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that big—Thomas could actually take him if he had to.
    “Wasn’t you?” Gally snarled. He ambled up to Thomas slowly and stopped right in front of him. “Then how do you know there was something you didn’t do?”
    Thomas didn’t say anything. He was definitely uncomfortable but not nearly as scared as a few moments earlier.
    “I’m not a dong, Greenie,” Gally spat. “I saw Chuck’s fat face in the window.” He pointed again, this time right at Thomas’s chest. “But you better decide right quick who you want as your friends and enemies, hear me? One more trick like that—I don’t care if it’s your sissy idea or not—there’ll be blood spilled. You got that, Newbie?” But before Thomas could answer Gally’d already turned to walk away.
    Thomas just wanted this episode over. “Sorry,” he muttered, wincing at how stupid it sounded.
    “I know you,” Gally added without looking back. “I saw you in the Changing, and I’m gonna figure out who you are.”
    Thomas watched as the bully disappeared back into the Homestead. He couldn’t remember much, but something told him he’d never disliked someone so strongly. He was surprised by how much he truly hated the guy. He really, really hated him. He turned to see Chuck standing there, staring at the ground, clearly embarassed. “Thanks a lot,
buddy.”
    “Sorry—if I’d known it was Gally, I never would’ve done it, I swear.”
    Surprising himself, Thomas laughed. An hour ago, he’d thought he’d never hear such a sound come out of his mouth again.
    Chuck looked closely at Thomas and slowly broke into an uneasy grin. “What?”
    Thomas shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. The … shank deservedit, and I don’t even know what a shank is. That was awesome.” He felt much better.
    A couple of hours later, Thomas was lying in a soft sleeping bag next to Chuck on a bed of grass near the gardens. It was a wide lawn that he hadn’t noticed before, and quite a few of the group chose it as their bedtime spot. Thomas thought that was strange, but apparently there wasn’t enough room inside the Homestead. At least it was warm. Which made him wonder for the millionth time
where
they were. His mind had a hard time grasping names of places, or remembering countries or rulers, how the world was organized. And none of the kids in the Glade had a clue, either—at least, they weren’t sharing if they did.
    He lay in silence for the longest time, looking at the stars and listening to the soft murmurs of various conversations drifting across the Glade. Sleep felt miles away, and he couldn’t shake the despair and hopelessness that coursed through his body and mind—the temporary joy of Chuck’s trick on Gally had long since faded away. It’d been one endless—and strange—day.
    It was just so … weird. He remembered lots of little things about life—eating, clothes, studying, playing, general images of the makeup of the world. But any detail that would fill in the picture to create a true and complete memory had been erased somehow. It was like looking at an image through a foot of muddy water. More than anything else, perhaps, he felt …
sad
.
    Chuck interrupted his thoughts. “Well, Greenie, you survived First Day.”
    “Barely.”
Not now, Chuck
, he wanted to say.
I’m not in the mood
.
    Chuck pulled himself up to lean on an elbow, looking at Thomas. “You’ll learn a lot in the next couple of days, start getting used to things. Good that?”
    “Um, yeah, good that, I guess. Where’d all these weird words and phrases come from, anyway?” It seemed like they’d taken some other language and melded it with his own.
    Chuck flopped back down with a heavy flump. “I don’t know—I’ve only been here a month, remember?”
    Thomas wondered about Chuck, whether he knew more than he let on. He was a quirky kid, funny, and he seemed innocent, but who was to say? Really he was just as mysterious as everything else in the Glade.
    A few minutes