Chapter Sixteen: Keeping the Chaos in Order

Defying The Laws of Chronology is Fun!

Catarina Lynn, District Five Female

Sometimes, I wish my parents hadn't been so pro-children.

I was born first. It happened less than two years after they got married. After that, the avalanche of kids just kept coming. Three years later, I had a little brother. Three years after that, a little sister. One year later (they barely waited after my little sister was born for that one) I had another little brother- the list goes on and on, until our tiny house became home to nine people.

Then, six months to he day after my last sibling was born, my father left the house, saying he was going to get milk, and never came back.

Everyone has their own theories about why he left. Squirrel, the oldest with any sense at the time, still thinks that aliens abducted him. That makes slightly less sense than Rush's theory (he's only two years older), which is that he was kidnapped by a group of malevolent ninjas armed with swords and slingshots.

However, the rest of us have come to a shaky consensus that either one of two things makes the most sense: he either just couldn't deal with the stress anymore, or the Peacekeepers killed him for reasons we probably will never know.

Either way, he's not here. Meaning that Mom and I have to do our best to deal with six other kids. They're pretty easy most of the time, but keeping an eye on all of them gets taxing fast. And doing it for hours on end, especially when Mom's at work and I have to do it solo, is downright exhausting. I have no idea how we'd get through this without each other.

It's even worse now that school is out. Since Mom doesn't get those eight hours or so to herself (for the most part- Minnie, my youngest sibling, isn't old enough to be enrolled in school yet) she's stuck with all of us 24/7.

Most of the time, she pulls through with her usual charm and humor. However, there are times where that wears off. And when it does, it's never pretty.

I just hope that today will not be that day.

As of now, it's ten-o-clock in the morning. Jake, who's four, and Myra, who's nine, are both out with friends (well, Myra is out with friends and Jake has been dropped off at a friend's house). Mom's currently holding Minnie (who's only two) while she's trying to do her job, which is taking calls for a power plant (thankfully, most days she doesn't have to go in to work anymore, she can just do her work from home). Rush (who's eight) currently has control of the television (since that's one of the things we're most prone to arguing about, we have to reserve a specific hour on paper if we actually want to watch anything), Carter (who's twelve) is making sure Squirrel (who's six) doesn't get into the laundry chemicals again (last time that happened, we all had to rush him off to the emergency room), and I'm just kind of standing around, since everyone else is taking care of each other for right now. Breaks like these are incredibly rare in this house, so I'm just trying to make the most of mine.

So, as of now, I'm sitting in the kitchen/dining room, taking in the mess around me. A jumble of shoes is laid out by the front door. One of Jake's half-finished drawings is still on the table (I have no idea what the hell it's supposed to be) along with a mostly-finished kid's puzzle Squirrel started an hour ago and then abandoned. The breakfast plates are still stacked high on the counter. Before I can take in anything else, though, I'm subconsciously moving towards the dishes and throwing open cabinets looking for a sponge. I curse myself for not making the most of my break, but after a year and a half of essentially being a mother, you start to gravitate towards problems that need fixing on your own.

The dishes only take about ten minutes to clean (thankfully, today was not Pancake Day- syrup takes forever to scrub off a plate) but in that time, Rush has finished Squirrel's puzzle for him, Squirrel has taken over the television in his absence, Carter has taken Minnie off of Mom's hands and Jake's drawing has mysteriously vanished. Thankfully, Jake has a really bad short-term memory, even for his age group, meaning he probably won't even notice that the drawing's gone missing.

I hear Mom's voice coming from the room, saying, "No, thank you. Have a good day," before she hangs up and passes Minnie off to me. Unfortunately, I'm not very large, meaning that even though Minnie's pretty light for her age, I have to set her down after a few minutes. She needs to get more experience with walking anyway.

As soon as I set her down, she wanders over into the room where Squirrel is currently watching something and plops down next to him. Seeing nothing else to really do right now but watch her, I follow suit, staring at the screen as I try and figure out the nonsense that Squirrel has on.

It's not Hunger Games-related, thankfully. Which is surprising, considering that the Reapings are tomorrow. (Carter's currently on a hair trigger, since it's his first year in the pool and it's not unheard of for really young kids to get picked here.)

