Chapter Three- Fighting for Remembrance
Over the next few days, Irelyn began to settle into the rhythm of life in the Glade. She still hadn't remembered her name, but "Greenie Girl" was the nickname that had stuck. The boys had grown accustomed to her presence, though she caught the occasional curious glance or murmured conversation when she passed. It didn't bother her as much as it had at first. At least she wasn't being ignored.
Newt had taken to calling her "Sunshine" with a teasing smile that felt almost like an inside joke, though she wasn't sure she was in on it yet. Still, something about the way he said it made her feel a little more anchored in this strange world. When he used that nickname, it felt like she had something that was hers—something beyond the blankness of her lost memories.
Each morning, she slipped into the routines of the Glade as naturally as she could. While the Runners and Builders were up with the first light, Irelyn and most of the others woke a few hours later. After stretching the sleep from her limbs, she would gather her chunk of soap and a fresh set of clothes, making her way to the showers to rinse away the dust and sweat that clung to her from the previous day.
She'd begun to wash her clothes herself, scrubbing away dirt and sweat, and hanging them up to dry on a line near the showers. It was a small act of independence and self-care she liked. By the time she'd cleaned up and dressed, the Glade would be alive with activity—the boys moving between breakfast, early tasks, and the beginnings of another day's labor.
True to his word, Newt had made sure she avoided the Slicers, sparing her from stepping foot inside the Bloodhouse. Just thinking about the Bloodhouse made her stomach churn, so she didn't mind skipping that duty at all. Instead, she'd been rotated through most of the other jobs in the Glade.
Working with the Cooks had been manageable, if overwhelming. Frypan, ever the gruff leader, kept her on her toes. She'd gotten the hang of baking bread quickly—something about the repetitive movements, the feel of the dough under her hands, calmed her. But cooking for 35 hungry boys was chaotic, and she'd struggled to keep up. By midday, she was covered in flour and sweating by the kitchen's open fire. Frypan had patted her on the shoulder at the end of her shift, though, which she took as a small victory.
Her real success had come in the Med-jack tent. Shadowing the Med-jacks, Clint and Jeff, as they treated cuts and bruises, she found herself drawn to the work. The smell of herbs and makeshift medicines filled the air, and she was fascinated by the tattered medical books they used for guidance. Clint and Jeff seemed surprised by how quickly she picked things up.
One day, a boy named Ben came in with a deep gash on his leg after a bad fall near the Deadheads. With Jeff tending to another injury, Irelyn had stepped in, her heart pounding as she knelt beside Ben.
"Hold still," she had whispered, trying to keep her hands steady. Ben winced but nodded, and she worked quickly, applying the herbal paste and wrapping the wound with cloth. By the time Jeff checked her work, the bleeding had stopped, and Ben looked relieved.
"Not bad, Greenie Girl," Jeff had said with a nod. "You've got steady hands."
Her heart lifted, and she realized she'd actually helped someone. In that small, makeshift tent with its herbal smells and dog-eared pages of medical books, she felt more grounded than she had anywhere else in the Glade.
That night, sitting by the fire with Alby, she learned that Ben wasn't just any Glader—he was one of the Runners.
Alby had been talking quietly, explaining bits and pieces of how things worked. It had taken her days to pry even the smallest details about the Runners from him.
"There's five of 'em," Alby had said, staring into the fire. "Each Runner gets a day off every four days to rest. They rotate between the four entrances to the Maze."
Irelyn's curiosity flared. "What are they looking for?"
Alby's jaw tightened, and after a moment, he replied simply, "A way out."
The heaviness of his tone silenced any further questions. He'd quickly changed the subject, but the mystery of the Maze gnawed at her. She had learned to trust Alby and to be patient with the way he doled out information, but she longed for answers. What were the Runners really doing out there? Why was it so dangerous?
The past few days hadn't been all work and quiet conversations. She'd joined in more and more with the Gladers' evening routines, including their gatherings around the bonfire. The night after her Med-jack success, Newt had taken her to the Wall of Names, a section of the Glade's North Wall where every boy had carved his name into the stone.
