Rolling over, I brush against a warm body. Drowsily, I snuggle into his back like a child against her father.
The sun claws its way through the curtains and shines on my face. I attempt to rectify this by burying my face between my brother's shoulder blades. Breathing in, I smell his musky scent and relax. This is the scent I'm familiar with: the faintest whiff of lavender, a hint of cinnamon, dry odor of brick and stone, and old linen. The latter two were added later in life, but my brother has always beared that unmistakable lavender and cinnamon aroma.
I would know because, well, we've been close since birth. It's hard not to know the guy you were born alongside of. You can't mistake your twin….even if he's the opposite gender.
The mass of lean muscle I'm clinging to begins to stir. He shifts on the decent-sized bed we have to share and makes a noise, when he feels resistance. Nearly rolling onto my right arm, he flips himself 180 degrees to face me.
Our matching blue eyes stare at each other sleepily. His carries an annoyed glint.
"Gadget...we're not five anymore. Stop sleeping so close to me," he mutters, not awake enough to put much effort into talking.
"But I wuv my wittle brother~" I coo, purposely using a child-like tone.
"Gadget, you're only four minutes older than me and last time I checked, I was taller," he teases gruffly, although I know he's trying to be playful despite being half-asleep.
"Oh yeah?" My brother frowns at the devious sparkle in my bright eyes.
With a cry of surprise, my brother tumbles off the bed. The blue-gray blanket twists around his foot, making it difficult for him to get back up.
I smirk triumphantly. It was too easy to push him off.
"Funny, you don't look so big down there, Gizmo!" I jest, grinning wide.
Blinking, my brother's gaze refocuses and he smiles darkly. He unwinds the blanket from around his leg.
"You're going to get it, Gadget…" I squeak as he tackles me off the bed and we land hard on the wooden floor.
Limbs flailing as we try to get the upperhand on the other, we wrestle across the floor. Grabbing me by the waist, his fingers dance across my rib cage. I laugh uncontrollably as he tickles me.
Wriggling out of his grasp, I pounce on his back, flattening him to the floor with my sudden extra weight. When he pushes himself up, I jab my index fingers into his sides.
I know my brother is just as ticklish as I am.
He collapses and his shoulders shake as he laughs into the floor. I poke him repeatedly until he's begging me to stop because he's laughing so hard his ribs hurt.
Flopping down next to him, we pause to catch our breath. We both have labored breathing from all the effort put in before breakfast. Speaking of which, I'm starving!
An obnoxiously loud growl erupts and Gizmo laughs at me. Then his stomach joins the chorus and we laugh at each other.
"It feels wonderful to laugh like this," I think.
I don't want to think about anything else. Especially not what today means.
At breakfast, I snort in disbelief as my brother devours several strips of bacon. What is it with guys and meat?
I take the whipped cream and chocolate sauce to paint my masterpiece on my pancakes.
Chewing a piece of toast, my brother leans over to inspect my work.
"It's beautiful, Gadget," he muses, smirking.
I punch his arm, although not hard enough to hurt him.
"It's a work of art and you know it!" I boast in defense of my crudely-drawn smiley face.
Gizmo eyes my pancake drawing with a thoughtful expression. His blue eyes light up with an idea.
"It's missing something…" He cracks a soft-boiled egg and scoops out the yolk with his bare hand. He slaps it down on my pancake and adds a second.
"Ew! Did you even wash your hands?!" I complain, making a face.
"Mhrm, maybe...But now it's perfect! Look at those eyes like sunshine!" Gizmo beams at me and I stick my tongue out at him.
"I'm gonna stab you with a fork." I lift my pint-sized pitchfork in warning.
"Be careful, I'm armed," warns Gizmo, raising a butter knife with a shady look in his eyes.
We sit next to each other, our gazes locked in a stand-off.
Abruptly, we both break out laughing.
My white sandals scuff against the pavement, but I don't mind. Skipping through Stonewall Town, my eyes glaze over the towering apartment buildings.
We left our own apartment behind, but just because we couldn't afford a full-sized house didn't mean we were poor. My brother and I were actually fairly well off. District 2 is definitely the district to live in if you're an orphan like us. Even the poorest town in District 2 is richer and better-fed than the Merchant Town in District 12.
