I think about my decision all the way home. Should I tell my sisters? I almost think I should, just to see the looks on their faces. But Tori would probably just make a joke out of it or something. They never seemed to get me, especially when I was talking about things that were unique to me. The little girls wouldn't get it, and Kira would probably be shocked or think I was joking. No, I can't tell them.
What about Mom? I've told her a lot that I would rather die than live here; everything is so worrying and tiring. There's not much happiness, and I don't get any, at least none that I don't make myself by singing. She's always quick to remind me that I have my sisters to look after, and that I had to get married and have kids someday. But she does understand at least a little why I want to end it, although I've never taken action about it before. So I guess I could tell her, to prepare her for it.
And if I'm telling Mom, I should probably tell Dad too, if only to prepare him. Or should I ask Mom to tell him for me? Yes, he can tell him after the fact, or when they come to say goodbye to me. Parents aren't allowed to work during that time, just in case their kid gets picked so they can say goodbye. Actually, no one in the District works on that day. Even people like Luke usually have family in the Reaping.
I have to walk a long ways to get home, through the best part of town. We're not on the outskirts, but we're pretty close. There's only three bedrooms for all of us. Luke used to get one all to himself, but since he moved out there's more room for me and my four sisters. Speaking of room, how am I going to get Mom alone long enough to talk to her? Maybe I could say I wanted to talk to her about the guy they'd picked out for me. Yeah, that would guarantee me privacy for at least a half hour, especially if I offered to help cook dinner. I didn't like the thought of slicing onions, but didn't turn down the option.
I reached our home. The apartment complex was a ramshackle affair, little to no paint left and worn wood on the clouded windows. We were lucky to have actual glass. I listened as I stood in front of the door. Yep, everyone was home. I could hear Tani and Momo racing around in the kitchen, chasing each other between Mom's legs I suspected from her occasional shouting. Don't get me wrong, I loved my two little sisters, but sometimes they could be a major pain. I was glad I shared with Tori, not them. We had the ground floor, another lucky break since nothing saps energy like ten flights of stairs. I opened the door and went in.
Mom stuck her head out of the kitchen and exclaimed, "The new bride is home!" She'd done the same thing to my brother, even though that… hadn't turned out very well. But she tried to be optimistic. Then, to my delight, she told Tori to take care of the soup, asked Kira to mind the other two, and grabbed my hand as she slipped into her and Dad's bedroom. Its walls were just whitewash, but Mom had tacked up drawings and papers from school with whatever she could find, and it gave the room a homey feel. Even if the floor creaked so badly you felt it would fall through.
She gestured for me to sit on the bed, plopped down beside me, and looked at me expectantly. "So, what's he like?"
I grinned at her eager face. Priceless. I decided to have a little fun with this. "You know him, actually."
"Is it Benjamen?"
I snorted. Like they'd give me such a valuable asset. "Mom, I'm not that great."
"Don't say that." She scowled slightly. She never liked it when I put myself down, which I did a lot. "You're an amazing young woman. I wouldn't be surprised if they gave you the mayor's son."
I decided to burst her bubble. "It was Matthew."
I watched as the implications of what I'd just said roamed over her face. She tried to brighten and said, "Well, at least the two of you know each other. I think he's a good pick."
No, he wasn't, and she knew it. My mom was not blind, in fact she usually noticed more than I gave her credit for, especially where me and the other girls were concerned. She'd known Tori was seeing someone long before I suspected anything. Though that was to be expected, seeing as how I was a slow learner where social skills were concerned. Yet another way I was insufficient.
I mustered up the courage. "Mom," I took a deep breath, "I'm volunteering for the Hunger Games tomorrow."
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