CHAPTER FIVE
( INSTINCT )

     LATER ON THAT DAY, NIK pulled me away to work with the Track-hoes. And right now, I'm gardening my ass off.

It's not easy tending to plants.

"How much longer do I have to work?" I ask Nik, wiping the sweat off of my forehead.

"You just started, Grace." He chuckles. I plop down in the dirt, pull my knees to my chest, and lay my chin on my knees.

"I need a break." I breathe heavily. "Just give me five minutes. I feel like my arms are going to fall off. How do you do this?"

"That's an everyday task for me," Nik shrugs. "I'm used to it."

Noises come from not too far off, and I turn my head to see the Runners coming out of the Maze. Minho sends me a wave as he passes by, heading straight to something called a 'Map Room.'

I haven't heard a lot about the Runners, so I'm extremely curious. Newt left out a lot of things from his tour, and it makes me wonder why he did.

Someone's cranky.

I hold back a groan. Why does he have to talk to me? Doesn't he have someone else to talk to?

See? I knew that you were cranky. He states. Am I annoying you?

Very. I scoff to myself. Can't you go bother someone else?

No.

I stand back up, and grab the shovel that lays next to my foot. "I see your break is over." Newt says, talking from behind me.

I turn to him, eyebrows raised. "How would you know? Were you stalking me?"

"I'm the second in command," He smiles. "I'm supposed to observe."

"And your object of observation had to be me?" I ask, digging the shovel into the ground.

"I'm supposed to watch out for you. Alby's orders."

Are you ignoring me?

Yes, ma'am, I am. I grin to myself. Is that a problem?

I can't wait until you get your memories back . . .

Why? I stop what I'm doing. What do you mean?

"Grace?" Newt furrows his eyebrows, staring at me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I nod, pushing away the mind-link thing between Thomas and I. "I'm fine."

"What's up, shanks?" Minho steps into the conversation, coming out of nowhere. By this time, Nik is already back to work, not acknowledging us.

"I think I'm gonna go-" I bite my lip. "Take a nap. Yeah, I'm gonna take a nap."

I drop the shovel from my hands, and sprint to the Homestead. I slip around the building, and sneak to the Deadheads, hoping no one can see me.

I venture deep into the woods, and find a tree to climb. I perch myself on a branch and lay my back against the trunk.

Okay, I want an explanation. I say to Thomas. No more ignoring the fact that I don't understand anything. You have to tell me.

It's not time yet, Grace. You'll find out soon enough.

Who are you? I ask. How do I know you?

A few more days. He promises. Everything will make sense in a few days.

I need to know NOW, I demand. Just tell me.

But by that time, Thomas had stopped talking to me. That left me alone, with no idea what he meant.

___♕___

That night, I didn't sleep at all.

I wouldn't allow myself to sleep.

I stayed up, replaying Thomas's words over and over again.

Why can't I have my memories back yet? Why did I recognize Minho when I got here? Why am I the only girl? How can Thomas talk to me through mind-link? How do I know Thomas? Why are my memories gone? Why am I here?

And still, nothing fit together. Nothing.

So, this morning, I look like trash. We may not have mirrors here, but I don't need a mirror to know how terrible I look. Newt has accompanied me to breakfast, along with Minho.

"What happened to you?" Chuck winces, taking in my appearance.

"A bear attacked me, Chuck." I roll my eyes, and shove my plate away from me.

"She didn't get any sleep last night." Minho tells him. "Don't know why."

"It's nothing," I shrug it off. "So, Newt, what jobs are I trying out today?"

"Builders and Slicers." He replies.

"What's a Slicer?"

"You chop up innocent animals." Minho shivers in disgust. "It's evil and nasty."

"Can I just sit out today?" I plead Newt. "I feel horrible."

"Sorry, Grace. No can do," He says, eating a piece of sausage.

"Fine," I huff. "Does anyone know how to braid hair?"

"I do." Minho says, raising his hand.

"Where did you learn how to braid?" I cock my head to the side. He stands behind me, and begins to braid.

"I don't know." He answers. "It's just an instinct."

"Maybe you were a hair stylist before the Glade." Chuck giggles. "Serves you right, you shank."

"Slim it, Slinthead." Minho growls, wrapping a rubber band around the end of my hair. "Maybe you were a frog before the Glade."

"No." Chuck stops laughing immediately, his face becoming serious.

"Both of you shut up," Newt rubs his temples with his fingertips. "You're giving me a bloody headache."

"He called me a frog!" Chuck complains. "It's not my fault!"

"Whatever! You're the one who said I was a ha-"

"Please stop," I cut Minho off. "I'm tired, and I don't want to hear this bull crap right now."

"Someone's in a bad mood," Chuck stares at me. "What's wrong with you?"

"I just- I don't feel good." I lay my head on the picnic table, and stare at the ground.

"Sorry, Greenie, but it's time to start working." Newt pulls me up. "Gally's first on the list."

"Bye, Chuck. Bye, Minho." I wave at them, then begin to follow Newt across the Glade. "Who's Gally?"

"He's the Keeper of the Builders," He replies, his accent heavily displaying itself. "Watch out for him. That shank's trouble, nothing but it."

"He couldn't be that bad." I pat Newt's shoulder. "I'm only guessing that you've gotten in a fight with him before. Is that why you call him a 'troubling shank'?"

"Not exactly." He shakes his head, making his way to the building sight with me by his side. "He's just . . . not a good choice for a friend. He fits the roll for enemy."

"I get it, Newt." I say. "Don't worry about me. I can handle anyone."

___♕___

"Damnit, Gally!" I yell in exasperation. "Fuck off!"

"You're not doing that right." Gally sighs, seating himself on the log below me.

I stand on a stool, trying to hammer a nail into an outside wall. So far, I know why Newt told me to watch out for Gally. He's a-

"You're such a pain in my ass." I grumble, picking up the hammer again. "Can't you just let me do my own thing?"

"Not if it's wrong," He chuckles, stepping onto the stool next to me.

I wear gloves on my hands, and protective glasses. Once I got to the Builder's station earlier, I was forced to change into over-alls and a tanktop- because of the 'manual labor' and 'weather conditions.'

Gally takes a different nail and hammer, and easily smashes the nail into the wall. I gape at him, eyes narrowed. "Show off," I snap. "You're such a bastard."

"I know," He smiles genuinely.

My eyes soften for a moment, but turn cold again. "Stop messing around. I want to get through with this job. Hopefully, I'll never see a hammer again."

If Gally weren't such a technical person, he'd actually be a nice guy. I just don't understand why everyone's so mean to him.

You're mean to him too, so . . . Thomas' voice appears in my brain. Just see the Glade from his perspective. Maybe then, you'll be friends with him.

And for once, I agree with Thomas.

I sigh, pulling off my gloves, and stepping down from the stool. I toss my glasses to the ground, along with the gloves, and cross my arms over my chest.

"I'm sorry," I manage, staring at Gally. "I guess I was being a little mean to you."
"A little?" He raises an eyebrow jokingly. "You practically called me every name in the book."

"What book?" I ask in confusion.

"It's a term." He replies. "And I accept your apology. But for right now, you're no longer a builder. Winston has you for the rest of the day."

"Fuck my life."

_______