CHAPTER SIX
( SKILLS )

     "YOU'RE A MURDERER!" I SCREECH, stumbling backwards. Winston chuckles, playing around with the knife in his hands.

"An animal murderer." He corrects, slicing another piece of meat.

"Same thing." I hiss. "You're evil."

"You eat bacon, right, shank?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Y-yes," I nod.

"Then you're a murderer, too."

"How dare you," I growl, and stomp out of the Bloodhouse.

It's been a full five minutes with Winston in the Bloodhouse, and I've already had a shouting competition with him.

Twice.

So, for now, I'm going to settle myself with something different. I'll probably get into some major trouble for this, but I can't stand doing anything else today.

I cross my arms over my chest as I walk, angry at the whole Glade: for no reason. Well . . . exhaustion has taken a toll on me, so that might be the reason. I should get a break from working so hard. Or an award.

I've busted my butt all day. For what? Nothing!

I've been in the Glade for three days, and I'm already WORKING! Why? Because I have to 'help out'. It's not 'fair' to the others. I'd supposedly be a 'favorite' if I got a day off.

Favorite my ass.

I feel like I'm the least favorite here. When it comes to Alby, at least. Every time I walk by him, he gives me this glare like I've killed his puppy. I don't understand why he hates me.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Chuck asks, walking along with me.

"Aren't you?" I retort.

"Geez," He puts his hands up in surrender. "Didn't have to shoot me for it."

"I didn't like the Bloodhouse." I state. "So I ran off."

"Ooooh, Alby's gonna get you," He pokes my side. "You're supposed to be with Winston."

"Let Alby get me," I shrug. "I don't care."

"You're one daredevil." Chuck shakes his head. "No one ever disobeys Alby. Not since Nick, anyway."

"Nik?" I ask. "What did Nik do?"

"Not Nik." Chuck rolls his eyes. "It's Nick."

"Chuck, that's the same thing!"

"No." He says stubbornly. "Nick was one of the first people that arrived in the Glade."

"Who were the first few people to arrive?"

"Alby, Nick, and Minho to name a few," He replies. "Newt came up the box not too long after."

"Well, what happened to Nick?" I urge.

"Shank tried to jump down the boxhole to escape." Chuck looks to the ground. "When he did, a blade appeared out of nowhere and -BAM- Nick got cut in half."

"Sounds terrible." I wince. "When did that happen?"

"A few months ago." He answers. "The Creators sent us a note, tellin' us that we couldn't escape through the boxhole. Ever since then, Alby's been in charge."

"Wow," I mumble.

"Yep." He nods. "How have you held yourself together?"

"What?" I turn to him.

"Normally, anyone would klunk themselves if I told them that." He scoffs. "You're one brave shank."

"Wow." I bite my lip. "That was a little too much information . . . "

"What're you doing out so early?" Minho jumps in, coming from nowhere. "Did Newt let ya have a break?"

"No." I sigh. "I left because I couldn't stand watching Winston butcher a pig."

"Ah." He nods. "Winston's a creep. Don't see how the slintheads do that stuff."

"It's mean." I frown.

Chuck clears his throat. "Ahem. I'm still here."

"I didn't forget you, Chucky." I pat his head. "I know you're still here."

"Don't do that!" He swats my hand. "I'm not a kid."

"Yes, you are." Minho argues.

"Not again." I whine. "Can't I just get some peace around here?"

___♕___

"Am I in trouble?" I ask Newt, sitting down at the picnic table. "You know- for quitting my job?"

"Hell yeah!" Chuck laughs.

"Chuck!" I smack the back of his head. "Don't say things like that!"

"Like what?" He asks, looking over at me. "Hell?"

"Yes." I smack him again. "You're too young for words like that."

"You are too." He points an accusing finger at me.

"No, I'm not." I roll my eyes.

But in that moment, I realize that I don't know how old I am, or what I look like. I stare at the ground in concentration, trying to remember how old I am.

"What's wrong?" Newt furrows his eyebrows in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"No you're not." Chuck states dryly, giving me a sour look.

"What do I look like?" I speak up, looking between the two of them.

"You have brown hair." Chuck says, digging into his food. "That's about it. You look like a freaking alien."

"You're mean," I pout.

"You have short brown hair, and hazel eyes," Newt starts. "You have pale skin, and rosy cheeks. And I'm being honest when I say that you're beautiful."

I feel my cheeks heat up at the last comment, so I bury my face in my hands. Chuck's fork clatters on the table, as he stares at Newt like he's grown a second head.

"Holy shit," He mutters. "Newt's got skills."

"What the shuck?" Garret joins us, taking the seat next to me. "Grace, are you crying?"

"No." I mumble. "I'm fine."

"Newt just told her that she's pretty." Chuck giggles.

"So?" Garret shrugs. "It's the truth."

"You know what?" I stand up, laughing along with Chuck. "I think I'm gonna go. This is getting way too awkward."

"You have to understand," Garret chuckles. "You're the only girl we've ever seen."

I shake my head, still laughing, as Chuck and I walk to my room in the Homestead. "A-and then y-you started blushing, a-and Garret said it t-too," Chuck stutters between his girly giggles.

I flop onto my bed, and let out a long breath, after finishing my laughter. "How old do you think I am, Chuck?"

"I'd say about . . . " He tilts his head to the side, staring at me. "Sixteen."

I nod, and let out a yawn. "I think I'm just gonna take a nap." I close my eyes, and lay back. "Don't wake me up, Chuck. Or I'll cut your tongue out, and you'll never laugh again."

___♕___

"Thomas!" A little girl screeches, jumping into the arms of a young boy. They both look to be about seven years old, wearing white outfits. "I missed you!"

"I missed you, too." He laughs, hugging the small girl.

"Promise you won't leave me again." She puckers her bottom lip, pouting.

"I promise." He smiles, grabbing her hand in his. "Now come on! Jansen said that we need to meet a few people."

The two children wander down the long white hallways, their hands locked together. "Tommy?" The girl asks.

"Yeah?"

"Who are we meeting?"

"Some others that are executing the plan." Thomas answers.

They enter a large room that has a little girl sitting comfortably on a couch. "You must be Thomas and Grace." She smiles, standing from her seat.

She doesn't look much older than the other two, but her choice of grammar makes it seem as though she's an adult. "Yes." Thomas smiles.

Grace frowns, hiding behind the boy. "Tommy, I want to go back . . . " She whispers to him.

"I'm Teresa." The girl introduces, holding a hand out to Thomas. "I work for the W.I.C.K.E.D. as an assistant. I come up with creative and working ideas for the company."

Grace stares at Teresa as Thomas shakes her hand.

"Jansen has told me a lot about you." She holds her head high. "It's planned that you will be working alongside me in the future. Your classes are progressing, and your learning rate is growing. Soon enough, you'll be the most intelligent person in the program."

"What about me?" Grace whispers, but Thomas ignores her.

"Jansen really said that?" He asks, a grin forming on his lips.

"Yes." She nods. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to."

As Teresa walks away, Grace pulls away from Thomas. She stares at him for a moment, a saddened look on her face.

"What is it, Grace?" He asks her.

The small girl just shakes her head slowly, and holds Thomas' hand again. He smiles down at her, a twinkle sparking in his eye.

I snap awake, breathing heavily. I grip the bed sheets below me, looking around me frantically.

"That was Thomas," I murmer to myself.

And that only meant one thing.

I'm starting to remember.

_______