She was lost in the crowd, searching desperately for a familiar face. Tears burned their way down her dirt-stained face and she clutched her hands to her chest. She shouldn't have strayed so far away. She took a step forward, and--

"Elizabeth, there you are!" a man picked her up from behind. The girl turned in his arms. "Papa!" she cried, burying her face into his shirt. The man kissed her cheek and hugged her before putting her back down.

"Stay with me, Elizabeth," he said, taking her hand. "I know you're curious, but it's too dangerous to be wandering around, here."

---

Elizabeth gasped awake, her hands clutching at her shirt much like they had been in her dream. Cold sweat covered her back and drenched her short hair. Slowly, she brought a hand up to feel the soft ends. Wasn't it longer than this? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain her sense of self. She was in the Maze. She was in Minho and Ben's hut. She was in her hut. Not lost, not afraid, just...alone. Her heart beat faster in her chest as she surveyed the small room.

I am alone, she thought.

Swallowing, she swung her legs over the side of the cot and began airing out her shirt. It was the end of her second week in the Glade, the day Hank promised they would be finished with her shower stall. Elizabeth opened the door to her hut and started making her way to the gardens where she would spend most of her day. It was still early enough that most of the other Gladers were still asleep, and she briefly wondered if she had always been a morning person.

When she arrived at the gardens, she rolled up her sleeves and grabbed the watering can. Before anything, she needed to water the seeds they had planted the night before, and to do that, she had to make the long walk to the well in the middle of the Homestead. Gally was at the well drawing a bucket of water, but no one else was around.

"Is everybody still asleep?" Elizabeth asked, walking up. Gally glanced at her, then shrugged and retrieved the bucket. Elizabeth watched him as she waited her turn, then cocked her head to the side.

"How are you adjusting to life here?" she asked. Again, Gally shrugged, this time without looking at her.

"I don't really care as long as I have something to do," he said.

"Are you always so broody? You never want to talk to me." Elizabeth asked, taking the second bucket by the well and lowering it down. Gally raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not broody, and I just talked to you. Twice."

"But usually you just...I don't know, keep to yourself."

"Do you have a problem with that?" Gally dipped his hands into the bucket and splashed some water up at his face.

"No. I--" Elizabeth started, Gally interupted her.

"You think that just because you're a girl all the guys are gonna want to be talking to you at all times of the day? Well news flash, I don't really care." He looked over at her, his eyes flitting up and down her body. Elizabeth shifted under his scrutinization.

"You're not even that pretty, anyway," he said.

Elizabeth blinked. She nearly dropped the bucket she was retrieving from the rope. Gally didn't seem to notice; he continued washing his face. Admitedly he was feeling uncomfortable about the silence. He'd probably hurt her feelings and she was trying not to cry. His words, though true, hadn't been made to come across so rudely. And then the strangest thing happened.

Elizabeth laughed. She set down the bucket she was handling and covered her mouth with both hands, her sides shaking with laughter, trying her hardest to be quiet and respectful to those who were sleeping. Gally's mouth dropped open while he watched her.

"You're laughing about it?" He was incredulous. Elizabeth said nothing, just continued laughing and staggering around. He thought he saw a tear slide down her cheek.

"It wasn't supposed to be a joke," he said.

"I--I know!" Elizabeth wiped the tear from her eye and took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Anyway, you're not my type," Gally continued, "you're too skinny or something." Elizabeth giggled again, this time forgetting to keep things down. What was her problem?

"My day has been made!" she said in-between laughter. Gally startled them both by letting out a snort of his own laughter.

"I thought girls were more sensitive about their looks than this," he said serioiusly. Elizabeth picked up the bucket by her feet and started pouring it into the watering can.

"I'm not really offended, I'm just surprised you would be say something about that. I didn't think you'd be so verbal about it." She smiled at him, "don't worry, I won't hold it against you. You're not my type, either."

"I still don't see why you have to laugh about it." Gally watched her transfer the water to the watering can. After a moment, he said, "What is your type?"

Elizabeth looked at him with a strange look on her face. "The klunk? You can't just ask me that, Gals."

Gally's freckled face did something Elizabeth didn't think was possible: it turned a bright red.

"I just told you mine, why shouldn't you tell me yours? And don't ever call me that again," he grumbled, his tone turning angry. Elizabeth frowned.

"You did? What was it?" she asked smoothly.

"Not you," he replied just as smoothly. She smiled at him. He smiled back. It made his facial features softer.

"Well?" she prompted.

"No offense, but you're just not the tall, sexy brunette I think of everytime my mind goes there."

