Minho wasn't lying when he said he'd get her that bonfire.

Alby pretty much agreed instantaneously. Ada realised that the boys were all agitated with the fact they didn't have a bonfire last night - as she had arrived late - and so the leader saw no issue with rescheduling one for that very evening.

And so, the girl found herself stood alongside her new friends that night, as they launched flaming sticks onto an unlit bonfire. It caught alight as planned, and now a roaring fire provided both light and heat for the group.

After a few minutes of standing around, lingering awkwardly at Newt's side, Ada had settled onto a log in front of the bonfire. Her hands hovered just above the rising heat, sending rays of warmth through them and to the rest of her freezing body.

Alby soon after, rested beside her, glancing to where she was gazing at the red and orange flickers before looking to it himself. In his hand he held a bottle of some liquid - like the majority of the other Gladers - that he kept sipping on. Ada had no idea what it was but she knew it wasn't water.

"How are you finding the place?" He asked suddenly, making her jump out of surprise someone was speaking to her.

"It's alright." She paused, her finger tracing the air in the shape of the flames before her hands retracted to her lap. "Although," 

This caught Alby's attention.

"I don't think I've found a job suited for me yet." Her somewhat dramatically confessed statement had her chewing her lip anxiously, and shifting her eyes away from her leader as if she was certain he'd begin to yell at her.

"Ada," He let out a laugh, but it seemed to be more with her, rather than at her. "Half the shanks in this place didn't know their own names till day three, let alone what job they wanted to do for the rest of their days."

Ada chuckled softly, and Alby gave her a smile, glad he had reassured her. He couldn't imagine what it would be like for her as the only girl. 

"So don't worry about it." He raised his eyebrows, leading her to realise he wanted some sort of response, so she nodded. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the others around the fire; laughing, eating, dancing even. Then, keen to break the awkward silence she and the leader had fallen into, she asked,

"So what's this drink then?" She gestured to the jar in Alby's hand, and he cracked a grin at her curiosity.

"It's Gally's recipe." 

This perked Ada's interest. She remembered the boy's name from when she arrived, and when he asked Alby about what her arrival would mean about future Greenies. But, she hadn't seen him yet.

"It's a trade secret - he says. My bet is that it's just some sort of moonshine, weakened though." He paused to laugh, and at the girl's furrowed eyebrows, he explained that, "First time round, it wasn't weakened at all. Boy did we have hangovers the next day. Nick went insane."

"Nick?"

Alby's smile faded slightly, and Ada understood what had happened to Nick. Before he could jump in to explain, she cut in.

"It's okay. I'm sorry - about your loss."

She was a smart girl. It didn't take much to realise that Nick was the leader before Alby took over - his anger being a relevant response to the hangovers which would prevent the boys from working to their full potential - and it didn't take much to realise that Nick died and left Alby in charge.

"Which one of these boys is Gally?" She changed the topic, eagerly looking out at the boys to catch a glimpse of him.

"You see on the other side of the fire, that group of Builders?" She followed Alby's finger across the bonfire and to the boys rowdily chatting amongst themselves. "The one with the eyebrows."

To any outsiders, Alby's description would seem random and vague. But when Ada caught sight of him, it made complete sense. 

Gally's eyebrows were definitely his defining feature. The boy had light brown hair - shorter than Newt's but longer than Alby's - bright blue eyes, and freckles dotted across his tanned face. His shoulders were broad and his biceps prominent; thanks to all the building.

All in all, he was an attractive boy. And Ada felt fascinated by him; for some unknown reason.

"He's a little tough, but he cares about the Glade. Maybe a bit too much." Alby muttered, more to himself than to her, but she nodded to show she was listening anyway.

A short while after, Newt flopped down on her other side, offering her the jar of Gally's drink he had been holding all night. It was full, but Ada swore he must have refilled it, if his slightly giddy state was anything to go by.

"Go on, just try a bit."

Newt held the jar out to her and she looked down at the suspicious liquid sloshing inside. Taking it apprehensively, she lifted it up to her nose to sniff it. It smelt even worse than she expected.

Grimacing, she gave Newt an uncertain glance, but he only attempted to spur her on. Her eyes darted around, seeing that a number of people were now watching her in intrigue. She continued to look around them all, until her eyes fell on Gally.

He was still stood with the group of Builders and his own jar of the drink in his hand, and although she could see his lips moving as he spoke to a friend, his eyes were fixed on her. His eyebrow quirked in intrigue, making her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She was holding the drink he made after all.

And so she decided to try it.

She didn't anticipate the awful taste. She only managed to swallow a small mouthful when it began to burn her throat and mouth. Lurching forwards, she spat the contents out onto the grass, earning a roar of laughter from the Gladers watching.

Ignoring their jeers, she only looked around the bonfire to Gally again. Wiping her mouth of the horrid liquid, she shoved the jar back into Newt's hands, eyes still fixed on Gally. The boy just smirked, tipping his bottle towards her in honour, and taking a sip of his own.

How does he drink that shit?

Ada was still wondering that, hours after the bonfire had finished and she was tucked up in bed. Newt's room had officially become hers, and the boy was forced into permanently moving into Minho's.

