---- Sorry I've been MIA for, like, a month. Can't really say why, partly major writer's block, partly laziness. Sorry. Thank you for reviewing and reading and hopefully you've stuck with the story. Enjoy the chapter! ----
One week, six days, five hours, and counting.
That's how long it's been since that boy – that traitor – that murderer – that Jap…that's how long it's been since he fed my family his poisoned food.
No one's sick yet. Not even the weakest ones – who would unquestionably be Amalia and Olaf – have begun to appear the slightest bit ill.
Still, he admitted it himself. You don't come from the Capitol bringing gifts – you come bringing death. I know that well. If there's anything I've learned throughout my life, it's that fact; the Capitol would rather have you dead than have you at all.
I never put a morsel of it to my lips. I wouldn't have anything to do with it. And because of my stubbornness it's now run out. I was stupid – if they were going to eat it, they should have rationed it. But who will tell a load of starving children that, especially when you're no more than a starving child yourself? I should never have expected Henna to, or my Mom – it's been me practicing the sacrifice, going to bed a little hungry, just to go bed a little hungry the next night and the night after, if only to ensure none of us were hungry enough to die.
I take a deep breath. That was scary. But I wasn't caught. Or maybe I was, a long, long time ago, and no one's had the heart to tell me no. "No," someone should say, "Stealing is wrong." And they should slap me on my wrists or my face or my bottom. That's how it would work in a normal society.
But District 13 – the whole of Panem – none if it is normal society any more. It hasn't been for more than a decade.
I pull the steaming bread and musky-smelling meat out of my coat. I look around. Then I pull out the rest – a chunk of cheese and a two pieces of wilted lettuce. Oh yeah, I'm good.
Not good, bad, I mentally correct, Stealing is WRONG!
And I know it. And I just don't care anymore. It's a miracle District 13 can even produce stuff like this anymore. I'm not about to let it escape my family's grasp.
"Let me help you with that," says an irksomely familiar voice.
I don't even bother with checking first. I don't even lift my head up. Tucking my food into my jacket I say, "Goodbye, Jap."
And trot off, although rather awkwardly, because I have a coat full of edibles.
"Your family dead yet?" he asks.
See! I knew it! I glare and then spit at his feet, "You go back to your fancy Capitol," I sneer, "And tell them the poison fruit hasn't worked, 'cause the Straighs are a strong, rich family who shall overcome!"
"Whoa," Jap whistles, "Temper anyone? That was a joke, Zai."
"You!" I snap, "You! You! You insufferable…"
I'm at a loss for words. Did he actually think he was funny?
"Yes?" He questions, with a smirk and a sigh.
"You can call me Zaine. Zai is reserved for those I like." I say resoutley.
"Zaine," Jap snorts, "Well then, call me Japan."
I hesitate. Japan doesn't exist any more. But once upon a time it was a country.
"Is this another one of your jokes?" I glower.
"Not at all. My Mother was very in to history," he replies.
"Lucky," I grunt. Because being named after a long-ago place would be amazing. Zaine? Not so great. Lithuania? Now that'd be cool.
Jap grabs my arm suddenly, jolting me and causing me to almost drop my food. "Hey!" I glower once more.
"Sorry. But you know ancient history? You've had intense schooling?" he inquires desperately.
"What's this about?" I ask cautiously.
"Please, Zaine, answer me. I'll explain everything later." He promises. Zaine coming from him still sounds awful. Zany, I recall, another word for crazy. Pronounced just like my very own name. What hopes, I have to wonder, did my parents have for me?
"I've never been to school. Or maybe a few times, when I was younger. No. But we used to have a library…" I reply.
"And who taught –"
"My Father," I respond before he can even finish his latest enquiry, "My Father taught me to read."
"Zaine, I am from the Capitol, but I've run away from it, because my Mom wanted me to know everything I could. Knowledge is dangerous, though, because it means knowing the truth. And the truth is, the Capitol is evil."
Like I couldn't figure that out myself.
"Whatever," I shove the cheese and meat into his hands, "You offered to help," I add in response to his expression of confusion.
"Alright, Zaine. So you trust me?" he asks.
"No," I say, "And by the way, you can call me Zai."
Jap smiles.