Throwing my hands out, I pitch forward into a cartwheel. My slim body moves through the motion smoothly.
Sunshine makes the beaded necklace I'm wearing sparkle. Ivory hair and golden highlights cause my hair to glow brilliantly under the scorching sun.
"It's so hot!" I whine, wiping sweat from my brow.
Gizmo rolls his matching eyes at me as he lags behind.
"Maybe if you didn't insist on jumping and twirling everywhere, you wouldn't be so warm," he points out.
Rather than accept that he's right, I ignore him.
Stonewall Town is heavily populated by the middle-class because everything is so affordable if you have at least a little bit of money. Since the population is rather high, it's impossible to go very long without running into other people.
Most of the teen girls we pass sigh and whisper amongst their friends as we pass.
I scoff. I know who they're interested in and I'll give you a hint: it's not me. I glance over my shoulder at my brother with his equally-blinding, white-gold hair.
He smiles at me, oblivious to the attention he's getting from the female population.
Some girl with chestnut hair faints into her friend's arms, when Gizmo and I walk by.
"Seriously?! He gets all this attention from girls, but I can't get a single, decent guy to look my way?!" I think enviously.
Perhaps my outfit is working against me: I'm wearing white capris and a pale violet shirt that hangs off my shoulders. It's not particularly girly but far from tomboyish. If it's not my outfit, then what is it that keeps me off the male population's radar?
Suddenly, a wave of girls crash into us and I nearly get swept away. They toss me-(by accident)-into my twin's arms.
Blinking in surprise, he stares down at me.
I, on-the-other-hand, cling to him and swing a random stick around to keep the horde of girls at bay.
"Back! Back I say!" I yell at them, before a girl with sharp reflexes kicks my stick away, effectively disarming me.
I can no longer stop the girls from tightening their circle and nearly smothering my brother and I.
"Hey Gizzy~ Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Giz! Are you dating someone?!"
"Why won't you go out with me?!"
"Back off, carrot-top! He's obviously only interested in me!"
"Oh, yeah?! Too bad, blondie, he's mine!"
Oh, the woes of having a gorgeous hunk of a brother. Which reminds me...we're twins are we not? So that means I'm just as good looking, right? Why don't I get a throng of guys crowding around me?!
"I mean, it would be nice to be liked by someone other than my brother...HA! What am I saying?! My brother is all I need! I don't need anyone else," I think to myself, crossing my arms in satisfaction, completely forgetting the fact my brother is still carrying me.
"What's going on over there?"
"Ignore them, Hero. It's just the Mclellan twins. You shouldn't concern yourself with their business. Your training should be your sole focus."
"Listen to your female companion, Hero! She's a wise one~"
"Pardon me, Grandfather, but you say those words after everything Alayna says…"
Voices. Whose are they?
Blue eyes scanning the crowd, I spot three shapes weaving through it with great determination. Their strides say it all: these people are well-respected and they know it. Although, there is something humble in the taller, younger man.
I lose sight of them as faces block my view. Several girls are breathing hot breath on my skin and it's making me highly uncomfortable. I look up to see sweat on Gizmo's brow.
All these girls are making him sweat with anxiety. He doesn't want this: a bunch of girls flocking to him, cornering him, touching him-I got to do something!
Desperately seeking a way out-(before my brother's arms give out and his fangirls trample me to devour him alive)-my eyes somehow find the blue eyes of the young man I saw. He stares at us from afar with a mixture of pity and gratitude; pity for us and grateful he isn't a part of it.
"Sorry about this."
"Hey, girls! If you want to date my brother, you first have to tell his girlfriend over there!" I yell, struggling to be heard above the crowd.
The girls abruptly fall silent and follow my index finger. Their heads turn in unison, venomous glares firmly in place before they even lay eyes on their target.
The guy with neat, brown hair and those sapphire eyes moves in closer to the girl next to him. Sensing what is to come, he wraps an arm protectively around her. Onyx hair sweeps up into the breeze even at its short length as she gawks at the stampede bearing down on her.
Gizmo wastes no time. He plops me down on my feet and takes off. I take off after him.
