Chevre Kanaf-Kaziol, 16

District 10, She/Her

October 3rd, 96 ADD

12:00 PM

"Chevre, we'll see you at home, okay?" Brie said, hefting her backpack onto her shoulder.

Chevre waved her off. "I'm fine," she said. "If you don't leave now, Asiago will leave without you. And you guys shouldn't walk home alone, anyway."

Brie turned just in time to see her twin brother- their third triplet, basically- disappear around a corner. She shook her head at Chevre knowingly before dashing off after him.

A few seconds later, Rocky jogged up next to her. "Did they leave without me?" he asked, dismayed.

"They aren't far," Chevre reassured him. "If you run you'll catch them."

Her younger brother sighed. "I hate it when they do that."

"I know," Chevre said. "Hurry, though. I'm not going anywhere."

Rocky sighed again before following after Brie and Asiago. Chevre watched her siblings go- the three of them only did half days at school, then went home to work. Chevre always stayed behind. Her moms didn't want her anywhere near the heavy labor, so she remained in school all day.

(She couldn't deny that it hurt a little, to watch them go do everything she couldn't. But she'd never let them see it.)

As soon as they were gone, Chevre turned back to her locker, swapping out her schoolbag for her bag of wares, as well as enough funds to make change.

She had a meeting to attend.

"Chevre!"

She'd been looping around the schoolyard, not yet at the meeting spot, when a tall teenager with a black pixie cut and buff arms appeared in her path, striding briskly toward her.

(As soon as she saw Aubera, Chevre calmed her nerves. The leader of the Skinners gang was known to get what she wanted via force. She'd threatened many of Chevre's bones over the years- if only she knew how accurate her threats were. Chevre preferred to keep that little detail under wraps as much as possible. Still, she'd always dealt successfully with one of her school's most threatening gang leaders, and she could do it again.)

Chevre lifted her chin as Aubera approached. "Good afternoon."

Aubera lowered her voice. "I need the stuff for the smoke bombs," she said.

Chevre blanched. "All of it?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

Chevre stood her ground. "I can offer you enough for ten."

Aubera raised a brow. "That's not what I asked for."

"It's what I have."

"You said you've got more. I want 'em."

Chevre gritted her teeth. "Aubera, I really don't have time for this right now-"

"Don't tell me you have more important customers," Aubera interrupted, looming over Chevre.

"Of course not," Chevre replied. "Listen- here's what I can do for you. I'll set aside as many materials as I can, and I'll meet you right here after class. Usual price in cash."

Aubera eyed her. "Immediately after school?"

Chevre nodded.

"Fine," Aubera spat. "If you don't show-"

"You'll break my arm, I know," Chevre said, keeping her voice level. Showing no fear.

(In reality, Chevre couldn't afford another broken bone. For one, it wasn't worth worrying her moms about, but she'd just been to the city doctor, and there was no need for unnecessary expenses. The pain was one thing- Chevre had lost count of how many bones she'd broken over the years, despite all the precautions. What Chevre could not afford to lose was her independence.

Brittle Bone Disease had taken enough already.)

Aubera stared her down with her best menacing look.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be," Chevre said. "I'll see you very soon."

Aubera gave a gruff nod and stomped off. Chevre continued down her original path, looping around the school until she arrived at her meeting spot.

"Corsac," she greeted, setting down her wares gingerly. "Good to see you."

"Unlike you to be late," the boy replied. The leader of the Jackals was Aubera's opposite in every way- light-haired, thin, soft-spoken. He leaned up against a brick wall, watching Chevre unpack.

"I was interrupted," Chevre apologized. "Didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"It wasn't too long," Corsac shrugged.

"Interested in anything in particular today?"

"I was wondering," he said, "if you'd restocked your paint."

Chevre glanced up. "Paint bombs?"

He nodded. "I saved the mechanics from last time. Just need a refill."

"Preferred color?"

"Blue, of course."

Chevre pulled out a few vials of paint, each the length of her hand and about two inches in diameter. "I've also got glitter," she offered. She grinned good-naturedly. "The kind that takes months to get rid of."

His sly green eyes sparked with interest. "Let me see."

Chevre passed him a capsule. He took a long moment to inspect it, turning it over in his hands. Eventually, he looked back up at Chevre. "I'll take one," he said. "If it goes well, I may be interested in more."

