A/N: So here's the little twist I was talking about in the last chapter! Not a Carrie POV like you expected, but a POV from Rheah, Carrie's sister back in the Capitol. I think I mentioned Rheah a little bit in the first chapter. I posted this because I wanted to show how Carrie's family is being affected back at home. Rheah may or may not become a regular character; I haven't decided yet. Enjoy!
Chapter 7: Rheah
I wake up Saturday morning with a throbbing pain in my head, which is strange because I didn't go to Galaxa's party last night. If I'd gone to the party, more than likely I'd be hungover now. But since Carrie is grounded, my mother asked me to stay home, to set a good example I guess. What could I do but agree?
I'm still really upset about not being able to go to the party, though. My mother said that she owes me, but she's been owing me for the past sixteen years, ever since Carrie's birth. No one asked me when I was two if I wanted a little sister, did they?
"Ray Ray!" my father bursts into my room (without permission) with a frown on his face.
I return his frown as I stumble out of bed. "Ugh, Father, don't call me that nickname! I liked it when I was ten, I know, but now it's so embarrassing!"
My father doesn't smile like he normally would. Instead he continues to glare at me. "Rheah, this is no time for jokes. Where is my robe?"
I crinkle my eyebrows together into what Carrie used to call a 'caterpillar face', back when we were younger. "What robe?"
My father sighs deeply in exasperation. "My Gamemaker robe, sweetie. I think you have it. Where is it? I need it for work now."
I take a deep breath and force myself to use a respectful tone. Which, considering the fact that I am still mad over not being able to go to that party last night, is pretty impressive. "I don't know where your robe is, Father. I don't have it. I can help you look for it, if you want."
"That would be great. Thanks." With one final worried look my father dashes away, although I'd bet on him not believing me. Not that I've ever given him reason to. Carrie's the perfect daughter in this family, after all.
Anyway, at first, I think nothing of it. Doesn't my father have at least ten of those stupid purple pathetic excuses for robes? More than likely, Waldo probably just misplaced it somewhere.
I decide to start by waking up Carrie, so maybe she can help us look for the robe. Carrie, more than likely, knows where it is.
"Hey, Waldo," I call into the hall. "Is Carrie awake?"
Waldo looks up from the laundry and gives me a small smile, lightly nodding his head.
"Carrie?" I call, tapping on my little sister's bedroom door with my knuckles. "Are you in there?"
No answer.
I roll my eyes. "That's not funny, Carrie. It's just me, Ray. Open up."
Still no answer. This is seriously beginning to freak me out.
I slowly ease open the door and peer into Carrie's living quarters. What I see gives me a shock.
All her clothes are hung up in her open closet. The glowing blare of her laptop is still shining. Her bed is neatly made, with bright red gingham spread, nearly brighter than her hair. But, of course, no Carrie.
But the thing that catches my eye almost immediately is a thin white piece of paper on one of her pillows, laying plainly in sight. As if it must be found.
"I don't get it, Waldo," I say, scanning the note for the tenth time. "Where did my little sister go?"
All the note says is: I'm so sorry. But I had to do this. Please forgive me. I hope you will understand. I love you all. Carolina.
Waldo sighs and takes a seat on the bed next to me. "I do not know exactly where Miss Carrie has gone, Rheah. But I think I know why."
I clutch the last item giving proof of my sister, the note, tighter. "Why?"
Waldo counters my question with his own. "Do you know what a rebellion is, Miss Rheah?"
I have to think for a second. "Sure I do. It's when some people get together and protest over something or whatever. Yeah, it's like what the 13 districts tried to do seventy-two years ago. But what does that have to do with Carrie's disappearance?"
Waldo clicks his tongue. "Don't you see, Miss Rheah? Miss Carrie has run away. She's inciting a cause for a rebellion. Something's wrong."
"Yes, I kind of figured that out when I opened the door to Carrie's room and discovered she wasn't in there," I snap.
Waldo looks stressed. "I guess that this is partially my fault," he mutters under his breath. "I shouldn't have gave her that robe."
