My mother likes to say that I was always a fighter. They told her that I wasn't growing properly when she was pregnant with me. With Idra, my sister, she gained thirty pounds and when Idra was born, she was a healthy eight pound infant. I was entirely different. I was born premature, a whole four pounds and twelve ounces, but from the moment I came into this world I fought for my own independence. They said I was breathing without help, even at 34 weeks gestation. I never needed help, the midwife said I was lucky; my mother just said I was tough. She was right.
The leaves crunch softly underneath my feet as I make my way through the woods towards the faint scent of smoke. The Peacekeepers would have to leave the comfort of their posts to get this close to the fence. Doubtful.
When I was thirteen I heard about the gathering in the woods beyond the boundary. I was afraid at first, to dare follow my sister into the woods, but soon she showed me a place where the fence was broken and never electrified. It had been traveled many times. No one had ever bothered to alert the Peacekeepers to the problem so it stood without power for years now. She had to help me shimmy underneath it the first few times but it wasn't long until I could climb it easily and hop right over the barbed wire, just like her. I had always looked up to Idra so much and our outings on cool evenings were our little secret, well ours and anyone else who showed up.
They would pass around a fifth of brown whiskey and sit around the fire. The first few times it burned like hell going down but eventually the burn would fade and you wouldn't taste anything at all. We'd stay out half the night just trying to sober up so we wouldn't get caught sneaking back into Seven. Those nights were filled with laughter and jokes, occasionally someone would bring a guitar or banjo. I always loved the music, I'd sing my own lyrics and sometimes we'd all write songs together. Songs about somewhere that we weren't caged inside a fence, nearly starving to death. Some of the boys could hunt, I knew them from seeing them at the market. My dad would trade tools for squirrels. He was a craftsmen and men loved to buy the things he could chisel from wood. It was only his hobby, of course. All the men had to work the lumber yards, cutting down trees and hauling them to the factory to be made into tables or chairs and shipped off to The Capitol. None of those ornamental chairs would be found in one of our homes in District Seven. That's why everyone loved to barter with my father, he was about the best carpenter in Seven, as close as you could get to the Capitol goods.
The last few months, since the last reaping where Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark won the games, the conversations in the woods have changed. The people have changed too. There's no more music and laughter, no more liquor to pass around. There's a lot of talk about change coming, rebellion… uprising.
It's a whispered word, the kind of word that leaves a quiet silence in the crowd when it's said. I'm not sure when, but soon. My mother and father have forbidden me from going to the woods anymore and Idra hasn't dared question them, she never does, but there's nothing in this world I want to see more than change. She doesn't have any more reapings but I do. I have one more and there isn't much I wouldn't do to make sure that doesn't happen. There's a meeting tonight and since I didn't dare ask Idra to come with me I'm making my way through the dark woods alone tonight.
The fire comes into sight and I see Acacia, one of my close friends. Acacia is the same age as me. We've been in school together since the very beginning. When she started coming to the gatherings we became friends. She had the prettiest voice and when we put our voices together the whole crowd would go silent and listen. I loved it and she did too. All the boys loved Acacia too. She has perfectly straight, white teeth and beautiful chocolate hair. It was weird to have someone so pretty call me a friend, especially when I was the tomboy. I brushed my hair because I had to and typically pinned it up into a ponytail for convenience but I don't think I'd ever seen Acacia with her hair up, except for when she braided it.
There are even more people gathered tonight than the last few times. I couldn't count from where I stand, only five feet and four inches tall, but there are a lot more adults here than usual. In fact, the majority of the people I can see, are men who work with my father or women I see at the market. I spot only a few familiar faces and make my way past the trees into the clearing to stand by Acacia.
Soon everyone crouches down and sits in the dirt and grass around the dwindling flames. It's only then that I can see how many people are actually here and I spot Idra and her boyfriend sitting across the way and I can't help but laugh.
"Angel, my ass," I mumble to myself and I can see her grin back at me.
The laughter doesn't last long as one of the men stands up in front of us and a collective gasp sounds from the crowd. A Peacekeeper, he's a peacekeeper. I don't know his name but I recognize him. It's strange to see him out of the white uniform and in regular civilian clothing. I eye him cautiously, poised on alert and ready to run but my mind tells me that it doesn't make sense to run and I dig my heels into the dirt, urging myself to stay and listen.
"You all look so happy to see me." He chuckles and the crowd relaxes slightly but not much.
"I'm here tonight because I'm on your side." He says. "You see, I may be employed by The Capitol but I'm more like you than you may realize." He pauses, inhales sharply, puffing his chest out in what I take to be nervousness.
"I have a family. I'm just trying to make sure they eat. I have a son, two daughters. The twins will both be old enough for the reaping this year."
The crowd remains quiet, crickets chirp in my ear as I wait for the point of this speech I'm listening to from the light haired man standing in front of me.
"Things are happening in the other districts, things that the Capitol doesn't like—things that they don't want you to know about."
