DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. Suzanne Collins does. I really thank her for creating such a great novel series.
There are some mockingjays chirping outside. Their melodious voices have carried me away, making me sleepy as if they're lullaby to me. The weather is fresh and consoling. I can fall asleep now if I don't remind myself that I am still in the teachers' room, being lectured by Mrs. Wilson about me ditching math class today. She is one of the most annoying teachers I know. And it's like the hundredth time I'm being lectured and scolded by her. I am getting immune to her, which I find really amazing since most of my friends dread her a lot.
"Listen to me, Miss Mellark, if you skip one of your classes again, I'll summon your parents here," she says threateningly.
"Sure, you can call them now if you want," I respond nonchalantly, flashing a mocking smile at her.
Mrs. Wilson glares at me. Her grey eyes look somewhat eerie now. She must be very offended by my words. But, I don't really care. "I don't care if your parents are important people, if you make a mistake, you get detention just like the other students."
I shrugged. "I never wish my parents are the victors of the Hunger Games who sparked the rebellion, either."
"You shouldn't have said something like that, Miss Mellark."
After about twenty minutes later filled with wordy and boring lectures on how I should behave as a student, especially as the daughter of the Mockingjay, Mrs. Wilson lets me out. She watches me as I walk into my next class to make sure I am not going to run away again. I told you she's that annoying.
My next class is history. Damn it! I always hate history class. Not that I hate the lesson or the teacher. I just hate the attention I get during the class. My friends will usually look at me every time my parents' names are mentioned. And since they played an important role during the Games and the rebellion itself, their names are mentioned a lot. My friends will usually ask stupid questions like ; "Have they ever told you that?", "What did they say to you about the mutts?", or more annoyingly, they will suddenly stare at me and blurt out some pathetic remarks; "Your mother is so brave.", "Your father is amazing.", or "I really respect your parents." But, there are also those who sarcastically say, "But, they are crazy, aren't they? What is it like to have two mentally disoriented parents, Willow?" I once got into trouble when I punched a boy in my class after he said that. Sometimes, I still hear some mocking remarks, especially by those kids who moved in to Twelve from One, Two, or Thirteen, but I no longer care.
I see my parents' names written on the whiteboard when I enter the classroom. Oh, not again. Mr. Taylor must be explaining about the Games again. It's like the story of them never ends. There's something new that we should learn about them in every meeting. Last week, I was really happy when we learnt about what happened to the world before Panem existed. Because no one would look at me to say or ask something stupid. I always hate popularity, but I got it even without asking it just because my mother is Katniss Everdeen and my father is Peeta Mellark. Yeah, everyone in Panem knows them, making them like celebrities.
Mr. Taylor stops talking when I walk in. He looks at me questioningly, probably wondering why I come half an hour late. But, before he asks me anything, I've handed him my detention slip and he lets me sit without any further question. Then, he continues his explanation. He is a good teacher and won't pry at anyone. I'll like him better if he doesn't teach history.
I sit beside my best friend, Claire, so grateful that she has kindly saved me a seat. "We're discussing about why your mother voted yes for the Hunger Games using Capitol children as the tributes," she whispers.
I just nod and take out my notebook from my bag. It was supposed to be a secret, Dad once told me. Whatever the victors vote, it's supposed to be a secret. But, some of the information was somehow leaked to the public.
"Can anyone guess why Katniss Everdeen voted 'yes' for the Games?"
Everyone in the class turns silent and it takes me five seconds to realize that they're staring at me. Maybe they thought I were so genius that I knew everything about my parents.
"Miss Mellark," Mr. Taylor calls.
I look up and raise my eyebrows.
"Do you know why?"
I shrugged. "They never told me." Of course, my mother will never ever tell me anything about the Games or the Wars which killed her sister and friends. Sometimes, I hate her for being that weak, despite everyone thinking she's so brave and strong. My father also lost his friends and all his family during the Wars, and worse, he's hijacked by the Capitol, yet he can still tell many things about his past. Sometimes, he also joked about the people of the Capitol or what happened during the Games, before my mother came and told him to not speak anything again about them. If I know something about their past, it mostly comes from Father. He's a calm and funny person. My mother, in the other hand, doesn't want to talk much about the Games. Father says she's still much traumatized by everything. I often hear her screaming and crying at night that scared the hell out of me and my little brother. But, over time, I learnt to get used to it. I just wonder why Mother doesn't. And sometimes, thinking of it only makes me hate her even more.
"Your parents never did?" Nick, the boy who sits behind me asks. He's one of the most curious friends I have who'll constantly annoy me with his stupid questions in every class I have with him. I don't care if he's popular at our school. He's a jerk to me.
I shake my head in respond. "Or maybe I forget if my father ever told me that." But, I don't think Father knows, either.
"Can anyone state their opinion, please?" Mr. Taylor looks at the whole class.
"Can I answer, Willow?" Claire asks, looking at me.
"Sure, why should you worry about me? Anyone may answer," I say, slightly annoyed. But, I wonder what Claire will say and how she knows or thinks about that. She's the daughter of my father's childhood best friend's brother, yet I doubt she knows anything.
Claire raises her hand and Mr. Taylor directly looks at her. "Yes, Miss Cartwright?"
She stands up from her seat and hesitantly says, "Well, I think," she pauses, thinking, "because she wanted to trick President Alma Coin by pretending that she's in her side. So, that Alma Coin wouldn't think Katniss Everdeen as her threat."
Everyone in the class is so silent now. I look up at Claire, still wondering.
"And then," Claire continues, "she killed her instead of President Snow."
After that, Snow died. And my mother went into a deep frustration while people were debating her case in the court, I add.
