District 7, 8 Days Before the Reaping

"This is one of the stupidest things you guys have ever done," I state ingenuously, kicking the mound of dirt beside my feet. "And that's really saying something for you two." Schultz finally looks up at me from his project for a brief second, only to avert his gaze over to Keaton, who's imprudently tinkering around with some screws and bolts. "You don't understand, Hol. We've got the logistics and science of it down pat. It's going to work." Keaton nods intently and adjusts his headband blemished with oil. My apprehensions do not abate.

"Will you go round up the others by the Hideaway? It's almost time." As arrogant as this request from Schultz sounds, I concede wordlessly and saunter off to get them.

I was always hopeless at climbing trees. It's quite an unfortunate detriment for someone living in District 7, I suppose, but I've managed to get by just fine. A ladder, set of stairs, or a helping hand always seems to be provided wherever necessary. Today, however, everyone is already up on the secluded platform of the Hideaway and my only option is to summon them by calling.

"GUYS," I holler up the maple tree. "THEY'RE GOING TO SET IT OFF IN LIKE FIVE MINUTES." Alecia descends first, barely even looking down as she steps from branch to stump to branch. I behold her able-bodied grace through jealous eyes. If only I was able do that. Well. If I only I had the spirit and drive to teach myself to do that.

After Alecia comes Wes, then Serpent, Hana, and last stumbles down Damian, tripping over his own foot and falling 10 feet from the tree. "Shiiit," he moans as he caresses his forehead on the ground. I look a little closer and notice the vivid red hue of the sclerae of his eyes.

"Damian!" I gripe. "Again?" In my peripheral vision I see Wes swipe the spliff from his mouth anxiously and Hana toss hers into a bush behind her.

"Wow, guys. Wow. Anyone else have one? Now is the time to be honest…"

Serpent scratches his head and looks at the ground, two blatant indicators of shameful concealment if I've ever seen any.

"Just spit it out, Serpent," I demand.

"No, I don't have one. I….like… I left mine up there," he stutters, gesturing up to the Hideaway. As if on cue, a colony of flames materializes on the rickety platform in the sky-high trees. Damian is the last to notice.