Chapter Seventeen: Forget the Past, Embrace the Future
Whatever Clock This is Based Off is Really Screwed Up!
Spark Emmersen, District Five Male
Okay, I hate to admit it, but my life's been Anxiety Central for the last few months.
First, I finally managed to work up the courage to propose to my current fiancée, Mel. If everything goes well, we're set to be married as soon as I turn eighteen, which is in a little less than two months. I'm pretty confident that saying that an incoming marriage causes stress is not a statement you can really make an argument against.
Second, final exams, which occurred a week before that. It was ridiculously hard, especially the practical part of the exam, where we were given a mess of wires, metal, and other things, alongside a handful of tools, and were told, "make a generator that consistently works and is as efficient as possible." We only had three hours to do that. Thankfully, I somehow passed, even though that means I have to prepare for next year.
And third? It's the summer. Everything goes haywire in the summer. Without question.
Last summer, one of the major suppliers of power for not just the area, but for all of Panem, failed, causing nationwide power outages that even the Capitol wasn't immune from. The summer before that, we had repeated electrical storms that caused power surges that were so bad, people reported that lightbulbs were shattering in their homes during them. The summer before that… I think you know where this is going.
Needless to say, after exams were over, everyone my age could breathe a sigh of relief, whether they passed the exams or not. School was over. They had a break until the fall, when they either would go back to school, if they passed, or start hunting for a job, if they didn't.
The sky above me is not very pleasant, being filled with dark clouds and surely meaning a rainstorm is coming. Unsurprisingly, very few people are on the streets at this time of day, and those who are look like they're in a hurry.
However, those thoughts get shoved to the side as I walk towards Mel's front door.
By the time I reach her door, I've been hit over the head with several fat raindrops and thunder has started rumbling off in the distance. Considering it's only late June and we've had several bad thunderstorms already, I wouldn't be surprised if this summer were to repeat or even top the summer two years ago in terms of nasty weather.
As soon as I step underneath the overhang that covers Mel's front door, one especially loud clap of thunder occurs and the rain starts to pour down in sheets. It's like the storm held off, just for me.
I knock, the faded wood on the door making a noise that probably should never come out of a door, under any circumstances. (Mel still lives with her parents, like I do with mine, and they don't replace anything until it literally falls apart from age. Since Mel and I are both saving so that we can move out and find a place to live on our own as soon as possible, we don't have the money to fix the thing.)
Mel doesn't answer, but her father does. His hair is standing straight up, and the smell of smoke pours out of the front entrance.
"Hey there, Spark," he says. "Sorry about-" he points to the small room used as a sitting room- "that. I may have made a slight voltage miscalculation on my latest project."
He beckons me to come in, and I get to see his "latest project." Or at least what's left of it. Metal and rubber parts litter the floor all around the smoking frame, and there are several more noticeable dents in the green wallpaper than usual. Thankfully, he puts a tarp over it, to not only block it from the view of any visitors, but to prevent the smoke detector from going off. That's a relief, since the amount of noise that comes out of that thing competes quite nicely with that of a train engine next to a megaphone (although I guess that's its purpose)
Mel's room is at the back of the house, and it's where she spends most of her time nowadays. It's pretty small, with just a twin bed, a rack where she keeps the meager amount of clothes she owns, a single picture of her as a nine-year-old hanging above said rack, and a big window that gives her a fantastic view of… not much, actually.
So, when I knock on the closed door (which is only in slightly better shape than the one up front), it's not very surprising when she answers right away. Her jaw essentially drops to the floor when she sees me. After taking a few seconds topics it back up, she finally regains her ability to speak.
"Hey, Spark," she says, "What's up?"
"I don't know," I say back, "I just wanted to see you."
"That's fine with me," she replies.
So, there's not really much we can do in here but talk. Therefore, we sit down on the edge of her twin bed (causing the ancient springs to creak like crazy) and make sure to face each other as we begin to do it.
"So, how's life?" Mel's life is pretty self-explanatory- wake up, see how far her father has gotten on his invention, go to school, come home from school, help father with invention, eat, and sleep. The same routine proliferates every day (except maybe today, since it's the summer and we all have a break from school).
"It's going fine. How did your exams go?"
She giggles a little. "Somehow, I passed. Unfortunately, the kid next to me couldn't say the same thing. When he turned on his generator to test it, the thing exploded! I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to laugh or cry about that."
Well, the good news about that is that it means I have one fewer person to compete with on next year's exams, where only the top handful are preferred to fill the District's best jobs. However, if I do poorly on that same exam, it means one more spot is already filled in the field of less-than-desirable jobs.
"I passed, too. So, I guess we'll be in classes together next year, which will be really awkward, considering we'll be married."
"Yeah, it's going to be really tough to avoid breaking the 'No Public Displays of Affection' rule," she says, trying unsuccessfully to stifle another laugh.
"I don't think we'll go that far," I respond back. "Remember what happened to Andrew and Lulah?"
Andrew and Lulah made up the school's hot-topic couple, before we became that couple. Everyone saw them holding hands in the hallways and giggling over something that no one else heard. Everyone saw them sit as close as possible to each other in the classes they shared. Everyone saw them kiss at least twice in the school hallways while the teachers weren't looking. (Mostly because that happened at least six times a day, every day, five days a week. It's just the law of averages that you'd see it every now and again.)
However, their parents disapproved of the two of them marrying so young when they asked. It was just another Romeo and Juliet story. (Thankfully, unlike Romeo and Juliet, neither of them died- the romance just kind of fizzled out once they realized that it would be at least three years before they could take the next step.)
"Never mind. You want to do something while we wait out the rain?" She points to the window, where the nasty electrical storm I barely missed is raging outside. As if to exaggerate her point, a deafening clap of thunder ripples through the house, and the lights flicker for a second.