"Sorry, um, Hero, about your friend there…." I think, although I'm grateful for the chance to escape above all else.
As we're running, we get separated somewhere along the way.
I don't mind. The routes may be different, but we're both running for the same destination. Darting up a hill, I'm winded by the time I reach the top. I bend over, hands on my knees, and wait for my heart rate to slow.
Below me lies the center of District 2 and the Hall of Sentiment-(I'm pretty sure the Capitol wanted to name it Sediment to annoy us…) The pillars of the Hall of Sentiment are layered with brick, marble, granite, sandstone, limestone, and slate. It is supposed to represent our district's main export: masonry.
I think it makes the Hall of Sentiment look like a stubborn teenager who can't decide what she wants to wear, so she throws everything on that she likes.
Footsteps pound the path behind me. I'm not worried, for I know it's just Gizmo synching back up with me. I wait for him to call out and congratulate me on my escape or tease with a new nickname he's conjured.
He doesn't.
The footsteps keep rapidly approaching.
Hesitantly, I twist my head to peer over my shoulder.
The piercing blue eyes are right; the neat, prim hair is not.
"Oh s***!" I gasp, taking off again.
I half-run, half-stumble down the hill with Hero hot on my tail.
He's fast. He's incredibly fast.
Luckily, I'm fast too or he would have nailed me already. I dare a peek over my shoulder and bite my lip to keep from screaming. Primal instincts kick in at the sight of him thundering down the hill after me. I don't like this. I don't like the way he's picking up speed and I'm slowing down; it sends a wild panic coursing through me.
Adrenaline ignites my blood. I pump my arms and legs to stay ahead of him.
"Call your girls off!" he demands breathlessly.
At least he's winded too…
I don't have enough air to give him a valid response.
"Just call them off!" he insists without the edge I expect.
Opening my mouth to tell him off, I trip instead. Reflexively, I curl into a ball and roll the rest of the way down. A shadow soars over me and I catch a glimpse of Hero using those long legs of his to jump over me.
"At least now he won't step on me."
Suddenly, I slam into slender trees and they give way to my momentum. The trees yelp in pain as I topple them. Wait...pain?!
I hear a groan and look up to have straight, brown bangs tickle my forehead. Eyes widening in panic, I jump up and slam my head into Hero's jaw.
His head whips back with such vigor that I fear I've broken his neck. For several anxious moments, he's stunned. Then he lifts his head with his hand on the back of his neck. Moaning, he cringes as he uses his other hand to rub his jaw.
I suspect it's throbbing painfully right now.
"Oops." My lips twitch into a sheepish smile.
Opening his ocean-blue eyes, he fixes me with a glare.
"You're welcome, Mclellan," he mutters, irritation fueled by his aching jaw.
Thinking back now, I probably could have taken a more mature, less confrontational approach. But I can't because that's not who I am.
"Pfft, what would I be thanking you for?! You chased me!" I huff.
"I'm the only thing that kept you from cracking your head open on that boulder behind me," he points out, gesturing to the stone he is resting against.
"You chased me like you were going to murder me!" I protest.
"I was trying to talk to you. You got my girlfriend in a rotten mess, so it's only fair if you got her out," explains Hero with a tight frown.
I can tell he really believes in this 'fairness' stuff. Childishly, I pretend to have not heard him and fold my arms across my chest.
Now he's rubbing a headache out of his temples. He takes in a deep breath and exhales his anger. Instantly, his eyes portray his new chilly mindset. He's level-headed now.
"Please don't do this to us again, Mclellan," he sighs, removing himself from me and dusting off his dark pants.
That's it? He's not going to lecture me? Yell at me? Berate me even a little? Is he some kind of chivalrous knight?!
Again, I could have offered to shake hands and move on. Instead, I puff out my cheeks and let my annoyance show. Indignantly, I strut past him.
"Sorry, but no one tells the Mclellan twins what to do!" I declare as I pass his broad-shoulder.
Okay, so I might have a small problem of authority. I can't help it if adults suck the fun out of everything!
This time, as I enter the central plaza, my twin brother is the one to run into me-not literally like I did to Hero.
