A/N This next tribute was submitted by A Bookworm Named Steph. Steph, you are one of my most loyal readers and you submitted one of the most lovely tributes I've ever received. You are awesome! That said, let's get on with the story!
Day Family
Shawn "Shade" Day (16)
Lisa Day (29)
Chuck Day (32)
Nate Day (7)
Shawn Day watched the shadows on the ceiling of his bedroom.
Outside, the sun had risen and taken its place high in the gray sky. Here in Six, the sky was always gray. Even now, at the end of May when blue skies should have been in abundance. Shawn hadn't seen many of those. The fumes rising up from the factories made sure of that.
It did feel strange to not be working in one of those factories now. Shawn had been working in one, making engine parts for hovercrafts, for six months now. It did not matter that he was only sixteen. He was a tall kind of guy who could probably pass for eighteen anyway. Not that anyone in Six cared. If you had a working pair of hands and some kind of brain in your head, you were put to work.
He tucked his hands behind his head, content to lie in his small cot-like bed for a little while longer. It did feel nice to sleep in. Why, if he shut his eyes for a moment, he could almost forget what day today was. Almost. Well, the truth was, Reaping Day had never had a huge effect on him. Even as a twelve year old, he couldn't remember feeling all that scared. He had just watched the film they showed with pictures of the Dark Days with wide eyes. Who could blame him? He had never seen such a huge screen before.
And now that the wonder of seeing actual people from the Capital and looking at all the cameras had passed, the Reaping Day was just another day in the year, only they had a slightly larger meal than they usually did. Oh, and his stomach always felt like it was in knots. But never too knotted to dig into his meal. Shawn was always hungry.
Okay, it wasn't like he was thoughtless or anything. This was just the way it was and his own survival came before any tragic, deep thoughts on death.
Speaking of which, it was about time for some food. He force himself to sit upright and rubbed his wild, blackish hair. Shawn stood up slowly stretching his arms and staring out the tiny window. His bedroom, which was really just a glorified closet because Lisa and her husband didn't have any more room, was crammed in the corner of the apartment. Shawn didn't mind. It was all Lisa had and he appreciated her efforts to make him feel comfortable and give him his own bedroom. Lisa had always been generous.
Sometimes, Shawn tried to imagine what it must have been like for his aunt when his mother died. That was ten years ago. Lisa had only been nineteen and not even married herself when her older sister by seven years died suddenly of meningitis and lack of medical care. That was a familiar story here in Six. It wasn't like Shawn spent a ton of time wallowing in self-pity or anything. There were many orphans with sadder stories than his.
If anything, he was sometimes angry. But only sometimes. And this was because no one ever talked about a father. Sometimes when Chuck was drunk, Shawn could coax a word or two out of the man.
But it wasn't as though his family was keeping some secret about his mysterious father's past. It was just that there wasn't much to tell. Shawn had been told that his mother had never even married and the man was out of the picture as soon as he was in.
Sometimes though, Shawn wished his father was still with him. At least he would have a father. Chuck, his alcoholic uncle, didn't count.
Right now, Shawn could hear the clattering of plates coming from the apartment's tiny kitchen. Lisa was probably fixing breakfast. Chuck would be at the table with a plate in front of him, ready for some oatmeal. Or maybe they would get some cornmeal cakes, if they were lucky. It was Reaping Day, so Shawn hoped there might be something special on the table. Hey, Chuck didn't even touch a drop of alcohol last night, so he wouldn't be hungover. Maybe today was turning out to be a pretty good one after all.
His mood considerably bettered, Shawn threw on plain gray slacks and a buttoned black t-shirt. His boots were looking a little worn, but they would have to do. The last thing he wanted to be was a burden to anyone. So he tended to buy his own clothing rather than make his aunt do that. It was his way of paying her back.
If anyone asked, his friends would surely say that Shawn always paid people back. "Shade's nothing, if not dependable." They would say.
His nickname, Shade, was given to him by his loud-mouthed friend Wally. They had been friends for ever ten years now, since the first day of school. It had only been three weeks since Shawn's mother had died. He was sitting beneath a gnarled old tree while the rest of the kids played. A red-haired, wily little kid plopped himself down next to him and promptly introduced himself as Wally.
"Why are you sitting all alone?" He had asked.
Shawn had shrugged quietly.
Wally had punched him in the arm. "Don't sit all alone! Come and play tag with us. You don't have to be all sad all the time, ya' know. Hey, what's your name, anyways?"
"Shawn."
At that, Wally had only shaken his head. "Shawn? Nah. You're really more like a 'Shade.' It sounds cooler. Can I call you that? Shade?"
