum.

"Okay," he breathes. "You are a harsh, sarcastic, hopeless cause. Now, go."

"Where?" I pout. "Go where? I don't know where anything is."

"That's why you're going to get the tour, shank."

"Oh," I mumble as I see Newt approach from the distance. "I see." As I watch him approach, I remember that I'm required to work here. I panic, because I know nothing about the jobs in this place. "Quick. Tell me what job I should or shouldn't get."

"You don't want Bagger or Slopper unless you like dead bodies and messes." I grimace. "Didn't think so," he quips. "You obviously couldn't handle being a Runner, but that wasn't an option anyway," he rudely points out. "You don't look strong enough to be a Builder, and definitely not with that mess," he states with a gesture toward my splint. "Blood doesn't look like your thing, so not Slicer. I can't imagine you as a Track-hoe…"

"So what's left?" The exasperation in my voice is evident.

"Med-jack. Which also involves blood. Or maybe…"

"What? What?" I cling to the possibility that I may still fit in somewhere.

"Maybe you could work with Frypan." I do a quick glance at the burly boy preparing everyone's meals. He doesn't look so bad, I suppose. And I wouldn't mind cooking.

"I do love food." I smile. A small smile plants itself on Minho's face.

"Go," He says. "The grand tour awaits you. Here's to hoping you aren't a Bagger." He raises his cup and I turn away chuckling.

"Hey, Newt." I nervously step towards him.

"Hello, Syd." We haven't spoken since I got out of the shower. "Let's go. Tour time." He grins.

"Newt, I don't think I have to even try out all of these jobs." I gesture with my broken arm. "For starters, I have a broken arm. And also, I don't think I'm cut out for much right now anyway."

"Syd," he sighs, "I wasn't planning on making you try any job. You're a girl."

"And what," I say, my voice icy, "Does that mean?" I may not be up to working now, but just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't handle a job like any other guy.

"It means," he says, ignoring my cold voice, and not losing his smile, "That I don't want you working out in the hot sun with a bunch of hormonal guys."

"So what can I do?" I ask, relieved that Newt wasn't saying that I couldn't handle the work.

"You're going to work with Frypan. Cooking. I hope that's okay. We don't have many cooks, so you'll be really helpful." He smiles. Huh. Minho was right.

"That's great. I'm happy to have a job!" I pause, "As long as there's no blood."

Newt laughs. "No blood."

"Great. Let's get to that tour!" In an effort to be enthusiastic, I pump my fist in the air. In the process, I accidentally bump the stitches on my chin. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow," I mutter.

"Oooh, ouch," Newt sympathizes, though I can hear suppression of laughter under his words.

"Let's just go," I say, my voice full of embarrassment. I am such an idiot.

"Alright, follow me, Greenie."

"My name is Syd," I interject, reminding him again and trying not to allow a sigh to escape my lips. This is going to be a long tour.

P/B

I collapse into a hammock of my own. The tour was long and exhausting. I was the center of attention everywhere I went. It seemed like all of the Keepers wanted to recruit me to work with them. Well, all but one tough looking guy. He just wanted me to leave, telling Newt that he didn't need to bother showing me anything about the Builders, because I would never be anywhere near them. The boy seemed to direct that last part at me, as if he were warning me to steer clear. I think Newt said that his name was Gally. I don't want to be near him anyway.

The fabric of my hammock is scratchy and smells funny. Alby insisted that I have a small, sectioned off area all to myself. It's like a little room, and slightly private. It's nice actually, to be away from prying eyes. I am grateful.

After my long day, I willingly let myself fall into the dark abyss of sleep.

This dream is more frightful than the previous ones. My vision is distorted, like I'm watching through thick, blurry glass; everything is unclear.

I watch my dream self shout out. For a moment, the dream becomes crystal clear. In that instant, I see the boy. The boy who appears in my dreams so frequently and died for me in the maze. I watch as he is forced into what I recognize as the box that brought me to the Glade. His eyes are wide with alarm, his muscles bulge, and his arms struggle to reach for me. In the memory, I pull against my own restraints, trying in vain to reach him.

Before I can stop our captors, he is shoved into the box and the dream is slowly going fuzzy again. The last thing I expect to hear is my name, but it rings sharply through the dream.

"SYDNEY!" The boy yells. As I try to make my mouth form a reply, the blood chilling screams commence once again.

Whimpering from this glimpse of my past, I wake.

Okay, that was short. So I hope you liked it, and if you didn't then maybe you'll like the plot twists I have in mind. ;) And I put Gally in so... you're welcome. So anyway, I thanks for reading! I would love to hear from you! 3

Quote of the day:

"On Wednesdays, we wear pink." –Mean Girls