"You'll get to add your name when you remember it," Newt had said softly, his hand resting on the rough stone. "It's a way of reminding ourselves that we're more than just survivors. We're real people."
She'd traced the names with her fingers, feeling the grooves of each letter—a story of a boy who had woken up lost and nameless, just like her.
"That'll be me soon," she had whispered to herself. "When I remember."
Newt had smiled, a gentle look in his eyes. "Yeah, Sunshine. When you remember."
Of everything she'd learned in the Glade, the thing that fascinated her most was the Maze doors. Every evening, the massive stone doors slowly creaked shut, sealing the Glade off from whatever lay beyond. Irelyn found herself watching the doors each night, captivated by their sheer size and power. The Runners would return, and the ground would tremble as the doors closed, the final thud of stone against stone echoing through the Glade like a heartbeat.
"Why do they close?" she had asked Newt one evening as they sat on the grass, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the walls.
Newt had been quiet before replying, "It's for our protection," he said simply, but there was something in his tone that hinted at more. "Don't worry about it too much, Sunshine. Alby'll explain everything when the time's right."
Despite his reassurances, the mystery of the Maze had taken root in her mind. Why did the doors close every night? What was out there, beyond the Glade, that they needed protection from?
She had so many questions, but for now, all she could do was wait—and watch.
On the morning of her fourth day, Irelyn sat at the breakfast table with Newt, feeling a pit of dread in her stomach.
"So, where am I working today?" she asked, her voice resigned.
Newt sighed, glancing at her with a look of sympathy. "You're with the Builders."
Irelyn's shoulders slumped. "Builders?" She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice but failed miserably. "You're kidding."
Newt shook his head, half-smiling. "I got you out of the Slicers, didn't I? Can't get you out of everything."
She gave him a wry smile and took another bite of bread. "Right." Then, a small bit of relief flickered through her as she glanced down at her jeans. At least she was in her sturdier outfit today; climbing ladders in a skirt would've been a whole different nightmare.
"Gally's a pain in the arse," Newt added, leaning back, "but he's not all bad. Just give him a chance to get used to you."
"I'll try." Irelyn glanced over toward the Builder section, where Gally's team was already hard at work.
Newt stood, stretching his arms above his head before giving her a nod. "Come on, I'll walk you over."
They finished their breakfast quickly, and Newt led her across the Glade to where the Builders were gathered near the West Wall. Tools clinked and thudded as boys hammered away, working on a new hut. The area was cluttered with planks of wood, metal scraps, and bags of nails scattered across the ground.
When they reached Gally, Newt gave him a nod. "Alby just told me she's with you today," he explained. "That's why she wasn't up at dawn with the rest of you."
Gally shot him a look, clearly unimpressed. "Wouldn't matter if she was up at dawn or not." His eyes flicked to Irelyn, and she could already feel the irritation radiating off him.
Newt patted her shoulder with a wink. "Good luck, Sunshine," he said before heading off toward the Gardens.
Irelyn watched him go, feeling slightly abandoned as she turned to face her day. Gally was hammering away at a wooden frame, his broad shoulders flexing with each strike. He hadn't acknowledged her yet—or maybe he was just ignoring her.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to him. "Hey, Gally."
He glanced up, his expression hard, as if already bracing for something he didn't want to deal with. "What?"
"What am I supposed to do?"
Gally paused for a moment, then stood up straight, resting the hammer against his shoulder. "You're here to build, yeah? You think you can handle it?"
"I can learn," she said, crossing her arms. "That's why I'm here, isn't it?"
Gally gave her a long, assessing look before shrugging, his tone flat. "Building's not exactly a place for a girl. You're gonna slow us down."
The words made Irelyn bristle. She clenched her fists at her sides, heat rising in her chest. "Being a girl doesn't mean I can't work."
Gally shrugged again, clearly uninterested in arguing. "Yeah, well, let's see if you can keep up then, Greenie Girl."
The condescending nickname made her jaw tighten, but before she could snap back at him, Alby walked over, sensing the tension.
