Chapter four! Already! Trying to make them longer, but I want to spread the story out.
Disclaimer : I do not own the hunger games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Chapter Four - Boxes of Memories
I was sleeping comfortably. Until now. I don't know what time it is, but I am guessing that it must be around one in the morning, judging by the absence of light.
I yawn and wrap myself back up. I must mave been hearing things. I wouldn't be surprised to be honest.
I haven't felt this tired in ages. Might as well get the sleep while, I can, I will probably have an early start.
I lie down, getting myself comfortable, when there it is again. Ping. A pause. Ping.
I judge that it is coming from the front window, and sink to the floor, creeping up. My heart is beating fast, I don't know what or who it is, or what they want.
I push myelf against the wall beside the window, and carefully peek behind the ripped curtains. I wait for a while. Ping.
I see the piece of gravel hit the window and bounce to the ground. I freeze, and go back to the wall. I hear a whisper.
"Phee! Phee! It's Will!" says the voice.
I have to consider the fact that it could be the peacekeepers. I gather up my courage, and slowly peek around the edge of the window again.
I breathe out a sigh of releif as Will smiles up at me.
I go around to the door, opening it and ushering him inside.
We sit down in my room.
Not used to nat having any form of bed, he sits down on the floor.
I close the door behind us, and wrap myself up in my blanket.
"You scared me!" I sigh as he studies my face.
He laughs.
"Don't laugh at me!" I try to keep my face serious, swatting at his arm, but he just continues to smile. Eventually, my face breaks out into one too.
I try to go back to pouting. A failed attempt.
"So anyway," I begin. "Why did my mysterious and ever so swoon worthy boyfriend show up at my house at this hour?" I ask in a mock capitol accent, pressing my hand to my forhead and pretending to fall backwards.
"Your ever so mysterious boyfriend is here to tell you that the deals in the market are much better in the morning, earlybird. You look hungry. So does Raven." he says, poking my ribs. I flinch back. They stick out so much it hurts. I would give anything to be so well fed that they would dissappear. Well, not anything...
"Ryan however..." he starts, smiling.
I finish for him. "Is a pig. I am putting him on a diet of seaweed and water." I laugh.
He smiles. "I could do with that. I am getting a little tubby." he says, trying to grab his imaginary gut.
"Oh Will, lay off the beer." I smile.
"I will try." he smiles, joking. He doesn't even like alcohol. Plus, he is so toned, I wouldn't be able to find any fat anywhere on his body. Must be strength building pulling up the fish nets.
"I would actually like to try some seaweed though. Where'd ya get it?" he asks. A totally innocent question in his book.
"Just... Around." I say vaguely. I can tell he doesn't belive me.
"We took all of it anyway. I will let you try a bit of ours next time I am cooking it up if you want." I offer calmly. Stating the truth, just keeping some bits out. Yes, the perfect way to avoid troble.
"That would be nice." he nods.
He knows I am eager to get back to sleep. In a way, I want him to stay, to make the sense of slipping comfort go away, to make all my worries wash out with the waves.
"Well, I gotta go..." he says, standing up and dusting himself off.
I wrap my arms around his neck on tiptoe. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls back.
"Remember. Market. Morning. See you there earlybird." he says, disappearing from sight.
I smile and wave, but he is already out of the door.
I sigh and lock it, wandering back through to my room, trying to ignore the countdown on the wall, which now reads that we have five days.
I sit back down on the floor. It suddenly seems uncomfortable. Maybe it is just in my mind. I sigh and lie down, trying to get back to sleep. It seems I can't though, no matter how hard I try.
This is usual though. Every year before the reaping, I would become very nervous. I am like that. I always have been.
Once upon a time, my mother would comfort me when it came to this time of year, then, after she died, my father. After both of them were gone, I just didn't know what to do. So fear took over my mind and became a constant trait. I am always worrying about things, overthinking. Paranoid, my mother used to call me.
I listen to the sea and the noise of the old fishing boats coming in for the market. Nothing works. Not even counting sheep, as we are not a farming district, and I have no idea what sheep look like, but the older people in the district tell you that counting sheep will help you sleep.
So, I decide to get up. Early.
I pull a tightly fitted green tshirt over my head, either that of it is too small. I check the label. Age 14 - 15 is written on it in shaky handwriting. I am sixteen. Oh well.
Judging by how hot it is already, I know the heatwave will have continued.I pull on my roughly cut denim shorts I made from trousers.
