A/N: Okay so I wrote this forever ago and while sifting through old documents I read back through and thought thirty pages of material ought not to go to waste. If there's any interest in this story, I have a good chunk more already written and would continue writing just for the sake of my loving these characters so much. I haven't edited or anything yet, so this is raw "Aly's tenth grade writing" but I may go back through and tweak the awkwardness - there's another thing I'll do if there's any actual interest in the story. Usually people don't dig OC characters in general, let alone an entire story of OCs. We'll see. Soooo, yeah! Thanks for clicking.
My own restlessness and my brother's screams keep me awake all night.
He is particularly bad this time around. I wasn't able to afford any kind of food yesterday, and another day without eating had only made him worse. His fever wouldn't subside, and when exhaustion finally forced him to rest, he woke but minutes later, screaming and sobbing all over again. I can't sleep, and I stop trying early on into the night. Each time he calls out my mother's name, I smooth down his hair and remind him in a soft voice that she's not here. Soon, he curls into my side like a small animal and weeps through the night.
The nightmares are all the same the night before the Reaping. He always gets so worried. Honestly, I do, too, but of course I'll never let him know that. The small amount of food we'll receive from my tesserae will keeps us alive for a while, along with whatever I can afford myself. The one good thing about the Games is that I can give Matthew what he needs so desperately because of it.
Looking at him, I know I need to feed him more. His bones are too visible, his eyes too sunken and his skin too pale. He looks dead all the time, especially now, as he lay finally asleep beside me. I rub my hand down his thin arm and check again to make sure he's still breathing.
I worry about him. At sixteen, it's only a few years until I'm ineligible for the Games and unable to sign up for tesserae. Without that food, I'm terrified that Matthew will starve, but I couldn't stand to see him sign up for tesserae when he becomes eligible next year. I spend the few quiet moments of the night thinking of what I could do to make more money. I decide, as Matthew nuzzles into my side, that I would do anything. I might even pay a visit to one of the creepy Peacekeepers that give Seam girls like me money for…I would if I had to. For now, I still have one of Mother's old dresses laying around, and if I look hard enough I'm sure I can find something else to sell. But I'm running out of things. I need a new way to get us by, and soon.
Matthew stirs just as the sun is starting to rise. His eyes are red and swollen from last night, and he looks exhausted as he rubs his eyes. I rub his shoulder and say, "Good morning."
"Mm," he mumbles. He tries to sit himself up, but only gets halfway before he collapses back down onto my chest, exhausted. I lay him carefully back down on the old comforter we use as a bed, propping his head up with the rolled up clothes that second as our pillows.
"It's okay," I tell him. "Just rest a bit. I'm going to the Hob, just for a while. I'll be back soon, just rest."
He latches on to my arm and shakes his head slightly, his Seam eyes distant, but glittering with tears. "No."
"Sh, I'll be back soon. I won't leave you, I promise," I assure him, same as every morning. This calms him considerably, and he lets me get up from the bed.
I try to remain silent as I pull on a black jacket over my old tee-shirt and slip on my boots, high enough to cover the skin exposed by my too-short pants. I gather all that I had planned to sell today (I manage to find a few pieces of jewelry in my mother's old drawer) in a burlap sack and kiss Matthew's forehead before I leave, promising once again that I won't be gone long, and lock the door behind me.
I don't have much luck, but I'm able to sell my mother's dress to a man who's daughter needs one for the Reaping and some of the old jewelry to a woman who in turn gives me a small bag of nuts and some dried fruit.
"Parsley!" someone calls, and I turn to see Amelia, a young woman in her twenties who sells most of the liquor consumed in the district, waving me over. She lives close to Matthew and I, and buys things from me often, though I sometimes wonder if she just does it to help us. I know what she's going to say before she opens her mouth, and I'm not disappointed.
"How's Matthew? I heard him, last night." Her young face is sympathetic, and I immediately feel sorry.
I shift my weight and look at her apologetically. "He's…he's fine. It was worse that usual last night, and he seems a little distant today, but once the Reaping is over and he has some food in his stomach, he'll be alright. I'm sorry if he kept you up."
