Chapter 17- Iry Coppersmith
As soon as my eyes open, I'm wide awake. Today I start preparing for my interview, and I'm nervous and excited all in one. I wonder what Terra wants me to do; she didn't tell me last night before bed. But she did tell me she was so proud of me for getting a 6.
"That's perfectly in the middle; you're not a target now, Iry," she said, kissing my forehead. She was the happiest I've seen her since we came to the Capitol.
What would I be doing right now if I was at home? Ribbons usually wakes me up early to go outside and do cat things. Maybe I'd be sleeping still, or sometimes I get up and read before making Terra her tea in the mornings. I'd be going to school, and waiting for the Games to start. And waiting for them to be over.
I feel so homesick all of a sudden. I miss Ribbons; I miss Deecey and Alex and baby Eli. I miss my friends. I really want to go home to them, but I have to win first. Terra will help me win; she promised. Terra doesn't break promises. She promised to come home, and she did.
I try to put all the thoughts of home away in my head; pulling the pant legs of my pajamas down to my ankles, I jump out of bed and stretch. Time to find Terra, I think. It's funny that I haven't gone to see her in the mornings since we got here. I usually get up first and make the tea, and bring it to her once she's properly awake. Usually she's had a nightmare, so I calm her down, make her drink her tea, then head off to school after waving to Shuttle.
Shuttle told me a few years ago, after Terra got home and we had just moved into Victor's Village, that she would go check on my sister every day so I didn't have to worry at school. Shuttle and Woven are like family now, just like Deecey is. I don't know Woof very well, but he seems nice.
There're several doors that look the same out here; I don't want to wake Azlon or Woof up when I'm looking for Terra. Must be very, very quiet. I open one door and peer in; Shuttle's asleep in there. She doesn't look like she's sleeping very well, though; her blankets are all in a mess and she's muttering in her sleep. Suddenly I feel like I'm intruding on her privacy, so I back out and shut the door quietly.
It's a bit exciting exploring the apartment when nobody is up. Maybe it's not allowed, but I don't really care right now. I could go anywhere; even escape out into the Capitol! They'd bring me back right away, but it would be an adventure. I've always dreamed of having an adventure. But isn't this an adventure already, being in the Capitol? Even going into the arena seems like an adventure.
The next door I try opens into a brightly lit room; there's a bed just like mine on one wall, and in the bed is my sister. I close the door quietly behind me as I step in, tip toeing to the bed.
"Good morning!" I sing, bouncing onto the bed. Terra sits upright like a flash, eyes wide and terrified.
"Get away from me!" she says, gripping the blankets so tightly her knuckles are white.
"No! No, it's just me, Terra!" I say, grabbing her hands. "It's Iry!" I forgot that she doesn't wake up well; how could I forget? It's been my job to take care of her in the mornings for the past five years.
"Don't kill him!" she shrieks, pulling away from me. "Please don't kill him!"
"Terra, wake up!" She must be having a nightmare. "Wake up, Terra! It's just Iry!" I say. "Terra!"
She blinks a few times, then promptly bursts into tears. "I'm sorry!" I say, reaching out to hug her. "I shouldn't have come in so early." I feel just terrible that I sparked a flashback.
Terra pulls away and lies back down, pulling the covers over her head. It doesn't do much to muffle her crying and talking softly. "Why are you dead? Why did you have to die for me, you fool!"
It's Fletcher. He comes a lot in her nightmares. Terra never says so, but I hear her talking about him at night sometimes.
"I'm not Fletcher. I'm Iry," I say, my own voice trembling now. I hate making her cry.
Her voice clears of the flashback confusion and she sits up again. "Iry?"
"Yeah. Sorry I woke you," I say, trying not to cry myself.
"It's okay. It's okay," she says, pulling me into a tight hug. "Don't worry about it."
"Bad dream?" I whisper.
"Yeah. It's okay though. You're here and that's what matters." What's Terra going to do when I go into the arena? I know Shuttle will look out for her, and Woven and Woof will too, but what is she going to do without me?
"It's interview prep day!" I say.
"It is!" Terra says, pushing me away from her and holding me at arm's length. "I think we're going to present you as a sly, cunning little thing."
"Terra!" I laugh.
"No, a ruthless killing machine. They'll all buy that!"