"Sure thing. You still have that domino set from last time?"
The dominoes are already spread out on the covers. "Is that a rhetorical question? I've had them since I was six."
"Of course. First to a hundred points?"
"You're on."
The storm has faded to a sleepy drizzle, the thunder has moved on, and sunlight starts making its way back through the windows by the time the game is starting to wrap up. Dominoes, while fun, takes a really long time to finish.
At long last, I push one final domino into place. "That's worth fifteen points, and… I think I have a hundred now?"
Mel's been writing down the scores on a sheet of leftover paper, and she quickly scans it before turning to me. "Actually, that's a hundred and ten points for you. You still win."
I resist the urge to fist-pump. I almost never beat her at dominos. "Time to add that to the running total."
It's odd, but we keep a running total of every game of dominos we've ever played since the age of seven. It's one of the goofy childhood traditions we have that just refuses to die out, even if it's a little ridiculous.
I pull the paper off of the top of the rack, where we keep it so it doesn't get taken by someone else for something, and add one to my number. "Currently, the score is forty-two for me-" My voice trails off a little as I realize I haven't made a dent in my deficit- "and two hundred and ninety-one for you."
"Maybe I should get a game that's a little more balanced or something," she says.
"It's fine. It's still fun to play! But I should probably head home before my parents start freaking out. It is getting a little late."
"I understand. See you at the Reapings tomorrow!" She replies back quickly, trying to hide her dismay about the Reapings. We wouldn't be the first girlfriend and guy-friend couple to get reaped in.
I hustle out the door, hoping that the rain holds off again for long enough so that I don't get soaked.
If you don't count sweat, I make it home without getting wet.
It's starting to get dark by now, so every light in the house- or at least most of them- are blazing at full brightness. (Thankfully, electricity is reliable enough here- considering we source electricity for the freaking Capitol reliability is something that we have to have.)
The house, unsurprisingly, is empty. Mom must've had to work late again. As if to prove that point, I notice a note on the kitchen table, saying "I'll be out really late tonight. Don't forget to eat. Make sure you have something clean. Mom."
Ever since Dad "disappeared" on us two years ago, Mom's had to pull more and more late nights in order to make sure we actually have things to eat. And that, you know, those things are edible.
I wish Dad was still home.
Great. Now I've essentially triggered a flashback to the day he "went missing"…
He walked out the door, saying he needed to go for a walk and stretch his legs, and just never returned home.
Obviously, we went to the Peacekeepers about it, asking where the hell he was. They claimed that they'd seen a well-known street gang named Formido et Sanguis (apparently, the members all knew Latin for some inexplicable reason, they told us) kidnap him on the street and were "looking into" the matter. But nothing ever came of it.
As days turned to weeks turned to months, we knew he was gone for good. But that's when we needed more specific answers. And just based on the gang name, the reasoning we got that day seemed more than a little suspect.
Whenever I didn't have school or Mom didn't have work, we'd take to the streets and ask anyone if they knew about Formido et Sanguis. The more we asked and the more "what the heck are you talking about" looks we received, the more suspect we grew.
Then, we made a startling discovery in the house. When we began to finally clean out Dad's side of the room, we stumbled across a lockbox under his bed that required multiple keys to open. The master key we had for the doors at home didn't open it, and neither did the house key.
However, hidden in the bottom of his underwear drawer (which probably was the one place Mom would have never looked) we found a necklace with two keys attached to it. Using those keys, we managed to open the box. What was in there changed our lives permanently.
If you wanted to take down the Capitol, that box would be a treasure trove. There were maps displaying the patrol patterns of Peacekeepers, comprehensive lists of who to go to and how much to pay to make different illegal items (bombs, tasers, hand grenades, guns, etc.), train schedules for inter-District travel, a list of Peacekeepers you could pay off to throw others off your trail, a map labeling every meeting place for others with similar personalities… the list just kept going.
Naturally, the first thing we did was burn all the evidence. If anyone had caught us with even a quarter of the stuff that was in there, we would have been executed on the spot (and probably have it framed to look like another murder by "Formido et Sanguis" or whatever.)
Then, we tried to go back to what we thought were normal lives. But after seeing that, I wondered if those who wanted to take down the Capitol had a point- the Capitol wasn't infallible, they had weaknesses-
Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head…
I have to repeat that over and over until the memories are finally gone. If the Capitol had a way to read thoughts, I'd already be dead. Staying under the radar is a top priority.
It's not like I can do anything on my own, anyway. Too many obstacles, too few workarounds.
Finally, all traces of those memories are gone, for now at least. I take about two steps towards the cabinets to make something quick for dinner and almost pass out on the floor. I take that as a sign it's time for bed. Luckily enough, I already checked on my outfit for the Reapings this morning, so I know it's ready for tomorrow.
I don't even make it to my bedroom, instead choosing to pass out on the couch.
It sags a little as I flop onto it, but stays intact, as always. Not even bothering with a blanket or pillow, I just go to sleep right then and there.
Tossing and turning, I manage to force my eyes closed before everything goes still once more.
Author's Notes:
-I'm very, very sorry I've gone so long without updating. School has been a nightmare for a few weeks. In between tests, homework, AP Exam preparations, and a fight that got so bad the police had to be called in, I just haven't had a ton of time (or motivation) to write. Finally, I got hit with a stroke of inspiration a few hours ago, and banged out most of the chapter.
-Thanks to jupiter101, again, for sending in Spark.
-Coming up next is DMonkey1607's first tribute, the D6M. After that comes the D11F and the D7F.
-Almost through the intro push... let's just say that if I ever do a second SYOT, I'll have to figure out a way to make these shorter.
-See you next chapter (hopefully soon!).