He made a little fuss of it as he collected his belongings and moved it all down the corridor to Minho's room; which was a much shorter journey than he was making it out to be. Ada could see that he didn't really mind moving in with the other boy, and Minho in return was obviously over the moon - if his dirty jokes were anything to go by.

Ada's mind was wandering through everything that had happened to her so far. She couldn't sleep. And to make matters worse, she was really hungry.

I'm never going to sleep with my stomach like this.

She decided then, that for the better of the Glade of course, that she needed to get some food. For the better of the Glade, and definitely not for herself.

She threw the covers from herself, carefully creeping across the floor and opening the door as slowly and quietly as possible. She had no idea how much of light sleepers the boys were, but she wasn't taking any chances.

It took her a ridiculous amount of time to get to the kitchen, and she decided that she'd be more embarrassed if someone saw her, rather than guilty, because of how stupid she must look trying to sneak in. Then, it struck her. 

I don't know what I look like.

It hit her harder than she expected. Tears pricked her eyes immediately, as she was uncertain as to whether she was being overwhelmed with insecurity, or with a lack of understanding and knowledge. 

It was probably both.

She chose to ignore the few tears that had slipped down her face, instead, she moved around the kitchen and tried every drawer possible to look for some sort of snack she could steal. Of course, the Glade wasn't really the snacking sort of place.

She did manage to find dozens of eggs, several slabs of butter and a grinder of black paper. And so, a different plan came to her mind.

Scrambled eggs.

Somehow, in her seemingly knowledge-less mind, she remembered the delicacy of scrambled eggs. And, exactly how to make them.

In mere minutes, a clump of butter had melted and foamed in the bottom of the pan and the whisked eggs were now sizzling inside, sprinkled with black pepper. Stirring it consistently with one hand, she stretched her other into a cupboard to reach for a plate. Placing it beside the frying pan, she also grabbed a knife and fork, stomach growling at the thought of finally eating something.

She switched off the heat from the pan and began to stir the eggs once again in another clump of butter, letting the residual heat finish cooking the eggs before sliding them onto the plate easily. Another shake of the pepper all over, and then it was done.

Just as she was about to scoop some of her creation into her watering mouth, a shuffling from behind her caused her to jump and nearly let the plate shatter on the floor. Newt lurched forwards, steadying his hands under the plate to ensure it wouldn't smash.

Ada met his eyes in a careful glare - afraid that if she showed her anger he would become angry with her in return - but his face only showed concern, and she remembered that her face was still tearstained. She let out a sigh, placing the plate down on the counter and folding her arms across her chest.

"How did you know I was here?"

He was still staring at her in concern, and she hadn't hated anything so much. In her mind, he was pitying her, whereas he was really just sympathetic.

"I smelled the eggs." 

Newt glanced away from her and to the eggs on the counter. Ada took the opportunity to wipe her cheeks clean of tears and paint a smile on her face as if she hadn't just been questioning her very existence because of the realisation she didn't know what she looked like.

"Newt," She suddenly said, her voice quiet as she recalled the whole reason she was crying in the first place. "What do I look like?"

There were no mirrors in the Glade, or any other reflective surfaces in which she could see herself, so she only had the boys to rely on. And her mind told her that almost anyone else would be inappropriate if she posed them the question.

"Well," Newt hid his look of amusement because he caught sight of her vulnerable state, and he leaned against the counter. "You have curly dark hair, dark eyes, and light brown skin. You're about Alby's height so about five foot seven. You're quite pretty."

Ada's eyebrows raised as she remembered Minho confirming his crush on Newt. But then the boy, with a smile, said, "And that's coming from a boy who doesn't even-"

He cut himself off then, but Ada already knew what he was going to say: That's coming from a boy who doesn't even like girls. Newt shuffled uncomfortably on the spot, and the girl knew it best not to bring it up.

"Thanks." She replied quietly, for Newt's description gave her peace of mind. Then, she could feel her stomach vibrating with hunger, and she felt brave enough to ask, "Can I eat the eggs?"

"You need to get to bed." 

"Newt, come on-" She pouted, stomach still growling.

"-Go." He ordered, harshly but as quietly as possible to avoid waking anyone up. He was being stern, but in a way where Ada could tell he wasn't angry, only tired.

Ada's shoulders slumped as she chanced one glance back, only to see that Newt had picked up the plate to inspect the food carefully. It was then that she noticed his glistening eyes, and came to the realisation that,

"You're going to eat my bloody food!"

The similar accent to the boy made the slang word - 'bloody' - roll off her tongue with just as much ease as Newt. In contrast, it would've been weird for anyone else to say it.

"Shoo!" He hissed back, shielding the plate from the girl's view, making her stomach growl even more as she turned on her heel and trudged back in the direction of the staircase up to her room.

As she wandered away, she caught Newt muttering to himself under his breath, only hearing snippets of it. But the titbits of what she had heard was enough to make her hurry up the rest of the way to her room, heart pounding. 

Newt was mumbling something about arranging a meeting with a 'frypan'. 

To say Ada was confused - and terrified - was an understatement to say the least. The boys had seemed friendly enough so far, but Newt's words made only one question circle in her mind:

Are they going to hit me with a frying pan?