As for me, I know I have a legitimate shot at getting picked, especially since we've had to start taking tesserae after Dad left. I sympathize a lot with Carter, considering what I was like last year. Last year, I was a nutcase for the week before the Reapings- prone to snapping at the slightest provocation, super jumpy, and overall just a nervous wreck. Thus, when I didn't wind up getting picked, all I felt was relief that it wasn't me and I'd survive another year. (Although, when they showed interviews, I felt terrible for the tiny thirteen-year-old who got picked- she wound up breaking down in tears before her interview was half over. Some of the security had to drag her off the stage so she could calm down enough to finish.)

Oh, right, Squirrel's nonsensical show. There's currently a bunch of grown adults in costumes staring at a paper cutout (which is supposed to be the sun) and they're trying to figure out what it is. All I can think is, if this is supposed to be the sun, how are these people not burning their eyes out right now?

Without even noticing until a few minutes in, I slip into the familiar rhythm of alternating between checking on Minnie and staring mindlessly at the television.

Once more, this day is starting to blend into the hazy mess of rituals that defines every day of summer break for me.

An hour later, Squirrel's ridiculous show has been swapped out for Minnie's slightly less ridiculous show.

However, calling it a "show" would be generous. It's just a bunch of toddlers talking to each other and asking questions at a screen for half an hour. They claim this makes the show "interactive" for really young kids (Minnie seems to take it that way, since she keeps responding to their questions), but for me, it becomes really grating, fast, especially since a good chunk of the questions are recycled from episode to episode to add time.

Jake and Myra have both gotten back from their friends' houses- Jake is watching the show with Minnie and each of them are shouting increasingly louder to try and make their response get heard over the other one. Eventually, it reaches a volume that, even though Mom isn't on a call at the time, I can't take it anymore. So, I stand up and block the television, before telling them, "If you want me to move away, be quieter. Please. Mom has to work."

Minnie can't really understand most of what I'm saying, but Jake understands enough to put a finger to his lips and say, "Shhhhh!" to Minnie. Since my message has been translated into something she can comprehend, Minnie says the same thing back, quietly answering the next question. Thus, I hold up my end of the bargain, and move out of the way.

So far, today has passed by with relative ease. But it's only lunchtime. Speaking of which, I should probably get Carter so we can start that. (Mom, as much as she hates to admit it, is an awful cook- her chicken with rice looked and tasted more like rocks with sand. Thus, me and Carter, since we're the only ones who can be counted on to use a stove without burning down the house, do most of the cooking now.)

Thankfully, most of lunch is cold anyway. There's nothing to really cook. Everyone's going to just eat a sandwich and get over it. Again.

It takes about fifteen minutes, but soon enough, Carter and I have finished assembling all the sandwiches, which are currently all in a row on the wobbly kitchen table. I grab mine, Carter snatches his, and then everyone else pours into the room, inspects each sandwich to check if it's theirs, and takes a bite out of the correct sandwich when they find it. (I have to give Minnie her sandwich, since she'll take a bite out of the sandwiches she inspects whether they're hers or not.)

Mom stumbles in last, clearly having just come out of a call. Hastily, she takes the only remaining sandwich, and only finishes about half of it before the phone rings again and she has to disappear into another room.

For a few minutes, the kitchen is filled with nothing but the sound of chewing, and after that, the kitchen is filled with a mess of plates and it's time for me to clean them up again. (Carter and Myra can help with this, but everyone else would honestly be doing more harm than good if they tried.)

Five more minutes later, the three of us have scrubbed the dishes clean, and they're resting in a precarious stack on the counter. As long as we keep Squirrel, Jake, and Minnie away from the counter for a little while, we should be fine.

So far, so good. Only ten more hours to go.

The afternoon slowly slogs onward as the sun begins to set in a hazy sky. The television changes channels every hour on the hour so everyone gets a chance to watch something. I drop Rush and Squirrel off at friends' houses for something they had planned together for right after lunch, and Carter leaves to pick them up two hours after I get back. Mom rarely ever leaves the room she takes calls in, only seeing daylight when she goes to the kitchen to refill her plastic water bottle. Minnie and Jake just wander around the house, with either me or Carter tailing them the entire time. Myra sets up a difficult puzzle, gets halfway, gives up, and dismantles it. All in all, a typical summer day in the Lynn household.

