AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not much action yet. I promise I'll try and pick up the story soon. Also, I'm sorry that new chapters come out so slowly. I'm a college student and very busy, and I have to edit all of my work. Slowly but surely, this story will come together. I hope you'll be patient and stick with it.
The next day I feel hopeless and stupid, though. All that talk about fighting. What fight? There is no fight. There is only an idea, a feeling, the sound of a gunshot and the feeling is gone. That's our fight. Anyway, Annie and Zaley and I are kids. What chance do we have? We're kids and they have guns. Mama and Daddy and Granny aren't much better off. What would they do if the Peacekeepers hurt us? What could I do if they took their revenge on Lily and Nan? Nothing. We could do nothing.
Anyway, look what happened to Thirteen. They were one of the most powerful districts. They were the leaders of the last revolution. They had the best ideas and speakers and leaders, and everyone believed there was actually a chance. And now Thirteen is a smoking pile of toxic ashes somewhere up past Twelve.
But they can't bomb us off the map, can they? I mean, Thirteen was just graphite. They can live without it. But we have the food. They can't blow all that off the face of the world, or else who will feed them? I doubt that thought will come to much, but still...it's worth considering.
Zaley and Annie help me push my mattress across the room, but we're all quiet. I think now they're thinking the same thing as me. We won't be doing any fighting. We'll be more scared than ever and then we'll go back to work.
We have school today. It's not harvest yet, so we get to go to one of District Eleven's falling-down schoolhouses and watch a teacher uselessly writing words on slate. School in District Eleven is pointless because most of us know what we're going to be when we grow up. We're going to work in the fields. You don't need to know how to read words or run through the times-table for that. Harvest is work you learn from experience.
We learn about Tracker Jackers and how to treat the stings and save the victims. We learn to hear the sound before it's too late. We learn how to throw a burning branch under a nest to calm the insects. We learn how to sneak food to our sisters and brothers and children, heart pounding the whole time. We've all seen what happens when someone gets caught. Whippings are at least once a week. We learn how to take care of someone whose back has been ripped apart. We learn how to get back on our feet and work again as soon as possible so we can make enough money and our family won't starve. Kids learn about climbing trees and taking the plants and eggs. We learn about setting a broken bone when someone falls from a tree. We learn that everyone is angry just like we are, but no one can do anything about it. So we learn to cope and make the best of it and they crack down harder and we learn to make the best of that, because that's all we can do. That's what we learn in Eleven. So what's the point in going to school?
I guess it is nice to get a break from working. I've heard that in other districts teachers actually take their jobs seriously. Students do their homework and tests are graded and kids study so they can have their choice of jobs when they grow up. Here, it's like everyone's given up before they've even walked through the chipped doors.
Eleven is a district of hard workers and early risers, so by the time Zaley and An and I get to the kitchen, it's already crawling with small children pushing toy wagons and chewing on rag dolls. We're used to it. Mama's been watching the kids for the workers in our village ever since Zaley was born. She's got Nan draped across her arms and tucked under her shirt to drink. My heart sinks when I see the bare table. Looks like Nan will be the only one to get breakfast today.
"Nothing to eat?" An asks.
"We'll get food at school," Zaley says.
I think about the winnings that Peeta wanted us to have. One year, when I was little, we had a victor in the Games and we got all kinds of treats. I know we probably won't get them, but the thought of canned stew and apple pie and chocolate cake…well, my hopes get up. I can't help it.
Someone raps of the door and I wonder who's coming at this time of day. Not one of the parents with a baby for us to watch. They all know us by now and they just come right in. Since Mama's busy feeding Nan, I get up to go get it. When I swing open the door, my heart stops. I'm looking up at two tall, white-suited, hard-faced Peacekeepers.
This is everyone's worst nightmare. What are they going to do? They can walk right into our house and take us all if that's what they want. I should say something, but I don't know what. I can't even talk.
"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Mama's tense voice comes from across the kitchen. At least she remembers what she should say.