"It's alright, I wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway. I haven't been eligible for five years and the Reaping still keeps me awake at night. I was about to come over and see what I could do, but I guess you calmed him down." She gives me a look like she's trying to find something. "Is he doing any better, Parsley?"
I take a long time to answer. "I…I don't think so. I'm doing the best I can, but he still wakes up some nights asking where mom and dad are and I just can't…" My throat tightens. "And he always has these headaches and fevers, he'll think he sees mom baking bread or dad getting ready for work…some days he's so gone that he doesn't even remember me. It's my fault, though. It's the hunger that's causing it."
"No, no, sweetheart, it's not your fault. Hush now. You'll get through it, I promise. You'll get some food from tesserae soon, and now that you're older people will hire you more often. As a matter of fact," she says, handing me a small bag of cocoa beans. I stare at them, wondering how she could have gotten something so rare. "Take these. Come back down here after the Reaping, and I'll give you some work to do to pay it off. That sound alright?"
"But these are…Amelia, I can't-"
"Peacekeepers like their liquor the same as the rest of us. Now hurry up and finish your business here. Get back to your brother and get yourselves dressed for the Reaping. Find me when it's time and I'll stand with him during the ceremony again. Come back here once he's home safe and I'll give you some work. Got it?"
I nod mutely, the knot in my throat too large to talk around. Amelia seems to be done with me and turns to a new customer.
With this, I leave the Hob and find the baker in the cleaner part of district, and trade him the bag of nuts and half of the coca beans, hoping he can use them in his baking, for a loaf of bread. I'm amazed at the amount of food I'm able to come home with today, but then again, people are always more generous to starving children on the day of the Reaping.
When I decide I really need to be getting home, I pull off my jacket and wrap my spoils within it before running back to my house.
When I walk inside, Matthew is struggling to button up one of father's old shirts with his shaking fingers. I put my bundled jacket down on the table and smile at him, kneeling down in front of him.
"You're back," he says, relieved, but still dreamily. I press a small kiss to his nose.
"Of course I'm back. I told you I would be. And look at what I got for you."
I only let him see that I have half of the food I obtained. The rest I'll put away and store for later. I hand him a cocoa bean and he looks a it wearily.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Just eat it, Matthew. It's a special treat," I assure him.
He hesitantly puts the bean in his mouth and bites down. His face screws up at the strong flavor, but after a moment, he smiles.
"Yum," he whispers in awe like a small child, and the Reaping suddenly seems very far away.
I chuckle and hand him a small piece of bread and some dried fruit. "Breakfast. Eat quickly, and I'll find you a better shirt. That one's too big."
He takes the food and begins to eat hungrily before looking back up at me. "But Dad said I could wear this one today."
My heart sinks, and my small moment of happiness drowns with it. "No, Mattie, he didn't," I tell him soothingly.
"Yes he did. After you left, he said I could wear this shirt today. He left for work a little while ago."
I kneel down next to him and hold his hands in my own. "Remember, Mattie, Dad's not here."
"No, because he left for work. I told you." He is getting annoyed now.
"Try to remember," I plead quietly. I bring up the details, almost retelling the event like a story. This usually works to make him remember. "Three years ago, the mining accident? Do you remember how our teachers called us out of class? And they told us…? Remember? They pulled us out of class...because the mine had collapsed - think hard, Mattie."
That had been a terrible day. Our mother had already been gone for a few years, and Matthew was just starting to accept that she wasn't coming back. They pulled us out of school along with the children of six other men and told us that the mine had collapsed on top of our fathers as they were working. Most of the men had been either unscathed or received minor injuries, as they'd been further from the collapse, but our fathers had not been so lucky. They closed the mine for its instability, and when they retrieved my father's body, I covered Mattie's eyes to keep him from seeing what had become of him, but not before he got a glimpse of the mangled corpse. Matthew only got worse after that day.
After our father's death…I finally had to realize that there was something "wrong" with my little brother. Some say it was post-traumatic stress. Others think that he had gotten enough food neither in our starving mother's womb nor in his first few years of life, and that had led to his mental problems. And others still say he was just plain mentally unstable. I don't know what to believe, but unless knowing would help me fix him, I don't see the point in searching.
Recognition floods his eyes, and with it, salty tears. "Oh," he says quietly. "Right. I remember."
