Wiress Parsons, age 12 and a half
I am not going to stop banging on this door until Beetee opens it. I know he's in there and that's why I keep hitting even though my hands are sore and it's been over ten minutes and I'm pretty sure I could break in there in less than three minutes, because it's the standard hinge door and I know exactly how to separate…
The door opens and I twist my body to avoid hitting Beetee in the face because I was already going to hit the door again. I just had a growth spurt and I'm not used to my height and I fall a lot which I hope goes away pretty soon because I really want to be graceful and pretty and have Beetee think I'm great.
"You need to stop." He says it so roughly that I'm scared for a moment. But really, what kind of world is this where he expects us to leave him alone in a big house with just his grief? I know about parents dying, and I know how dark he probably feels and I don't think the Games make any of this better so I am not leaving him alone and he can hate me for it, I don't care. He can ignore me, but I'll be there keeping him from being alone. I haven't said anything yet, because I got lost in these thoughts. I get into the doorframe before he shuts it on me.
"In the last twenty four hours, have you eaten, showered, worn real pants, spoken to another human being other than now, or gone outside of your own volition? If you can say yes to any two, I will leave." I can see his pajama pants and unshaven face, so I know what the real answer will be. I push past him into his house.
This place isn't his home yet, his parents were working out what to move, how to move before they died, so it's only ever just been him. There aren't any pictures or paintings or anything to make this look different from the other furnished but empty houses waiting for someone to win the Games and live in them. He even took the house furthest away from the other two winners.
Beetee stands and watches me move around his house, he doesn't sit or talk to me, just watches me make him an omelet and set a proper place at the table with a napkin and juice, all food that Nik has been bringing over regularly and putting in Beetee's fridge and finding still unopened several days later. "Sit." I demand. Beetee is used to my stubbornness, so he does listen to me, and I get him to eat some, and I just sit with him for a while longer, and then we start to talk. As we talk, he eats some more without paying attention, and then he eats and ends up talking some without paying attention and it all just snowballs until he's eaten the whole omelet and he's telling me all the horrible things he's seen and he is crying and eventually he throws up the whole omelet and I make him soup instead.
I force him to take a shower because he is stinky, and I do have a brother his age, so I know how to force someone into the shower and turn on the water with his clothes on so he gets clean like it or not. I bring the soup up to his room for him, and he has actually washed and put on clean clothes so we are really getting somewhere. He eats some soup off of a tray table by the bed and I curl up in the bed against some pillows and talk about silly things so he will eat without crying it all up again. Then, I force him to talk about his parents. If you don't talk, you'll explode. You just turn into a big ball of hate and no one can love you anymore because you are made of hate. That's how I felt without my parents, anyway. He talks about little things at first, things I knew, like his mom's pie and the way his dad called him Meetee as a joke. He talks and the crying is gentle now, it feels like regular crying that you are supposed to do when people die, so I hold him, I try to be the older sibling for a change, and it seems to work. He lets me in the next day after only six minutes of knocking.
Beetee Tesla, age 19
There are days when I wouldn't get out of bed, except I know Wiress is going to force her way in anyhow, and being dressed or fed or walking around makes her at least a little less worried about me.
Wiress Parsons, age 14 and a half
Nik and I are almost the only ones waiting for the train. No one cares about the mentors of dead tributes. They don't get cameras and lights and cheers. Elisa is the only other person here, but she's a victor and maybe it's a formality that she has to greet Marks and Beetee. When I see Beetee stepping off the train, I call his name, wave my arms, and he manages to smile at me. I know how much it took him to make that small gesture. I know he's exhausted and depressed and all he wants to do is hide in his room and cry. I know because I make him tell me, although his confessions have gotten more voluntary lately, maybe he's realized how good it feels to get stuff off your chest.
Nik grabs the bag from him, and Beetee gives me a hug. I'm a hugger. Nik is not. Well, except me, but I think that's just sister privilege. "We're staying at your place tonight," Nik informs him. "No arguments."
Thankfully, he doesn't argue. I fight the urge to take his hand. Remind myself I'm just a friend, I'm just a kid, he doesn't love me back. We get to Beetee's house and start our regular Beetee-is-back-from-the-Capitol routine. I cook, Nik handles any Beetee-chat suitable for a guy, then we eat and Nik cleans up while I handle any Beetee-chat suitable for a girl. Getting him to talk in the first place is the difficult part. I'm standing there, in his stupid boring living room, trying to get him to open up to me and at the same time ignore how much I want to kiss him, how much I want to just grow up already and be old enough that he would take me seriously if I ever got up the courage to do it. Beetee is just sitting on the couch, staring at nothing, face blank and his hands in his lap. If he were talking, I'd listen. If he were crying, I'd hold him. All I can do is sit next to him and hold his limp hand in mine. He's not wearing his district token, the bracelet I gave him. It wasn't exactly sturdy, probably broke or something, but I'm still vaguely disappointed.