"Be serious, Terra," I say, still giggling. The idea that anyone could think I would kill people is silly. I'm going into the arena to hide until nobody's left.
"I'll tell you the angle I've figured out for you when we actually go into the prep."
"When will we do that?"
"After breakfast. Which, according to the clock, isn't for another twenty minutes."
"I couldn't sleep. Are you mad?"
Terra hugs me again. "Mad at you? I couldn't be."
"What do you think the arena is going to be?" I ask. "I've been thinking a lot about it."
My sister falls silent, rocking me back and forth. "A cake. A giant, frosted cake that you can take bites out of."
"Terra!" I say, starting to laugh again.
"Or a land made of candy. You have a sweet tooth; I know you'd like that." Terra's being silly, but I know she's really scared underneath it. I don't want her to worry about me, but I don't think I can make her stop.
"Let's hope it's an arena full of cats," I say.
"Small cats," Terra says quickly. "You wouldn't like giant cats."
"Small cats it is. Like Ribbons."
"You'll be just fine, you know that, right?" Terra says.
"I know, you keep telling me."
"Listen, Iry. This is really important, so remember what I'm going to say."
"Okay." Terra pushes me away again, looking straight into my eyes.
"When you get into the Games, you're going to have sixty seconds to stand on your metal plate and figure out where you are and who you're by."
"I know that; everyone who watches the Hunger Games knows that."
"Don't step off the plate before the gong goes; the land mines will blow you to pieces."
"I know."
"And above all, don't run to the Cornucopia. That's where everyone is going to be heading, and that's where you'll get killed. If there's supplies by your feet, grab it, and run as fast as you can away from the Cornucopia. Put as much distance between yourself and the others as you possibly can. Then stay out of their ways and let them fight it out until the end."
"I won't run to the Cornucopia; I promise."
"Good. That's the worst thing you could do."
Someone knocks on the door. "Come in?" Terra calls.
The door opens to reveal a tired looking Shuttle in grey pajamas; her hair is all tangled around her shoulders. "Why are you all up? I can hear you talking from my room. Is everything okay?"
"I couldn't sleep in any longer, so I came to find Terra," I say.
"They're setting the table for breakfast, so if you're hungry you can go get something to eat."
"Did Postumius come back last night?" Terra asks. He wasn't in the living room when we were watching the scores; I just figured that he was asleep in his room. He does that sometimes. I didn't realize he might not have come home at all.
"Not really sure, actually," Shuttle says, looking over her shoulder into the hallway. "You'd think we would hear him come in, don't you think?"
Terra rubs her face. "So we left him at that party and now we don't know where Postumius is."
"That about sums it up. I'll send Woven out to look for him later."
"Isn't the orange menace supposed to teach camera manners or something?" Terra asks. "I was forced on him in my year."
"Well, if he doesn't turn up by the end of breakfast, I'll take Iry first off and teach her camera manners so that even if he does come back, it'll be too late for him to get his hands on her," Shuttle says, combing out her hair with her fingers.
"Thanks," Terra says, looking very relieved. I'm relieved too; I didn't want to spend four hours with Postumius. He freaks me out, actually.
"What about Azlon?" I ask.
"Woven and Woof can tag team on him. I doubt Woof will be up to teaching manners though, seeing as he has very little of his own."
"Iry, go get dressed, and I'll meet you in the dining room, okay?" Terra says.
"Okay, see you there."
I jump off the bed and run out of the room, back to my bedroom with the soft blankets and pretty view. What should I wear? A lot of the clothes in the wardrobe are too fancy or really ugly, but I finally pull out a pretty dark pink shirt and blue pants. Add to that some slippers, because I don't want to wear shoes around the apartment, and I look nice.
My hair's a bit of a mess, but I'm not supposed to touch it before tomorrow, since Damius and the rest of my prep team are coming in to make me really pretty for the interviews. Damius told me last night, "I've got something really special designed for you." I'm excited to see what it is. Anyway, my hair is in a bunch of little braids, so it doesn't look that bad all mussed.
When I get to the dining room, the table's been set with all sorts of breakfast foods: toast, eggs, bacon, fancy waffles- everything tasty that I could ever want to eat. Add onto that the jams and the whipped cream, and I feel like one of the princesses from the books Terra read to me when I was younger.
Azlon comes in as I'm putting whipped cream and strawberries on my waffles. "Good morning!" I say.
