They say I'm the Runner type, whatever that means. Apparently because of the fact that I ran out of the Box and almost into the Maze when I got here, it makes me a Runner. Cool.
Thomas, the leader of these people called Gladers, told me that I would have to do some minor training to be a Runner, like him. He said that it's normal that I don't remember anything but my name. No one in the Glade remembers.
But today, my second day of training here, everything was different.
Minho, my trainer, told me to run to the Runner's Cabin every morning and run back ever sundown. After a long day of running, I was heading to the campfire for dinner. But today, I saw someone different.
He was sitting by the Name Wall, looking up. His golden hair was shining in the sunrise beams. He looked so peaceful, it made me jealous of the peace. Then, it sparked a memory. The day I arrived here. He looked exactly like the guy who helped me out of the Box. The one with the British accent I found kind of cute.
I jogged over to him, not realizing the movement until I was just a foot away.
"Hey... umm..." Totally blank on the name.
The boy shoots up from his seat and looks at me. "Bloody hell, you almost gave me a heart attack." Deep breath. "Don't be as stealthy next time." He holds out his hand. "I'm Newt."
Man, she was hot. Why was she talking to me anyway? I was just a Shank. With a terrible limp from when I jumped off the Wall so long ago.
"I'm Newt." I shake her tan hand. It's so warm and small I could hold it forever but that would be creepy because we just met.
"Alexandra" Her voice reminds me of honey.