How I survived in an all boys glade

Chapter Nineteen

- Do you believe in ghosts? -

"I'll just be right back," I murmur, clutching my sketchbook like it's a lifeline. Fry nods, his attention already shifting back to the task at hand as he heads to the kitchen to start preparing lunch.

I sprint back to my hut, tucking the sketchbook safely into its usual drawer. With a sigh of relief, I head to the kitchen, where Fry is already chopping vegetables with effortless precision.

"Alright, let's get started," he says with a grin, his eyes crinkling in that endearing way that makes him so likable.

I roll up my sleeves and join him, happy for the company. We work in companionable silence, trading jokes and stories as we go. After the food is prepared and served, we all gather around the table to eat.

"This could use a little more salt," Justin pipes up, smirking as he looks at me.

"Yeah? Well, it's a real shame no one asked for your opinion," I shoot back with a smirk of my own, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Justin rolls his eyes in mock exasperation and takes an exaggerated bite, humming dramatically as if savoring the flavor.

"I think it's pretty good," Andrew says, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"And what exactly are you angling for?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, making everyone burst into laughter again.

"Nothing!" Andrew replies, holding up his hands in mock innocence, laughing along with everyone else.

"Sure," I say, chuckling as I take another bite. The banter flows easily, and the table is filled with warmth and laughter until it's time to get back to work.

---

Later, as Fry and I clean up after lunch, I break the comfortable silence. "Hey, Fry?"

"Yeah?" he replies, putting away some dishes.

"What kind of parent do you think you'd be?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Fry pauses, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful expression. "Huh. That's a tough one. What kind of parent would I be?" He scratches his head, chuckling softly. "Maybe fun and adventurous? But let's be real, I'd probably be a total goofball too. I can be pretty silly sometimes."

I smile at his honesty. "I can see that. You'd definitely be the fun parent."

Fry grins. "What about you, Y/N? What kind of parent do you think you'd be?"

"Me?" I tilt my head, considering. "I think I'd be nurturing and caring. The kind of parent who tries to make everyone feel safe and loved."

"Yeah, I can see that," Fry says warmly. "You have a kind and gentle nature."

"Thanks," I reply with a small smile, touched by his words.

The mood shifts slightly as I glance out at the others working. "I really miss my parents," I admit softly, stopping mid-task.

Fry's expression mirrors my sadness. "Me too," he says, his voice low.

After a moment of shared silence, I change the subject to lighten the mood. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Fry chuckles at the abrupt shift. "Ghosts, huh? I don't know. But once, I was cleaning up after dinner, and I swear I saw something—like a white, see-through figure—right by the Maze walls."

My eyes widen. "No way. That's so creepy!"

"Yeah, probably just my imagination," Fry says with a laugh, shaking his head. "But it freaked me out for sure."

"Well, if there are ghosts, I hope they're friendly," I say with a shiver.

"Same here," Fry agrees, nodding.

As we finish cleaning up, we continue asking each other random, off-the-wall questions, laughing and chatting like we don't have a care in the world. For a while, it feels like the weight of the Glade and the Maze beyond doesn't exist.