I still don't bother brushing my hair, I just toss it over my left shoulder, where it stays, and let my fringe down.
I put on my woven canvas shoes, they are still very, very big.
I grab my backpack, and take out all of the fishing lures, hiding them in one of the cupboards, the same with the rods.
Then, I realise what time it is, I can go fishing! I could sell some of the fish too.
So, I take my rod, a couple of lures, and quietly walk out of the door. As soon as it is closed I turn from walking into a slow jog.
I make my way along the cliffs, and down the narrow path, all the way down to the old pier. I sit down. I have done this before, and I know the fish will be in the shadows of the shallow water. I cast out my rod and start pulling them in. I stay very alert, as a peacekeeper patrol boat could come around the corner any second, but all I hear is the wind and the waves.
As soon as I think I have got enough fish to sell, and feed the family, I quickly pack up, and walk down the pier. I consider going back to where I found the seaweed, but put the thought out of my head for now. I would be shot if the government could read my mind. Definatley. Instead of taking my usual path up to the hut, I take a different one, one that leads up to me market, at the edge of the town. I hope to sell some of my fish to the people setting up stalls, as they will pay good cash for fresh fish.
After making my way up half of the steep hill that leads to the town, I come to the steps that are carved in the white stone. It makes it a lot easier to get up to the town before the market starts, I can hear the buzz already.
The cold sea wind is getting colder than usual, a sure sign that autumn is coming, I need to take this into consideration when I think of what to buy. I go into the area that has a destinctive fishy smell around it. There are a lot of people already there, so I have to hurry. After a few false starts, I manage to sell most of my fish for a decent amount of money. I clutch it close to me incase anyone fancies stealing it.
So, I go and buy some foods that we really need to stock up on. Foods that will last a long time. I don't need firewood, I can find that on the beach.
I wonder along the random stalls, and decide it is a good idea if I am warm for winter. So, I invest in some new blankets to put ontop of the others, and an okay looking matress. Well, more like a long pillow. Since Ryan and Raven have their own. I might actually sleep tonight.
I would have bought a chicken or goat instead, but they would never survive the cold weather, and would most likely be eaten by one of our neighborhood foxes.
I decide to take the rest of the money home. It is only a small amount, but my father always told me to leave a little bit of cash, just in case.
I gather up my things, and hold them awkwardly under one arm while walking back along the stalls as the market starts to get busier. I spot Will in his usual spot, busy with customers that come to buy the fish that his father bought.
He looks up from wrapping something in a brown paper bag and waves, flashing me my favourite smile. I smile back and shrug, I obviously can't wave back with the amount of things I am holding.
He laughs and hands the bag to the customer. I start to walk back home again, carrying everything under my other arm. I take the path for once, to make it easier. I know Raven will be away at school, she is required to go for at least three hours a week. The rest of the time she is meant to be helping Ryan and I do jobs, but she is useless really, come to think of it, so is Ryan. Most of the time. When I get back he helps me put my things inside.
I set up my matress in my room, and fold all of my blankets ontop of it. Most poor people in our district have at least a bed, but we really are the poorest. None of us are signed up for extra grain or oil though, my father would never let us, even in the hardest times. We almost did after the storm, but Ryan stopped us. I am thankful he did.
I check the timer on the wall and sigh. Five days. The town is already preparing. Banners are being put up to cover ugly shop fronts and there are already peacekeepers setting up tv cameras around the square. The whole district seems quieter, and I know the few days before the reaping are when the adults are generous to us kids. Ryan often brings home a load of vegetables that he gets for an extemely reduced price. He is good at that kind of thing. I'm not. I can't put on the puppy dog eyes and beg for food. If something I need is a fair price, I will buy it. If its not, I will walk away. That's how I deal, everybody in town knows that.
I decide to sort out what I am wearing for the reaping, and Raven too. Ryan can sort himself out.
I know where all of my mother's things are kept, in our very small cupboard. I make my way through to the living room, and take the key from the necklace I wear. It is old and rusty, so sometimes I have to use wire to open the door. It works this time though. I pull open the door and waft the dust away from my face, trying not to breathe it in.
I pull out a few boxes, trying to find the one i am looking for. After looking through whole boxes of documents, and a few old keepsakes that I don't want to look at, I don't want to remember, I find the right one.
It is sort of a tradition in the poorer parts of district four that the mother's eldest daughter should wear her wedding dress to the reaping. It is the first year I have been able to fit into it. It is pretty much like all of the other dresses, an off white, long, shapeless skirt, a ribbon around the waist, and thin spaghetti straps. It is made of itchy, shiny, cheap material.