"If you need time to go over your thoughts or something, get them to where you can talk, that's fine," I tell him. "But you need to let me know. Because tomorrow I will make you talk to me." I squeeze his hand. "You're scaring me, I just want to know you're alright!" I feel the tiniest of squeezes back.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he rasps. "I just…can't…tonight." That's okay, that's an acceptable answer. Nik and I just lead him up to his bedroom. There are guest rooms with guest beds, but Beetee's is big enough for the three of us, and with one of us on either side, he won't fall out of bed during a nightmare. I'm in bed, about to turn the lamp off when I see the frame. A picture of the three of us, with his token, my bracelet, in the frame. He keeps it by his bed. When he wakes up from a nightmare, we're there by his bed for him. That's lovely. I snuggle into my little luxury of being able to smell him on my pillow.
Beetee Parsons, age 22
My birthday is usually right before the reaping. It's some kind of cruel joke that I can't really enjoy it because I'm already too nervous. I don't know why, but his year seems particularly nerve-wracking. It shouldn't be, I actually have the year off, Marks and Elisa are mentoring and I will be spared talking to the tributes, getting to know them. Then again, I won't have any power to help, either. The ceremony seems to take forever and I have to be careful of my face because I know the stage is on camera the whole time. I tune out the speech and the video, caught in an endless loop playing in my mind "not Wiress, not Wiress, not Wiress" over and over and over until the girl's name is called and it's not Wiress. That's another gift from the Capitol you get on reaping days. The guilt over being happy your loved ones weren't chosen. The pain you feel when you automatically smile at the name, and another family wails.
I still get off stage as soon as I'm allowed, and embrace Wiress. Nik joins us when he can fight through the crowd, and the world shrinks down to the three of us, arms wrapped tight, holding on. Three orphans who only have each other. Free from the worry of losing one of them, at least for another year.
Wiress Parsons, age 16
I'm woken up by Nikola jumping on my bed. I think he's such a good teacher because he's really just a big kid himself. "Happy Birthday, Wire-tires! Get on up!" I grab his legs so he falls onto the bed with me.
"Gotcha. Little sister attack!" He gives me some playful shoves, and drags me out of bed.
"Come on, come on, get a shower, get dressed, we've got a big day!" Nik always makes a big deal of my birthday, I think he enjoys it more than me. I care more about my current project, and I wonder if I can steal away to work on it a bit today. I think I can stop the motor overheating so easily, and I have a few ideas I'm just desperate to try. I stand under the showerhead for a few minutes before I realize my thoughts have drifted and I never turned the water on. That sort of thing keeps happening to me.
I dress and go downstairs, where my two favorite guys in the whole world are waiting for me. "Hi Beetee," I say softly.
"Birthday Girl," he responds, with the crooked grin I love so much and a nod. Nik holds out my coat, holds it while I slip each arm in, like gentlemen do on television. It makes me giggle.
"Let's go!"
Beetee hands me a travel cup of coffee and places his hand on the small of my back to escort me outside. The touch flusters me, and I inhale the steam coming off the coffee to hide my blush. "Where are we going? What's the big surprise?" I demand from my brother.
"It's not a surprise, it's only what you've been whining about for the last year! Beetee and I are taking you backstage at the Engineering School!" I'm pretty sure I'm grinning like a fool. As a student, I have limited access to materials and machines and archives. If they take me for a tour, though, I'll get to see some really amazing stuff. Nik is really pumped, and high fives Beetee at my reaction. He keeps running ahead a little bit, then back. Back and forth…I wish I had some of that energy. He exhausts me enough that I yawn into my coffee.
"Did I make it right?" Beetee asks. He's keeping perfect time walking next to me. I keep staring at the ground, watching our feet hit at the same time. He takes my arm, and I realize he's waiting for me to answer. He's very patient with me, most people get frustrated and yell but he waits, or finishes my thought.
"Yes, it's perfect. Nice and strong." He keeps my arm tucked into his for the entire walk, and this could be the best birthday present ever. I really love him. It's terrifying because you always think puppy love will just go away so you can find someone more suitable, but here I am, in bliss at his touch.
Both of my boys are patient with me all day, they handle me asking questions and staring at things and spending lots of time on stuff that probably bores them and this is a wonderful birthday.