"Fair enough."

"And I don't suppose I could get a discount?" he asked.

Chevre gave him a look. "You know the deal. If you buy three vials of paint, the fourth is half off."

"I only need two."

Chevre tilted her head, making a quick calculation. "Three vials of paint, the fourth half off… and I'll throw in the glitter for free."

"Generous," he commented.

"I have a feeling the glitter will prove its usefulness," she replied. "Personally, I'd recommend mixing the glitter into the paint… but that's just me."

Corsac gave her a long look. "Deal," he agreed.

"Same time next week?"

"Yes." He passed her the payment. She counted it while he gathered up his goods. He gave her a sly little salute, then he was gone. Chevre tucked the rest of her wares into her bag and headed back to her locker to stash them.

(Her family had no idea about her side hustle, but they didn't need to know. All her wares were largely harmless, and by selling them, she'd managed to create a bubble of safety in between the Skinners and Jackals, whose turf war dominated both her school and their town.)

(No, they were better off not knowing.)

(So she hid her wares and continued about her day.)

Wisdom Garland, 16

District 3, He/Him

tw: gore

October 24th, 96 ADD

2:54 AM

Lumen groaned. "I think we need to call it for today."

"One more try," Wisdom insisted, reaching for the beaker.

"It's nearly three, man," Lumen replied. "It can wait till tomorrow."

"You have no patience," Wisdom told him, his eyes on the substance in the teflon-coated beaker. "What's the difference between a thousand trials and a thousand and one?"

"Another hour of sleep."

"Discovery," Wisdom corrected. He glanced up at Lumen. "Are you taking notes?"

Lumen sighed and reached for a clipboard. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious," he snapped.

(Based on their tests, they were close. The world's greatest superacid- the one Three's scientists were too weak-willed to pursue- was nearly in Wisdom's hands. The last few weeks, he'd been unable to shake the maddening sense that they were missing only one more piece. If antimony pentafluoride was that missing piece, Wisdom was not going to let Lumen's exhaustion keep him from his discovery.)

"Fine," Lumen replied, rolling his eyes. "But then we're cleaning up."

"Agreed."

(Not that Wisdom's parents would find out. Wisdom had been experimenting in his parents' lab for years, and as smart as they were, they'd never caught on to what he was really doing. And if they didn't want Wisdom to access the cabinet of corrosive substances… well, they should've used a better lock.)

"Okay. Give me two seconds. What trial are you running?"

"Antimony pentafluoride," Wisdom said. "I'm combining it with our measured amount of hydrogen fluoride."

"Copy."

Wisdom, dressed in his lab coat, safety goggles, and protective gloves, reached over and combined the two substances. "Then," he said, "we test the new substance on a cube of tantalum- which has been determined to be acid resistant."

"I know."

"I'm being thorough," Wisdom muttered. "Are you taking notes?"

"Antimony pentafluoride. Hydrogen fluoride. Tantalum. Yes."

"If we can't recreate the results-"

"I know, Wisdom," Lumen interrupted. "Come on. Run the fucking test."

Wisdom ignored Lumen's irritation and positioned the tantalum, unbothered. He gingerly lifted the beaker and poured a few tiny drops of the new substance onto the tantalum. Then, he carefully set it back on the counter.

He leaned forward, watching closely.

The liquid seeped along the top of the cube, sizzling. Before their eyes, it began to corrode and disappear, the acid eating through the tantalum as though it were nothing.

"Holy shit," Lumen breathed.

"It's dissolving," Wisdom said, his voice rising. "It's dissolving."

"Oh my god?"

"Take notes!" he shrieked. "Are you writing this down?!"

"I can write it afterwards!" Lumen shouted back.

Wisdom pumped his fist a few times, overcome with excitement. "Yes!" he shouted. "Yes!"

"Dude!" Lumen shouted. He reached over, his hand in the air, and Wisdom raised his own to high-five him.

(He didn't remember placing the beaker so close to the edge of the table.)

Wisdom's gloved hand smacked Lumen's hard enough to sting. As he lifted it into the air, he knocked the teflon-coated beaker hard enough to tip it over.

And Lumen's other hand was resting on the counter.

Fluoroantimonic acid splashed onto Lumen's hand. The boys' enthusiasm quickly turned to horror as Lumen recoiled, his eyes wide.

