Isaac gives me a strange look, cocking his head to one side like a puppy.

"Well, this is weird," Farrah says, looking between the two of us. I shoot him a glare.

"Sorry! I'm being rude," Isaac blurts out, jumping like he's coming out of a daze. "It's nice to meet you, Jaelyn. It's good to finally get a partner. Awfully lonely around here during the day." He reaches a huge hand out towards me, and I take it.

Dad always told me that you can judge a person's worth by the quality of their handshake. Based on that, I guess Isaac is strong... and incredibly smooth. Decades of climbing ladders, shuffling Uno cards, and moving checkers pieces caused Howard's hands to be coarse. Isaac doesn't look like he's actually worked a day in his life.

Which is entirely possible. The night guards always joke about how lazy day shift is. The infected can't come out in the daylight. So, day guards don't do any actual protecting.

Isaac is a toll booth operator.

"Jaelyn? Hello?"

Farrah's voice shakes me out of my thoughts. I blink, realizing I've been staring at Isaac's hand, still holding them between my own tiny ones. My cheeks light themselves on fire as I jerk away and avert my eyes.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry," I stammer awkwardly. "It's been a long day. Um, yeah, it's nice to meet you too."

There's an incredibly long stretch of silence. Finally, Farrah claps and Isaac jumps almost half a foot in the air.

"Well, I actually have work to do. So, I'll let you two go be awkward without me." Farrah smirks at both of us. "Be good, Muney. I'd really hate to see something happen to you."

If I had to make a list of all the people I want to die, Farrah would top it. I wish I could punch him in the face. I cannot stand the way he walks or talks or breathes. Everything about him makes me want to throw myself over The Wall just so I never have to see him again.

As he waves at us, heading back towards the North Gate, I grit my teeth so hard it makes my jaw ache.

"What a terrible nickname," Isaac says under his breath, turning to the ladder. I watch him in shock. "Why does he call you that?"

"You're joking, right?"

Isaac stops halfway up and looks down at me.

"Dead serious. What warrants such a terrible name?"

I follow him up the ladder and stand behind him, breathless.

"You have no idea who I am?"

Isaac laughs and rearranges the space.

There's no game boards. No pile of soda cans. No Uno cards. All I see is a camping chair, an overturned bucket, a sketchbook, and a pile of dirty white cloths.

"Why should I know you?" He sits down on top of the bucket and nudges the chair towards me. "Take the chair. I'll bring another up tomorrow." After I sit down, he asks, "Now, who are you?"

"I'm Jacob Price's daughter." Is he being serious right now? Does this guy live under a rock?

"I know that name. He works at the infirmary, right?"

"Yeah, he's head of the medical department."

Isaac hums in acknowledgement.

"Impressive. Still doesn't explain that awful nickname."

"I'm the girl who's immune from the virus."

His eyes go wide, and he sits up in shock.

"Really? How?"

A dry laugh sneaks out of my mouth.

"Genetics? A thousand blood tests later, and they still don't have an answer. I spent three months in the infirmary four summers ago trying to figure it out. Hartley eventually gave up."

Isaac laughs and sits back against the wall.

"That must've sucked."

I blink at him. He really has no idea who I am. For a moment, I don't know whether to be relieved or embarrassed. Everyone knows me. I've been a walking billboard for weird since Duncan, but here comes this boy--who I've never seen either, I might mention--who apparently doesn't know I exist.

This is fantastic!

By the time I've recovered from my entire existence being uprooted, Isaac has picked up his sketchbook and gone back to what he was doing before. I search the tiny space one more time, looking for a weapon. Then, it hits me. He's an MU, too; we aren't allowed weapons.

"So, um, what do you do up here?"

"I check in shipments from the Transfers when they come back from other compounds. Make sure no one comes in that isn't supposed to. Make sure no one leaves that isn't supposed to," he recites as if reading off a script. Toll booth operator. "Shipments only come in about once a week, though. Since I'm on duty every day, I don't really do much until it's time for a new check-in."