"Everything alright here?" Alby asked, his eyes flicking between them.
Gally grunted, turning away from Irelyn. "We're fine. Just gettin' started."
Alby gave them both a pointed look before nodding. "Good. Gally, give her a task."
There was a pause, and Gally's jaw tightened as if he were holding back whatever he really wanted to say. He grabbed a bucket of nails and his canvas tool bag, shoving them into Irelyn's hands. "Here, you can carry my stuff for the day."
Irelyn stared down at the bucket and bag, disbelief swirling in her chest. *Seriously?* This was her task? She looked up at Gally, expecting him to change his mind, but his expression stayed cold.
With a tight smile, she nodded. "Fine."
Alby gave her a sympathetic glance but didn't say anything else, heading off to oversee the rest of the Glade.
For the rest of the morning, Irelyn followed Gally like a pack mule, carrying his tools as he hammered away on the framework of a new hut. Every time he moved to a new section, she trailed behind, feeling utterly useless. The other Builders worked around her, focused on their tasks, while Gally ignored her unless he needed a tool handed to him. She could feel the other boys' eyes on her but pretended not to notice.
At lunchtime, Gally finally called for a break. The Builders gathered under a patch of shade, pulling out sandwiches the Cooks had prepared for them. Irelyn dropped Gally's tools beside him with more force than necessary and sat down a little ways off, feeling the weight of frustration pressing down on her.
A small group of younger Builders, boys she hadn't officially met yet, sat nearby, glancing at her with curiosity. One of them—a boy with curly hair and a friendly face—shifted over to sit closer to her.
"Don't mind Gally," the boy said, his voice low but kind. "He's always like that with new people. He'll calm down once he gets used to you."
Irelyn raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "You sure about that?"
The boy chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, give it time. He's a good guy, once you get past the, uh… rough edges."
Another Builder, sitting cross-legged beside them, chimed in. "He's just wound up 'cause things have been changing so fast lately. You being here, it's… different. He doesn't like change."
Irelyn sighed, glancing over at Gally. He was sitting with his usual group of friends, eating in silence. "Yeah, well, I'm not too fond of change either," she muttered.
The boys smiled sympathetically, and they ate together in relative silence for the rest of the break. Irelyn tried to calm her nerves, but the morning's frustration was still simmering beneath the surface.
After lunch, the Builders went back to work. Gally resumed his hammering, and Irelyn stood off to the side, watching him. The more she stood there, the more her frustration grew. She couldn't just spend the rest of the day carrying his tools. She needed to prove herself. She needed to do something useful.
With a deep breath, Irelyn walked over to Gally, steeling herself for whatever reaction he might have. "Hey, Gally," she started, trying to keep her voice even. "Why don't you teach me how to help?"
Gally didn't stop hammering. His face remained impassive, eyes fixed on his work, as if he hadn't heard her.
Irelyn's chest tightened, but she stood her ground. "Come on," she pressed. "Just show me something. I can help. You've seen me lift things around here. I'm not gonna break."
For a moment, Gally didn't respond. His hammer kept hitting the wood with precise, even strokes. Irelyn was just about to turn away, thinking he'd decided to ignore her entirely, when he suddenly stopped.
He let out a slow breath, his jaw tight, but he finally nodded toward a pile of wood nearby. "Fine. See that frame over there?"
Irelyn blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah?"
"Bring it over." He stepped away from the structure he was working on, gesturing toward a window frame that had been partially assembled. "We're putting in a window here. I'll show you how to build the frame."
Her heart lifted slightly. "Alright," she said, moving quickly to grab the wooden pieces. She brought them over, and Gally knelt down, grabbing the hammer again. He showed her how to measure the wood, align the pieces, and hammer the nails into place to form the shape of the window frame.
As she followed his instructions, she was careful to line everything up exactly as he'd shown her, tapping the nails in one by one. She could feel Gally watching her, his eyes flicking from her hands to the wood, assessing each move. When she finished one corner, she glanced up at him, half-expecting some critique, but instead, he gave a small nod.