The rest, as they say, was history. Shawn wasn't sure how Wally had come up with that nickname, but it stuck. Now, everyone from his school and now his work called him Shade. Everyone except for Aunt Lisa, that is. Chuck mostly just called him "boy." Sometimes Artemis, his girlfriend, called him Shawn. That was just one of those cute things she did.
Shawn walked into the kitchen and plunked down in a seat at their slightly lopsided table. The table was so chipped and worn it made him frustrated that they couldn't just get a new one. But tables were the last of their worries. Shawn was old enough to know how expenses worked in their house. Chuck brought in some money from his job as a factory worker, but not nearly enough. Besides, he had been laid off several jobs within the last few years for showing up drunk or hungover to work. Shawn had been working hard for nearly a year now so that his aunt only had to work around twenty hours a week as a laundress.
All the money they got combined went first to food. Little Nate had to eat and they wanted him to eat well and grow up strong. Sometimes Shawn felt guilty about all the food he was eating and put some on Nate's plate when his aunt wasn't looking. He knew she wouldn't approve.
After food, they had to buy clothes and shoes. Shawn thought money was running short right now and so didn't bother asking about new boots. He did not buy things with his own money. That wasn't how it worked. He handed in his money into the old tin the family kept their money in and Lisa used what was in that tin to buy whatever she needed for their family as a whole.
The only problem with that system was Chuck. He knew where the tin was and Shawn could swear that he had seen the man grab a handful of money to go out and grab whatever cheap whiskey he could find.
Right now, Chuck was eating his oatmeal slowly and staring out the small window. He looked strangely sad. Not hungover or tired or angry or anything. Just sad.
At that moment, Nate came barreling into the room. He slid in and his socks made him skid on the floor. The clumsy little guy would have run right into the table, if Shawn's quick reflexes hadn't caused him to shoot out a fist and grab Nate by his shirt collar. Nate thudded to a halt. He looked up at Shawn, giggling wildly.
Shawn looked at his little cousin, whose hair was even wilder than his own. Nate was scrawny. This, paired with the fact that he stuttered a bit when he spoke and could hardly read yet made him an easy target for rough and tough District Six kids. Oh, it wasn't like literacy and eloquent speech were valued in their impoverished and desperate home district. It was just that those little rats needed someone to pick on and little Nate with his huge, innocent brown eyes was an easy target.
Just the other day, Shawn had seen a group of boys crowding around Nate.
The youngest boy was in Nate's class at school and had told his older brother and his brother's buddies about the stuttering, clumsy boy. The boy's brother, who was probably thirteen or so, must not have had anything better to do than pick on a kid about half his size.
It made Shawn's insides crawl with hatred.
The boys had seized Nate's school bag and were dumping its contents onto the ground. They found what they were looking for. In Nate's bag, Shawn caught the familiar sight of his cousin's worn brown stuffed rabbit. The thing had been given to him at birth. Lisa and Shawn weren't sure why Nate was so attached to it. Maybe it was because it was one of the few things he actually owned.
Anyway, that old rabbit was real special to the little guy.
And those little rats had taken it and were teasing Nate about it. Yeah, seven-year-olds were a little old to be carrying stuffed toys. But Nate had always been behind everyone else anyway. The boys were tossing the rabbit around when the leader of the group pulled out a pocketknife.
He was one inch from ripping all the stuffing out of Nate's one form of joy when Shawn couldn't take it anymore. He had thrown that little scum to the ground, spit right in his face, and left him with a handful of his best threats. Shawn, with his tall frame and wild eyes, must have intimidated those kids a lot, cause Nate never had to deal with any more incidents of that nature.
Now, the rabbit was perched right on Nate's lap as he spooned oatmeal into his mouth. The rabbit stared up at the ceiling with its button eyes.
"Is Arty c-coming today?" Nate asked this with his mouth full of oatmeal. He bounced a little on his seat with excitement, while Lisa tapped him gently to remind him that he was spilling. "Arty" was his name for Artemis. He had called her this shortly after meeting her a few months ago and Shawn's face had turned red. "Arty" was not exactly a flattering nickname. But Artemis hadn't minded at all. In fact, she always laughed when Nate said it.
The two were very close and Artemis was so good with Nate. That was just one of the reasons Shawn loved Artemis.
"She'll be here in a little. We're walking over to the Square together." Shawn said these words and hoped they came out sounding as dismissive as possible. He didn't want Nate asking a ton of questions about where they were going. That would just be too much and Shawn himself probably wouldn't have half the answers.
But to his surprise, Nate sat up with a bright, knowing look in his eyes. "I know what day it is today," he said in a tremendously proud tone.
