You awaken in the Box, disoriented, raising one hand to shield your eyes from the beating sun.

“It’s a girl! She’s alive,” one exclaims loudly, stunned, as if you were a mirage.

Boys surrounded the Box, peering down at you. Their eyes wide from shock; overlapping chatter and exclamations scattered.

“I’m Newt,” another Glader says, his British accent thick. He pulls you up—a mix of disbelief and intrigue on his face. “You alright, Greenie?”

There’s not another girl in sight.