"Not bad," he muttered, his tone a shade less dismissive. She thought she caught the hint of a smile before he quickly looked away.
They worked together in silence for a while, and Irelyn noticed Gally's stance soften a little as he saw her handling the tools well. When she adjusted the wood just slightly to make it more level, his gaze lingered approvingly for a moment, though he didn't say anything.
After they finished the frame, Gally picked up the ladder to start on some roof repairs. Irelyn felt a flicker of pride, sensing she'd managed to get through to him a bit. She finished nailing the last piece of the frame with growing confidence.
Once the frame was done, Irelyn picked it up, eager to show Gally her work. She turned toward the ladder, but in her excitement, she didn't notice his tool bag lying on the ground.
Her foot caught on the edge of the bag, and she stumbled forward. The window frame slipped from her grasp, and her body slammed into the ladder. Gally, who had been up near the roof, let out a startled shout as the ladder wobbled beneath him.
But he didn't fall. In one swift motion, he leapt down, landing on his feet with an annoyed grunt. He glared at Irelyn, his eyes blazing with irritation.
"What the hell, Greenie Girl?!" Gally snapped, stepping closer. "You almost knocked me off!"
"I—I didn't mean to!" Irelyn stammered, her heart racing. "You didn't even fall, Gally. You jumped down!"
Gally scowled, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "That's not the point. You're always in the way. You don't belong here!"
Irelyn felt her temper flare. "Oh, so that's it, huh? I don't belong here because I'm new? Or because I'm a girl?"
"No, because you're a bloody distraction!" Gally's voice rose, his frustration bubbling over. "You don't get how things work here. You want to change everything. I don't need someone askin' questions and slowin' us down."
Irelyn's chest tightened with anger. "You're just scared of change," she snapped. "That's what this is about. You can't handle anything being different, can you?"
Gally's face darkened, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not scared of anything, Greenie Girl," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But you don't know shuck about this place. You don't even know your own damn name."
The words hit her like a slap, and suddenly, it was like something cracked open inside her mind. Irelyn's vision blurred as she staggered back a step, her heart hammering in her chest. Her name was there, just out of reach—like a whisper in a storm, tangled in the fog of her memory.
Then, a sharp pain pulsed at her temples, and a single word blazed into her mind with blinding clarity.
Irelyn.*
The name surged up, filling the empty space that had haunted her since she'd woken in the Box. It was hers, a piece of herself finally snapping back into place. Her real name.
Her breath hitched, caught between a sob and a laugh as waves of emotion crashed over her—relief, joy, disbelief. But mixed with the joy was a strange, panicked ache. *What now?* She'd been chasing her name for days, and now that she had it, her mind spun with the question of what else might come back—what it meant to finally have this piece of herself restored.
Tears filled her eyes, her whole body trembling as she struggled to process the flood of feelings. She clutched her chest, feeling her heart pounding beneath her hand, and tried to steady her breathing. *What do I do?* she thought wildly. She didn't even realize she'd started crying until her vision blurred completely, her breaths coming in shaky gasps.
Gally's face shifted, confusion flickering across his features. He wasn't expecting her to cry. His frustration melted away, replaced with wide-eyed alarm. "Hey, wait—don't… don't cry," he stammered, his voice a mix of confusion and concern.
His words cut through her panic like a lifeline, anchoring her back to the present. The emotional storm quieted, and she took a deep, shuddering breath, clutching her chest as she looked at him.
"I remember," she whispered, her voice cracking through the tears. She took a shaky step forward, unable to stop herself from closing the distance. "I remember my name. It's Irelyn."
Gally froze, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wait, what?"
The panic dissolved into joy, and before she even realized what she was doing, Irelyn threw her arms around his neck, holding him in a tight, fierce hug. "I remember," she said again, a small, relieved laugh breaking through her tears. "My name is Irelyn!"
Gally stood stiffly, his arms hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment before he finally wrapped them around her. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, still clearly caught off guard. After a second, he chuckled softly. "You're a strange one, Irelyn."