Though I was never at my parent's wedding, the dress reminds me of her. It smells like her. The strange mix of lilac and sea air. It was from a perfume she used to wear, one she made herself and kept in small jars, occasionally selling some at the market. I have never been able to find any of it after she died. She told me she would tell me the recipie when I was old enough to know how to make it. She never got the chance.
She had also put aside a dress for Raven's first reaping, she was a very prepared, organized woman.
The dress is light blue, and from what I can tell is knee length, with white buttons and frills. I guess she wanted Raven to be girlier than me. That was my reaping dress when I was twelve, but it was just plain blue. She added the buttons and frills when we had a spare bedsheet she could cut up. It turned out pretty well in my opinion.
I fold up the dresses and put them out on my desk, then go back to the cupboard, just about to shut it, when I have a sudden pull towards the box. I scoop it up gently as if it were a baby, and shut the cupboard behind me.
I run out of the house and towards the cliffs, staying well away from the edge. The smell of plants fills my nose as I come to the flower field. Thats what everyone calls it. It is full of dark pink and purple flowers, surrounded by willow trees. It really is a beautiful place.
I sit down in the flowers, putting the box down beside me and listen to the wind rustling the leaves.
Why does life have to be so hard... I think to myself. My mind immedietly turns to the capitol, but I just sigh. I could never go up against the authorities. It is their fault I have to live like this though.
I pull off a willow branch and start twisting it absentmindedly. It helps me calm down a little. I twist it into a circle, and mange to tie it. I make it fly around my wrist while I think of how Raven will handle the reaping. How to help. How to stay inconspicuous. I think about the rock carving. The peacekeepers must have discovered it by now, right? Were they searching for a culprit? Perhaps not. The town would be on edge even more it they were.
I pull a handfull of flowers out of the ground in a sudden flash of anger, but then calm down again, and examine how beautiful they are, and start to weave them into my circle to take my mind off of things. Maybe I have anger issues. Nobody can help if I have them anyway, and they must only be mild if I do, I have seen people in worse mental condition in this town.
I start thinking about what could be in store for whoever is picked for the games this year. Any games before the seventy sixth are banned from TV, as they could start rebellions. Like they did when they were showed. So I have never seen a quell. There are older people who know about them, tell tales of them. I try to ignore them.
I look down at my hands and look down at the flower crown I have made. I haven't made one in ages. I haven't made one since my mother died. I don't quite know why, as I don't want to forget her. I guess the pain of loosing her was too much for me. I decide to wear it to the reaping, to take a piece of her with me, to comfort me.
Reaching over to the box beside me is scary but exciting. I am afraid that seeing my mother's belongings again will push me over the edge, but I want to see them. The times when she was alive were good times. Times when I didn't worry about my family starving, about how to get food each day. Times when I knew I had someone watching over me, like a guardian angel.
I pull out the first item, a picture book, held together by string. The pictures are old, and I brace myself for a flood of emotion. I don't let it wash me away though. I see the first picture. It is black and white, and a little stained, but I can make it out quite clearly. It is my mom. She looks amost exactly like Raven. She has an angular face, with thin, long dark brown hair, green eyes and pale skin. She is in her wedding dress, next to my father who is in a white shirt. They are both smiling wildly. They are in the head peacekeepers office, which I recognise well. It hasn't changed. Her hair is to her side with a thick plait running through it. She has somehow managed to make her hair and fringe volumous, maybe some sea water. I see the little freckles on her face, one thing that none of us inherited, but I always loved. She really is beautiful. I see how I got my looks from my father. Tanned skin, blue eyes, and the same smile too.
The next photo is of Mom, Dad, Ryan and me as a tiny baby. They are sitting outside the hut, me in my father's arms. Ryan is looking down at me like a mountain of gold has just appeared before him. I guess he really liked me then. He still does, but that sparkle in his eyes is gone. We all mourn in different ways I guess.
The other one that really jumps out at me is one of me on my first day of school. I have my little pleated dress on, and I am smiling like I used to. Real smiles. Nothing about me seems fake or forced. I had such a carefree life.
I put down the photo album and pull out the next thing. It is a glass bottle full of a clear liquid. I immedietly know what it is. I pull off the cork and the scent of lavender and sea water fill the air. I sigh an take a deep breath in. Her perfume.
I dome to my senses and put the cork back in to keep it from spilling, the beautiful scent still hangs in the air. It is like a big hug from her and I love it.