Lisa turned around, her eyebrows raised. She shot a quick glance at Shawn, who only shrugged back. He hadn't told the kid. Even Chuck looked at him from across the table. His look was one of confusion. Huh. So it hadn't been Chuck either.
Nate sat up even taller. He was thrilled to have everyone's attention, especially his father's. "I-It's Reaping Day!" He said loudly and strongly.
The room fell instantly silent. Lisa dropped the spoon she was holding. It clattered to the ground loudly. Chuck, across the table, actually buried his head into his hands. It was a strangely eerie sight for Shawn, who was not used to seeing his uncle act this way. Not this kind of heavy, quiet despair he seemed to be holding. Shawn's own mind was racing. This was it. There was no use hiding it now. Nate knew. Nate was growing up and before any of them could blink, he would be going to his own Reaping. And what then?
Lisa finally broke the silence. "Nate, do you know what the Reaping Day is?" Her voice came out surprisingly calm and steady.
"Nope!" Nate said firmly and went back to playing absentmindedly with his rabbit. It was as though the room itself breathed a sigh of relief. Lisa continued washing the dishes and Shawn finished his oatmeal. It was as though nothing had happened. Well, Chuck still had that strange look in his eyes.
Now that Shawn thought about it, his uncle had always been sober on Reaping Day. He wasn't sure why and he didn't ask. Nate loved when his daddy was sober and even Shawn had to admit that the man was not bad at all without the alcohol. He would bounce Nate on his laugh and tell him funny stories and jokes. And then he and Lisa would kiss and Nate would stick his tong rout, but Shawn would breathe a sigh of relief. Lisa deserved very second of Chuck's affection.
"W-What i-is Reaping Day?" Nate asked quietly, his eyes shining big as saucers.
Chuck heaved a heavy sigh. "Well, it was bound to happen anyway. Every kid's asked the question." He pointed his finger at Shawn. "Even you, boy. You weren't much older than Nate yourself." He stood up from the table and pushed his chair in. Nate watched with his eyes widening. Chuck called out to his wife as he left the room. "Lisa, you had better take this one."
Lisa sighed and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Well, Nate. Reaping Day is something that happens once a year. Every kid between the ages of twelve and eighteen has to go to the Square for a ceremony."
"A c-ceremony? W-What's that mean?"
Shawn cleared his throat loudly. "It's nothing, Nate. You'll learn all this stuff when you're older. But trust me. You're not missing out on anything. A boy and a girl get their names picked from a big bowl and get taken away. That's about it." He said these words hurriedly and they all came out in a burst.
"W-Where do they go?"
Lisa stepped up. "Oh, Nate. They go to the Capital. Far, far away from here. They have to go there because the President says so. And you know, we have to do whatever that man says. That's just the way of things." She nearly spit out these last words her tone became so sharp.
Shawn wondered if there was some bit of rebel in Lisa's quiet, calm form.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Shawn breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't think he could take much more of this conversation. He remembered the time when he first asked Lisa about the Reaping, when he was probably Nate's age. He had seen all those kids crowding in the Square and all the commotion going on and, like any seven year old kid, had plenty of questions. Lisa had told him outright what the Reaping was, probably because he was developmentally ahead of Nate at that age and could understand it better. Or perhaps all of them just wanted to protect and baby little Nate for as long as possible.
Oh, it had been horrible. Hearing what happened to those kids…he'd had nightmares for weeks.
He hurried to open the door. Artemis grinned at him. Her very dark hair was pulled into a braid with a few strands hanging in her face. Artemis walked into the door purposefully, her floaty white skirt swishing at her knees. Artemis was usually seen in black three-quarter-length style pants and a dark green or brown t-shirt covered with some kind of plain leather jacket. Like Shawn, she wore mud-splattered boots most of the time.
So it was a little storage seeing her in a pretty white skirt, pale blue top and sandals. She caught Shawn staring at her and laughed. "Don't get used to it, Shade."
Nate came racing across the room and ran right into her. She fell back from the force of his hug and gave a gasp of surprise. Shawn was about to apologize for Nate (he was used to it) when Artemis returned Nate's embrace with an equally forceful one. "How's my favorite guy in the whole wide world?"
"Hey!" Shawn shouted.
The room erupted in laughter. Even Chuck, who was lurking near the kitchen doorframe, burst into laughter. Nate bounced up onto his toes, a sign he was very happy. Over the years, Shawn had learned to pick up on even the most subtle of Nate's body language. The boy had never been very verbal, only learning to talk at around three. So much of what he communicated, he did by showing rather than telling. Not only had Shawn gotten used to this, but he actually preferred it to verbal communication.
There was something really amazing in somehow having a whole conversation in silence. He was a quiet guy, and so he and Nate got along well.
