Blergh I think the ending of the chapter got away from me a bit. But I hope the rest still comes out okay!

This kiddo was made by goldie031! Lemme know what you think of him!

12 - Canaries

"There was a shift, I swear!" The sponge scrubbing against his hands hurts. Cole flinches with every addition of soap Hartson applies. "There was a weird smell and I knew something bad was going to happen!"

Hartson just sighs as he rinses the sponge. Cold water pours over Cole's hands, leaving his fingers feeling numb.

"I'm not lying, Hartson! I swear!"

"I know, kid." Hartson ruffles Cole's already wild hair. "I know you like to be safe rather than sorry."

The miner next to him scoffs, flicking her hands down at the sink. She's part of Hartson's crew, one of the many members who openly complain about Cole going into the tunnels with them. Hartson doesn't even look back at the woman, who boldly declares, "Just get rid of the kid already, Flare. We're losing what little earnings we already get down there."

Hartson sighs again. He gives Cole a light shove in the direction of the break room, nodding for him to go ahead. Cole looks between Hartson and the crew member—will Hartson give her a good talking to?—before quickly limping in the direction of the steel doors.

Other members of their crew are moving into the break room, as well as some other shifts that Cole sees on a daily basis. He slips inside, between two taller men with tattered bags in their hands, and does a quick once-over of the interior. The break room is lined with tables and benches as usual, the dim lighting and cold walls leaving much to be desired in regards to comfort. Most of the workers head over to an empty table or join their own crews, but kids like Cole have their own place in the break room.

In the far corner of the room, right up against the wall and with little to no food in their hands, are the other canaries. He recognises the majority wearing the same uniform as him, huddled together for warmth as they watch their crews munch on their snacks, though the rest wear two different uniforms. The lady that runs the orphanage had always told Cole that other orphanages supplied canaries to the miners, but it still manages to throw Cole off when he sees the clashing colours against the yellow shirts and black pants he sees in his everyday life.

He trips over his own feet twice as he makes his way over. Despite all the effort that Hartson had put into washing Cole's hands free of coal dust, he still manages to pick up stains from workers he passes. Cole huddles close to the other kids from his orphanage once he arrives, sitting himself next to one of the canaries still in training.

Ciera shifts so that Cole can get more warmth. He smiles down at her, thankful, and asks, "How did training go?"

Ciera's only ten, two years younger than him, and has been in training since she arrived at the orphanage a year ago. He hears a lot of adults say she's good at detecting gases in the air, which is why Hartson let it slip that she may be joining a crew in a few weeks. As far as Cole knows, every other crew has a canary; though once a year some of them go away for the Hunger Games, with a rare few turning eighteen and joining the crew entirely. Cole's personally excited that he'll be seeing Ciera more in the mines—they've been close friends since they met, and he loves spending time with her.

"Really good," she rasps. Like Cole, her voice has become deep and crackly. Hartson says it's because of all the smoke and dust they breathe in. "I got all the tests right."

Cole shivers slightly. Another child from their orphanage joins them, huddling next to Cole. "That's great!" he cheers. "Do you think we'll get to have the same breaks?"

"I hope so." Ciera smiles proudly. "It'll be really fun if we do."

The last of the miners on their breaks enter the room, filling the tables one by one. Cole watches eagerly for members of Hartson's crew. He likes counting them off, seeing who sits where. Sometimes he tries to guess what they brought for snacks, wonders what those snacks taste like. He coughs harshly—just the slightest bit of dust spills out of his mouth—just as his favourite member of the crew arrives.

Not a lot of people like Nirav for some reason. They always give him mean looks and throw things at him when he isn't looking. It makes Cole sad when he sees it happen, but at least Nirav knows how to bring his smile back. The man scratches at the stubble along his jaw as he spots the canaries. He hurries past the workers, jumping over legs stuck out in his path and catching bags through his way.

Nirav is amazing, Cole thinks. He wants to know how he does all those catches, how he dodges everything when he's paying attention. Everyone's missing out on how great he is, being mean to Nirav all the time. Cole wishes they'd be a little nicer to him.

Nirav wastes no time joining the canaries. It seems like it's the only place he can sit at times, with all the nasty glares everyone gives him. Ciera beams at him, as does Cole, but he can't help noticing that a few of the older canaries move away from where Nirav kneels down.

