Macy Barker, 15
Victor of the 150th Annual Hunger Games
(Seven Months Before the Reapings)
The knock at the door startles Macy from her position on the benchtop, making her hand slip and the paintbrush to fall to the counter. She grimaces at the splatter of red paint like blood ribboning across the marble countertop and pulls her eyes away from it. Three years, it's been, she thinks as she hops to her feet, running to answer the door. Three years, and I can still hardly handle the color red. She shakes her head. That's just sad.
When she slides across the slippery hardwood floors to open the front door, she pauses for a moment. It's Sprucen's birthday. And Macy is only half-finished with his gift.
It has become a bit of tradition in the past few years for Macy to give everyone around her a coffee mug for any holiday. Capitolmas? Coffee mugs. Birthdays? Coffee mugs. Baby showers? Coffee mugs. Funerals, weddings, random days when Macy feels like throwing ceramics at people? Coffee mugs.
And since this is Sprucen's first birthday since they've officially been a 'thing', Macy wants to do something special for him. Instead of going into town to the print shop and getting some snarky comment painted onto a mug, she wants to do herself. Obviously that has not worked out very well for her. The mug sits half-finished on the countertop, surrounded by a splatter of red paint that she had been using to paint a heart.
So…yeah, maybe she's totally head-over-heels for Sprucen. He's just…just…just so funny, and cute, and nice and…did she mention funny? The way he ducks his head when that adorable little laugh comes out of his throat and the way he says Macy's name and the way he can comfort her when no one else can…well, what else do you expect her to do?
Macy takes a deep breath and pulls open the door. "Hi, Sprucen!" she exclaims, grinning from ear-to-ear. Everything seems brighter since she met Sprucen. Macy has never been one for superstition, and certainly doesn't believe in love at first sight. But she's allowed to be in love with Sprucen by this point; they met over a year ago! That's fine.
"Hey, Macy!" Sprucen replies, his voice filled with matching enthusiasm. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yep," Macy declares, glancing behind her into the kitchen, where she can see the mug sitting on the table. "Hey, so…I do have a present for you but it's not exactly finished yet…" She smiles lopsidedly and shrugs as if to say what can you do?
"That's fine, Mace," Sprucen says, reaching over the threshold and taking Macy's hand. She exhales and shuts her eyes for a moment. See, this? This is what you lived for, Macy. This is what you got out that arena for!
It feels good. It feels good to have someone who loves her as Macy, not as the girl from the Quarter Quell. Cypress, Larken and Holland are nice and everything…if not a little overbearing sometimes…but Sprucen is different. For one thing, he is Macy's age. The only other person she knows that is her age is Shallow, and it's not like she can see him every other day if she feels like it. He's…a little tied up. And although President Purdue gives her more freedom to hang around Shallow when Macy goes to the Capitol, his service is still bound. He's still stuck as an Avox for the foreseeable future.
As the pair walk hand-in-hand down the path to the road out of the Victors' Village, Sprucen squeezes Macy's hand and says, "Y'know, sometimes I worry about you all alone in that big house."
Macy shrugs. "I've managed it just fine for three years." Her eyes dart toward the ground for a moment before she lifts her head and levels it with Sprucen's. "And if I ever get lonely, I can always go see Larken or Cypress." Holland isn't exactly the best conversationalist, Macy thinks. And Mabel…the train of thought crashes and burns as Macy's shoulders slump. Two months ago, Mabel Cypress, the Victor of the Ninetieth Hunger Games at twelve-years-old passed away. Her health had been ailing for ages, but it was still a shock to Macy's system, and remains that way to this day. She never knew Mabel very well, but is stands as another reminder that Macy's life is not endless. She almost lost it three years, but now she refuses to waste a moment of it. "So," she says brightly. "What do you think I got you?"
"Definitely not a coffee mug," Sprucen jokes, gently nudging Macy's shoulder with his own. "You'd never get anyone a coffee mug."
"No, of course not. If you really want to know, it's an elephant," Macy teases in response.
"Do they have those in the Capitol?" he asks.
"Oh," breathes Macy, her face flushing slightly. "No. I've only seen pictures of them, but I don't think you'd like them. They're big, and can crush people easily."
"Yeah, you're right," says Sprucen. "So…I assume you know where you're going, or are we just going to wander until we starve to death?"