The taller one speaks. "We're here to inform you that District Eleven is under lockdown for an indefinite period of time. When the lockdown has lifted, you will be notified. Good day to you." And just like that, the door is slammed closed again.
A lockdown. So that's all it is. Every so often for reasons that only they know, the Capitol shuts us down. No one can work, no one can go to school, no one can buy food or go to the doctor or earn money. No one can even step outside unless the Peacekeepers tell them to. We all hate lockdowns because it means no earning money, it means worrying about every bite you eat because you don't know when you can go get more. It means worrying and not being able to talk to anyone. I guess that's the point. After yesterday they must be worried that something is starting. Eleven can't plan anything if we can't talk to each other.
Lockdowns aren't fun, but they don't last long, at least we can count on that. The Capitol needs someone to feed them, so the longest lockdown I remember was four days. We haven't got much food, but I think we can make it till then.
"Mama!" Annie whispers, peeking out the front window, "They're standing in our yard!" She ducks down and sits on the floor with wide eyes.
"Yes," Mama says tiredly, "They're in everyone's yard, to make sure no one leaves."
"Mama, what about the babies?"
"The Peacekeepers are probably bringing workers back from the fields right now. The ones who have children will be taken to our house to get them."
"Does that mean we'll see more Peacekeepers?"
"Yes," Mama sighs. "I'm sure we'll see a lot of them."
"Mama! I don't want to see any more of them!"
"Then go back in the bedroom when they come. Don't worry too much, Annie. This happens from time to time. You'll get used to it when you're older. It won't be much fun, but it won't last long. Just a few days, that's all. Then it goes back to normal. Okay?"
A week passes.
The first day of the lockdown, the Peacekeepers knock at our door every ten minutes or so with another man or woman held tight between them. Annie runs into the bedroom and hides under her blankets as if that would stop them from getting her if they wanted to. Mama makes Zaley go with her so she won't say anything to make the Peacekeepers mad. That's not what she tells Zaley, though. She says. "Go stay with Annie so that she won't be too scared."
Then everyone's babies are gone and it's just us sitting around the house. Granny makes soup broth for Daddy and he eats as much as he can, but he doesn't get out of the bed and that's not a good sign at all. We go in and sit with him and tell stories. And every day for an hour the television in Mama and Daddy's room comes on and we all go watch. We don't really like it much, but we're bored. The television is the only electric thing in this house, because every house has one, even the poorest of us. The Peacekeepers put them in to make public punishments even more public. Now, though, it's not public punishment we're watching, but the rest of the Victory Tour. I watch because I notice a difference in other districts too, I can't help it, even though I've told myself no more stupid thoughts about change that would only get me hurt.
I miss a lot of meals. I have to, so Annie and Zaley and especially Lily can get enough. Listening to a cranky little kid when she's also hungry is never fun, especially when you're trapped with her in a house so small you can hear her crying all over. So we have to keep her as happy as possible. Daddy's not too hungry because he's ill and Granny doesn't eat much because she's old. But Mama and I, towards the end of the week we're getting really scared. We're used to being hungry, but now we're starting to feel shaky and sick. On the sixth day I notice just how bad it is. Annie, Zaley, and I are sitting on the floor playing with dolls and complaining about how hungry we are. Annie doesn't really play anymore, she's so worried. She just hugs her doll and rocks it and talks to it like she's putting it to sleep all the time. Our game is interrupted by Nan's wobbly footsteps.
"Nan wants to play too," says Annie. Nan reaches for me. I know what she wants. She wants me to pick her up and spin her around. I get up and tuck my hands under her armpits. She grins, excited, as I lift her up.
She feels so heavy, so much heavier than I remember. I gasp and struggle to hold her up. My arms shake and I manage to spin her once, twice, and then I have to put her down quick. My arms feel all wobbly. It's not just them, either. My whole body wants to collapse.