Artemis stood up and gave Nate's head a pat. "Well, Shade." She sighed softly. "I think we'd better get going then." She looked up at Lisa, who nodded. Artemis cleared her throat softly. "Is your family coming along too? You know, because of the Quell? Mine's just outside the Square, I think."
Lisa rubbed her temple. "Oh, I guess we'll follow along in a bit. You too have to check in though, so we don't want to hold you up."
With that, Artemis gently took Shawn's hand. He gave a nod of goodbye to his little family and the two walked out of the door and down the rickety steps that led outside. Shawn was hardly self-conscious of the falling apart building with its peeling paint and flickering lightbulbs in the hallways. Artemis lived in a place nearly identical to this one just across the street. Even though she had two working parents, it still wasn't enough.
Outside, it was sunny and only a little breezy. District Six was located in the very north of the country and so could get pretty cold in the winter. Winters were very, very hard in Six. In summer, kids could get away with running around barefoot with just a t-shirt and shorts. But winter required much more clothing and, of course, boots. That, and the fact that no one except Peacekeepers and the people in the Victors Village actually had heat.
Shawn and Artemis walked past abandoned mechanic shops and graffitied walls. Maybe somewhere hidden under all those layers of cheap paint were messages of rebellion. But those, Shawn knew, would somehow end up stifled. Sometimes, he felt like he was living with a piece of cloth held over his mouth. That was how most people felt.
Apartments framed the narrow streets. The streets themselves were full of potholes. It was ironic that in the "transportation district," hardly anyone had a car and if he or she did, it would be impossible to drive anywhere. Rats darted in and out of small alleys and card board boxes, maybe sharing the homes of some unfortunate souls. Shawn and Artemis, along with all the other kids in Six, had learned to ignore the rodents.
"We're meeting up with Wally at the fountain," Artemis said. She had her eyes focused on two twelve year old girls. They must have been just twelve, because they were so scrawny and scared looking. They were actually holding hands and one of them was crying.
"Yeah. Okay."
The fountain was not really a fountain. It hadn't worked in a very long time, at least not since Shawn could remember. It had been left over from past days, back when this city used to be called Detroit and everything was different. Now it was just a crumbling, large bowl with empty water spouts, really. A reminder of what had once been. Little reminders like this did pop up every now and then. Things that somehow hadn't been destroyed when the Capital and its new regime came into power.
Yes, of course statues had long since been annihilated, unless they were of the president. But little slips of the Old Nation, as some people called it, still came up. An old coin found in the cracks of the sidewalk depicting some unknown man''s face. Things like that.
"Remember last year's Reaping?" Artemis asked softly. She squeezed his hand a little more tightly. "It feels like it was just yesterday. Man, it's hard to believe it's been a whole year already."
Shawn nodded. "Sure I remember it. We had just decided to be, um, more than friends then. And I was so terrified you were gonna get picked. I don't even know why. I just felt…I don't know. Closer to you than before." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I spent that whole Reaping in panic." He laughed softly.
Artemis smiled at this. "I had no idea."
"Hey lovebirds!" Wally's familiar, loud voice shook their little moment. Of course. He was always doing this. Wally was hardly a third wheel around his two best friends, who were now a couple. He made sure of it by constantly talking. Artemis and Shawn hardly minded because both of them were more of the listening type anyway.
He walked over to them, his red, curly hair flopping in his warm brown eyes. Even a somber day like today could not possibly dampen Wally's always fantastic mood. "Let's head over to check-in, okay? I have a feeling we're already late. My mom's been on my case about that for the last five minutes." He gestured back at his frazzled-looking mother, who was hustling Wally's fourteen year old brother and his younger sister Kia into line. Wow. It was already Kia's first year. Time really did fly.
Wally's hands were shoved in his pockets and he made light conversation with Shawn and Artemis as they took their places in the check-in line. Yeah, the weather today was pretty nice. And Artemis's feet were hurting in those sandals. And Nate was doing very well, thank you. The conversation was led as though nothing at all was going on.
Which, naturally, made everything all the more uncomfortable.
Shawn stepped up to the table first. A very tired looking man looked up at him. "Name?" He asked in a monotone. After Shawn mumbled his name for the man, the guy picked up a needle from the table. Shawn felt his arm instinctively tensing. He thrust his arm forward and the man jabbed the needle into his finger. It stung intensely for a moment and Shawn flinched as he saw the drop of red go on the slip of paper. This was so that everyone could be sure Shawn Day did not run off anywhere to escape.
