The Only One (Newt || fanfiction)

Chapter 4

Frypan was a big, hairy guy that knew how to cook. He was able to put his knowledge to work and, with the help of a few others, cook amazing meals for at least 50 gladers three times a day.

All sorts of sounds came from the kitchen. Metal on metal, shouting, and chopping. It was unorganized, but it worked.

I watched him as he quickly and effortlessly threw together a hamburger and tossed it onto a tray with some mashed potatoes that he had already slapped on there.

He shoves it at me and says, "There you go lady shank."

I take the tray. "Thanks... pile of klunk," I say hesitantly, not sure if that's right.

Frypan lets out a deep laugh and gets back to work in his noisy kitchen.

There are tables of gladers everywhere. I see Newt and Alby with some of the keepers I recognize from the gathering. Chuck is sitting with some people I don't know. And then there are the dozens of others that I don't know.

I only know three people in the Glade, but all of the people know me. I need to make friends. I'm not good at it, and don't really care to do it, but it will probably have a good outcome.

But not now. I need time to think. I walk outside and head toward some picnic benches I saw near the grove.

I set my tray down on the nearest one and sit. It's so peaceful out here. Despite my situation, I like this place. Quiet and comforting.

I run my hands along the perfectly sanded wood. Did the gladers make this, or was it sent in the box? If the gladers did make it, then would they had to have gotten tools from the box? Or maybe it was already here when they arrived?

So many questions fly around my brain just from touching a bench. Just like when you hit a bee hive with a stick. Just from one hit, thousands of bees swarm and attack.

"What are you doing out here?" an unfamiliar voice asks me.

It makes me jump, before I quickly spin around to see who this stranger is.

It's a boy I don't know. Red hair, about my height, probably about 15 or 16 years old. Not too bad looking, but not attractive.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask.

"I asked you first, Greenie," he says.

"Am I not allowed privacy?" I ask, now irritated with this kid's attitude.

"Woah, slim it girl. I just wanted to talk," he says, a bit agitated.

"Well, unfortunately I have nothing to say to you," I sarcastically smile at him and shove my spoon into my mashed potatoes.

But the boy doesn't go away, he sits down at my table, facing me.

"I'm Garrett," he says.

I ignore him and start eating the potatoes. Their amazing taste lightens my mood a bit. But I still don't want to talk to Garrett.

"You don't have to tell me who you are, Eve. The whole Glade knows you. Half of it wants to sleep with you," he says.

Before I realize what I'm doing, before I'm able to control myself, I am standing up with my fist raised parallel with my head, my elbow behind me. And before I know it, within half a second, my fist meets Garrett's temple.

I wasn't expecting the punch to be that hard, considering my size and strength, but it nocks Garrett backward off the bench. His head is bleeding and he has both hands on it, about to cry.

I grab my tray, now with no appetite, and walk back to the kitchen. I never look back, not once.

Why is it that it's so much easier to make enemies than it is to make friends?