Dinner is just Nik and I. Beetee spends a lot of time here, since he lives alone, but this is a special sibling night. Beetee will be fine, we've made sure, over the years, that he knows how to cook a little, and he's pretty in demand as a dinner guest due to his fame. Only, those people always want to talk about his moment of glory, the Hunger Games. He hates talking about them. Well, to anyone but me. And that's just because I made him. It wasn't healthy for him to hold it all inside.
I hang out with Nik all night and he gives me his present, all sorts of goodies that I need for my next project. I gape. "Beetee stole me your blueprints so I could see what you needed." Nik says sheepishly. I hug him tight. He knows exactly what I like. Nik goes up to bed, and I sneak to the shed to take one last look at my project. I only planned on being out for five minutes, but the next time I look up, my watch says it's been forty five, and Beetee is standing in the doorway with one of the sweaters I keep at his house.
"Really, Wiress? You do this every time" His words are scolding, but his voice is kind. That's how he always gets me to listen to him. "Just wear a coat, even if you think you'll be right back."
I slip on the sweater. "I got distracted. I've been dealing with this motor issue all week and I think I'm finally making headway." I wrinkle my nose. It's really dark and late and I should call it a night. I wonder what Beetee is doing here at this hour. The sweater I understand. He knows me well enough to bring it if he was coming by.
"I have a present for you," he says, answering my unspoken question. He won't meet my eyes for some reason. I decide he's probably cold, and we head to the house.
"Come on in, I'll make hot chocolate."
He nods, still not looking at me directly. I keep chattering about my project while I make the hot chocolate, unwilling to have awkward silence. We're usually good at silence, and my chattering is strange because I have a difficult time with long thoughts sometimes, but something is just different tonight. I place a mug in front of him, and sit down with mine. "Something's wrong." It's really a question, but I don't want him to deny it. I want him to just tell me.
"Not wrong, I've just been thinking about your birthday." He's so unsure of himself and what he's saying sounds so harmless that I want to laugh at him. I don't because I don't want to hurt his feelings, but he's fidgeting and awkward and it's awfully adorable. "It's just a shame that people don't seem to understand you. You should have lots of friends and a boyfriend and a big sixteenth birthday party. And instead you spend it with your twenty something brother and another guy who's like a brother."
"You're not like a brother." I say automatically. I don't want to give myself false ideas, but I think a smile just flashed across his face. "I have friends, just not close ones. Because you're right, they don't understand me. And boys…I kissed a few boys when everyone my age began being obsessed and I didn't see what the big deal was. I'm happy with how I spend my time, and you're not in charge of policing it, anyway." He's staring into his mug.
"It's just odd to see you getting older, that's all. I need to get used to it. Stop thinking of you as a child." His eyes meet mine, and there's some sort of promise there. I wish I could understand it. "Anyway, your present." He slides a small box across the table. Inside, there's a very pretty pendant, a black square swirled with blue. My favorite colors, and incidentally, the colors of our eyes. I pick it up, and my fingers immediately find a catch. A key slides from the pendant, where it was hiding. I look up, waiting for the explanation.
"It's a key to my workshop. Where there's an empty workstation just waiting for you to mess it up." He smiles at my shock and happiness. "It's been pre-approved by Nik and everything."
I dart around the table to hug him. It's the perfect gift. No more hours in an unheated shed working on my stuff. Instead, hours working next to Beetee in comfort. He leans into my hug, hand on my arm. "I thought the necklace was a good idea because you tend to lose things." I really do. "This way, you can wear it and always know where it is." He is brilliant. He really is brilliant and he knows me better than anyone else. This is the best birthday ever. I give him a big kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you so much! Thank you thank you thank you" He's blushing, I hope from the kiss. He gets up and places his mug in the sink.
"I have to go home, it's really late. Not technically your birthday anymore, either." He squeezes my hand as I walk him out. "Good night." Then, and I will never forget this, he kisses me on the cheek back.
Best birthday ever.
Beetee
She's fifteen when I let myself accept that my fondness for her is not that of a little sister, or even that of a friend whom I also find attractive. I think we reach a deep level of understanding, I think we get along well enough that we would have things to say every single day. We've already spent hours upon hours talking since she started pushing her way into my house, making me live again after my parents died. I think I find her attractive enough that I would never look at another woman. I now understand why people get married because I want all that. From Wiress. I want arguments and housework and boring day to day life. I think she could put up with the times I feel broken, like I haven't escaped the Games. I have nightmares and some issues, but she is the one who forces me to acknowledge them, to talk about them, and that's actually made them a little better.
I finally accept all of these things that I have been thinking, and say it out loud. "I love Wiress." I say it in an empty room in my empty house, but I've never actually let myself even think it properly before, so this is something.
I love her and I'm a victor and I'm seven years older than her and I don't deserve her and I'm an idiot.
I love her so damn much.