Artemis went next and only winced slightly as the needle enter her finger. She hardly blinked, even. Wally was another story and let out a muffled yelp when the needle hit him. Artemis and Shawn couldn't help laughing. Which made Shawn think that maybe Wally had sacrificed some "man points" and yelped on purpose. That was just the kind of guy he was.
The Square was packed with kids. Shawn spotted several cameras. He shot his eyes away quickly.
The three of them walked to the center. Artemis's hand was feeling slightly clammy in his. Was she scared? Probably. Knowing Artemis, it probably wasn't for herself. She was probably just scared and worried to have to see two kids being led to their deaths.
Shawn mentally scolded himself for thinking so ominously. That wasn't helping anyone.
"All right. We'd better go," he said matter-of-factly. Shawn was a very matter-of-fact type of guy. He gave Artemis's hand a tight squeeze. She looked up at him with her hazel eyes. And suddenly, he wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to let her go. So he decided to do a decidedly un-Shade thing.
Before thinking twice about it, he pulled her into a kiss. Artemis nearly pulled back in surprise, but then leaned into it. Her small form seemed to fold into his. She was depending on him for strength for these next few hours. So damn it, he was gonna give it to her.
They pulled out of the kiss at the same time and Artemis smiled a little. "Thank you," she said quietly. And then she walked away, her braid swinging behind her. Shawn watched her walk away and felt his stomach sink a little. He wanted her with him. But this was how it was.
He and Wally walked over to the sixteen year old boys' section. It was strange to see some of the guys from school, who were usually so loud, standing silently with solemn looks on their faces. Reaping Day just had that kind of effect on people.
They only had to wait a minute for the escort to walk up to the microphone. Shawn squinted to try to see what kind of outlandish clothes the man was wearing. Facial hair seemed to be some sort of trend in the capital and the guy's mustache was curled at the ends. Shawn elbowed Wally to show him and Wally snorted loudly.
"Welcome, ladies and gentleman!" The escort boomed into the microphone. "Before we begin our ceremony, we have a film to show you." He smiled a strange smile and clapped his hands with a flourish to signal the giant screen behind him to flicker to life.
Shawn shuffled in place. He could only imagine how difficult watching the images of war, bombs and crying children must be for Artemis. He actually breathed a sigh of relief when the eerie, disturbing piece finally ended.
As soon as the screen shut off to black again, the escort in his bright green suit walked forward. What was the guy's name again? Ah, whatever. Shawn had never been good with names and Capital names were awfully complicated, anyway.
"Ladies and gentleman," he began as he always did. "Let's get to the main event, shall we?" He grinned a twisted grin and Shawn felt his body fill with rage. If he was up there, he would probably punch the guy. "This year, our Reaping Bowl is twice the size! Isn't that exciting?" The guy piped up. He plunged his hand into the clear glass bowl in front of him. He drew out a tony white slip. Shawn shut his eyes. Not Artemis, he whispered silently to himself. Please, not Artemis. He clenched his fists tightly and felt his heart beating loudly in his chest.
"Shawn Day!" The man called out loudly into a microphone.
All the blood rushed to Shawn's head. A roaring sound began in his ears. But everywhere around him, people were silent. It was so, so silent. His heart, beating so loudly not a moment ago, now seemed to come to a halt. It was as if every thing in the entire world had come to a stop.
Wally whipped his head around sharply and caught Shawn's eye. Wally's brown eyes, usually so reassuring and calm, were wild and panicked. He was clearly in shock, just like Shawn was.
Shawn was so in shock that he hardly noticed anything on the walk up to the stage. He walked down a wide center path. Peacekeepers kept their eyes trained on him, watching for any sign he might take off. But he wouldn't do that. There was no point in something as stupid as that. Besides, Shawn had never been a runner. If nothing else, he was not a coward.
Well, he was scared now. Yeah, this was terror. It wasn't like he thought it would be. This wasn't the heart-racing terror that came with shaking hands and sudden screaming, the kind of terror when he had seen a huge rat crawl on Nate or had once been chased through the streets by some dagger-wielding maniac. That kind of terror was based on adrenaline.
Now, he felt no adrenaline. He could not scream, he was sure, even if he wanted to. His mouth felt anchored shut. His heart was hardly racing. Rather, it seemed like it had gone away completely and left a sinkhole in its place. A sinkhole that was causing the rest of his body to collapse.
He walked up the six steps to the wooden stage. It was rickety, having been only created yesterday. The stage only came once a year, like the rest of the ritual. The other three hundred and sixty some days of the year, it was just a normal, falling apart city square.
Every eye in the crowd of thousands was focused on him. The escort watched him carefully and placed his hand on Shawn's arm, to drag him to center stage. Shawn did not resist. That was unlike him, but his arm just wouldn't obey. He stood in the center of the stage while the escort walked to the microphone in front of him. "And now, could the family of Shawn please come forward?"