"Did you get a lot of good work done?" Ciera asks. Cole gawks at her. Cole could've told her how their crew's work went!

Nirav grins at her, setting down the bag that had been thrown at him. He gives her a thumbs-up, then points to Cole.

"Did you do something?" Ciera gasps. "Did you get to do something fun?"

Cole smiles proudly. That's another thing he likes about Nirav—he lets Cole talk about his accomplishments, always seems to know when Cole wants to announce an event. Cole's always been social, always wanted to be involved with people. Some of the miners get angry at him over it (he still can't figure out why), but Nirav always, always looks to Cole to say his piece. Maybe it's the fact that Nirav himself doesn't talk at all, that not everyone likes to peek into his private life. Or maybe Nirav is just super cool and only Cole knows.

"I," Cole brags, "saved everyone from deadly gas."

There's a lopsided grin on Nirav's face as he watches the canaries. He always makes that face whenever Cole mentions things like this. Is he proud of Cole? He must be! Nirav is always so nice to him!

Ciera's looking at him, mouth agape, as she shuffles closer. "That's amazing!" she squeaks. "I'd be so scared if I smelt it for real! You're a real hero, Cole!"

"Please."

Nirav immediately tenses up, the grin erased from his features like a candle being extinguished. Cole and Ciera watch him carefully—his hands clench into fists, his shoulders rigid and his expression a blank mask. From their left, coming from the direction of the canaries in blue, approaches a member of Hartson's crew. She's still covered in a large amount of soot and sweat, but by now Cole knows everyone by the look of their hands.

There's a thin white line around her ring finger, standing out against her olive skin; there's not a lot of women in Hartson's crew, but she's the only one with that pale line around her finger. One of the older kids said that it's what adult's fingers look like when a ring they wear for a long time is removed. Cole sometimes wishes he could see what her ring looks like, but the orphanage doesn't like letting kids wander about the Seam on their own.

Cassia doesn't stop too close to Nirav, keeping him at arm's length like everyone else does. He doesn't move to look up at her either, both pretending the other doesn't exist. Cassia sends a glare down at Cole, at Ciera, and he shrinks back at the anger in her eyes.

"You wasted valuable hours, is what you did," Cassia seethes. Cole frowns up at her. She'd said that earlier, but what do hours have to do with anything? "If you ask me, you're the worst canary I've had to work with."

"I'm a good canary!" Cole argues. Cassia glares even more harshly down at him. He shrinks back again, squeaking in fright. "I'm a good canary…"

Cassia shakes her head with a sigh. "You're Hartson's favourite, is what you are," she says. "Probably the only reason why he hasn't sent you away."

The words hurt worse than starving nights. Cole's face contorts as he stares up at her, a small whine slipping out of his throat as he starts to shake. He's not cold—well, not as cold as usual with Ciera and another canary either side of him—but he definitely feels something making him tremble. He's not scared or angry. If anything, his chest hurts and his eyes burn, his nose suddenly clogged as his vision blurs.

Cole sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head up at Cassia. She's wrong! Hartson keeps Cole on the crew because he's a good canary! She's just jealous that Hartson likes him better than her. That's all it is; jealousy!

And he wants to tell her this, demand she stop being so mean to him. He opens his mouth, teeth chattering together loudly. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Nirav moving, pulling his attention away ever so slightly. He has to tell Cassia she's wrong. He has to… Cole has to… Has to…

He's juggling. Three small pebbles, all the size of Cole's smallest finger, thrown about in the air with precise movements.

Ever so slowly the trembling subsides. Cole isn't sure how, but everything he wants to say to Cassia is just melting away as he watches the pebbles with wide eyes. He can't remember what she'd said mere seconds earlier, can't remember why he's so upset at her. All he can focus on is Nirav's hands moving back and forth as the pebbles fly about between them.

The entire world just fades then, all of Cole's attention glued to the dark-skinned man. This always seems to happen whenever something bad goes on around Cole, always seems to pull him away from the world and keep him from getting too distressed. Nirav meets his eye, smiling reassuringly; in a matter of seconds he ceases his juggling. Cole blinks. He smiles back, completely calm and almost unaware of Cassia's presence nearby.