"What?" I ask, not hearing the last part.
"Nothing," Waldo says. "The point is, she's gone, and I doubt we can get her back."
My mouth goes dry. Run away? But . . . why? My little sister was doing wonderfully here, with nearly everything she could possibly want.
"Waldo, I still don't get it," I reply slowly. "Why would little Carrie rebel over something, if that's what really happened?"
Waldo bites his lip and squints at the ceiling for a while before answering. "Miss Rheah, that's a question that I still do not know the answer to. However, something tells me that this was not her idea."
I snort. "What are you suggesting? That someone forced her to run away? Or maybe one of those boys that are always flirting with her finally caught her attention, so she ran off with him."
I look away from Waldo as I say this. I love my sister Carrie, of course, but the truth is, I've always been a bit jealous of her. She's never had to ask Mother or Father for anything because anything she wants is practically handed to her on a golden platter. She also inherited all of our mother's good looks, while I'm stuck with my father's dull brown hair and matching eyes. The second I turn eighteen (only two months away!), I'm getting surgery.
Why she gets all of this treatment? I don't know. I've discussed it with my therapist plenty of times, but all he said was to let it go. Being an oldest sibling can be tough.
But, now, worst of all, she's exactly what a normal Capitol citizen should not be. A rebel. A dirty rebel.
"Sweetheart, I know you're upset," Waldo says, comforting me by running a hand in my hair. "Carrie will always be with you. She was different, that girl. But so are you. You don't rebel like she does. You blend in the crowd, gathering information. You're the special one, too."
"How the hell is that special, Waldo?" I mutter under my breath. "And what on earth do you mean? No one except Carrie understands a word you say."
Waldo looks offended, but only for a second. "You can find out what she's up to. Track her down. Discover what's going on. Add the spice in her own way."
I look up. "And how, exactly, will I do that, Waldo?"
Waldo shrugs indifferently. "Beats me. Good luck though!"
With a final little grin, he's gone. That Waldo is a special character in the story of my life.
I lie back on Carrie's bed, trying to wrap my mind around this. It's almost unreal how the whole situation is.
The question to me is, does Carrie want to be found, like Waldo suggested? Or should I just try to forget about her? And who, if anyone, did she run away with?
I hear a scream from downstairs, and I realize that my parents have just been informed that Carrie is not in her room. The pounding of my mother's tiny feet echo as she runs up the stairs and bursts into Carrie's room.
"Rheah?" My mother's voice is soft and yet tiresome. In that single word, she has fired at me a thousand questions, none of which I can answer.
"Rheah, where is she?"
I swallow. "She's just gone. I don't know, and I don't care."
But the truth is, I do care. Very much.
By the end of the day, I have had enough. I've wasted an entire Saturday looking everywhere for signs of life in where Carrie is. Nothing is making any sense. She obviously made sure to cover her tracks very well.
Her closet is untouched, as aforementioned. Wherever she is, there must a be a supply of clothes, or she's running around in one outfit. Her journal, once I managed to find it under her bed, was not really helpful either. It's all coded in some weird language that I can't make heads or tails out of. She probably learned it from of her weird friends.
I snap my head up so quickly my neck hurts. Her friends! That's it! One of her friends has to know where she's gone.
Racing over to her computer, I quickly boot it up and search through her contacts. Mom, Dad, Rheah, Waldo. That's not helping. Lativa. Huh. She must be one of her friends from school. Millie. Talliah. Bea. Probably not close friends, who only liked her for her immense popularity.
Finally I notice a name that has been highlighted in yellow, bolded and underlined. Andrew Tassle.
Here goes nothing, I say to myself. I reach for the phone, carefully dialing this Andrew's number as printed on the monitor. And I wait anxiously as the phone rings.
"We're sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. The number may have been changed or expunged. Please hang up and try again."
Well, that's a shocker. No doubt that this is the boy Carrie ran away with. He probably pulverized the phone before they left or something. Clever.
Not enough, though. Because Rheah Strikethrough is here, and no one messes with Rheah, darling. No one at all.