"It's alright, Mattie. Eat your food and you'll feel better, okay? I can give you some more cocoa beans after, if you want," I say, standing back up and eating a few pieces of dried fruit. I leave the bread for Matthew.
When he seems to have moved past his small episode, I search for clothes to wear to the Reaping.
Usually a girl can find an old dress to wear for the Reaping, but the best I can manage after selling mother's last dress is a tan skirt that reaches my knees and one of my mother's old, long shirts that could be considered a blouse to the untrained eye. There is one rather visible hole in the fabric, and I spend some time trying to cover it with the waist of the skirt. I pull on some flat shoes that are too small for me now and tie my hair in a braid to hang over my shoulder.
I find some decent clothes for Matthew, as even though he isn't eligible for the Reaping, he still needs to be well dressed. I lay them on the floor beside him as he finishes eating, and with some help he changes into the short brown pants and slightly large, white button-up shirt. His shoe selection is limited and he's not big enough to wear our father's, so I let him wear his ratty tennis shoes. I brush his hair with my fingers and rub a bit of dirt off his cheek.
He looks up at me with tears in his eyes. "I don't want to go."
I know. It's the same thing he says every year. I don't want to go either. "It's the law, Mattie. Now come on, cheer up. You can't get picked. You're not old enough yet. I'm going to leave you with Amelia, remember her? She's the one who gave us the cocoa beans, you know. She's going to stand with you an I'll come get you after the Reaping. It'll be over in a flash, okay?"
Matthew looks apprehensive, and I hug him tightly. "Come on," I say. "We have to get down to the Square."
I find Amelia after searching the growing crowd for a while. She waves me over and I pull Matthew along with me over to her. Her grey dress is in a slightly better state than the rest of us, and her brown hair is twisted up into a bun at her neck. Matthew clings on to my arm tighter when we reach her, but she takes no offense and smiles gently at him.
"Hey, kiddo."
"Hi," he replies meekly.
"Thank you," I tell her. "For all of this."
"No problem, sweetheart. I'll see you after the ceremony. The kiddo and I will be waiting for you. Go sign in, okay?"
I nod and give Matthew a gentle nudge towards Amelia. He resists and throws his arms around me. Amelia looks at me sympathetically as I assure him that I'll be back in just a little while. When he finally lets me go, Amelia puts a hand on his shoulder - comforting, but also restraining - and gives me a small wave. I wave back and head down towards the rest of the eligible residents.
I sign myself in with a prick of my finger and join the other sixteen year old girls in the crowd.
Soon, everyone is in place, and District Twelve's mayor steps forward to retell the history of Panem, and the Dark Days that followed. He speaks about the Treaty of Treason that put into motion new laws to assure no more uprisings occurred, including, of course, the Hunger Games. The mayor half-heartedly finishes his prescribed speech, "It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," and begins listing the few District Twelve victors in history.
It is a short list, and after our one living victor, a man named Garrick Keaton who won his Games seventeen years ago at the age of fifteen, receives a small moment of applause, District Twelve's escort, Pippa Vixen, ascends on to the stage in six inch high gold heels, which is somewhat impressive.
She's taken her last name to heart, and she quite literally looks like a fox, her nails an inch long, painted gold, and pointed at the tip, and her wig long and deep red in color. She's even donned on a tail. Her clothes match her hair, and her eyes are gold and cat-like. To us, she looks terrifying, but when her cherry red lips open, her bright, bubbly voice carries through the microphone.
"Happy Hunger Games!" she chirps. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Everyone begins to hold their breath as she starts to speak. When she's through, two of us will be shipped off to our deaths. I remember Matthew standing behind me and feel relief that at least this year, he's safe.
"I'm so excited!" Pippa continues. "It's such an honor to be here, and what an honor for you, to have this opportunity! Oh, oh, oh, I just can't wait! Let's get started, shall we? Ladies first, of course!"
She crosses to the glass ball of the two that holds the girl's names. Her claw-like fingers dive inside and rummage around the slips of paper for a moment before she plucks out a single one.
There is complete silence, and everyone around me is shaking. Finally, after a long pause for dramatic effect, Pippa calls out a name.
Through my shock, I hear my brother's scream ripple through the Square.