Almost.

She lets out a huff that gets their attention again—Nirav's brow quirks, a dry glance thrown her way. As she crosses her arms over her chest, she scoffs, "At least the Avox knows how to make itself useful."

And with that Cassia storms away.

It takes a while for the whole argument to come back to him, but at least this time he's able to sit through it without Cassia's intimidating gaze on him. Ciera leans her head down on Cole's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she whispers. Cole nods, then shakes his head.

"I wish she wasn't so mean," he pouts. "I'm a good canary. Hartson told me so." And with a pleading look in his eye, he turns to Nirav. "Right?"

Nirav smiles. He clenches his fists, thumbs sticking out, and flicks his right thumb against the left. Best, he declares.

Cole smiles back at him. He's a good canary—he's the best canary. Cassia's just jealous that Hartson likes him more. That's all.

It's not every day that he gets called into Mrs. Wyland's office. Normally she leaves the kids be, only ever calls them to her personally when there's a change in shifts or big news to be shared. Cole kicks his feet out in front of him as he waits for her to come back into the room. Cole's been in this room exactly twice since he was picked up off the streets as a toddler: The first time was when he'd been given the details of whose crew he'd be working with, and the second had been following a nasty sprain that had left him with his limp.

Mrs. Wyland nearly pulled him from the mines because of the sprain, but Cole's been doing fine despite it. He just can't run as fast as the miners or walk properly, and there's nothing wrong with that. Canaries aren't put in the mines to run—they're put down there to sniff out danger.

Cole knocks his worn black sneakers together insistently. He looks up and down the room, out the window behind her desk. He even concentrates on the dents in her desk, spotting a few new etches and splinters since the last time he'd seen it. He peeks up at her paperwork next, curious to see what she's been working on. One piece of paper has lots of numbers next to names—Cole can see his own, right next to the words "Not Taken"—while a few others have what looks to be costs of things. Wheat, water, fruits; it's all things Cole remembers eating when they're lucky enough to have food to spare.

Right in the middle of the desk is a slip of paper labelled "complaints", alongside names of canaries who have short sentences written about them.

Nigella Whitfield, 13, Evening shift - So far has raised sixteen false alarms. Will retire if another incident occurs.

Charlie Day, 9, Morning shift - Failed to detect dangerous fumes on three occasions; two crew members lost. Recommended retirement. (Find family that can afford an orphan.)

Cole Aish, 12, Morning shift - Costing miners money with false alarms. No action taken from crew leader.

Cole Aish, 12, Morning shift - Frequent arguments with miners. No action taken by crew leader.

Cole Aish, 12, Morning shift - Raised forty-seven false alarms in the past two months. No action taken by crew leader.

Cole Aish, 12, Morning shift - Getting easily distracted by the Avox in the crew. Retirement recommended. No action taken by crew leader.

Cole Aish, 12, Morning shift - Has become increasingly skittish in the mines. Disaster risk suspected. Retirement recommended. No action taken by crew leader.

Cole—

He jumps almost clear off his seat when the door creaks open. Mrs. Wyland heaves out the heaviest sigh as she enters the room; the door slides shut behind her, the floorboards groaning with each step she takes.

"Good morning, Mr. Aish," she says drearily. Cole waves to her with a big smile. Mrs. Wyland's grey eyes just stare down at him with exhaustion. "I've been hearing quite a bit about you."

Cole nods. He points to the paper on her desk. "My name is on there a lot," he says.

"It is. Do you know why?"

He blinks. "There's stuff written next to my name. Isn't that why?"

Mrs. Wyland sighs again, picking up the paper as she rubs her brow. A pair of cracked glasses are pulled from her desk, perched on her nose as she counts aloud how often Cole's name appears on the list. "Fifteen notices made by your crew in just this past month," Mrs. Wyland reports. "That makes a total of seventy complaints since you joined Mr. Flare's crew."

Cole's heart leaps into his throat. People are complaining? Why would they complain about him? He's a good canary; Hartson says so!

"But why—"

"Cole." She sets down the paper. "Honey. I know it's not a lot, but what you have here is all you have right now. We haven't asked you to take tessera yet, you're not stuck begging in the Seam. You really need to make better judgements when you're in those mines."

