A/N: This is not at all the direction I was expecting to take with this chapter, but hey. I like it. Sorry it's short, but I wanted to roll with this idea, and get something to you before Mother's Day weekend. If you read my opening Author's Notes, include "I can't believe Alicia ate that" in your review.
Happy birthday Katniss Everdeen!
Adelaide Simon (14) POV
Rebel
"Hey, Lilywater?" I say into the phone, struggling to keep my voice at a Capitol accent. "It's Amelia Spirit. I was wondering if my sponsor gift from a few days ago went through?
"Oh, yes, Miss Spirit," Lilywater babbles. "It was processed this morning, and should be sent shortly."
"Fantastic," I say, my voice cracking. I pinch my arm for slipping up, and pray she didn't catch it. "Also, two of the gifts were supposed to go to tributes who are currently dead. Can I get refunded for those, since they were never delivered?"
"Absolutely," Lilywater says. "Is there anything else you need?"
"No, that should be it," I say. "Thank you for your help."
"Any time," she says. "It was a pleasure talking with you."
"You as well," I say. "But I really must be going."
Without waiting for a response, I hang up the phone and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Ever since my cameo in Ralix's family's interview, I've felt ill at ease. What if people recognized me as Adelaide Simon, daughter of the mayor of District 11? What if Capitolites recognized me as sponsor Amelia Spirit. What if the rebellion recognized me as a traitor?
I take a series of quick breaths, trying in vain to calm myself down, but I can't. I've put too much on the line. I've risked my lives, along with several others, and for what? A rush of adrenaline? My aliases would be hard enough to keep track of without the added stress of the rebellion, and the grieving of Jasper, but it's getting to be too much to handle.
But I have to keep going. I can't just stop. Amelia can't fall off the face of the planet, and neither can Adelaide. I have a reputation as both characters, and I need to keep both of them around. Frankly, at this point, I don't know which one is really me, and which one was made up for the other's gain.
The thought of not knowing myself, or my place in the world- the two things everyone should know- is about enough to make me crack. I fall to the ground, pulling my knees toward my chest and crying with shaky breaths. I stay there on the ground, crying until I'm sure I can't cry any longer, and I peel myself off the ground.
I look in a mirror and see none of my makeup salvageable. Sighing, I take it all off, then reapply it. I tuck the stray strands of hair behind my ears, then flash a big toothy grin at my reflection. It's like my battery has been recharged, and I feel like I can do anything.
Of course, who knows how long that will last.
Alicia Schripe (16) Mentor POV
Victor of the 225th Hunger Games
I look down and let out a strangled cry. I was expecting it, but seeing it so clearly is terrifying. My hands start to shake, and I drop it. I don't care though. I'll pick it up... eventually.
"Alicia?" Nate calls. I don't respond, and he knocks on the door. "Alicia, are you okay?"
"I'm fine!" I call, trying to loosen the knot in my throat. "I'll be out in a few minutes."
"Did you scream?" he asks, concerned.
"Um, yeah," I say, uncomfortable. "I, uh... Stubbed my toe. I'll be right out."
"Take your time," he says, unconvinced.
I hear his footsteps fade, and I regard myself in the mirror above the sink, trying to visualize what I was before I was reaped. I have the same wavy red hair, granted, it's a bit longer, and my bangs have finished growing out. My eyes are still green, but a touch grayer than they were this time last year. My face is more chiseled, my skin more tanned. I grew an inch, probably the last inch I'll ever grow. I'm less scrawny, less bony. I'm a year older, but it's not enough. Not old enough.
25. Twenty five. Two and a half decades. Nine years from now. Either way, it's the same thing.
At the age of ten, 25 was the age I decided for myself that I would be ready to have kids. Not 23 like my father, or 20 like my mother. Certainly not 16. My plans were to graduate high school, marry peacefully, work in a factory and have three kids. I'd have the kids between the ages of 25 and 32, because those are the ages with the statistically best offspring.
10 year old Alicia was very analytic.
Never in my plans did I consider entering the games, winning the games or becoming a prostitute. Never did I think I would be pregnant a year after winning the Games. It's a good thing I never became a psychic, because most of my predictions have been false of late. Because I didn't graduate high school, I'm not married, and I don't have a factory job.
And unless the two little lines are wrong, I'm pregnant.
Questions!
1) What would you do in Adelaide's position?
2) Who do you like more; Adelaide or Amelia?
3) What should Alicia do with her baby?
Quote of the day: "Throw me to the wolves and I will return leading the pack." -Jms2's sister
-Make the day special!