"Morning," he says, a bit dismissively. I'm not sure if he likes me or not. Maybe I'm just too young for him; he is eighteen, after all.
"What are you having to drink?" Woven asks, coming in wearing a pretty blue shirt.
"Hot chocolate," I say, grinning. Even living in Victor's Village we don't get hot chocolate very often, so I'm going to drink as much of it as I can while I'm here. I wish I could stay here and look around the city, and just have fun in the Capitol. And eat all sorts of nice things all the time.
"Good choice." Woven takes a piece of toast and starts spreading jam on it. Terra and Shuttle come into the room together, talking quietly.
"Where's Woof?" I ask, before taking a big bite of waffle.
"Still asleep I'm assuming," Woven says. "Our esteemed escort never made it back last night, if you haven't already noticed."
"We noticed. Want to go find him?" Shuttle says.
"Absolutely not. The longer he's away, the better. If Woof wants him back, he can go find him."
"If I want who back?" Woof says, walking in. This waffle is so good.
"Orange boy," Shuttle says. "He never made it back last night."
"I am not tracking him down in the Capitol, I hope you know that," Woof says, also choosing a piece of toast. "If he comes back, he comes back, and I'm not going to worry about the idiot."
"Good, that's settled then," Shuttle says, pouring coffee into a cup for her, and then another for Woof. He nods his thanks.
"Since our escort is missing, Woven, you can take over the manners portion of the prep," Terra says, sipping her tea.
"Alright. Woof, you're coming up with the angle," Woven says.
"Already done, don't you worry your head."
I stop listening then, instead focusing on my wonderful waffle and hot chocolate. I drink two cups and eat three waffles before I'm full, and by that time, everyone else is done too.
"Come on, Iry, let's go to the living room and practice what you're going to do in your interview tomorrow," Shuttle says, wiping her mouth and standing up.
"Okay."
"You're with me, boy," Woof says, pointing at Azlon. "Let's you and me go to your room and discuss angles."
Azlon and I get up at the same time; he's so tall he towers over me. He doesn't say much, that's for sure. But we walk into the living room together, and then part ways; me staying and him going down the hall with Woof.
"Take a seat," Shuttle says, and I sit down on a soft chair across from her. "Alright, I'm going to show you how to smile and talk for the cameras."
"Okay, let's do it!" I say, bouncing. Four hours can't be that much, can it?
It turns out, four hours is a long time. Shuttle's really nice, but really strict, and she has me smile and smile and smile, until my face hurts. Then she has me walk gracefully around the apartment, first in bare feet, then in short heels.
"Damius has promised me that he isn't going to put in you in insanely high heels, and your outfit isn't going to be difficult to walk in, but it's good to get used to heels anyway," she says. The shoes she gives me pinch my feet a little, but I don't complain.
"Repeat after me: It's wonderful to be in the Capitol!" I repeat after Shuttle all the phrases she says, and she's pretty happy with me. I don't know why it takes four hours to teach me all this, because it's easy stuff.
Finally, she pats my cheek and smiles. "You're a natural at this; you've grown up under the spotlight and that makes it easier." It's true; usually every year the Capitol sends some sort of film crew to just remind everyone that Terra still exists. They didn't do it this year, for some reason. Maybe they forgot about her, like she's always hoping. I'm usually interviewed after Terra, and so I know how to talk around the cameras.
"It's easy what you're teaching me. Why does it take so long?" I ask.
Shuttle sighs. "It's the rules."
"We could break the rules."
"We already have, by not having Postumius handle your camera manners. Really, you don't need to learn much else. They're going to love you, Iry."
"Can I ask you something?" I ask, sitting back in a pile of cushions.
"Of course."
"Terra says I'm going to be fine and win and everything, but what do you think?" I love Terra, but she's very optimistic for me. Shuttle's not as optimistic, so I'll trust what she says. If she says I can win, then I'll believe her.
Shuttle's quiet, looking out the window with her chin in her hand. "Shuttle?"
"How honest do you want me to be?" she says finally. My stomach drops and I swallow hard.
"Really honest."
"You're thirteen, which means your age goes against you. Nobody under fifteen has won yet, you know. But you're tall, taller than quite a few of the others, which is in your favor. You've always been well fed and healthy, and you're pretty strong. If you hide, you'll be okay, like Terra was."