"Potentially, a little of both," Macy says mischievously as she leads Sprucen off the main path. They walk along a thin trail through the quickly thickening trees in silence for a few moments before Macy takes another sharp turn. The dense canopy of trees overhead practically blots out the sun, making only little shafts of light reach the ground. Macy looks around, breathing in the fresh smell of the forest. The woods around the Victors' Village remain untouched by the lumberjacks of 7—at least, for now. Macy is sure that eventually they will all be gone and the people of 7 will be left without any lumber to provide. She can only she is long gone by that point.
After a few moments, the path widens into a clearing. Macy bounds forward excitedly, listening to the faint whirring which comes from her prosthetic legs when she moves too fast. They've only overheated on her once—after she tried to help Larken train to run a half-marathon by running it too—which left her collapsed on the side of the road for half an hour before Larken realized what had happened. That was a not a memory Macy liked to revisit, but it is much more humorous than many of her less-desirable memories.
In the center of the clearing is a small, ornate metal table and two chairs. They came from Mabel's backyard, and they are so beautiful that Macy couldn't bear to get rid of them. And now here they reside in a mossy clearing where the sun peeks through the canopy of trees overhead, the perfect place for a quiet birthday lunch.
Only now does Macy realize she left the picnic basket at home. She smacks herself in the forehead and turns to Sprucen. "I guess we can't have lunch…" she mumbles, covering her face with her hands. She looks up and meets Sprucen's eyes. They're such a pretty shade of hazel. "I left the picnic basket at my house. I'm sorry, Sprucen."
"Oh, don't worry about that, Mace!" Sprucen exclaims, pulling Macy into a side-hug. "I get to spend the afternoon with you, in somewhere beautiful! I could care less about having food!"
Macy smiles and blushes. She ducks her head and snuggles closer to Sprucen's side. "You really are an optimist, you know that?"
"Oh, I know. That's all anyone at school ever tells me."
School, Macy muses. I wonder what it's like to still have to go to that. Victors haven't been required to go to school for decades; what's the point? As long as they can read, write and do basic math, that's really all they'll need to know. Macy told herself shortly after she won that she'd go back next year. She said the same thing a year later. And still she has yet to return to school. It's been three years and she still feels immensely unprepared to integrate back into that particular part of Panem. Everything has been different since she came back; everyone knows that. But they don't know just how difficult it was for Macy to find some semblance of normal again, and she still feels as if she hasn't achieved that.
"Do you like the setup, though?" she asks curiously, looking up at her boyfriend's face. His tan skin is illuminated beautifully by a shaft of light that fought its way to the forest floor, making him even more attractive that he usually is. But then again, he's always attractive to Macy. Maybe that's just what happens when someone comes along to fix your life. You see them as an angel. That's what Sprucen is to Macy; her savior. She had been trapped in a depressive funk for so long she doubted she'd ever get out of it, and then Sprucen marched into her life and pulled her out of a deep, dark hole. She still feels like she owes something to Sprucen, to repay him for everything he has done for her, but Sprucen is not an easy person to get gifts for. He's always been far too humble.
"Of course I do," Sprucen says sincerely, resting his chin on Macy's forehead. "It's beautiful, Mace. Almost as beautiful as you are."
"Please," laughs Macy, grinning. "as if. I'm nothing special, and you know it."
Sprucen laughs his musical laugh, ducking his head like Macy so adores. "Now that's just not true. But you're entitled to your opinion, even if it's wrong."
Macy looks up at Sprucen's face again, her eyes alight with life. It's different from the way she looked when she came out of the arena; face drawn, body wracked with hunger, eyes dulled by everything she had seen. Daniella told her three years that one day she'd find her peace, and in this moment, Macy wonders if this is what she meant. This is peace. At least, this is peace to Macy.
A/N: So yeah Macy isn't Arthur. But I need to bite the bullet and write epilogues from DAH before I check in with him, so we get to see Macy a chapter early! This whole chapter came to me as I was writing it, and I really was just writing it so Macy could be happy for once in her life. What can I say, I show my love for characters by making them suffer…
1. Who is better: Macy or Sprucen?
2. Thoughts on Sprucen?
3. Is Macy's thing with coffee mugs weird?
4. How will Macy hold up with another round of tributes to mentor this year?
Random Question of the Chapter: (this question is only going to make sense if you've read both TYAU and DAH) Who do you prefer: Cypress or Larken?
My answer: in terms of being a good mentor, Cypress. In terms of an interesting character and being fun to write, Larken.
I know I said I'd have a close date, but I haven't decided on that yet. Eventually. I promise.
-Amanda