Shawn's throat tightened. His family.
In his shock, it hadn't yet sunk in that his family was coming too. No. No! This couldn't be. It wasn't fair. Lisa, with her calm and kind gaze who would never hurt a fly. Chuck didn't even deserve this. No one did. And if anyone, least of all sweet, innocent little Nate.
Shawn knew his cousin, or practically his brother, instantly. The boy was walking on the edge of the crowd.
In his hands was a brown stuffed rabbit.
At the sight of this rabbit, Shawn finally felt emotion pouring into him. He felt deep sadness at the sight of those button eyes. The little rabbit, a symbol for Nate's innocence, if there ever was one. He felt pity as he saw Lisa, her hand held tightly in Chuck's, walk behind her son. Chuck was looking both sober and somber. But mostly, he felt anger. Anger at seeing Nate's wide eyes brimming with tears and he clutched that little stuffed bunny for all his life.
The three of them finally reached the stage. "Ladies and gentleman, may I present the Day Family! Our District Six tributes!" The escort proclaimed into the microphone.
Shawn's ears were still ringing as a group of Peacekeepers led their family across the Square to the Justice Building. One Peacekeeper even grabbed Nate's arm. Nate let out a whimper and, before Shawn could blink, Chuck whirled around. "Leave him alone!" His voice was loud. Not drunk, angry loud. Just loud.
The Peacekeepers hustled them into the large, concrete building that Shawn had always eyes with mild disdain, but never actually been inside. And why would he? The building was imposing and stark. He felt himself tense up as they entered. What was he expecting? Maybe torture machines for interrogation that the Peacekeepers used. Cells for keeping rebels awaiting trial at the Capital? At least some flogging posts or security cameras everywhere.
But it was just ordinary. Plain and stark as the outside, with sparse wood furniture and a faded red carpet with the district's seal on it.
The room the Day family was led into was very much the same as the rest of the building. There was a single large window looking out. Nate clutched his rabbit with one hand and his mother's skirt in another. Lisa was leaning on Chuck. Shawn felt sort of alone and took a stiff seat in one of the chairs as the Peacekeepers walked out. He was glad to see them go. Peacekeepers were scum. Nate was whimpering softly. He was obviously very confused and scared.
Shawn patted the area next to him. Nate rushed over and curled beside him, like a three year old kid might. But maybe it wasn't always bad, that Nate was a little behind. Sometimes, Shawn thought, the less a person knew, the better. He rubbed Nate's back in the way Lisa had done to him when he was little and woke up screaming for his mother. He guessed it was a more womanly thing to do, cause he sure didn't think he was doing a good job of it. Nate, for some reason, seemed soothed by it, though.
"S-h-h, it's okay, little guy. It'll be okay," Shawn told him.
"You're a good kid, Shawn."
Shawn looked up at the sound of the deep, gruff voice. Even though Chuck was the only other guy in the room, Shawn was still surprised to see that he was the one who had spoken. Chuck had never even called him by his real name, let alone complimented him. But here the man was, with his sober eyes and sad expression.
Chuck nodded at him. "That's what the boy needs right now. And what we all need. A little togetherness before…" his voice dropped and he stared at the ground.
All of this confusion about Chuck's strange attitude and the emotional toll of the day finally got to Shawn. He shot up out of his chair. "What do you know about togetherness?!" He roared. "You, have come home almost every night for as long as I can remember completely drunk! I've seen you rant and rave at your wife who gives you everything she has. You're no father to Nate. Why the hell are you going on about family now?!"
His uncle stared at the ground. He didn't yell or raise his voice at all. He actually just got very silent. In a voice that was practically a whisper, he said, "Better now than never."
Lisa gave his hand a squeeze and he gave her a look. Just a look. But whatever it meant, it prompted Lisa to walk over to Shawn. Nate was silent. He always was after hearing shouting. Lisa bent down in front of them, but addressed Shawn. She looked right at him. "Shawn, I think it's time I told you. I mean, Chuck would tell you but that would be too hard on him. It's gonna take a lot of strength on his part to listen to what I'm about to say."
In the corner of the room, Chuck sank down in a chair.
Shawn's young aunt stood up slowly. "Shawn, Chuck lost his little sister in the Games. Fifteen years ago. She was twelve years old, the youngest age you know. S-She didn't have a chance." Lisa's voice wavered, but she kept on. "Chuck was seventeen and really protective of his sister. He would do anything he could. But he couldn't do anything. And that just about killed him. Oh, Shawn. It really killed him. You have to understand. When things like that happen to people, they lose a part of themselves."