"Take off the glove!" Wisdom shouted. "Take it off!"

"Wha-"

"Before it eats through it!"

Lumen stumbled back, his arm outstretched, trying to shake off the glove in a panic. Wisdom could do nothing but watch. The superacid burned through Lumen's protective glove- first dissolving the threads holding it together, then the fabric itself- but the acid wasn't finished there.

And without the glove, there was no barrier between the world's greatest superacid and Lumen's skin.

That was when Lumen started screaming.

Before their eyes, the acid consumed Lumen's flesh. His nails and fingertips peeled away and fell to the floor, half-dissolved and continuing to disappear, exposing muscle as the acid worked its way up Lumen's hand. Lumen doubled over, hand still outstretched as his muscles, too, began to wither and disintegrate, letting pieces of bloodied bone shine through the viscera.

(Wisdom watched it all with horrified fascination. There was nothing he could do- if he touched Lumen, he was sure to expose himself to the superacid, and that wasn't a risk he was willing to take. He'd known the potential of their experiments was great, but witnessing it… in a way, it was spectacular, wasn't it?)

(And it wasn't as though Lumen had finished taking his notes. So Wisdom committed the scene before him to memory. Once this… ordeal… was over with, this would need to be recorded.)

Lumen's voice went hoarse as his hand fell away, more pieces of skin falling to the floor. The puddle of blood grew and grew. Wisdom had started to wonder if the acid would continue climbing his arm, and as his lab coat began to catch the acid's edge, he had a suspicion it would.

(Maybe it wouldn't stop at all. Not until it had consumed all it could take. Wisdom was curious about what that limit was… not at the cost of Lumen's life, of course, but he wondered… and there was something to be respected in a substance that was so tireless.)

"Wisdom?"

"Wisdom!"

The door to his parent's lab swung open as his mother and father sprinted in, wearing pajamas and robes.

"What's going on here?" his father shouted.

Wisdom gestured at Lumen, whose hand was almost entirely gone. Another piece of bone, still sizzling, fell to the floor and splashed in the blood.

His mother started shrieking. His father appeared instantly nauseous. However, there was no time for questions, although Wisdom was sure they had plenty. His mother ran for the phone and his father went to Lumen, trying to get his attention. Lumen could only scream. Soon after, all four were on their way to the hospital, with the EMTs preparing Lumen's arm for amputation to stop the spread of the acid.

(Wisdom's greatest scientific goal, back when he was ten and just starting out in chemistry, was reactions. He'd sought out the biggest, coolest reactions he could create. His goals were grander now; they'd grown with age and experience.

And sitting in that ambulance, staring at his best friend, Wisdom could not ignore the conclusion staring him in the face.

This had been his greatest chemical reaction yet.)

Jude Finnegan, 12

District 8, He/They

November 12th, 96 ADD

4:30 AM

His mother threw her fork down on the table. "I can't do this anymore," she said, shaking her head. She pushed her chair away from the table and stood.

"Gracelyn," their father said, beginning to rise from the table as well, "what's the matter?"

"This," she said, gesturing at the table, her voice getting louder. "I- I can't do this."

Her hand paused, lingering in the air.

Gesturing at Jude.

"Mom?" he asked, feeling very small.

She spoke as though they weren't in the room. "Every night, Rahul," she said. "I haven't slept through the night in years."

"You can't blame Jude for that," his father said. "That's not fair to them."

"I'm not the one having dreams!" she cried. Her hand shook as she raked it through her hair. "I'm not the one waking everyone up every night!"

Jude pulled his arms in, hugging himself tightly.

"He doesn't choose to have bad dreams," his father argued. "He just needs help managing them, and that's what we're here for."

"I've tried," she said. "I've tried for years to help him, and they only get worse."

"That's not true."

"What's been better?" she asked. "I'm certainly not sleeping more!"

"It's not about you, Gracelyn-"

"I'm losing it!" she shrieked. "I- I can't think straight, I can't concentrate- I've been falling asleep at work-"

"I'm sorry," Jude said, their voice cracking. "I didn't mean to-"

His father raised his hand. "Don't apologize." He turned back to his wife. "You, however, owe him one."

His mother shook her head, slowly at first, then faster and faster. "I'm done," she said. "I already told you."

"What do you mean, done?"

"I'm leaving."