We link arms in a loose fashion as siblings do. Despite my light grip on his arm, it's clear I will never let him go willingly. Everyone who looks at us will know we're inseperable: that no two people could be closer.
In a way, it's an act of defiance against the Capitol. My brother and I are Rebellion babies, meaning: we were born during the second Rebellion against the Capitol. From what we were taught by our elder brother, Joffre-(may his soul rest peacefully), our parents were supporters of said revolt. They sent us away with Joffre to protect us from the Capitol's aftermath, when it became apparent that the Districts were losing the war. No one knows we are the only surviving children of Mr and Mrs. Williams.
So by walking together like this, my brother and I are showing the Capitol we can be strong. We suspect they know of our carefully-concealed past, yet they've done little to act on it. Why not taunt them a little?
Stopping in the aisle, Gizmo gazes down at me almost sadly. We have to separate because of our genders. Otherwise, we would both be in the same seventeen-year-old group. Lightly, I peck his cheek and he plants a chaste kiss on my forehead.
"Read it and weep, Capitol! I'll always have my brother~" I think smugly.
No sooner am I inside the throng of girls does the show begin. Nearly blasting me off my feet, the Hall of Sentiment's speakers scream the national anthem of Panem.
I smash my palms over my ears to salvage what little hearing remains. I swear, the Capitol will make us all go deaf. Then we'll have to watch them laugh mutely at us.
Did I mention I hate the Capitol?
Our Capitol representative has emerged into his fifties, yet no one can believe that fact. Every wrinkle or sign of age is carefully concealed under a layer of makeup. Hair neatly slicked back, you have to be in the front-(or as close as I am)-to notice how it curls at the ends. Lean and fit, he still shows no indication of his true age.
"Welcome back to another glorious Reaping!" he announces, gesturing wide.
I don't trust the sly smile on his face. He's too devilishly-handsome in that attractive way only an older man can achieve. It irks me to hear some girls giggle and gossip about the 'Dark Fox'.
"Ugh….now they have a name for him this year?" I roll my eyes.
I ignore the Rebellion nonsense.
"Let's allow the girls to go first, for it's the gentlemanly thing to do~" he muses, raising his hand to hover over the Reaping ball.
Weaving my fingers together, I resist playing with them. I'm nervous.
There'll be no volunteering this year. Again, I wonder if it's because the Capitol knows about my brother and I. Why else would they keep forbidding District 2 from volunteering?
"Gadget Mclellan!"
Suddenly, a shiver racks my body despite the sun doing its best to roast me alive. The crowd parts and I move through it like a fish in its own separate current. Faces. So many faces. Faces of pity, jealousy, anger, and relief. Mostly jealousy.
They want to be me instead. They want the chance to be a tribute. They want to shed blood for glory.
I pause next to my brother. He reaches for me and I take his hand. Our palms press together and neither of us moves away. We hold each other's gazes and lose ourselves in their depthless blue. Slowly, we raise our locked hands for all to see.
Someone else might look at us and see a last embrace.
For me, it's a promise: I will win the Games and return to my brother. I will not die. I will never be separated from my brother by anything more than the arena.
A Peacekeeper-a lady with a soft, round face-nudges me lightly.
"You'll have a chance to say goodbye later," she points out quietly to me.
Nodding curtly, I pull away from Gizmo. The trek to the stage feels like it has doubled.
As I stand on the platform beside Agorn Harrik-District 2's Capitol representative-I take the time to look as many of the kids in the eye as I can.
"I wonder if any of them will remember me and what they'll say about me?"
Agorn smiles darkly at me before slipping his hand into the boy's Reaping ball.
"Gizmo Mclellan!" he reads.
The blood drains from my face.
I know I said my brother and I are inseparable, but I didn't mean it to lead to this! I don't want him to go into the arena with me! I don't want to have to….have to….
My eyes widen as I realize I can't say it. I don't dare.
Abruptly, I squeeze my eyes shut. Desperately, I wish to hear those two words that can be our salvation. I know I won't hear them, yet it doesn't stop me from hoping.
When I open my eyes, I see only one person...and it's not Gizmo.