They stood like that for a moment, Irelyn feeling the warmth of his grip steady her as the last of the panic faded into relief. She pulled back slightly, smiling through her tears, her heart so full it felt like it might burst. "I can't believe I remembered… it just came back."
Gally glanced at her, his eyes softening for a brief moment as he brushed a stray tear from her cheek. "Good for you," he murmured. "But… don't go blurtin' it out to everyone just yet."
Irelyn blinked, caught off guard. "Why not?"
He shrugged, his expression shifting to something more playful. "Let it be a surprise. Wait 'til the bonfire tonight—give everyone somethin' to celebrate for once. A little fun wouldn't hurt 'em."
Her smile widened at that, catching the hint of warmth and thoughtfulness under his usual gruff exterior. "Alright. That sounds like a good idea." She took a breath, feeling her pulse slow as the excitement settled. *Maybe Gally's not so bad after all* she thought.
"Good." Gally pulled back, clearing his throat and glancing away, as if the moment had gone on a little too long for his comfort. "Just… don't expect me to get all mushy about it later."
Irelyn laughed, wiping the last of her tears away. "I wouldn't dream of it."
As she turned back to the window frame, Gally looked at her with something that almost seemed like pride, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright," he said, nodding toward the frame she'd been working on. "Get back to it—and don't knock me off any ladders again."
She grinned, the tension of the morning gone, her heart feeling lighter than it had since she'd arrived. "I'll try."
They both got back to work, the weight of the name she'd finally remembered filling her with a newfound confidence. For the first time, she felt a sense of belonging, as if she'd taken a small but important step toward piecing herself back together.
That evening, the familiar glow of the bonfire lit up the clearing, flickering warmly across faces as the Gladers gathered for some much-needed downtime. Irelyn sat cross-legged on the grass near the fire, Newt sprawled comfortably with his head resting on her leg, his arm folded behind his head as he watched the chaotic game unfolding nearby.
They'd been chatting on and off about the day, trading jokes and stories from work. There was an easy, natural comfort between them, the kind that needed no explanation. Irelyn absentmindedly brushed a piece of grass off Newt's shoulder, earning a lazy, appreciative smile as he shifted to get more comfortable.
In the firelight, she could see a group of boys tangled in what looked like organized chaos. Some version of "capture the ball" was unfolding, with shouts and laughter echoing across the Glade as the boys tried to wrestle a cloth-wrapped ball back to their side of the field. There didn't seem to be many rules beyond no throwing and no kicking, but judging by the noise, the Gladers didn't mind.
Irelyn winced as Gally barreled straight into Zart, sending the taller boy flying into the dirt with a loud thud. The circle around the fire erupted into laughter and cheers, half the crowd applauding Gally's boldness while the other half groaned at his rough play.
"Alright, water break!" Alby called from the edge of the field, waving the boys over before things got out of hand.
The players jogged over, panting and grinning, and flopped down around the bonfire to catch their breath. Zart dropped down next to Irelyn with a dramatic sigh, rubbing at his shoulder. "Gally, next time, give me a shuckin' warning, will you?"
Gally, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, took a long drink from a jar of his "specialty" drink before plopping down beside her. "Don't be so slow next time," he replied, shrugging as if Zart's complaint was beneath him. He glanced at Irelyn, raising his eyebrows in a playful challenge. "What about you, Greenie Girl? Think you could take me down?"
Irelyn raised her chin, feeling a little bolder now that Gally was smiling instead of scowling. "I think I could if I had to. But I'm not reckless enough to try."
Gally's grin widened, his eyes catching the firelight in a way that made her stomach do an unexpected flip. "Smart answer. Not a lot of Gladers know when to pick their battles."
The relaxed way he spoke surprised her, his tone so different from his usual gruffness. She glanced away, smiling to herself, feeling an unexpected warmth at this new side of him.
Just then, Zart nudged her with his elbow, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "So what's got you lookin' so shuckin' happy tonight, Greenie? Or does it have anything to do with that hug you gave Gally over in the Builders' section earlier?"
