District 6
Female: Sarabella (Sabby) Bennett
Male: Lionel Carter
(Sarabella "Sabby" Bennett's P.O.V)
"Damn it!" I cried, bringing my thumb to my mouth. Throwing down the needle on the table, I was so tired of sewing. With my free hand I began to fold the patterned fabric in a lopsided, sloppy manner.
"Look's like someone's having a little early evening fun," a voice said from behind me. I spun to find the speaker, my thumb still in my mouth. "I thought you quit sucking your thumb," Lionel teased from his perch outside my window.
Rolling my eyes, I helped him climb in. He always smelt like oil, and I loved when his greasy hands mingled his scent with mine. "You're not at work," I observed, turning my back on him and re-folding the half-made garment.
"I left a little early," I knew he was grinning behind me, "Told Eric I had to pay a surprise visit to the birthday girl."
Eric was Lionel's supervisor at the refinery, and a peacekeeper. Instead of being sent from the Capitol, however, he was born and raised in our own District 6, and because of this he was fairly lenient. But it was still surprising that he'd let Lionel leave work four hours early.
"And he let you leave?" I raised my eyebrows. Lionel responded by forcing me back against the wall, his golden locks tickling the sides of my face. We may have been best friends for years, but that didn't mean I hadn't noticed when he became the hottest guy in the entire district.
"Don't worry your pretty little mind about that."
"Oh leave me alone, Rawr." I shoved him off of me, just after watching him cringe at the cutesy nickname.
"I don't even know why I bothered coming to see you." Lionel grabbed me by the waist, pulling me out my back door.
"It's because I'm so damn loveable, you just can't get me off your mind." I teased, pulling his dirty hand up to my shoulder and tossing him a wink.
"Of course, now I remember." We were quiet for a minute, and I wondered when our friendship had turned so strange. We'd always had that easy type of relationship; Lionel had been my best friend since our first day of school—not five minutes after we'd met and he'd been put into timeout, I organized the prison break.
Obviously, we'd faced mocking—I think every boy-girl friendship did, but for the past year it seemed like we were enabling the suspicions.
Not that I had feelings for him, that's not what I'm trying to say at all.
I'm just saying it seemed as if he liked holding my hand, or when I cried on his shoulder, or when I sat with him on the coach, or when we went on walks through the district, or when I'd give him a hug goodbye.
And I don't really mind it when we start to fall asleep and his hand gets tangled in my hair.
"Watcha thinking about?" He asked, but I turned away from his blue eyes. I'd just realized we'd been walking down the familiar path to the pond where we had spent most of our afternoons before Lionel started to work.
"Come on, Sabs, say something. I can't stand this quiet."
"Well, what would you like me to say?"
"Something, anything," He waited impatiently for a brief moment, "Tell me how it feels to be sixteen."
"It feels… it feels like I still have an eternity of this left. Of taking care of my father and brothers, of selling people poorly made clothes and mending what mothers can't."
"So pretty terrible, eh?" Lionel chuckled, "It felt pretty much the same to me, of course, I still had something to be happy about."
"What?" I rolled my eyes, "Casey Cooper, Alana Whitman? All those other girls that are always following you around, 'Oh please Lionel Carter, won't you use me for three days, then break my heart and leave me to spew wistful half-assed insults whenever you pass me in the streets!'"
He laughed, a happy sound that almost brought a smile to my lips.
"Oh, absolutely. Come on, Sabs, I'm being serious here, we're having a heart to heart."
"Is that what this is? Well then," I stopped him, stepping in front of him and bringing my chest to meet his. I wrapped my hands tight around his back.
"Heart to heart," He quipped, "very clever."
He pushed me away.
"It was you," he continued. "You always make my day better. I mean, not everyone is lucky enough to see a nearly grown woman sucking her thumb."
"You are a lucky, lucky boy."
The pond was suddenly before us, and I rushed away from Lionel and to the edge. I kicked off my sandals and took a step into the cool water. "Come on, Rawr."
He stormed into the pool, sending water crashing up my legs and sprinkling my skirt.
"Hey!" I exclaimed, kicking my feet in his direction. He gasped and I smirked in response, shrugging innocently as he narrowed his eyes at me. "Sorry, I didn't mean it—I tripped!"
He grabbed me under my knees, and carried me to where the water came up to his hips.
"No, please, Lionel! It's my birthday! Don't, please!" I clung onto his shirt, and he pouted at me.
"If that's what you really want," He sighed, and turned around.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I cheered and he took a step toward the beach—but suddenly he'd spun on his heel and I was pushed out of his hands and completely submerged.