"Her name," Chuck said from his spot in the corner. "You can say her name, Lisa. Makes it easier on me, actually. Makes me feel better knowing her name hasn't been forgotten just yet." He gave a small smile, his eyes looking to a far-off place, like they did when he was drunk. Only he was perfectly sober. "Her name was Wren. Wren, like the bird. Wren." He said the name again, as if trying to remember the feeling of it on his tongue.
Shawn bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Chuck." It was all he could think to say. In the end though, it was enough.
Lisa straightened. "Well, right now, we have to pull together. Chuck's right. We need to stick together. That's how we're gonna get through this, okay? There's just no other way."
Seeing his aunt trying to look so strong made Shawn stand up, too. "All right. We're fighting this and we're fighting it together."
He saw the corner of a smile on Chuck's lips.
District Six Mentor
Amos Bentley (34)
Amos stood up from his plastic seat.
He was glad to. The seat was so hard and uncomfortable. It reminded him so much of this whole place. The chair had been a plain white, strange against the soft grey color of the Square. Grey was a soft color, but white was not soft in the slightest. Sometimes when he painted, Amos used white for purity. But the white chairs here were different. They stood for nothing of the sort.
The only two living victors in Six were anything but pure. (The third had offed himself seven years ago. He had been Amos's mentor.) The only other victor was Maura, who was fifty-six years old, had been his other mentor. She had taught him how to paint.
Really paint. Both knew the best kind of painting could be achieved with a little help from their morphling.
Sometimes Amos would walk to Maura's house, directly across from his, and they would haul out a giant ivory-colored canvas and get to work. They had created loving portraits of the children who had been killed in their Games, even the Careers and tributes they had never even seen. They made wild murals depicting the Capital's excess or bloody, anguished pieces showing their cruelty. Sometimes they painted on canvas. Other times they painted on whatever they could find.
A whole section of Amos's upstairs hallway was a painting of a flower field. Maura had painted it there for him on his first year mentoring. That had been the hardest.
Now, he and Maura had devised several strategies for keeping alive during the emotional turmoil that was mentoring. The first strategy, and the primary one, was to have a little syringe of morphling handy at all times. It actually wasn't that strong. Amos didn't want to completely lose touch with reality. He only wanted a little bit of the "edge" taken off of things.
Another strategy, devised by Maura, was not to act completely aloof. Though the morphine prevented them from getting too involved in their tributes' unfortunate fates, it did not do any good to pretend the children did not exist and ignore them entirely, as Amos knew some mentors to do. This kind of behavior could only lead to guilt when those children died. Instead of spending the rest of his nights lying awake and asking himself what he could have done, it was much easier to accept that he had probably done all he could and fate won, in the end.
Maura was a master of that strategy. She had adopted it mentoring him sixteen years ago. He remembered that her wise mind shone through just enough to help him. Maura was clever. Very clever. How else could she have won her Games?
The next strategy was watching every second of the Games, for as long as the kids stayed alive. Maura had told him this on the train ride over to the Capital, fifteen years ago during his first stint mentoring. She had leaned across the table, her eyes looking surprisingly bright. "Watch every moment," she had said. "These kids will not live long lives. You want their last moments to be remembered. They don't have many moments left and you want to have some connection to them. I promise. Just trust me."
The truth was, Amos hadn't trusted her at first. Yes, he was naturally a very distrusting person. This was actually part of what helped him win his Games. He did not accept any offers for alliances accept himself offering the wily, intelligent District Three boy an alliance. This was so that he would not go "solo." Anyone knew that choosing to go through the Games alone made a target on the back of any tribute. It attracted attention. After the boy succumbed to a snake bite though, Amos hid out and stayed low.
He didn't trust Maura word because it just sounded too difficult. How could he bring himself to look at the kids, when they were going to die at any minute? Wouldn't it just be better to ignore them entirely?
As it turned out, watching his trainees was much easier than he thought it would be. That was mostly because District Six kids did not usually survive the Bloodbath, and so he did not have to watch for long. Usually, he and Maura spent the mandatory five days in the Capital for the Parade, Training and Interviews. They were usually home the evening of the sixth day, for obvious reasons.
It wasn't just that, though. It actually was helpful, at least on a moral level, to watch those kids. Amos felt like he owed it to them. Like Maura said, they would not have many moments left and the two of them might as well be able to remember the kids for something.
Remembering was a funny thing for Amos. Sometimes, he tried to do it with such force that is scared him. Once, he had made a deep gash in his wrist with a razor. He had watched the blood trickle from his arm and splash to the white tiled floor beneath him. His sink had been dripping the whole time. Drip. Drip.
