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When he woke up in the Box, Newt's first thought was his name, just like the other Gladers. Unlike the others, however, he could remember his gender. He could remember that at one point, he, also unlike the others, hadn't always been a he.
At first, nobody else knew. He'd first arrived in the Glade already wearing a binder from wherever he'd been living with before, so his breasts wouldn't be a problem. Obviously, the Creators didn't care what was between his legs.
Newt grew close to Alby, quickly becoming the dark boy's second-in-command. Everything was going well, and his secret was still, well, a secret. But after a month and a half in the Glade, Newt knew it was too good to be true.
Alby figured something was off when Newt refused to get out of bed for two days, occasionally groaning in pain. On the third day, he'd had enough. Supplies would be coming up soon, and he needed his #2.
"Alright, shuck-face, time to get up," Alby said, walking into the room in the Homestead that he shared with Newt.
Newt groaned, holding his blanket right around himself. "I can't. My stomach is bloody killin' me."
Alby groaned inwardly. "We just need ya to help bring in supplies." He reached for the blanket.
"Alby, I can't-"
"Sure ya ca-" Alby pulled the blanket off his friend. "Oh my god." Newt was a bloody mess. Blood has soaked through his pants and the sheets, coating his abdomen and upper thighs.
"Look, I'll be fine in a couple days, just-" Alby cut him off again.
"What is this? What aren't you telling me? Newt, what's going on? I swear, if you die on me-"
Newt curled in on himself, groaning lowly as another cramp tore through his abdomen, refusing to end. "It's called a period, shank, girls get them once a month. Not deadly, just bloody painful. In case you haven't figured out by now, I'm having one."
Alby was dumbstruck. "So you're... a girl?"
Newt wanted to hit the guy. "Obviously not, since I'm here. Creators must not give a klunk what's between my legs."
Alby shook himself out of his stupor. "Right, and ya got somethin' hiding your chest. Got it." He ran his hand over his face. "Alright, you stay here. Rest of us'll bring supplies in, and me an' you will figure something out."
Alby got over to the Box just as it opened. Gally and a few others were already prepared to go in, but Alby stopped them. "Me first this time."
He climbed down into the Box, careful not to step on anything, looking around for something that could help Newt. There seemed to be the usual things, but off to his left was a metal box with the word NEWT on it in red lettering. Maybe the Creators did care.
"Frypan!" He called up, waiting for the cook to come into view. When he did, Alby handed him the NEWT box. "This goes directly to Newt. No one else. Tell him he's not gonna open it 'til I get there." Frypan nodded before taking off towards the Homestead.
"Hey, slinthead, we come down now?" Gally called. Alby shouted up a yes before the others joined him in unloading.
Alby was just about to enter the room and ask Newt if Frypan had gotten him the box when he heard a loud groan from his friend.
He slammed the door shut and fell to his knees at Newt’s bedside, pushing the boy’s damp blond curls back from his forehead. “Newt, you okay?”
“It hurts!” Newt yelled, before a near scream was ripped from his throat. Alby grabbed the box from the foot of the bed and threw it open.
On top were plastic wrapped squares and tubes that Alby couldn’t name, but he figured they were important if they were there. Underneath were several articles of clothing, and at the bottom, a bottle of pills.
“Alby, what’s goin’ on? I heard Newt-”
“I need a bucket of water, now,” Alby said, cutting Clint off. The Med-jack left without hesitation, arriving back a minute later, placing the bucket next to Alby.
“Leave.” Clint did.
Alby wrapped an arm around Newt, who had stopped yelling but still whimpered in pain, and sat him up, eliciting another low groan. Newt leaned against the wall, shaking, and Alby handed him one of the small blue pills. He swallowed it immediately, and the pain dulled after a few minutes.
Alby tore off a non-bloody part of Newt’s blanket. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Being clean felt good, Newt thought. If the Creators sent a box like this every month, he figured he’d manage fine.
The clothes they’d sent were comfortable. There had been a new, clean binder for him, along with a better fitting shirt and trousers.
Alby knocked on the door, having been kicked out before Newt stripped off his underwear. “You decent?”
“Yeah,” Newt called back. Alby came in, observing the smaller boy’s appearance.
“You look better.”
“I feel better.” Newt picked up the bloodied clothes and sheets, tossing them at Alby. “Burn these.”
Alby nodded, watching as Newt flipped his mattress over.
Newt caught Alby’s eyes. “This stays between us, ya hear?”
“Yeah, I hear.”