"That's interesting," Mr. Taylor says. He goes on explaining about life after wars and all. I don't pay attention anymore. I'm absorbed into Claire's words. Why? All these years, I'd been wondering why Mother voted 'yes' for the Games for Capitol children. Father obviously voted 'no'. He told me about this long time ago, but he never stated his opinion about this to me. He only narrated the story. But, why? Why should Mother kill her?
The bell finally rings. I immediately pack my belongings and leave the classroom. Ashton is waiting for me in the gate. He looks somewhat upset when she sees me. "So, you made a problem again today?"
"Uh, the gossip must spread really fast," I reply cynically.
"That's not very nice, Willow. It's the third time this week."
"Ah, now you sound so much like Mom, Ash. Unluckily, I'm not in the mood for lecture again."
Ashton rolls his eyes. "See what Mom will say."
"Yeah, you're always her favorite."
"But, you're Dad's favorite, Willow. That makes us even."
Ashton and I walk to our home in Victor's Village. I don't know why people still call it Victor's Village if the Games are over. But, people still remember that Mother, Father, and Uncle Haymitch were the Hunger Games victors. Their names are written in history and no body is going to forget it, I suppose. Thinking of it only makes me sick. They'll remember my parents as the heroes of Panem, the ones who sparked the rebellion. The truth is they didn't even mean to start it. When I learnt it for the first time, I said to Father, "It's just because she had Cinna who gave her brilliant costumes and you who gave her that impression with your words that she could win everyone's heart. But, there's nothing else. She's only good at archery and hunting. The rest is she depended on you and Cinna." I know that I had offended Father by saying that. He didn't really show it, though. He just said that I could have said something nicer about Mother.
I don't remember since when exactly I got this 'difficult kid' and 'troublemaker' as my labels. I'm sixteen, three years older than Ashton. The word 'kid' should not be appropriate anymore. People say I should behave well because my mother is the Mockingjay. They expect too much from me. I want to be a normal kid, not the daughter of two Hunger Games victors who survived the Hunger Games twice and started the rebellion and used by Thirteen and the Capitol to make a propaganda during the Wars and end up somewhat mentally disoriented in Twelve. I never really tell this to anyone because I know it'll only create more problems. I've created enough of them that if my parents were not important people, people would have sure hated me. Maybe.
"Willow," Ashton suddenly stops walking, facepalming himself. "I forgot that I have a promise with Marcel. I promise to go to his house after school."
"You're totally forgetful," I say, annoyed.
"Tell Mom I'll be back before it gets dark, okay," he says, running to opposite direction.
After Ashton disappears, I decide that I don't want to go home now. Mrs. Wilson must have called Mom and I'm sure she's really mad at me. I don't want to be told to be like this or that again this time. So, I walk to Claire's house, instead.
She is helping her father in the shop when I arrive. Claire's father runs a shoe shop, like his family did before the Wars. He just continued it since Aunt Delly is married to a man from Thirteen and living there. I decide to help them, sorting out the shoes which have just come from Eight.
"You remember Sophia? She's going to get married next week," Claire says as we do our work. Of course, I remember Sophia. She's Aunt Delly's daughter. She's twenty two and pretty much like her mother who will smile friendlily at almost everyone she knows. I met her when I followed Claire to Thirteen for vacation a few years ago.
"Are we invited too?" I ask.
"Absolutely. I'm sure she misses you. And Aunt Delly must really want to see your parents."
"Yeah, it's been years."
After we are done with our jobs, Mr. Cartwright invites me to have dinner with his family. He has three children, Claire being the youngest one. The other two have been married and living in other districts. So, there are only four of us in the dining table.
"Have you told your mom that you're coming over to my house?" Claire asks as we wash the dishes.
"Oh, never mind her," is my only response. But, then I remember Ashton. Mother may be upset that all of her kids go without her permission now. Alright, sometimes she doesn't ask anything when we come home late. But, I don't know what kind of mood she's having this moment. "Claire," I call softly.
Claire looks at me, waiting for my next words. She knows from my voice that I'm going to ask something serious. Claire Cartwright. She's been always my best friend.
"How did you know that?"
"Know what?" she doesn't look at me again. Her eyes are averted to the dishes she's washing. "About your mother voting yes for the Games?"
"Exactly," I say. I'm curious what she'll say next.
"Haymitch told me once about it. It's actually more complicated than it, Willow," she pauses. "I think she also finally realized that the bomb that killed her sister was under her order. And your mother thought that with her dictatorship, Coin only could be the next Snow. It's better to extinguish her before it's too late."
I look at her, pondering. "So…"
"You can ask her yourself, Willow."
I shake my head and flash a lopsided smile. "You know how my relationship with my mother is."
When I walk out of Claire's house, it's already quiet late in the evening. I still don't want to go directly home, so I walk to my father's bakery in town, instead. He runs a bakery just like his family did once. It's his life, just like how Mother still goes out into the woods to hunt sometimes. They make money from them. But, the main point is they do that because they love it.
To my dismay, Father has closed the bakery. The lights are off and the windows have been shut. But, I can still smell the warm bread penetrating in the air. So, he must just leave a few minutes ago. I scowl at myself and rush to walk home when I carelessly bump into a trash can in front of the bakery. The sound of hard metal hitting the ground startles me and I jump in the air. Piles of rubbish are now scattered on the ground. Father won't be mad at me for this, I know. He'll just tell me to be careful next time. But, I don't have the heart to leave it that way and let Father clean the mess tomorrow. So, I bow over and start picking them up. Then, something catches my attention.
White roses.
A.N. This is my first Hunger Games fan fiction. I just hope you enjoy it and show some honest support since I am still really new in writing fan fiction. Anyway, I love reviews!
