The Doors

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I looked at Chuck, a look of horrer on my face, but all he did was grin. 

'What is that?' I shouted, not even sure if he could hear me or not.

I looked up and saw that the tall opening in front of was closing. I turned to look at the other walls and, just like the door in front of me, the other's were closing, trapping us. 

Eventually, the doors closed and the blaring noise ended. I looked at Chuck, but he was still laughing at the look on my face. I looked around to see if there was anyone else I could ask, someone who wouldn't get annoyed or laugh at me. But before I could see a face I recognised, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

'Hey Greenie,' it was a dark-skinned boy with short, thick black on his scalp, 'could you help me something?'

'What?' I asked.

'Well, every month we have a bonfire to celebrate the new Greenie, and this month it's you, so I was wondering if you wanted pick what food would be served there.'

They send someone up every month? This place just seems to be getting weirder and weirder.

'Uhh, yeah, sure,' I said.

'Great,' he retrieved his hand, 'follow me.

He led me to the kitchen, which was an open area but had everything you needed to make most dishes in cookbooks. I found it odd how I could remember recipes from cookbooks, but not my own name. I told him that I wouldn't mind noodles, so he got right to work, adding slices of  chicken various vegetables. I liked this guy more than any of the other boys I'd met so far, mostly because he actually answered my questions, rather than just laughing at me. 

'How long have you been here?' I asked.

'I was one of the first,' he said. 'So about two years.'

'What?' Two years?! These boys had managed to make their own rules and actual living arrangements and still haven't found a way out? 'And you guys still haven't found a way out?'

'We would've left this shuck place by now if we had,' Someone said from behind. 'What's for dinner, Fry?' It was the Asian boy from earlier.

'Noodles,' Frypan answered. 

'This your doing?' He looked at me with a questioning look.

I looked at the ground, no way I was looking at this guy in the face. He doesn't seem too fond over the dish I've picked. 'Yeah?'

He smiled. 'You're not all that bad, Greenie.' He patted me on the back and walked off to a group of boys in the distance.

I looked at the Doors agien, trying to make sense of how that was even possible.

"How-?" I started, before being cut off, rudely too may I add.

"Don't worry about it," said Fry, placing the pot of noodles on a slab of beated wood with a few black burn marks dotted on it, on the front counter where I'm guessing the food is usually served.

No-one in this place seems to like questions all that much.

Frypan scooped up a bowl's worth of noodles into a wooden bowl and handed it to me, "here," he said, "hope you don't have allergies," he added with a grin.

"I think I'd remember whether I have allergies," I answered, shining my fork in the noodles, trying to grab hold of as many as possible close to the cool edge.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," he said. "We had a Greenie once who had a reaction to strawberries. Had to stay in the medium overnight while Clint and Jeff had to try to figure out a cure for it."

"Clint and Jeff?" What kind of name is Clint?

"The med-jack's, the closest thing the Glade has to doctors," he nodded towards one of the many little huts scattered across the prarie grass, "we call that the med-hut."

                                                                                          •●•    

I sit crouched down by the north wall, watching as the group of teenage boy lighting the bonfire. The group of kids lighting a bonfire. This is the happest I have seen any of them so far. Lighting a fire and talking. Baraquaded by four walls, in the middle of a field with restricted food, resources, no family, just themselves. And a girl.

"Hey, Greenie," a hear a familiar voice. I could already recognise that accent from a mile away, "Ya comming or what?"

"Yeah, yeah," I answer.

"Come on," he offers me his hand, looking down at me with a warm smile on his face. I take it, hesitantly, but get up nevertheless. 

I drop his hand as soon as I get up and follow him towards the fire. I can feel the warm glow of the flames as we get closer to the closest thing to a party in the Glade.

"You want something to eat?" Newt asks, startling me a bit. 

"No, I'm good thanks." The whole allergy thing put me a bit on edge. No way was I going to live here with the embarrassment of being the first girl Greenie who just happened to getan allergic reaction on her first night here.

Newt raised his eyebrows.

"What?" I asked, more aggressively than I had intended.

"Nothing," he said, "it's just you have more manners than half the Shanks here combined."

Shanks? I frown.

"Anyways," he says, changing the subject, but nothing came out of his mouth, walking a bit faster now, I struggle to keep up. I notice that he's limping.

"What's with you leg?" I ask, trying to fill in the silence.

He slowed down and glanced at his leg, then at me. "Oh that. Nothing."

Great. I just had to ask.

"Gally! Gally! Gally!" I heard a group of boys chanting. 

I gave Newt a questioning look.

"Fighting," he said simply. "Last one out the ring wins."

I looked over at the commotion to my right, my only source on lights being the orange flames not far from the group.

"Wanna go watch?" Newt asked me eagerly.

I looked back at him and thought for a second. "Sure."

I started walking towards them, leaving Newt to follow me this time. A tall boy with almost buzzed if it wasn't for a bit spiking upwards at front was pushed to the ground by the other boy in the ring. Tall, muscular, tan skin. Minho. 

"Shank," I heard the other boy mutter.

"We'll call it a draw, yeah?"asked Minho, offering his hand for the boy to take. "I'm starving."

The boy cranked his neck and looked at the boy. He had an annoyed look on his face, but nodded and took his hand and Minho practically pulled him up. Minho grinned at the boy and turned to where me and Newt had just come from.

"Hey, Greenie," I turned around and the boy in the ring was looking at me, "wanna see what your really made of?"

(Pages 1117)

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