"But I am!" His lip trembles as he tries to bite back tears. "I'm a good canary, Mrs. Wyland! Hartson still wants me in the crew!"

She nods. "I am aware of Mr. Flare's decision to keep you. That's why I asked him to come in and have a chat with the two of us."

Cole watches her, mouth agape as what she says processes in his mind. Why would Hartson need to come in? Why can't Mrs. Wyland just let Cole stay with him? Cole doesn't want to stop being a canary—it's all he has! No one else appreciates him like Hartson does, and Nirav always makes the canaries from Cole's orphanage smile. Why talk to Hartson about something that isn't wrong?

He whines before he can stop himself. The floodgates basically open themselves up as panic settles in his chest. He doesn't want to leave Hartson's crew. He doesn't want to stop being a canary. He doesn't want to—

The door creaks open again. Cole actually squeaks in alarm, almost flinching as he wipes at his face. Some of the grime under his nails sticks to his face, but he doesn't get much time to remove it as the seat beside him is occupied by an older figure. Hartson just groans as he leans into the seat, appearing stiff and exhausted from the day's work so far. Cole can't bring himself to look the man in the eye. He just chokes down a sob and scrubs at his face with the front of his shirt.

Mrs. Wyland removes her glasses and rests her hands neatly on her desk. She looks between Cole and Hartson once before saying, "Thank you for joining us, Mr. Flare."

One glance at Cole brings an edge to Hartson's tone. "Clearly this won't be a discussion about the weather."

"If only." She slides the paper across the desk. "I'm sure you're well aware of Cole's actions in the mines. It's usually protocol for the crew's leader to report these things, after all."

"Must have slipped my mind."

"Mr. Flare, I didn't call you here just so you could treat the situation so glibly. There are serious concerns about your canary."

Hartson sinks into his seat with a grunt. "I'm aware of these concerns," he grumbles.

"Then perhaps you'd like to explain why you're still using him."

He glances down at the paper. Then Hartson looks to Cole. Cole sniffs loudly and wipes at his face with his shirt again. There's a big wet splotch on his shirt, too damp to keep him warm when he goes back to work. Hartson clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

"Only if you tell me someone else will take him," he says.

Mrs. Wyland opens her mouth, only to stop when Hartson adds, "And it has to be the truth."

"Mr. Flare," she sighs. "This is people's lives and jobs on the line."

"Cole's included."

"Maybe so, but unlike Cole your workers have families to support."

Hartson nods to her smugly. "He stays."

"Mr. Flare—"

"And why today, of all days?" Hartson looks down at Cole again, this time reaching over and ruffling his hair. "It's his first time having his name put in, and he's more than likely going to see a friend leave for the Hunger Games. Why today, Mrs. Wyland?"

Cole's never seen Mrs. Wyland hesitate before, and it leaves him a little stumped as to how serious this talk is becoming. He'd completely forgotten that today was the day people leave for the Hunger Games. Everything going on at the mines and the stress of Hartson's crew bullying him just took over, it seems.

He looks up at Hartson and wipes at his face a final time. His cheeks are still slippery, but at least he can see a little better. "That's today?" he whispers.

Hartson nods. "Who's going?" Cole adds.

"We don't know. But only one person is going this year—not two."

So one of his friends might not be leaving! That's a relief. He always worries that one of his friends will leave, especially since no one ever comes back. Wherever they go to stay, they don't even send messages to let everyone know how they're doing. At least now he can spend another year with his friends without worrying.

But what did Hartson mean by Cole's name being put in? He tilts his head to the side and sniffs loudly. "Why is my name in? What's my name in?"

Mrs. Wyland—apparently having recovered from her hesitation—jumps in before Hartson can. "It's the Reapings, Cole," she says tiredly. "You're twelve this year, so your name will be in the bowl for the Hunger Games."

His eyes bulge. "But I don't want to go to the Hunger Games."

"No one does, Cole. But it'll only be until you're nineteen, and then you won't have to worry about it ever again."

"What about Ciera?"

Now it's Mrs. Wyland's turn to stare at him in surprise. "What about her?"

"Is she in the bowl too?"

"Heavens, no!" Mrs. Wyland sighs. "She's only ten."