"What about allies? Terra told me not to have any, but should I have gotten some?"
She's quiet again. "I don't know. Maybe. Yes, if I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Iry. I don't want to lie to you."
"I don't want you to lie to me either."
"If you had an ally, they could eliminate you, but they might also keep you alive longer. You just don't know until you get into the arena; every year is different."
"What do you think the arena will be this year?" I ask.
"Not a desert. Or snow. They did those too recently. And probably not anything with buildings, since that was done in the last three years. But the Gamemakers are clever; they'll come up with something."
"But am I going to be okay?"
Shuttle looks from the window to me, and looks at me long and hard. "You've got the spirit to win, and you've got sponsors. If you're careful, you can."
I can breathe a bit easier when she says that. "Good. I was hoping you would say that."
"Where's you been?" Shuttle and I both jump when the slurred voice comes from behind us.
"Oh my god, what happened to you?" Shuttle says, leaping out of her chair. Postumius's suit has been ripped, his orange makeup is smeared across his face, and he looks really, really out of it.
"The party ended, but everyone was gone!" Postumius says, lurching over to a chair and collapsing on it. He's still very, very drunk; I can smell him from where I'm sitting. What happened to him? It's kind of funny; I'm trying to hold the giggles in.
"Woven! Woof!" Shuttle yells without taking her eyes off of the escort. His hair isn't curly anymore either; it's gone flat and greasy. "Come here now!"
Woof comes barrelling down the hall, with a fierce look on his face; his eyebrows are all scrunched together and his eyes flash. Woven's close on his heels, followed by Terra and Azlon. Terra looks really confused. Azlon looks bewildered too, but he's trying to hide it.
"What the hell happened to you?" Woof says. He's usually a perfect gentleman; a gruff gentleman, but a gentleman nevertheless. He looks absolutely sick and tired of Postumius now, though. I think we all are.
"You left me at the party!" Postumius says indignantly. I can't help laughing; smothering the giggles behind my hands.
"That's it!" Woof says, taking two long strides to Postumius and lifting him up by the shirt collar. "I have been dealing with your nonsense for seven years, and I have had it!"
"You will put me down now!" Postumius says.
Woof lets go and drops the escort back onto the chair. "You are not to touch another drop of alcohol as long as you're here, do you understand me?" he half speaks, half shouts. "And mark my words, you imbecile, I will have you fired and moved to another district, or out of the Games altogether, by the end of the year. So shut up and sober up."
Woof turns on his heel, shaking his head, and walks away, muttering, "What an ass."
Terra sees me trying not to laugh and quickly comes over, grabs my arm, and pulls me away down the hall. Opening my door, she pushes me in, then shuts the door behind us.
"There, you can laugh now." Immediately I start laughing the hardest I've laughed in weeks. She cracks a smile, then bursts out laughing too.
"I hope Woof does what he says he's going to and gets him fired," Terra says, wiping her eyes.
"Me too," I say, still laughing.
Once we're calmed down a little, she asks, "How did your session go with Shuttle?"
"She says I'm good to go!"
"Excellent. It's about lunchtime now, so why don't we head off and eat something before we come up for your interview angle?"
"Sounds good; I'm starving," I say.
"Let's go then."
Terra Coppersmith
My little sister has mischief glinting in her eye throughout lunch, which turns out to be thinly sliced beef, with mixed roasted vegetables, rice, and a dessert that jiggles, which I don't know the name of. Nobody's really talking, especially since there's a still very drunk Postumius sitting at the end, picking away at a potato. Honestly, I'm amazed he made it home by himself. Do escorts home, like pigeons?
"Pass the salt," Woof says in a monotone. Shuttle hands the small bottle over to him; he shakes it over his meat and slams it hard down onto the table.
"Good afternoon to you too," Woven says, looking at Woof. As amazing as it is to think about, she was once Woof's mentor. Back a thousand years ago, that is.
"Oh hush," Woof says, glaring at his plate and stabbing his meat with such force I think he might break the plate. It's obvious that he wants to put that fork through Postumius. And he could, I know he could. Are we not all experienced murderers at this table? Except for Iry and Azlon, of course. Postumius murdered his fashion sense a long time ago.
