Newt

Greenbean

Life in the Glade took some getting used to. There was no time to adjust, no time to try to come to terms with what had happened, no time to even think. Alby was kind, but he was impatient. He had the right to be. There was work that needed to be done and not enough hands to get it done.

There were only five other boys up there. Alby introduced them all to Newt. He liked them well enough, but there was no one there who he felt he could talk to. Alby was always busy, and Newt didn’t trust him all that much. He didn’t trust anyone. This was all too new for Newt to even dream of finding a friend. He just kept to himself and did what Alby told him to do.

They tried to find him a placement. They really tried. He did his best to enjoy everything they made him do, but nothing felt right. He couldn’t build a ladder to save his life, so being a Builder was out of the question. His stomach was a bit too weak for the Slicers, and that boy Winston was a little too comfortable with those knives. The only place Newt found any solace was the gardens, but he still felt lost.

“Greenie, how are the crops coming along?” Alby said, approaching him.

“Everything is in order. Wish this bloody sun would lighten up a bit though. It’ll kill us all, you watch.” Newt was unusually grumpy today, but Alby pretended not to notice.

“That’s good, that’s good…” Alby grew quiet. “Newt, how are you feeling? Are you… happy?”

Newt didn’t know how to respond. He could have lied, but the silence was already too stretched out for it to be believable. He didn’t need to say anything. Alby nodded sadly, as if he already knew this would be the answer.

“This place… it’s hard to get used to. Most of the boys here haven’t. I’ve tried to make my peace with it, tried to build something here, something we can call home. But…” His eyes grew dark.

“This isn’t our home, Newt. It’s not. Do you know what’s out there?” he asked, pointing towards the large walls that surrounded them. Newt had been wondering. Ever since he exited the box, he had wondered, but he hadn’t asked. Why bother? He was still in a cage. The walls were just wider.

“Haven’t the foggiest.” He said.

Alby eyes the walls again. “It doesn’t end with the walls, Newt. Out there, there’s a maze. You’ve heard the doors closing at night. And that rumbling you hear every night, that’s the maze. It changes. I’ve tried running it myself with a few other boys, but we haven’t gotten very far, and…”

“What are you trying to ask me, Alby?” Newt asked, a nervous feeling in his gut.

Alby looked at him sadly and shook his head, almost as if he was already deciding on the flowers for his tombstone.

“How fast are you?”