Irelyn's eyes widened, and she felt her cheeks heat up as the boys around the fire burst into laughter. Even Gally, who had been lazily sipping his drink, raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing.
Before she could defend herself, Newt propped himself up on his elbow, grinning as he looked up at her. "A hug, huh? Was that before or after you almost knocked him off the ladder?"
Alby chuckled from across the fire, shaking his head. "Did any of you shanks get any work done today, or were you all just too busy spying on the Builders?"
Frypan leaned over from his spot near the fire, waving a spoon in the air. "Nah, we were just making sure she didn't need rescuing from Captain Grumpy here. But I've never seen Gally warm up to a Greenie like that before, so I guess she didn't need it."
The group erupted in laughter, and Irelyn's blush deepened as she shook her head, unable to hold back her smile. She caught Gally's eye across the fire, and he gave her a small wink, his expression light and easy. The teasing atmosphere felt surprisingly warm, and she found herself laughing along with them, feeling like she'd finally broken through the last bit of tension between her and the Gladers.
Newt reached up, tapping her knee with a lazy smile. "Alright, Sunshine, spill it. What's with the smile? You're keepin' secrets, aren't you?"
The boys quieted, all eyes on her, and Irelyn took a deep breath, her heart pounding with excitement. She looked around the circle, their faces lit by the flickering flames, and couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for each of them.
"I remembered my name today," she said, her voice soft but filled with joy. The boys leaned in, their expressions shifting to surprise, and she repeated, louder this time, "It's Irelyn."
For a moment, there was stunned silence, and then the circle erupted into cheers. Boys clapped her on the back, a few jumped to their feet to hug her, and the air filled with laughter and congratulations. The sense of belonging hit her hard, the warmth of their welcome wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.
Alby, standing near the fire with a grin, lifted his jar high. "To Irelyn!" he shouted, his voice booming. "About time you remembered, Greenie Girl!"
The boys echoed his toast with whoops and laughter, clinking their jars together in the air. Someone handed Irelyn a jar, and she took a small, cautious sip, laughing as the sharp burn hit her throat. She sputtered a little, and Newt patted her back with a grin.
"Still better than your first try, Sunshine," he teased, leaning in to give her a quick side hug. "Congrats."
Finally, the cheers quieted, and Newt helped her to her feet, guiding her over to the edge of the fire. "Come on, Irelyn," he said, his voice low but warm, "there's somethin' else we do around here when you remember your name."
With the Keepers leading, they walked over to the Wall of Names, the section of the North Wall where each boy had carved his name. The names stretched across the stone like a living history, a mark of their resilience, a reminder of the people they were before the Maze had taken their memories.
Alby stepped forward, his voice solemn as he explained. "This wall—it's more than just names. It's who we are, a reminder that we're more than just survivors." He nodded toward the wall, his expression softening. "Today, you get to leave your mark."
Irelyn's heart thudded in her chest, overwhelmed by the significance of the moment. She glanced back at the circle of faces, each one filled with encouragement, and then turned to the wall.
Gally stepped up beside her, handing her a chisel, his fingers brushing hers as he placed it in her hand. "Congrats, Irelyn," he murmured, his voice low and warm. There was a softness in his gaze that caught her off guard, but before she could say anything, Newt pressed a hammer into her other hand with a quiet smile.
She gave them both a grateful nod, stepping up to the wall. Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the chisel, positioning it against the stone, but the weight of the hammer felt steady and grounding. With a deep breath, she began to carve.
The letters of her name took shape, each strike of the hammer echoing in the quiet night. She felt the importance of each mark, the permanence of the name she'd fought so hard to remember.
When she finished, she took a step back, running her fingers over the grooves. The name Irelyn stood out against the rough stone, a part of her finally anchored to this place.
The boys cheered again, their voices lifting around her like a warm embrace. Newt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a proud smile. Gally, standing nearby, caught her eye and gave her a small nod, his usual gruffness softened in the firelight.
As Irelyn looked around at her new family, she felt, for the first time, like she truly belonged.