1
"Hey, Abernathy!"
The shout cuts through the excited end-of-year chatter and the schoolyard goes silent. Hairs stand up on the back of my neck as dozens of eyes train on my back.
I know I should keep walking. All Cove Bluet wants is a fight, and I should be the bigger man that doesn't give it to him. Dad would say that it's my responsibility to ignore slugs like Bluet, because one day we'll all be in the mines together, and every man is equal underground.
Instead I stop, every muscle in my body tensing for a fight. Dad isn't here, and to be honest, I've been looking forward to this.
I scan the faces in the crowd and don't find a single sympathetic one. Good – Marlys and Vernie aren't here. As long as my girlfriend and my little brother aren't watching, I don't have to hold back.
"How many times is your name in the reaping bowl?" Bluet taunts. His voice is mocking, but there's real rage there, too. Like any of this is my fault.
I turn to face him, anger racing through my veins and tingling in my limbs.
"What's the matter, Bluet?" I ask, raising my voice so everyone can hear. "You don't know how to count?"
The faces around me harden as I confirm everything they've ever thought about me. Haymitch Abernathy doesn't have to take tesserae. Haymitch Abernathy thinks he's better than the other Seam kids. Haymitch Abernathy wishes he was a townie. Haymitch Abernathy – the mine captain's arrogant, spoiled son.
My dad's not the only mine captain, and I'm not the only captain's son, but I'm the only one the other Seam kids seem to really despise. Maybe because I'm the only one who doesn't lie down and take their abuse.
"See, 'cause my name's in there forty-three times," Bluet says. He starts circling and I mirror him, sliding my bag off my shoulder and tossing it to one side. "And I think your name's only in there five times. And I don't think that's fair."
The crowd closes in around us, a sea of faces just as brown as mine. I might look Seam, but as far as they're concerned, I'm nothing. I spot a few blonde town kids in the crowd, but I'm not one of them, either.
Someone starts chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" and pretty soon everyone is saying it. Quiet enough that the teachers won't hear, but loud enough that Bluet and I don't really have a choice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the sweetshop twins pulling some of the younger merchant kids away.
"That's not my fault, Bluet," I call over the jeers. "I didn't tell your parents to have six kids."
Of course I'm right, so of course Bluet has no comeback. So, of course, he attacks me.
He lunges, coming in low like he's going to tackle me at the waist. He's slow, and I have plenty of time to dodge to the side. I wait until the last moment to do it, then stick out my foot to trip him.
Bluet slides across the dirt on his face as kids scatter out of the way.
He scrambles to his feet, breathing hard. There is absolute hatred in his eyes.
He lunges again. This time I'm not fast enough, and we both go down. The momentum throws off Bluet's aim, so his punch glances off my nose. I taste blood and promise myself that's the last hit he'll land.
I grab him by the collar and slam my forehead into his nose to show him how it's done. His blood spatters my face and he roars.
I've been in enough fights to know what I'm doing. I also get more food than Bluet does, which makes me stronger and faster. I guess life really isn't fair. Too damn bad.
I take advantage of Bluet's distraction and flip him onto his back, pinning his arms with one hand and using the other to punch him in the gut. I hear the breath whistle out of his lungs and I punch him again.
Big hands grab my shirt and haul me off Bluet. I kick out at my attacker until I realize it's the English teacher, Mr. Mellark. One of my kicks connects with his shin and he gives me a rough shake.
"Enough!" he yells. I spot Mr. Mellark's younger brother Donel lurking on the edge of the crowd and stop wondering how the English teacher got here so fast. I scowl at Donel. He smiles back. Jack-off.
Bluet's still on the ground, coughing in the dust. As soon as he gets his wind back, he shoots me a filthy glare.
"He started it," he wheezes.
"You lying sack of –" I start towards him before Mr. Mellark shoves me back.
"I don't care who started it. The school year is over. It's not my problem. You can fight in your own neighborhoods, not at school." When no one moves, he shouts, "Now!"
The crowd starts to drift away. Bluet's friends help him to his feet, patting him on the back like he's some sort of hero, like I didn't just kick his ass. He spits blood at my feet and turns to go, surrounded by his pack of idiot pals.
I start to leave too, but Mr. Mellark's hand clamps down on my shoulder.
"Go home, Donel," he tells his brother. Donel shrugs and hurries to catch up with his townie friends.
I glare at the ground, waiting for Mr. Mellark to start shouting again. Blood has stopped dripping from my nose, and I can feel it drying on my upper lip. It itches, but I don't scratch it, doing my best to look bored.
"You all right, Abernathy?" Mr. Mellark asks. I look at him and he gives me a brotherly smile.
I am not his brother. And I don't need merchant jack-offs feeling sorry for me. I go back to scowling at the dirt.
"Fine," I grumble. "Can I go?"
Mr. Mellark sighs. "Sure you can. Good luck this weekend."
I turn away without a word. He doesn't know what the fight was about, I remind myself. Truth is, I've got about as much chance of being reaped as his little brother.
My schoolbag is still lying on the ground where I tossed it. I scoop it up and sling it over my shoulder. It's heavier than usual, but I don't look inside until I'm away from Mr. Mellark's pitying gaze. When I open it, I see it's been filled to the brim with dirt.
I clean out my bag behind a tree on the far edge of the Seam, using a handful of leaves to wipe off my notebooks the best I can. They're still filthy, but I think I can convince my parents that I dropped them in the schoolyard.
There's a rusted old pump nearby that no one uses much, and I go there to wash the blood off my face. Dad won't be home from the mines yet, but if Mom or Vernie sees me like this, he'll find out one way or another, and then things will really kick off. He used to get furious when I'd come home bruised and bloody from fights with miners' kids – not because I'd been hurt, but because he thought it made him look bad in front of his crew. When I was ten, he actually made me apologize to Evert Hawthorne for knocking out his tooth in the schoolyard. I did such a bad job of it that he never made me do it again. Or maybe I just got better at hiding my fights from him.
I'm bent over the pump when I hear someone come up beside me. I blink water out of my eyes and glance over at my girlfriend, Marlys. Her black eyebrows are already arched in amusement, but when she sees my face, they disappear under her bangs.
"Ouch," she drawls.
I go back to scrubbing off dried blood. Some of it's mine, but most of it is Bluet's. I call that a victory.
"You should see the other guy," I tell her, swiping water off my chin.
"I have." It sounds like an accusation and I shoot her an incredulous glare.
"You know he started it!"
"I know," she agrees, holding up her palms in surrender. "But Haymitch… do you always have to be the one to finish it?"
"What do you want me to do?" I can feel my face burning despite the cold water. Marlys doesn't get why I can't play nice with the other Seam kids, since she's one of them. I love her, but she has no clue what she's talking about. "Just lie down and take it from scum like Bluet?"
"I don't want to argue," she says, even though she started it. She reaches up and rubs a spot on my forehead that I must have missed. "It's just… you're better than him. Don't forget it."
There are a lot of things I could say. Like, I know I'm better than him – that's why I beat him. But Marlys says she doesn't want to argue, and the truth is, neither do I. Apart from my family, she's pretty much the only person in the entire district I actually like.
"Will it bruise?" I ask instead, pointing to my nose.
She stands on her toes to get a closer look, leaning against me for balance. I put my hands on her hips and do my best to stay still and not kiss her. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and I'm still trying to figure out why she bothers with me.
"Doesn't look like it," she says, stepping away. I reluctantly let her go. "You'll be all pretty for the cameras on reaping day."
A cold shiver crawls up my spine and I force myself to smile.
"Oh, joy."