The abrupt beep beep beep of my alarm clock is what surely pulls me out of my deep slumber. I awake with a groan, no doubt dreading this day, the day I start my sophomore year, attend high school again.
During the summer, I had a plan, a schedule of sorts. A single goal, to keep my sister, my mother, and I going. That's all. Working at the super market near my house was not necessarily a fun or easy task. Peeved customers, endless lines, the constant noise. I'd just about had enough of "Come to Savvy Shop: where you too can be a savvy shopper".
But my personal tribulations with my job were no match for the constant need to support my family. Ever since my father died from a freak accident where he worked, my mother has fallen into a deep depression. She sat, silent and cold on her chair. Never talking, moving. Prim, my sister, did all she could to rose the mother we used to know, with her small smiles and caring spirit. Alas, it was fruitless. My mother was gone, off the deep end to God knows where. In reality, Prim and I were starving, the bills were adding up, and even the mailman knew something was indeed wrong.
Filled with some fervent spark inside me, I called the last living related I knew: drunken and surly Haymitch. We preferred not to talk about Haymitch, my family and I. Spending his days wasting away in his stink hole, drinking until unconsciousness. Not exactly a person you'd be proud of calling your long-lost relative. Within a few calls, not to admit a screaming match, my relative had given our family enough money to make it through the month.
Still, money was short. Haymitch's money couldn't last forever. I still had no idea how he got it all, perhaps he had some money-making career he gave up on or had inherited the money.
Then I met Gale. I was ten, grabbing the last can of beans at Savvy Shop when suddenly I felt a hand cover mine, perhaps reaching for the same can. Filled with shock and surprise I whipped around to see a boy around twelve years old staring at me. His gray eyes were hard and unfeeling and he towered over me. Feeling that this was not the place to start a fight with an older boy I said "Take it".
His eyebrows rose in surprise, and instead of hardness in his eyes I saw something lighter. As he grabbed the can I took in the rest of him, the slightly worn clothes, the desperation in his face that so mirrored mine. Suddenly I knew this boy was more like me than not,that he too was keeping his family going at such a young age.
In his pockets lay a small wad of money and a list, assumably for any items he needed to check off. For some odd reason I felt compelled to help this boy, the boy who was possibly in the same predicament I was. But before I could even open my mouth to say anything, something, he was gone.
However, that was not the last time we would see each other. Every so often I would see a glimpse of him, around town, in the super market. More often than not I looked for the boy with black hair and cold grey eyes. What I was looking for I had no idea.
It wasn't until I almost literally ran into him that we had our next conversation. "Sorry," he muttered.
A frown was upon his face. Did that boy ever smile? In the crash, I had dropped my things and he reached down to pick them up. "Thanks" I replied.
"You're around here a lot," he said, stating the obvious.
Had he been watching me also? "Yeah," I said stupidly.
As if suddenly coming back to reality, I held my things closer to my body. A feeling of awkwardness came into play, it hovered and lingered and kept me from opening my mouth. He swallowed, and I knew it was not only me who was uncomfortable. "You live near the woods right?" I asked, saying anything to extinguish the silence that would soon overcome us.
He nodded, but I can tell he was uneasy at the fact that I know where he lives, or perhaps he felt the unsettling silence between us. Quickly clearing his throat he said, "I'm Gale. You?"
"Katniss," I answered quietly.
"Catnip? You're named after a plant that makes cats crazy?"
"No!" I exclaim. "I mean, my name is Katniss, not Catnip."
After that there seemed like there was an unspoken agreement to help each other. It started out with just asking each other what we needed to buy that day; only necessary words spoken between us. It was easier working together, hunting down sales, buying together instead of separately to save money.
Then one day I showed him my special place. The woods have forever held a place in my heart since my father took me there when I was a young girl. In the poorer, shabbier part of my town abides an abundant amount of trees and a long, winded stream. I remember being in awe of the tall trees surrounding me, the sunlight hitting them in the perfect spots, creating a marvelous painting. I remember stealthily walking through the stream, jumping over rocks, pretending that my father and I were on our own adventure. Hiking the paths and hearing the sweet melody of the birds with my father are some of my favorite memories.
Since my father's death I hadn't had the courage to ever go back their again. But at that precise moment I felt a desire to share this place with a friend, someone who respected me and with which I could share my secrets with. Upon entering, I could tell that Gale would love and treasure this place just as much as I did. And so we made it a routine to visit there every week, to go to our secret spot.
It wasn't as though the woods were caged in, no, there was a much better reason most people didn't dare enter.
A curse, some said. Haunted, others replied. An old story was told long and long ago, past down from generation to generation.
It was told that long ago a young man was hanged for supposedly murdering three people. No one objected it, questioned it even. Although the man had no previous crimes, everyone agreed that it would be best. It was said that the man had a lover, that they had made plans to leave the town the day before his hanging.
At the edge of the woods stood an old weathered tree, much higher than the rest. Etched on it were little quotes, people's names, old couples. However etched clearly on the middle were the words "The Hanging Tree". It was decided that this should be the tree the man should be hung on. After he was hung, there was certain uneasiness among the people. Perhaps it was his lover's broken spirit, or the mere thought of knowing that you killed one of your own. Whatever it was, barely anyone enters the woods anymore. People have said that his ghost haunts the Hanging Tree, still calling out for his lover to leave.
Ghost, or no ghost, I've never felt like the woods are or were haunted. In facts I've gazed at the tree on several occasions, looking at past dates and doodles.
All of this goes through my head as I get ready for school. Prim stands in front of me in an old outfit of mine, wearing a blouse and skirt. My mother soon came back to life after my meeting with Gale, and now she has an old pretty blue dress of hers back when we had money laid out for me for my first day of my sophomore year. In disbelief I ask, "Is this for me?" My mother nods and she braids my hair into an intricate design. I gaze at myself in the mirror as Prim says in a hushed voice, "You look beautiful." I've never really thought of myself as beautiful. My appearance doesn't matter to me, but I suppose I do look nice.
"Not as beautiful as you are, little duck," I answer. My mother drives us to school in our extremely old truck, battered with the paint peeling all over the place. Prim goes to the grade school and I enter my favorite place in the world: high school.