alby　wasn’t　acting　scared—he　appeared　…　confused.　surprised.　the　alarm　clanged　through　the　air.

        “what’s　going　on?”　thomas　asked.　relief　flooded　his　chest　that　his　tour　guide　didn’t　seem　to　think　the　world　was　about　to　end—but　even　so,　thomas　was　getting　tired　of　being　hit　by　waves　of　panic.

        “that’s　weird”　was　all　alby　said　as　he　scanned　the　glade,　squinting.　thomas　noticed　people　in　the　blood　house　pens　glancing　around,　apparently　just　as　confused.　one　shouted　to　alby,　a　short,　skinny　kid　drenched　in　mud.

        “what’s　up　with　that?”　the　boy　asked,　looking　to　thomas　for　some　reason.

        “i　don’t　know,”　alby　murmured　back　in　a　distant　voice.

        but　thomas　couldn’t　stand　it　anymore.　“alby!　what’s　going　on?”

        “the　box,　shuck-face,　the　box!”　was　all　alby　said　before　he　set　off　for　the　middle　of　the　glade　at　a　brisk　pace　that　almost　looked　to　thomas　like　panic.

        “what　about　it?”　thomas　demanded,　hurrying　to　catch　up.　talk　to　me!　he　wanted　to　scream　at　him.

        but　alby　didn’t　answer　or　slow　down,　and　as　they　got　closer　to　the　box　thomas　could　see　that　dozens　of　kids　were　running　around　the　courtyard.　he　spotted　newt　and　called　to　him,　trying　to　suppress　his　rising　fear,　telling　himself　things　would　be　okay,　that　there　had　to　be　a　reasonable　explanation.

        “newt,　what’s　going　on!”　he　yelled.

        newt　glanced　over　at　him,　then　nodded　and　walked　over,　strangely　calm　in　the　middle　of　the　chaos.　he　swatted　thomas　on　the　back.　“means　a　bloody　newbie’s　in’　up　in　the　box.”　he　paused　as　if　expecting　thomas　to　be　impressed.　“right　now.”

        “so?”　as　thomas　looked　more　closely　at　newt,　he　realized　that　what　he’d　mistaken　for　calm　was　actually　disbelief—maybe　even　excitement.

        “so?”　newt　replied,　his　jaw　dropping　slightly.　“greenie,　we’ve　never　had　two　newbies　show　up　in　the　same　month,　much　less　two　days　in　a　row.”

        and　with　that,　he　ran　off　toward　the　homestead.

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