The people I killed haunt me; do they haunt the others? I see Calypso every night in my dreams, and Fletcher too. If she had aimed a little lower… I wouldn't be sitting here eating a roast. She would be a mentor in my place. My stomach tightens every time I think of her and Fletcher. Five years ago, this very day, that's when I really got to know Fletcher. When I knew I couldn't kill him, not ever.
And I didn't kill him, not really. He didn't die by my hand, but for my hand. He told me to win for him, and I did. I'm good at keeping promises; I hope I can keep this last one, and keep Iry alive long enough to wear the victor's crown.
If she doesn't win, then I'll die alongside her, and everything I've done in my life will have been for nothing.
Postumius sits there at the end of the table, staring blankly and taking tiny sips of water until the end of the meal. Woof doesn't even glance at him as he gets up. "Woven, you teach the boy his manners; I'm stepping out."
"Be good," Woven says.
"You're not my mother," he says, walking out of the room.
"I kept you alive; I'm darn near it!" Woven yells at him. Woof pokes his head around the corner and stares at Woven.
"You're three years older than me. I was wrong; you're my irritating older sister."
"Your older sister who kept you alive twenty years ago. You still owe me that favor!" Iry's smothering giggles again.
"If you haven't cashed it in yet, you're never going to," Woof says. "I'll be back in a few hours, or when the idiot's dead. Whichever comes first."
"See you in a few hours," Shuttle says. With that, Woof disappears around the corner, and a few seconds later I hear the elevator doors ding open.
"Right, Iry, you and I are going to go discuss your angle in your room," I say, pushing my plate away.
"What are you going to do, Shuttle?" Iry asks. Shuttle meets my eyes briefly, then lowers them.
"I have an engagement I have to be at."
"We'll be fine here," Woven says quickly. I know that Shuttle's engagement isn't a party like the ones I've been going to, and my heart breaks for her. I wish I could help her, but I don't have the power to.
"Let's go, Iry," I say, getting up and putting my napkin on the table. Iry follows suit.
"Did you really keep Woof alive?" she asks Woven before we leave.
"I did, and then the two of us kept Shuttle alive in her Games, and Shuttle and I kept Terra alive in her Games, and now all four of us are going to keep you alive," Woven says.
Iry beams. "I appreciate that," she says.
"I'll see you later," I say, giving Shuttle a hug. She's my friend, and my mentor still. And my protector.
"See you. Have fun with Iry."
Iry bounces onto her bed, smiling. "So, what are you going to teach me?"
"I'm going to tell you what your angle is going to be onstage tomorrow."
"What's my angle again?"
"How the Capitol sees you," I say. Iry sits in front of me, half grown already. Thirteen years old. If I hadn't been victor, she would have grown up in the factories. Me winning stopped all that, and she grew up without much worry or care. I know she worries about me, but she shouldn't. She's too young still. But old enough to go into her Games, three years earlier than I did.
If the arena destroyed me at sixteen, what is it going to do to her?
"So, what's the plan?" she asks.
"You're going to be yourself," I say. "The Capitol will love you, and they do already, just because you're Iry Coppersmith. So you're going to be your sweet and cheerful self onstage. Harmless. Because you will be; you're not going to kill anyone else."
"I could be ruthless," she says, grinning. "I could pretend to be a vicious killer, and then they'd all sponsor me."
I laugh. "You, pulling off vicious? Leave that to the Careers; they play that best. Nobody's going to believe that you can't wait to get into the arena. Let them think that you're just a little girl, because you are."
"I thought I was a big girl. I'm thirteen, Terra, not nine."
"I know that. And you're not going to be helpless. Harmless and Helpless are two different things."
"How?" she counters.
"Playing harmless means that you wouldn't kill someone. Playing helpless means that you aren't capable of killing someone."
"Sounds like the same thing to me."
"Play innocent then," I tell her. "Innocent is easy to play. Just be yourself. Everyone's seen you on camera during those yearly interviews." I hate those interviews; they do a brief overview of all the victors and their families. I'm the only one with a family, though. Woof's usually off in voluntary solitary confinement, and Woven and Shuttle have both chosen not to get close with anyone else outside Victor's Village. But this year, the cameras didn't come. Not sure why. Perhaps the Capitol got tired of seeing District 8.
Iry's nodding. "I can play innocent. It'll be fun, won't it?"
"You'll like the interviews; you like to talk," I say, poking her in the side. She laughs.
"I do, don't I?" she says. "Okay, tell me what to do and I'll do it."