"Gally!" Elizabeth's mouth dropped open, the closed again. It was very fish-like. Gally picked up his bucket and brought it to his mouth and drank. Elizabeth couldn't believe Gally had told her what he found attractive in a woman. She also couldn't believe he'd used the word, "sexy," and implied that his mind "went there." She smiled as she watched him finish his drink and wipe the corners of his mouth with a sleeve.

"Thanks, Gals," she said. "I feel like I know you better, now,"

"You're welcome. Don't call me Gals."

----

Ric was watching Elizabeth raking the dirt from her place on the field. He'd been here for a month and two weeks and still felt like the newbie, while Elizabeth seemed to fit right in, despite the fact she was female. And a very pretty one at that.

"Yo, Ric!" something hit the side of his head. Zart was holding a green tomato in one hand, and a hoe in the other.

"What?"

"You been daydreaming again. You need to pee or something?" the older boy asked. Ric shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good." Ric turned back to his work. Ever since he'd found Elizabeth outside the woods that night, he'd been suspicious of her. She seemed like a nice-enough girl, but he didn't trust her. He'd been following Dave again, and it looked like Elizabeth had been with Dave this time. Maybe they were in cahoots, though Ric didn't know how they could have formed up in the short time she'd been in the Glade. Still, she was very pretty, and Dave was probably handsome. Maybe Elizabeth liked him and that's why they were together in the forest. They'd been doing something aweful. Something sinister. Something...romantic. Ric shuddered at the thought.

Dave had been sneaking in the forest for quite a while, and Ric didn't know why. He'd been careful to stay out of sight, and Dave didn't seem to know he was being followed. Ric had stumbled upon a tree full of sharpened sticks along with a couple of knives, and was smart enough to realize they weren't for decoration. Dave was always hovering above Bill's grave muttering curses to the dirt that covered his friend. Ric hadn't known Bill, but he knew Dave had been close to him. And now he was going crazy. Cursing at Bill's grave, sharpening sticks with knives, glaring at the other boys like he hated them all.

The most awful part being that no one saw this except for Ric. He'd told Nick about Dave's wicked looks and his appearances at Bill's grave, but the Glade leader had only laughed and called Ric's ideas "a bunch of jack," and then gone on to call Ric himself a baby-boy. Needless to say, it hadn't gone well. He'd considered telling Alby or even Newt, but then decided against it because maybe Nick was right. He didn't know Dave that well, and for all-he-knew this was a normal occurrence. This whole place was messed up, anyway, why shouldn't Dave be sneaking around like a creep?

Poor Elizabeth, she probably never knew what hit her.

---

"How was your day in the Maze?" Elizabeth asked Newt, "Any Grievers?" It was dinner once again in the Glade, and as usual--since her choking-accident--Elizabeth and Newt were sitting together.

He shrugged: "Kind of uneventful, really,"

"Mine, too," she said. They started eating in silence. The meal was a sort of roast that Ben had dreamt up, complete with roasted carrots, onions, and green beans from the garden.

"This is pretty good," she said in-between-bites. Newt agreed. Elizabeth was about to say something else when Hank stood up.

"I have an announcement," he said, looking at Elizabeth. "The shower stalls are ready. Well, Elizabeth's is all complete, anyway. We plan to finish the rest by next week."

Elizabeth raised her glass. "Thank God for that! I smell like klunk!"

"Hear, hear!" Dalton said, raising his own glass. Everyone looked at him and he turned sheepish. "I meant for the shower being finished," he mumbled.

"He is right, though," Newt said, as soon as they'd all cheered. "You do stink."

Elizabeth swatted his arm. "So does everybody!"

"That's exactly my point," Newt replied. "You're starting to smell as bad as one of the guys." The skin around his hazel eyes crinkled as he smiled into his drink. The comment earned him another swat.

---

The water felt so good on Elizabeth's skin. The Builders had been kind enough to make her stall large enough to fit a pot, and even added a small shelf with a new bar of soap. She felt reasonably safe in the small building, and was thankful for the roof they'd added, and the door that could be locked with a moving handle from the inside. That had been Ben's idea; make the door open towards the outside and add a piece of swinging wood that, although not as sturdy as a professional outhouse, would at least give Elizabeth enough warning if anyone tried to break in.

Her original plan for a ten-minute shower had gradually gone from thirty minutes, to forty-five, to an hour. But it felt so good, and if somebody complained about it, so be it. They could have their little tantrum, it wouldn't change the fact that she finally felt clean.

Thankfully the Glade was supplied with towels, and Elizabeth had brought a change of clothes with her, so it was easy to re-clothe and exit the stall feeling ready to take on another day in the gardens.