Hero's neat brown hair glows in the sunlight. His blue eyes lock on mine and some unspoken message is exchanged. Lips settling into a tight frown, his eyes flicker with a deep fire.
He takes a step….and another….then another….
With every foot he gets closer, the greater my hope grows. It swells and swells until finally:
"I volunteer!"
A majority of the crowd erupts into hushed murmurs and gasps.
Up on stage, Agorn's face tightens. He's not pleased.
"I'm afraid that's not al-"
"I volunteer and that's final. I am Hero Fletcher and I want to follow in my grandfather, Antiochus' footsteps. Will you not grant me that honor?" Hero tilts his head in an innocent challenge.
His eyes are burning with a passion. Something tells me honor is a big deal to him. Maybe it's the way his eyes lit up, when the word passed his lips.
Not that it matters, for all I yearn for is to have Hero replace my brother in the games.
Agorn signs, although it sounds more like a hiss.
"Perhaps we can make an exception…" His pine-green eyes dart to a Peacekeeper on his left.
In the next instant, his eyes are on Hero as he jogs up the steps of the platform. He looks at me expectantly.
"Thanks," I mumble quickly, looking away and crossing my arms.
This makes him smirk lightly.
Without warning, a shriek punches the air.
Confused, Hero and I look around wildly. Then I see it: the Peacekeeper Agorn had looked at has upholstered his revolver and is moving through the sea of children.
Without meaning to, I look to Hero, but his face twists in bewilderment like mine.
It takes me a moment to figure out where-actually, who-the Peacekeeper is trying to reach.
"Gizmo Mclellan! You have been charged with the murder of Peacekeeper Ottis!" yells the white-uniformed man shoving his way to my twin.
My breath hitches in my throat.
"What?" Is all I can think.
"The punishment is: immediate execution."
BLAM!
A blood-curdling scream slices through the stunned silence.
My brother's strong jaw slams into the pavement. His body topples over without an ounce of resistance. His beautiful, tousled, white-gold hair hides his darling face from my view.
He lies there: on the ground, unmoving. I don't understand why he won't get up. I won't allow myself to understand. Childishly, I cling to the loose thread of hope that he'll get up, bruised but alright.
But he doesn't. He just lies there...and lies there.
The Peacekeeper puts his gun away, satisfied, and returns to his post.
No one else moves.
Someone won't stop screaming. The wails are so pitiful and pained that I feel my heart rip. Heat rains down my face, creating clean trails down my cheeks.
Hands grip my shoulders firmly and I spin around to be face-to-face with Hero. His eyes are pained and I wonder if he's the one who is screaming.
But his lips aren't parted.
Now I know: it's me. All at once, it dawns on me: my twin brother is dead and I'm going into the arena to share the same ending.
Collapsing into Hero's arms, my shoulders shake violently. My body trembles with uncontrollable sobs.
"How could they do this?! How dare they do this to the Mclellan twins?! Why...why HIM?!" I think, salty tears blurring my vision.
I scream. I kick. I punch. I take out my frustrations on Hero.
Through it all, he calmly hangs onto me and endures my punishment. I don't think I can hurt him anyway...I don't have the strength anymore.
I refuse to look at him. Him volunteering to save my brother is worthless now.
Gizmo is dead.
The fact brings a bitter taste up from the back of my throat.
The Capitol has found a way to separate us. The Capitol….
"I will kill them…" I mutter almost inaudibly.
"I will kill them," I growl louder this time.
"I. Will. Kill. You. ALL!" I shriek, my icy gaze raking the line of Peacekeepers and Agorn himself.
A couple of said men grab me roughly and drag me away from the crowd. They pull Hero along too.
Meanwhile, Agorn doesn't even look back to check on us. Instead, he straightens out his tie and smiles like a well-dressed wolf.
"Here are your District 2 tributes: Gadget Mclellan, 17, and Hero Fletcher, 16!" he announces into the mic.
I want to rip his vocal cords out...
(A/N-Sorry about how long it took to get this chapter out. I had to deal with Prom drama. I've already started on the next Reaping. I'm eager to get to the interviews and revisit characters who have been out of the spotlight for a while like Reed or Alice.)