I feel like even the crickets have gone silent now, listening as the man continues.
"People are coming together, they're fighting back. Now is the time to fight for our freedom, to fight for our independence from The Capitol, to fight for the ability to truly live and not in that damn cage we call a district!"
There are voices in the crowd now, voices calling for change, voices of agreement and voices of challenge. It's uproar, all in all.
"In three days, you have a choice." He says when the crowd quiets and a hush falls over the chaotic echo of dissent. "You can fight or you can stay idly by in your houses but know you have the choice to stand against the Capitol."
So that was it, in three days there would be an uprising. I lifted my eyes from the ground, where I had dug two little holes with each of my toes while I listened. Idra was gone now; I guess that meant she'd made her decision already. The crowd thinned out as people fled into the woods, the ones who weren't ready to commit to the cause, or who were too afraid to stand against the Capitol. For some reason I was frozen, unable to get up and leave. I knew what a risk I was taking if I stayed. Defying the Capitol meant death but death was nearly certain if I was chosen for the games. At least this way, I had control of my life— if I died, it was my choice, on my terms. It would be for a cause, a real one. I wouldn't be just another face in the sky commemorated by the sound of a canon. If I died fighting for a better Panem, fighting for my generation and the generations to come, then it was a more honorable death than being paraded around The Capitol for entertainment. I was going to be a part of the revolution and nothing was going to stop me now.
After that, every Thursday evening a group of us met in our usual spot beyond the barbed wire fence in District Seven. Men, women, teenagers, Peacekeepers alike; we all gathered around the small fire discussing the plans for an uprising in hushed voices. The group had grown since the night that Gregor had spoken. He was the first peacekeeper to devote his allegiance to the resistance. He was one of the leaders of our resistance. We called ourselves the fireflies because of where we gathered. For some reason, though, it felt accurate. We were the quiet flicker of hope in the darkness of Panem.
The plan for our show of resistance was simple and concise. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were soon arriving on their victory tour through Panem. Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay. She was the living, breathing symbol of the rebellion. She was the girl who sparked hope in all of us with her rebellion against the rules established by the Capitol. She was my inspiration, and if it was somehow my name pulled from that reaping ball I wasn't playing by their rules either.
The day of their arrival in the Capitol we would be forced to watch the Victory Tour interview with Caesar Flickerman. We would have a reason to be out on the streets after dark, gathering either in the square or in various community centers around the district to watch since many people don't own their own television. We heard whispers that District Eight was following suit with this plan. At 8 pm, Gregor and a team of a few others would cut the electricity in the District and everything would go black. That's when it would start, right where the most people would be watching, in the square.
Weeks came and went until the day of their arrival in District Seven. Thursday nights were spent sneaking out into the woods at 10 or 11 pm. With a few of the Peacekeepers on our side it was becoming easier and more routine to make it over the fence in the cover of darkness. Each week we would go over the plan and add to it until it was down to a three scenarios. The ownership of any sort of weapons was outlawed, the only weapons we had were the tools that we used in the lumber yards and around the district.
I had seen my father whittle pieces of wood with a knife. He had shown me a few times how to carve off the bits of wood from a stick. When I was around ten, he allowed me to help him make little figurines. I played with them, gave them names and pretended to marry them. The short lessons were the true extent of knives though. I had no interest in cooking, so I'd never used a knife for slicing or butchering. Idra was my mother's assistant in the kitchen. She was going to be a wonderful wife one day, but me… I had no intention of staying home and cooking for a man. I was a sore cook, I'd probably never learn unless I was forced into it.
I pleaded to be part of efforts that would not involve me in any hand to hand combat. It was a moot point though; a knife against a gun would mean almost certain death, even if I knew how to use it. No one wanted to be in a one on one with a Peacekeeper. The goal was to stick together as a group, to move in the darkness where we'd be harder to target and pick out in a crowd.
Most of the stronger men would line the Square. They would serve as a distraction, rioting in front of the Justice Building. Meanwhile, the rest of us were going to raid the warehouses and Justice Building for medical supplies and food. Ransack them. If nothing else it would inconvenience the Capitol. Halt building more massive buildings to line their empire. It didn't seem like much to me, but it was something. My job became look out while a group of people made kindling from the wood in the lumberyard. It was wasteful and dangerous but it would make a point.
When the day came, we all gathered shoulder to shoulder in the square to see our Mockingjay. However, we found ourselves disappointed. She read her speech from a card. She gave no sign of being the rebel she had shown us in the Games. She put on a forced smile, "Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever." It made me want to throw up. Other people yelled at her, demanded truth, demanded justice. Even when we raised our arms in a three finger salute, she just hung her head and followed Effie Trinket, the District Twelve escort, from the stage. I worried that it might deflate our effort but instead, that Thursday night, we had more people than ever show up at our Firefly meeting.
Saturday would mark the day, the day of our show of resistance. There were more people involved now than I had ever imagined and my hope for change had never been stronger.