Nan keeps whining and holding out her arms for more, but I can't. "Go find Mama, okay? Go find Mama," I say desperately, but she doesn't want to. She wants me to keep spinning her and she doesn't understand that I can't do it.
I don't skip dinner, which pretty much means that we all have only a little bit of stale bread and a few bites of apple, and I'm still awake for a long time with a painful stomach and a heavy head. I don't feel right. I'm getting really sick. I think about all the people in District Eleven. How many of them are worrying over bare cabinets too? How many of them are sick just like this? For sure, this will stop any sense of hope that was starting to build up. When all this is over, everyone will be relieved to go back to normal life, to working for food and money, to sending their kids to school so that they can eat. It must be just what Snow wants, I realize. He wants to make us so afraid that going back to our normal lives actually seems like a blessing. It's working, too. I'd do anything for the food at school, warm bread smeared in sweet jam preserves, peach maybe, or apple or grape, some kind of fruit. Juicy slices of pork and beef, a rare treat. I'm torturing myself thinking about it. Food weaves through my dreams. I drink a lake of onion soup but I'm still hungry. I eat a mountain of soft, spongy bread and I'm still so empty. I sigh with bliss as I bite into chicken, rabbit, even squirrel. When I wake up the sun is so harsh and bright. I'm too tired to move. My head hurts. I close my eyes against the sunlight. I don't want to. I mean, I just don't want to. I don't even know what it is I'm supposed to do, I just deeply and thoroughly don't want to do it.
My sisters are moving pretty slowly. I wonder vaguely if I was wrong and they're going to keep us trapped here forever until we starve, if this is my life now. It would be better to crawl out onto the lawn and be shot than wait for this to kill me. I've heard humans can go without food for weeks.
Annie brings me an apple and a chunk of stale bread and I eat it in slow bites because my stomach feels wobbly. Annie rests her little hand on my head. She looks so worried. For me? For herself?
That's when the rapping comes at the door. I can hear the Peacekeeper telling Mama that tomorrow the lockdown will be over and everyone is to go back to their ordinary lives. Annie crawls into the bed with me and cries so hard I can feel her shaking. I'm too tired to ask why so I just run my hand over her hair.
We lay in bed all day, grateful and unable to believe that we're grateful. Just a week ago we were talking about fighting and changing Panem and now we're relieved that they're letting us go back to work.
We don't even bother dragging ourselves in to watch the Victory Tour. We lay in bed all day and wait until tomorrow so we can go to school and get some food. If waking up this morning was unpleasant, I hate to think about what it will be like to drag myself out of bed tomorrow.
The school responds well to the crowd of exhausted, dead-eyed kids huddled in the classroom. I got the teacher Amber and she's actually Seeder's cousin. Our school actually gets really good food because Seeder buys it for us, and she's rich since she won the games, that's what Amber told us. Seeder could buy anything she wants with that money, but she works in the fields just like everyone else and spends what she's got feeding us. She actually came into the school a couple times and I met her. I really liked her, too. She's a great person, she really is. She seems so much like a mama or a granny. It's hard to believe that she's a fighter and a killer, but she is, because that's what you have to be to survive the Games.
Amber starts the day by telling us that we won't be doing any lessons today and the kitchen is working to prepare us a meal, which we'll get as soon as possible. I put my head down on the wobbly table, feeling almost dead. My friend Petra, who sits in front of me, leans back and rests the back of her head in front of mine. She usually keeps her hair in a bunch of little braids, but today it's a frizzy mess that brushes against my frizzy mess. Aspen, my tablemate, comes in late, looking worse than I am. His skeleton legs struggle to keep him up. He falls into the chair on my right, mumbling a bad word as his bony legs collide with the wood.
"I haven't eaten at all this week," he says to me. Poor Aspen. It must have been a horrible week. Waiting seven days with no food at all. The scary thing is, it's not so hard to imagine.
"They're bringing food soon," I tell him.