Finally, at around six o'clock in the evening, Mom finishes up her final call and staggers out of the room. She has the delirious look in her eyes I've seen sometimes after her shift, and something based on how bleary her eyes look makes me think that she's not entirely there.

"Is… is everything okay?" She blinks a couple of times after saying this, clearly fighting the urge to get into bed and pass out.

Carter takes the opportunity to respond first. "As far as I can tell, yes."

Myra goes next. "I think everything's fine."

Finally, it's my turn. "No one's hurt, no one's crying, and no one's eaten anything they shouldn't. I think that's enough to classify everything as okay."

Mom yawns loudly. "Good. Do I need to make something so you guys can eat?"

I decide to nip that one in the bud, right then and there. "No, we'll be fine. We can fend for ourselves tonight." Again, I don't want to hurt her feelings, because that's something she just doesn't have the emotional capacity to deal with right now, but her cooking is terrible. The quality of her cooked meals falls into a range from "disgusting, but you can probably keep it down" to "absolutely inedible."

Looking inside the fridge, it soon becomes obvious there isn't much food to be had that hasn't been set aside for after the Reapings. All that's left it half a gallon bottle of water, something in a storage container, a hunk of cheese, and a thermos of coffee with maybe one sip left.

Thankfully, the container is filled to the brim with lettuce, so we can at least claim that what we're making is a salad, rather than having to explain to everyone that our dinner is literally nothing but cheese and water. While Carter passes me one knife to start chopping up the lettuce, he grabs another to slice the cheese into chunks.

Five minutes later, everyone's been served a small chunk of lettuce and cheese posing as salad, including Mom. A few minutes after that, everyone has finished and left us with (guess what!) more plates to clear.

Fortunately for us, Mom's available to help this time, and she's much faster than all of us are, so this time it takes less than half as long as usual. Thus, in less than five minutes, all the dinner plates are in a sparkling-clean stack, pushed against the back wall so they don't get knocked off the counter.

The day's almost done. We're in the home stretch.

The evening drags by with the same sluggish pace as the afternoon. The sun sets, causing the electric lights to all turn on. (Mom set them so they only come on after sunset to save electricity- considering so much of it goes to the television, that's a pretty smart move, in my book.) Everyone starts trickling into the rooms we share (all the boys share one bedroom, all the girls share another, and Mom has one room all to herself since Dad left) to go to sleep. Myra shows Mom a drawing she made right before she goes to bed, and she pretends to act amazed by it (although I can't make heads or tails of what the heck it's supposed to be). By ten o'clock, I'm the only person still awake.

Without making a sound, I turn off the television, causing the room to go blissfully silent. Nothing's on at this time of night anyway except Capitolites drooling over the impending Reapings. Which I don't want to watch, in any way, shape, or form.

I get all the cheer the Capitolites have for the Hunger Games, since nobody they know dies because of it. However, it's not so fun when there's a person in the Games who was a friend, a relative, a classmate, hell, even a neighbor. In fact, the boy who was sent in last year (one of the strongest tributes from our District in years) lived only a couple of blocks away. (I found out when he made it to the final eight and the neighborhood was wrapped up in a media frenzy as everyone with even the slightest bit of relation to him was interviewed.)

Unfortunately, he would go on to die two days later in 4th place- one place short of a spot in the finale. And District Five was left without a victor for the umpteenth year in a row.

Forget about the Reapings, I have to tell myself. Think happy thoughts or they'll only get worse.

Trying to follow that very philosophy, I wander into the girls' room, where both Myra and Minnie are already sound asleep. In a few minutes, it'll be my turn.

Slipping under the covers, I try to do nothing but think happy thoughts.

Today went so well compared to normal standards…

We actually had three meals today…

We'll all be safe after tomorrow for another year…

In between one thought in the next, my eyelids get heavy, and the world fades to black.

Author's Notes:

-I don't have much to say, except thanks for sticking with me. I'll try to pick up the pace a little from now on.

-Thanks to jupiter101 for sending in Catarina.

-Next is the D5M. After that comes the D6M and the D11F.

-See you next chapter!