The Only One (Newt || fanfiction)

Chapter 5

The next day was the day that I was going to start trying out different jobs. I'm going to be tested by Zart, keeper of the track-hoes, and see if im a good farmer. I'm highly doubting it, but I'm pretty much forced to try out everything.

Breakfast was great, Frypan does not disappoint.

I can't stop thinking about Newt. What happened last night confused me. I didn't really know what to say or do. And the whole scene just keeps replaying in my head. I think he was trying to hit on me, but I didn't do anything so he probably thinks I don't like him.

I'm so stupid! I mentally scream. I don't know what my exact feelings are for Newt, but I do know that I like him. And I don't want him to think otherwise.

I wait by the gardens for Zart to show up. I don't know how I'm supposed to work in this dress, but Alby says I'll probably get new clothes when the box is scheduled to come up tomorrow.

"Alright, Greenie," a voice almost shouts from behind me following a loud clap.

I jump and quickly whip around. Why do I find myself doing this so often? I'll get used to it, eventually, I think.

"Hi, I'm Zart," he says and shakes my hand roughly, "Today you will be working with the track-hoes. We work in the gardens. Tillin', weedin', plantin', just about anything you can think of that has to do with growin' stuff."

I nod, following along.

"So today I'll just be showin' you the basics, and if you're good, you may just find yourself back here in a week or so. So first we'll work on tillin'. We dig up the dirt, preparin' it for plantin' seeds," Zart says and starts walking.

I follow him around and he demonstrates tilling the dirt. Looks easy enough. I look around the gardens, not really paying attention to the demonstration. All of the guys working here have hudge, bulging muscels.

"Alright, now it's your turn, Greenie," he says and steps away from the contraption, sweat beading his forehead.

How did he get so tired from that?

I step up to the handle bar and push the tilling thing forward. But it doesn't budge. The spiked metal wheels don't turn an inch. The hard dirt keeps them from moving. I push again, but with no success.

Zart laughs at my weakness. "Okay, lets move on," he says.

~

After an hour of demonstrations and faliures of strength, Zart says my best skill was planting seeds. Of course planting required patience and attention to detail rather than strength. It was the easiest job.

"You can plant these seeds for the rest of the time you have here. You should be done by lunch time," he says and hands me a large bucket.

Due to it's weight, as soon as I take the bucket out of his hands it goes toward the ground, my hand still gripped to the handle. It doesn's spill though.

I slowly lift up the bucket. "Sorry, wasn't expecting it to be that heavy," I struggle to say as I hold it.

"Here, I'll carry it over to where they need to be planted," Zart says and takes it out of my hands. He leads me to a long, tilled up row of dirt. He holds the bucket in his right hand and leans to the left as he walks.

"These ones don't have to be as exact when planted. Just grab a handful and dump it in there. Each pile should be about three inches apart," he says and sets down the bucket.

"Okay, thanks," I say.

I watch Zart walk away and feel bad for him. It must be a pain having to teach someone how to do something that they suck at. I think we both knew that I'm not going to be a track-hoe, yet he still stayed pretty optomistic about the whole thing.

Nice guy, I think to myself.

I start planting the seeds exactly how Zart told me to. Handfulls, three inches apart. As I get the hang of it and start zooming through the bucket, it gets boring. I try to occupy myself with different things. I try making a mental map of the Glade. Then a mental list of the people I have met.

But that's boring too, so eventually my mind just goes back to Newt. I have to stop thinking about him.

I'm going to die of either bordem or regret, while planting seeds, I think to myself and sigh.

Then something comes to my head. It's a bunch of sounds. Weird, amusing, interesting, beautiful sounds. Music.

The more I think about it the more I want to express it. But I can't just break out singing. And there's no words to it anyway.

Then it just happens. I start humming the melody.

It seems like there are words that go to it, but they just aren't there.

I just hum and plant and it puts me in a good mood. A good enough mood to make me oblivious to all of the eyes on me. When I look up from the dirt, every glader in sight has stopped what they're doing and looking straight at me.

My humming goes silent as I just stare back.

"What were you doing?" someone to my side asks. I look to the left and see someone walking slowly down the row, examining my work.

"I was just... humming, I guess," I say, a little embarrassed.

"Hm," is all he says and everyone gets back to work. I don't know who this guy is, but he seems a little nosy looking over my stuff. If it's anyone's business besides mine, it's Zart's, and that's just because he's the keeper.

I decide to shrug it off with an eye roll and get back to work. But when I reach my hand into the bucket, it's empty. I guess I'm finished.

I stand up and grab my bucket, my back cracking when it goes straight. I wince and put a hand on my lower back as I walk away.

Once I find Zart it's time for lunch he takes the bucket and we both start walking toward Frypan's kitchen. When we get there, we are served beef stew. I decide to sit with Chuck today, instead of by myself.

I plop my tray down next to his and sit down.

"Hey," I say and brush my hair out of my face with my fingers.

"Hi," Chuck says hesitantly.

What's his deal? I think to myself as I scoop up a piece of beef and a carrot slice with my spoon.

"Oh my God," I say after I take eat some of it, "this is really good."

"Yep," Chuck says.

"What?" I ask, starting to get frustrated from the way he's acting.

"What?!" he replies, defensively. There's definately something up.

"Why are you acting so weird?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation calm.

"I don't-" Chuck starts. But when he sees the look on my face, he gives up. "Were you really singing in the garden?"

"I was not singing! I was just humming," I say, defensively. When I see Chucks reaction I calmly add, "quietly, to myself."

"No one's ever been able to remember a song before, Eve. Not any music at all, for that matter." Chuck says.

I pause for a minute. If I can think of music, but no one else can, then maybe I can think of other things too, I think to myself.

But before I can say anything, Chuck says, "They're having a gathering after lunch."