He flips a page in his sketchbook and looks out into the world beyond The Wall. Then, he looks back down. His pencil moves across the page with incredible speed.

"Are there any shipments coming soon?" Five more minutes of sitting here, and I might ask him to play checkers with me.

"Yeah, there's one later today." He doesn't bother to look up at me. "Bring something to do tomorrow, so you won't be so bored."

His comment smacks me in the jaw, and I sit back in defeat. The least he could do is talk to me. Howard loved talking, more so than he loved winning. Already, I know I'm not going to like my new job.

I pass the time by picking mud out of my boots, cleaning the eyelets, and shining the scuffed toes with my shirt. After that, I pick loose threads out of the edges of my pant legs, giving them a nice fray, which I then mess with some more. I clean out my nails with the edge of my chair, then I bite them down to nubs. Cracking each and every joint in my body takes up much more time than anticipated. I'm about to start on my neck and jaw when the sound of a vehicle grabs my attention.

Isaac stands up, putting his sketchbook down on his bucket.

"Right on time."

He disappears over the edge of The Wall, barely giving me time to wake up my static legs. I fumble after him and reach the ground in time to see him grab our clipboard off the hook. He flips a few pages while I stomp around and grumble in pain.

Every compound has a color scheme. For Compound 4, it's olive and black. That means every government vehicle and uniform is either olive, black, or a combination of the two. The trucks that Transfers use have a giant black 4 painted on each side. Olive and black tarps stretch over the back.

That's why I'm shocked to discover that the trucks coming over the horizon aren't olive. They're white. For some reason, I had it in my head that any shipments coming in would be checked in by our own Transfers.

Instead, it's Compound 3.

No compound can survive on its own; that much has always been clear. We each have our own specialty. Compound 4 thrives on scientific research towards a cure. We also create, house, and distribute vaccines against common diseases. Compound 1, way up north, hunts and harvests meat from its dense forests, and that's also where Ashford, president of all ten compounds lives. Compound 2 gives us timber, and 3 specializes in fishing and marine products. To the south is Compound 5, which makes weapons. Compounds 6 through 10 have the same specialties and work as a unit of five like we do.

I've never met anyone from another compound, and I certainly didn't expect to on my first day.

The truck pulls in through the open door, and Isaac calls off names. As the newcomers jump off, they respond.

"Here."

"Aqui."

"Present."

The Transfers leave the engines running and walk around freely, stretching their arms and legs. Isaac runs off to check their stock, and I'm left standing there with my mouth open again.

"Haven't seen you here before," a voice says. I swing my head towards the front of the truck. A redhead leans out of the driver's side window. She waves a second truck in past her and then opens the truck door to stretch.

"Um, yeah, it's my first day."

She pulls her long hair up into a ponytail while she inspects me. There's nothing for me to do except blink and watch the end of her hair curl neatly.

"What's your name, newbie?" she asks, absentmindedly. Her body turns away as she watches her crew unload. Isaac's moved on to the second truck by now and is calling off more names.

"Jaelyn," I mumble, looking down at my own name to make sure I haven't lost my mind. It's been one of those days already.

"I'm sorry— what?"

When I look up, I realize she's focused her full attention on me.

"Jaelyn," I repeat, pointing at my embroidered letters for proof.

"Price? Jaelyn Price?" She still hasn't looked down. Instead, her deep brown eyes bore into my own blue ones.

"Yeah... That's me."

She runs a hand over her hair, shaking her head slightly.

"I'm sorry. The Jaelyn Price? As in the immune?"

My breath catches in my throat. No one outside this compound is supposed to know about that. Hartley didn't want to cause any sort of unbalance between compounds, and Dad didn't want me to get taken away to President Ashford in Compound 1. As far as I know, we're all under strict order to never spread news of my condition.

Yet, this stranger recognizes me.

"H-how do you know about me?"

"Word travels," she simply says, turning away to watch Isaac finish checking the second truck. I squint at the back of her hair, trying to read her thoughts. After the longest minute of my life, she glances over her shoulder at me and adds, "Let's just say that name's pretty popular outside The Wall."