Her words come eerily close to the same ones I said five years ago, in my own interview session with Shuttle. The words are burned into my brain:
"Tell me how, and I'll do it."
"I think you're already there."
I wrap my arms around my sister and lean into her, feeling her aliveness. She leaves me in two days. My sister, who I promised I would always keep safe. She has to win, no matter the cost.
"Terra?" she says,
"Yeah?"
"I'll be okay. You don't have to worry about me," she says, but I hear the slight tremble in her voice.
"Oh Iry," I say, hugging her even tighter. "I'll always worry about you."
Several hours later, I think she's got the innocent part down to a tee. "If you do that tomorrow night, then they'll love you, and fall over themselves trying to sponsor you," I tell her.
"I'll be good, you'll see," she says.
"You don't need any more coaching. You're ready to go," I say. "What do you want to do now?"
The past comes back to haunt me again, this time in the form of Fletcher Wellrock, who's asking me to go back to his room so we can get to know each other. A five year old ghost drifts through the halls of this apartment, coming after me at random moments.
"I don't see how I can hate you in the arena. Come on, it'll be fun, and we won't have many more conversations with anyone in two days."
Oh Fletcher, but we did have conversations; talks that lodged themselves in my heart and never left. He loved me, and I loved him, and now it's all over. I need to focus on Iry, not Fletcher. He's dead, and my sister is alive, and she's the most important thing to me. It doesn't stop my heart from hurting, though.
"What do you want to do?" I ask, blinking back tears so Iry doesn't see me cry.
"Tell a story. We've got all day," she says.
"Aren't you too old for stories?"
"Not the ones you tell. Tell me about Mother."
Iry doesn't remember our mother, since she died when Iry was born. I was eight, and my father was gone all day to the factories. So when Iry wasn't at a neighbor's house and I was at school, I took care of her. I was both mother and sister to her.
"She loved to sing," I say, trying to remember what I can of our mother. "She was beautiful. Mother looked more like you than me, if you ask me."
"What about when I was born? Tell me about that again." Iry's favorite story when she was little was how she was born. She never minded that Mother died at the end, because I never told her the end. Iry ages backwards in my mind, until she's that little baby again.
"I was there when you were born, and so was Father," I start. "And Mother asked to see you. So the midwife put you in her arms, and you stopped crying immediately."
"What did Mother say?"
"You know what she said," I tell her, teasing her.
"I know, but say it anyway. I like hearing it."
"Mother looked down at you, and she smiled. Then she said, 'You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Iry. We'll call her Iry, for your mother, Murdo.' I loved you as soon as I saw you."
"Don't forget the last part. It's my favorite."
"And outside, a rainbow streaked across the sky." A rare bit of beauty in District 8. I end the story there, because Mother weakened right after, and died ten minutes later. I miss her, but the loss has faded to a dull ache over the years. The pain of losing Father is still sharp; I miss him so much too.
Iry smiles, and flops backwards on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "And Father gave me her wedding ring, to remember her by."
"And you gave it to me before I left," I say, holding out the little ring on the chain I always wear around my neck.
"It gave you luck, didn't it?" she says.
"I think it did. I'm here, aren't I?" I say.
We're so quiet after I tell the story that we can hear the elevator doors open all the way across the apartment.
"Woof or Shuttle do you think?" I ask Iry.
"Woof," Iry says. "I think he'd come back first, because when Shuttle goes out, she stays out for a long time." Thinking about Shuttle hurts too, but I won't tell Iry that. She doesn't need to know everything about being a victor. When she wins, I'll protect her just like Shuttle and Woven have protected me.
"Let's go see, c'mon," I say. When I stand up, my right leg creaks a little. I hate the metal that replaced my leg, but what can I do about it? What's done is done, and it's just something I have to bear. Like how Woven bears her metal hip and pinned wrist. Or how Porter Tripp endures her everlasting stiffness of spine. We victors all have something to accept about our Games. I'm no different.
"I'll race you!" Iry says, mischief glinting in her eyes again, sitting up and sliding off the bed. I still marvel at how tall she is; just about as tall as I am now. She's not a little girl anymore, is she?
"I'll win, you know I will," I say. My sister means the world to me, and I would bring the world down around us all to keep her alive. And I will, if need be.
"Go!" she says, laughing, and I run after her out of the bedroom.