And all because he could not remember the District Seven girl's face from the year of his Games.
It was surprising, but he wanted to remember more than he wanted to forget. Yes, some things he did want to forget. And morphling helped with that. But mostly the morphling was for the present, not the past. The present was the hardest thing.
It was easy to live in the past, or even the future. It was much more difficult to live in the present moment.
"Amos," Royal said harshly. "Amos, we need you to head over to the train. The family will likely be finishing its goodbyes at this point. The train will be leaving soon." Royal clapped his hands twice with a flourish. He loved organization and schedules. This, naturally, prompted Amos and Maura to do anything they could to sabotage his schedules. Usually pretending to be completely high on morphling did the trick.
Maura gave him a small smile out of the corner of her mouth. And so it was beginning. Another one of the survival strategies for the next few days was to add a little humor whenever possible. Maura was best at that.
They walked off the stage and through the Square together. People who were still lingering after the ceremony stopped to stare at them. Of course. They were household names. Amos knew that his name was spoken with sad, pitying looks. The poor boy had won his Games by chance, really. Hiding out the whole time and killing that Career boy with one poison dart to the throat. The Games had torn him apart.
The train station was right next to the Justice Building. A single monorail was stopped on the tracks. Amos stopped walking and stared at the Capital Seal on the train. Usually at this point he required a drip of his morphling. Otherwise, he might take off running.
He took a long, shaky breath.
Then, he felt Maura's hand on his shoulder. She was right behind him, like she always was. She was his second mother and that was a fact. His own mother had died six years before and Maura was as good a replacement as anyone. She was his sister, caregiver and mentor all rolled into one. She was also his friend.
And now, she was telling him that they were in this together.
The two walked into the train together. Amos looked around, admiring the deep blue of the rug. He had a color like that in his palate that he didn't use enough. Well, such a blue just wasn't found in nature. That was what the Capital was good for. All those beautiful colors.
And that was where it ended.
Amos and Maura took their seats at a table near a window. He fingered his syringe, sitting in his pocket where it always was. But there were so many soft colors here. Bright pinks in the pastries encased in that glass case. There was the metallic gold on the molding and the deep mahogany of the table. The ceiling was green with elaborate paintings. Amos felt himself relaxing.
"How does the Quell change things?" He asked his old mentor and friend.
Maura stared down at the table. Her fingers were fluting slightly, a side effect of the drug. "I expect it will change things a fair amount, Amos. Usually the Training Center is upgraded and the living quarters will also be much nicer. That was how it was last year. Oh, and the obvious fact that the tributes are different. Last time I had to mentor four. This time we're mentoring four again, I believe." Her eyes became saddened. It was simple math. This year, twice as many tributes would die.
But maybe not. Maybe there was still hope.
Amos managed a smile. "But this year it's different. This year the whole family can win. All four of them, if they survive! Don't think of it like more can die this year. Just try to think that, at the same time, more can win."
Maura actually grinned. She smiled a full smile that reached all the way to her eyes. Her blue eyes which, for once, were not dull at all. Amos had only really seen her smile like this once before. That was when he first woke up after his Games and she was sitting next to his bed, grinning. He had been her victor this whole time.
"You're exactly right, Amos." She said. "Hope may be just about all we have now. But it is a powerful weapon. You know why, Amos?"
"Cause that's one thing they can't control."
At that moment, the doors to the train slid open. A family of four walked inside. There was the very young mother, clutching her husband's hand. Her eyes were rimmed with red. Her husband's hand was shaking on his young son's shoulder. The little boy was clutching a stuffed rabbit. The older boy, the one had been Reaped, had his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white.
But Amos noticed something special about this family. They were holding their heads up. Yes, they seemed to be leaning heavily on each other. But this was a strong family. These were his fighters.
Amos stood up from the table, conscious of his shaking legs and thin face and hollow eyes.
Yes, they were weak in appearance. But he knew better. Each of the people here was stronger than anyone in the Capital could imagine.
Let the Games begin, Amos thought to himself. We will be ready.
A/N I've been trying some new things with these Reapings, mixing up POVs and characters. I would love to thank my submitters for being so cool with this. Your tributes will all get a chance to shine, I promise! I just want to keep you guys from getting bored with the slightly monotony the Reapings can get into. Hopefully this has been working.
As always, let me know what you think!
I apologize for the late update. I had exams and so I had to study. But I was really glad to get back to writing for you all! This chapter was so much fun to write and I would like to thank A Bookworm Named Steph again for her consistently amazing characters.
Your support is appreciated! Thanks for reading.
And Happy Holidays! I may not know any of you guys personally, but you guys are all amazing. I hope your holidays are as totally awesome-sauce as you are.