My feet found the ground and I pushed myself out of the green water, wiping my hair from my face and sputtering at him angrily.
I don't think Lionel had ever found anything funnier than an angry, wet me. Stomping, I pushed my way towards him, "You think this is funny?"
Lionel nodded, too hysterical to find words. Placing my hands on his chest, I forced him backwards onto the sandy shore. I stared at him, but his whole body continued to shake with laughter.
I shook my head in confusion; I could see why he'd laugh initially, but seriously Lionel?
"What's so funny?" I asked, and he dropped down to the ground.
"You…" He trailed off into chuckles. "Look at yourself."
My eyes dropped to my soaked white shirt and purple skirt. The material clung to my body and had become completely transparent, I giggled at myself, "Very mature, Lion."
He grasped my wrist and pulled me down beside him. "I have something for you."
I smiled at him and he reached into one of his drenched pockets, "Here." He stated, pushing a small bag into my right palm. He turned from me uncomfortably and I stared at his back a moment before pulling something from the depths of the pouch.
I untangled the gold chain and stared curiously the pendant of a flower. "This is beautiful." And so girly; I almost laughed as I imagined Lionel picking it out. "Thank you so much." It was too much. Too much for a sixteen-year-old boy, especially in District 6.
"I thought it'd be nice for you to have something metal other than a bunch of needles." But still, he refused to face me. It was like suddenly there was something between us we just wouldn't recognize.
I grabbed his face, pulling it to face mine. "Thank you." The words were a whisper on my lips. "Will you have dinner with us? Please?"
"Sure," He grinned, and then everything was easy. He fastened the chain around my neck. We walked back to my house and he told me about his day in the refinery and the pranks my brothers had been up to. I told him about the struggles of being a poor excuse of a tailor, and he cradled my maimed fingers in his.
When we got back home it was still light and we'd only been gone for two hours. I showed him how to set the table and he watched me as I tried to make a dinner for six with two loafs of bread, some cheese and whatever was left of this month's tesserae.
We sang loud songs he'd learnt at the refinery from an old man named Arthur who'd learnt them from his father, who'd first heard them sung by his uncle. Old American Music, Lionel said, and we both pretended we knew what that was.
"I smell something delicious, what'd our girl cook up on this fine day?" My Dad questioned, strutting into the room with my brothers; they were all stained oil-black.
"Oh yes, it's definitely a gourmet dish." Lionel joked.
"You're here?" Seth, my youngest brother at age eighteen, questioned suspiciously. He'd become increasingly cold towards my friend in the past few months.
"Yea, I figured my aunt would be glad to see one less mouth to feed."
We sat down to dinner and my Dad made a toast to sixteen great years and only two more scary ones left.
I'm not sure how accurate that was, I feel like life can only get more frightening.
I don't think I've ever touched so many people at once. They were sweating and panting, and so was I, and we were all one collective mass.
The girls on either side of me might as well have been strangers, and I felt no comfort here, in my red dress and ribbons.
I tried to look over the crowd of sixteen-year-old girls, but my eyes kept returning to the stage where Mayor Cadiz recited the Treaty of Treason.
Everything was suddenly so close, and even though I stood in an overpopulated District, in a sea of girls that had taken out more tesserae than I, I was starting to shake and I was scared.
Our escort, Warlin, took to the stage, pretending to be a charming and handsome man, pretending that we were excited to see him again, excited for today. I heard some boys begin to boo as he tried to speak, so he settled on the clichéd "Ladies first!"
His hand dropped into the Reaping Ball and so did my heart. My blood was pounding in my ears so loud that I barely heard when he called my name: "Sarabella Bennett."
The stage was in front of me, and my shoes were climbing the stairs. Seth and Solomon and Sanderson and Stephen and Daddy were shouting something awful from where they watched. But everything else was quiet.
Warlin once again reached into the Reaping Ball and called out his second Tribute, probably hoping that they at least looked like they might stand a chance. And my family was suddenly quiet.
"Taylor Curtling," Warlin announced, and Taylor began his trek towards us like a brave man. It appeared as if Warlin had gotten the strong tribute he'd wanted—
"I volunteer!" Said his voice.
No.
"No." I said out loud. "No you don't."
And then Lionel Carter was on stage beside me.
REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS PLEAAASEE. I may or may not do Train Rides next chapter, it depends what mood I'm in. I liked this chapter, I thought it was fun. I REALLY NEED A BETA. PLEAAAASEEE it's killing me to edit this!
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