So Ciera isn't in the bowl because she's too young? Cole thinks he follows. For the next seven years he'll have a chance to go to the Hunger Games, just like everyone else his age. But why would no one want to go? Aside from the obvious separation from family and friends, that is. And why is Hartson so worried?

"Why is today a bad day to talk about me, then?" he asks. He's looking at Hartson, waiting patiently for an answer; after all, the man had been the one to object to the conversation because of the Hunger Games.

But Hartson doesn't even look at Cole. If anything, he's talking pointedly to Mrs. Wyland as he growls, "Because if you don't get Reaped and I let you go, you'll be left on the streets."

It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in for Cole. He doesn't immediately make the connection of losing not only his job as a canary, but also his only home. He doesn't immediately realise how horrible this situation truly is. But when Cole does, he breaks out in a full body shaking fit. He jumps out of his seat in a panic, frantically checking the stern expressions on Mrs. Wyland and Hartson's faces. They just keep staring at each other, glaring.

Cole really doesn't know what to do outside of begging, and that's exactly what he does as the silence stretches on. "Please don't kick me out!"

Mrs. Wyland doesn't look at him as he drapes himself over the desk. "I'll be good, Mrs. Wyland! Please! I don't want to leave!"

"You won't," Hartson announces.

"But—"

"Cole." Mrs. Wyland nods to the door. "Why don't you go get ready for the Reaping? Mr. Flare and I will continue this in private."

He really wants to argue. He doesn't want to be kicked out of the room at the last minute and left out of the loop. What if he can defend himself? What if he misses a chance to say something that'll convince Mrs. Wyland to give him a second chance? He could still bring something to the table here!

But instead of an argument, only the most pitiful of sounds crawls out his throat. Cole's back to wiping at his face with his shirt, scuttling out of the room as best he can without tripping. The door clicks shut behind him, silence on the other side.

"Good luck today, Cole." Ciera pats his shoulder. "Mrs. Wyland said we won't be standing lose enough to wave to you, but I'm gonna wait for you at the bakery afterwards. Okay?"

Cole takes in a deep breath and nods. "Okay," he says. Ciera gives him a big grin, pleased at their plans as she skips away from the lines. Cole is left alone, stuck in between two older kids as the line slowly progresses. Even with so many people around him, where he's in his element, Cole feels completely and utterly alone.

Everyone around him is so gloomy and frowning. They're all dressed in their best clothes, even if the fabric has been torn and stained, and all around him he sees kids rubbing at their fingers almost anxiously. Cole looks down at his own hands. Is there a rule about having clean hands for the Hunger Games? Why didn't anyone tell him? He doesn't want to get in trouble and feel worse than he already does…

The line moves forward again, albeit only but a few feet. Behind him, kids from the Seam start to trickle into the lines and form a large bulk of the children present. Even though Mrs. Wyland has to take everyone to see the Reapings, Cole's never actually been kept close enough to really see just how many kids participate—or how many kids are actually from the Seam. Cole wonders just how much he doesn't know about District 12 despite being born and raised here.

A bony finger taps his shoulder, startling him away from the lines next to his own. Cole whirls on his feet to face the boy behind him. He's definitely a Seam kid, older than Cole by maybe a few years, and the sympathetic look reminds him so much of Nirav. If the boy's skin had been darker and his eyes almost black, he'd wonder if the two were related.

"This your first time?" the boy asks. Cole clutches at his shirt nervously and nods. "Don't worry, they don't pull out twelve-year-olds often. And the desk stuff?" He nods to the desk at the front of the line, where another kid is having her name read out to her. "The pain only lasts for a second, and if you suck on the finger for a while it'll stop bleeding just as fast."

"B—" Cole can feel himself paling. "Bleeding?"

The boy nods. "They just prick your finger to make sure you're who you say you are," he explains. "A lot of kids don't get warned, so it hurts a lot more when it happens. Just make sure to give them your non-dominant hand."

And then the boy just drops out of the conversation. Cole stares up at him, gobsmacked. Bleeding? Pain? No wonder no one likes being entered into the Hunger Games.

