Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine.
Candy
"Don't touch."
Madge watched in wonder as the enormous machine churned the concoction her grandfather had made just a few minutes earlier.
Melted sugar and cream, her grandfather had dropped a glob of it into a mug of water once it had reached the right temperature to see if it 'balled up'. It had, and they'd moved on to the next step. Vanilla, baking soda, butter, then more stirring.
Madge was watching it, anticipating the next step. She'd crushed the pecans herself.
"Poppa!"
It was ready, dull and sluggish.
He gave her a bright smile before helping her dump in her mass of smashed pecans and letting the machine fold them in.
"Now we spread it in the pan and let it set," he told her as he halted the churning.
"But can't we stick in the freezer? Then it'll be ready real quick."
Quicker was better. She thought about the treat a little more. Definitely better.
He only shook his head and gave a lock of her hair a tug, "Ah, no, my dear. Freezing will make the candy hard, and this candy is meant to be chewy. Remember?"
She did, but she still didn't want to wait. She sighed dramatically, as only a six year old could.
"But…"
Poppa peered at her over his ancient glasses, they were chipped on the sides and loose, always sliding down his nose.
"Madge, good things come to those who wait."
Fidgeting, she finally nodded. Poppa was very wise, he knew when the best time to plant tomatoes was, when the carrots would be best to pull, and how hot the oven had to be for her father's favorite glass candy, so he must be right. Even if she reallywanted her candy sooner rather than later.
"Let's go check your mother," he tells her, giving her a little push toward the door.
Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, behind the storefront in her family's shop. In front of her was a pan of fudge, she was swirling it with white chocolate, all the way from the Capitol. Madge peeked at it and saw her mother had written two names.
Matilda. Maysilee.
"My sister and I use to write our names in the fudge all the time, before it was cut. No one ever knew." She had told her once.
Her mother did it every time they visited Poppa, wrote 'Matilda' and 'Maysilee' in the fudge.
Never Madge, though.
She'd asked her once, if she would, only to be met with that vacant look her mother got when she disappeared into her mind to avoid something unpleasant.
Keeping a tradition with a long dead twin was more important than her very much alive daughter's feelings.
"That's lovely Mati," Poppa told her as he kissed the top of her head.
Madge wanted to run her hands through the fudge, ruin the names, but that was a bad thought and she stepped away.
The bell jingled in the front, someone had come in, and Madge quickly followed after Poppa to greet them, leaving her mother to her ghosts.
"Ah, Jude, it isn't Sunday is it?"
The man is a miner, Madge can see his boots from where she stands behind the glass display with her grandfather's candies in it. He has on a coal covered coat, not too heavy, it's starting to get warmer, probably only wearing it because of the nip in the air from the earlier rain.
"No," he begins. "It's my daughter's birthday. Thought I'd let her pick something out."
Madge finally sees the little dark haired girl at his side, hiding just behind his left leg. She might know her from school, but she can't quite remember. School is unpleasant and Madge just tries to blend with the walls most days.
"Oh, I see," Poppa leans over the counter. "How old are you today, dear?"
"Seven," she answers dutifully looking at her father.
Her father grins at her and winks and the girl grins back.
"Just a little older than my granddaughter," Poppa gestures to Madge who remains just out of sight behind the candies in the glass. "She'll be seven the first of June."
The man, Jude, bends down and peeks at her between the rows of candies, through the glass. He grins at her. Before she knows what she's doing she's ducked into her Poppa's side and buried her face from sight.
"A shy one, I see."
Poppa laughs, a deep rumble shakes Madge.
"Not so much shy as just unsure, I think," he tells Jude as he runs a hand over Madge's hair.
She isn't sure what he means by that, but she's had enough of the hard looks and filthy words from the children of miners and Seam people to know not to draw them in. Best not to be seen, noticed, than to be on the receiving end of hurtful things.
Jude makes a grunting noise before turning his attention back to his daughter and asking her what she wanted.
The girl isn't sure, she's never had any candy before.
"Might I make a suggestion?" Poppa gives Madge a little nudge, edging her down the case. "Your mother always did love the cherry glass."
He plucks up a small chunk of the candy, pink and red swirls on a crystal sliver, and reaches over the counter to hand it to her.
She looks at him skeptically, then to her father.
"Go ahead, Katniss, take it and see."
She smiles a little before taking the candy. It crunches, and she makes a face, clearly not a fan of the texture, but soon is smiling and enjoying it once she's better acquainted with it. The girl, Katniss, grins up at Poppa, pleased with his selection.
Jude eyes the price, Madge can see him mentally calculating how much of the overly sweet treat he can afford. Before he's even finished, Poppa has scooped out a healthy portion and poured it in a small paper bag.
Jude frowns and shakes his head, but before he can speak Poppa cuts him off.
"It's getting close to having to be tossed. I'll give it to you half priced."
He's lying. Madge helped him make it just two days before. Jude seems to know too, but Katniss already has the bag in her little hands and is beaming at her treasure. Jude gives him a very hard look. Like he's paying a price more than the money the candy should cost.
"And you pay only half for the roots next Sunday."
Poppa narrows his eyes, looks like he might fight him, but then he burst into laughter.
"You drive a hard bargain, Jude Everdeen, but it's a deal."
Once Jude and Katniss leave and the candy is set, Madge sits at the kitchen table at the back of her Poppa's candy shop and slowly eats a chunk. It's the perfect combination of soft and solid, just like Poppa had said it would be.
She breaks her piece in half and sets it next to her mother's hand. She doesn't seem to notice it, but Madge can learn patience.
Poppa was right about the candy and waiting. Maybe if she waited long enough her mother, like the candy, would set properly. All the disjointed parts of mind would settle and she'd let her sister's memory rest in the past and she'd see Madge. Maybe instead of 'Matilda' and 'Maysilee' she'd write 'Matilda' and 'Madge'.
Madge watches her mother stare off into nothingness and ignore the candy, and waits.