"What?" his father asked.

"I already told you. I can't do this. I'm done."

"Please, think this through," their father begged.

"I've been thinking about it for years," she replied.

(Years?)

"You're being selfish," their father said.

"Mom," Jude whispered. "Please don't go."

Their mother looked him dead in the eye. "I wish I didn't have to," she said.

"Gracelyn," his father interjected. Jude's eyes, already brimming, started to overflow.

(It was all their fault. This was undeniably his fault. If he wasn't such a big baby who couldn't control his imagination, this wouldn't be happening.)

"It's the truth," their mother snapped. "God forbid I finally tell it."

"It's not truth, it's cruelty-"

"You told me it would stop!" she cried. "That wasn't the truth, either! It'll never stop!"

"You don't get to talk to them like that," his father said. Jude had never seen his father so stern before. His father, who took him for walks and told them stories before bed, had never spoken like this for as long as Jude could remember.

"You're not shielding them from anything," his mother replied. "You're not- you're not a miracle worker, Rahul. You can't fix anything."

"Out."

"You can't help-"

"Get out!" their father shouted, pointing at the door.

His mother glared at his father one more time before turning on her heel and fleeing the kitchen for good. The door slammed behind her, making Jude cringe. He wiped at his cheeks, looking to his father for comfort, but his shoulders had started to shake too, and Jude didn't know how to fix that.

They didn't know how to fix anything, let alone themself.

They curled in on themself as her words took root, and they began to sob.

(You can't fix anything.)

The words echoed in his ears-

(It's the truth.)

-getting louder and louder-

(I've tried for years to help him, and they only get worse.)

-taking over as the world blurred before him-

(I can't do this.)

-it was all their fault-

-all their fault-

-his mother didn't love him-

-his mother didn't want him anymore-

-he'd ruined everything-

-all his…

…all his… fault..

all his fault…

Jude sat up on bed, gasping, their face sticky with tears. His body trembled as he cradled himself.

It wasn't real.

Jude pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to catch their breath.

It's all in your head.

It was all a dream.

Once his hands stopped shaking, he reached for the lamp on his bedside table and switched it on. They thought about going to their dad, but the dream was fresh enough that it stopped them.

(They could be strong. They could be brave. They could face their own imagination without getting scared. They could do it.)

When he turned his head again, a figure was illuminated in the dim light.

They squinted. "Mom?"

And she did look like his mom. She had brown eyes with dark circles and pale blonde hair, half-pulled out of her face. She was smiling. She looked like she was ready to go to work, with a plain blouse and black pants, and this wasn't surprising, either- she'd been working strange hours lately, and Jude was lucky to see her once a day.

Except for the part where they could see through her to the wall she was standing in front of.

He scrambled back in his bed. "Mom? Are you- are you… dead?"

"Of course not, hon," she said, her voice smooth, instantly putting Jude at ease. "Are you okay?"

Jude stared at her.

(She's not real.)

(Am I still dreaming?)

"...No," he admitted. Their bottom lip started to quiver. "I, um…"

"Bad dream?"

"Yeah."

"That's okay," she reassured him. She walked over to the side of their bed and sat. The covers didn't crease beneath her weight.

(Not dead, but imaginary…

…and somehow, after their dream… comforting?)

"I know you don't like my bad dreams," Jude said.

"I just worry about you," she said. She smiled again, not a trace of cruelty remaining. "I love you, okay? Go back to sleep."

Jude nodded and pulled the covers back over themself.

"Don't forget to turn out the light," she murmured.

"Will you leave when I turn it off?" he asked, suddenly afraid.

"No," she whispered. "I'll be right here." She patted his leg underneath the covers.

"Okay," Jude whispered back.

So he reached over and pulled on the chain again, plunging the room into darkness.

"Goodnight, Jude."

They closed their eyes. "Goodnight, Mom."

His imaginary mom hummed softly, and soon enough, they were drifting off again.

(And this time, there were no bad dreams.)

thank you to goldie031 for submitting chevre, tyquavis for submitting wisdom, and team shadow for submitting jude! what a solid crew. i had lots of fun with all three of these kiddos and look forward to writing them again :)

also, happy new year! very excited to spend it hanging with you guys and writing this cast. and i'm not just saying that!

anyway... see you guys next time with chase, patrek, & aescelin!

rb