I place it back in the box and pull out the last two things, one familliar and one not.
It is a diary. My mother's diary. Even though she is gone, I feel like it is an invasion of my mother's privacy to read it. But a page falls out, and I start reading it before I can stop. I instantly recognise the swirling handwriting, kind of like my own.
But it turns out that it is not a page, it is a letter.
To my darling Phoenix.
I do hope you are alright. I know you would only look in this diary if anything ever happened to me, so if you are reading this now, just imagine I am here.
I smile as I imagine her arms around me, reading me her beautiful writing.
Honey, you must, must must be strong. At one point, you will be in the reaping for the fourth quarter quell, and I know you must be scared. From what I can add up in my mind, it will be the new baby's first reaping too. Poor thing. I wish the games didn't exist. But for now, keep me in your memory. Remember, your father and I love you more than the world itself. We would do anything for you. Keep hope in your heart.
With love,
Your mother, Raina.
I hold the letter to my chest, then slip it back into the diary, keeping my memories close, and hope in my heart.
The second item is a familiar storybook. The one my parents used to read to me when I was little. The writing is smudged and the pages are old and torn, so much that I can't read it anymore, but I can remember it off by heart.
The beautiful artwork is still intact though I admire it for a while before turning to the back page.
I see the same beautiful handwriting.
I do hope you get to read this, new baby.
Read this and know that mommy, daddy, Ryan and Phoenix love you very, very much. We wish you a great, happy life, and want you to know that you are going into the boxing arena with a giant called Life. No matter how many times he knocks you down, you will get through, and get back on your feet. Life is hard darling, but you have to live it to its fullest.
We love you.
Mom, Dad, Ryan and Phoenix.
I remember writing my name on that letter. Mom was a very sentimental person. I remember she used to write lots of letters. I even remember her deciding on Raven's name with my father. It was always the favourite.
I put away the book and close the box, gazing out through the meadow.
After a few minutes of being dazed at about how kuch my parents wanted me to suceed, to strive, to survive, I stand up and take a deep breath.
I walk all the way through the meadow, and back to the hut.
Raven is home. I didn't know I had been out for that long. It felt like a few seconds. A few seconds with my mother, who is still alive in my heart.
I know Ryan already found his letter, it is tucked away in his room. He looks at it every night. I have never read it, and although I am curious, I respect his privacy and would never look at it without his permission.
I sigh and sit down next to her, putting the box down gently.
"You smell nice." she comments vaguely, trying to plait her hair.
I pause, waiting for her to recognise it, but then I realise she never got to smell it.
"Mom's perfume. I found it in this box." I whisper.
She turns around and wipes the tears off of my face with her thumb.
"Mom's things? You found em?" sheasks, smilings as her eyes start to pool up with tears.
"I knew where they were all along sweetie!" I smile. "I just didn't want to make myself or you sad." I say, fishing into the box and pulling out the storybook.
She takes it from me and opens it gently.
"Phee, I can barely read normal writing, nevermind the font in this book - its too damaged." she says, squinting at the writing.
"Thats not it." I say, turning all the pages to the back
She gasps as she realises it is adressed to her. She seems to read it a few times over before actually soaking it in. Then, she pulls me into a hug. We both start crying, trying to stop, but wanting to let it all out. Those years of sadness seem to be coming to an end.
Ryan stands in the doorway and smiles. I pat Raven on the shoulder, then leave her to look at all of the things as I get up to go and see Ryan. Igo into his room and we talk about the letters for a while, about the great times we had with Mom.
"We have to move on." I say, looking out of the window into the orange hue of the setting sun.
"I know." he says, smiling at me.
"We have to live life to the fullest, its not like we're going to get out alive." I muse to myself.
He laughs. "True words sister. We have to stop being so sad."
We walk back into the living room where Raven has gone back to plaiting her hair. Her eyes are still red though.
"Raven. Are you okay?" I ask carefully. This is usually when she has tantrums.
"Yeah, I heard you and Ryan, and I have decided you are right. Thanks for looking after me guys." she says, and yet again, turns back to her hair. But not before we pull her into a hug. She puts on her tough girl attitude and smacks us off after a few seconds, but those few seconds meant so much.
So that was chapter four! Tried to make it a little longer and delve into the character's pasts a little so that you know them better. I really need some reviews to let me know how I am doing, and I know people hate it when writers do this, but I need at least one review before I put up the next chapter. Thanks for reading!