The line takes a good few minutes to shorten until finally Cole has to go through the horrifying process. There's a little box on the desk that has a small dent in it—the perfect size to fit a finger. Cole swallows the lump in his throat and walks over to the woman behind the desk.

"C—Cole Aish," he tries. The woman looks up from her paperwork blankly. Cole tries again. "I'm Cole—"

"Oh, sweetie, no." The woman waves him off and reaches for his hand. Cole flinches, but doesn't pull his wrist from her grip as she moves his fingers to the box. "You need to put your finger here—" Sharp pain, it stings so much, he's going to bleed to death. "—and all over! That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Cole bites his lip as he stares at the small drop of blood well up on his finger. He's never going to get used to this.

"Just go stand with the other boys your age over there," the woman goes on. "Hurry on, now!"

He limps over as fast he can, still watching the blood on his finger. It's so red and round. How can all the other kids sit through that every year? How will Ciera cope with that? Cole shudders at the thought as he sucks on the small wound.

The mayor takes the stage alongside a woman with fiery red hair piled up in a beehive. He introduces her as Buttercup, the new escort for District 12, and immediately Cole is lost in the explanation. All these complicated terms and new things to absorb, and it's all being thrown at him faster than he can properly learn it. Cole has no choice but to listen idly and just wait for everything to be over.

After a good while of talking, a commotion breaks out from the adults around the kids. Cole wipes his finger on his shirt, satisfied that it's no longer bleeding, and pushes himself up onto the tops of his toes. It's hard to see over the taller kids, but Cole can just barely make out what's happening onstage. Buttercup looks about ready to dip her hand into a large glass bowl, the only thing stopping her being another person storming onstage. Whispers break out all around, all of them sounding appalled.

Cole almost trips over his own feet to get a better look. He catches a glimpse of a miner's uniform before he crashes into the boy in front of him, but Buttercup seems intent on letting the crowd know what's going on anyway. A loud smack resounds from the stage, followed by what Cole thinks is, "How dare you."

Buttercup taps the microphone and clears her throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, it would seem the mentor organised for this year has dropped out. Haymitch Abernathy has requested that we… That we acknowledge District Twelve's only other living victor."

A chorus of boos sound out. All around Cole he can hear death threats and slurs, words he'd never heard before today—but deep down, something in him knows they're hurtful and wrong. Cole rocks back and forth on the spot as the harsh words fill his head. If this happens at every Hunger Games, he never wants to go through this again.

The yelling slowly dies down until barely even whispers remain. Cole's hands are shaking from how tightly he holds onto his shirt. He keeps his gaze on the ground, focusing entirely on his breathing as Buttercup resumes her previous task.

There's a moment of silence before a name is called out, and Cole startles once he realises he missed who'd been called for. He looks around with a frown, waiting for someone to step out from their line.

"Cole Aish?"

Cole stands up straight, alert. "Yes?" he calls back.

The kids around him move away as the men and women in white come over. Cole watches them with wide eyes. Are they coming for him? Is he the one who was chosen?

They pull him from the line by both hands, barely fazed by his struggles as he tries to escape. Cole's legs just drag along the ground without much friction. He looks left and right, calling out for Mrs. Wyland to help him, but no reply comes. Once Cole can see Buttercup up onstage, most of his panic starts to melt away. Just a few feet away from her is a familiar face he'd been hoping to see again, a sympathetic smile on his face as he gazes down at Cole.

As soon as the men and women in white let him go, Cole runs straight for Nirav and leaps into his arms. He doesn't know why Nirav is onstage or why Buttercup is glaring at him like he's done the most heinous thing in the world, but he's glad someone he knows is here for him. Nirav hugs him tightly and pats him on the head, kneeling down by Cole's side as the Reapings concluded.

He doesn't want to go. He really doesn't want to leave, especially when no one in the past has come back. He has friends here and he wants to keep working as Hartson's canary. But at least Nirav is with him, ready to hold his hand every step of the way.

And that's the chapter! We're done with the District reapings, all that's left is the Capitol kids! Before we get to them there's going to be two chapters detailing the mentors and how they won, but they'll be uploaded together in a double update when the time comes. Till then, here's the chapter question!

QQ #7: Do you know what the common theme of all the escorts' names is? (Don't worry, it'll be revealed in the first interlude!)

Till next time!