Aspen is my special friend from the first year of school. He's got really short hair and dark skin and eyes that are almost too pretty to be a boy's. We were in the same class then too, and during harvest, when we were working in the trees, he kissed me. I didn't tell anyone except for Rue, and she was always teasing me about my "secret boyfriend". I quickly stop thinking about that because I don't want to feel any worse than I already do.
The door to the classroom creaksopen and the room quickly fills with the smell of food. Plates are set in front of our staring eyes. On my plate is a groosling wing dripping with fat and some kind of gloppy green leaf. Dark, dense hunks of bread. Amber tells us to eat slow and I know I should. I know that if you starve and then eat a lot, you'll get sick. But I can't help it. I want it so bad and it just can't be enough. Before I even know what I'm doing the greasy meat is in my hands, in my mouth. I swallow huge globs of it without chewing, catching the fat rolling down my chin and licking it off my fingers. The vegetable substance leaves green slime on my hands and then it's gone too. I lick my palms until all the green is gone. I rip off pieces of the bread. Before five minutes have passed, it's all gone and my stomach is beginning to cramp. I know I've made a mistake. This is my first real meal in days, though. I have to keep it down. I have to hang onto it. I wrap my arms around my stomach and try to ignore the surges of pain. Aspen's worse than me, gagging and trying not to let it come back up. Around me, some of my classmates are doing the same; others are slumped back in their seats looking almost drunk off the effects of a really good meal. Petra breathes hard like she just finished a race. She tilts her head back, one hand on her belly. She looks so nauseous.
Amber tells us we don't have to do any schoolwork today, which is good. We're just going to sit at our desk while she tells stories.
A couple of my classmates don't manage to keep down the meal. Eli's first to throw up. He twists around in his seat and bends over the trash bin, gagging into it, but Amaya doesn't make it that far. She stops and bends over in the aisle and brown liquid splatters across the dirty tile. She's whimpering in pain as she retches. Amber comes up to her and pulls her hair up away from her face. After Amaya's done and back in her seat, a couple others get up and rush to the trash bin. Amber cleans the floor with frustrated, jerky movements. She says that more food will be brought at lunchtime and we should try to eat it slower. Her calm, professional voice is straining; I can tell she hates to watch what's happening to us. I wonder if she feels like me—disbelieving, even after all we've seen, that they can do this to us and live with themselves.
The Victory Tour's almost over. Soon we won't have the distraction of TV in the evenings. We all sit around Daddy in the bed, our faces lit by the glow of the screen. Tonight they're in the Capitol. There, it's clearly lit by blazing sunlight. Here, in the middle of winter, it's full dark. I always forget that they're a few hours behind us in the Capitol. I don't know why that is. The sun just rises and sets later there. All the times are different in all the districts. It's weird to think the world doesn't all get up and go to bed at the same time, to remember that while you count the stars someone else is watching a sunrise.
Peeta's speaking about his love for Katniss and I think I know what's coming. He's going to ask her to get married, isn't he? He is, I can tell! I think that's so sweet! Well...at first I do. But then...
The crowd goes wild when Peeta gets down on one knee and proposes. She says yes like she's not even the same girl who spoke about my sister a little over a week ago. Who watched Rue die. She's overwhelmingly excited, disbelievingly happy. President Snow even gets up on the stage and jokes about having to pass a new law to get Katniss's mother to allow her to get married. And Katniss? She smiles at him. She smiles at President Snow, joking around and laughing, she smiles with the man who sent her off to the Games and got my sister killed, the man who controls my district and beats down our starved skeletons—and her district, too, I remember. Looking at her, I can't believe it, but she seems to be beyond it all. Grinning and glowing and excited over her dream wedding right in the Capitol. Well. Isn't that nice.
I'm angry all over again. My sister died and our districts are starving and she's going to smile and forget it all, nothing to worry about anymore, not a care in the world as long as she can be with her lover and have a fancy stylish wedding on television. She's really becoming one of them now.
