A Switch of Destinies
In an alternate universe, things could be different. You could be here and I there; our roles reversed, our emotions exchanged. In an alternate universe, I feel your pain and you feel mine. Somehow, my dear, we are on the same boat.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games Trilogy or any of its characters.
A/N: This is my longest chapter, ever. I slaved over this for weeks. And I'm not even exaggerating. When I decided to update every 2 weeks, it was because I was working on this chapter. So, yeah. Anyway, thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed, alerted, faved, etc. Thank you to my anonymous friends who sent their reviews. I couldn't thank you personally so let me take this opportunity to extend my gratitude. And Tumblr. YES. Thanks to those who reblogged and liked. It really means a lot. I hope you guys enjoy this one. Oh, and don't forget to read the Author's Note below this chapter. :D
Chapter 4
The sounds of rustling plaited skirts as the girls shifted in their seats mingled with the sharp and metallic sounds of unfastening clasps and unzipping zippers as schoolbags were opened. Mr. Clayton Porth – a tall and gangly man of about fifty-three – had asked everyone to take their books out and turn them to page one hundred and one. At the very back of the class, seated beside the clear fiber glass window that spanned the length and width of the wall, was a less than enthusiastic Haymitch who grumbled to himself while violently flipping through the pages of his leather-bound textbook, threatening to tear them as he went. To his right, a pimply boy with curly brown hair stared at the ugly reddish-purple discoloration on his cheek, mouth agape in awe.
"It's not polite to stare, Dugan," Haymitch's eyes flashed with anger, "you don't see me looking at those pus-draining lesions on your face with fascination, do you?"
The boy's eyes widened and his ears reddened in embarrassment, along with the countless pimples that dotted his face. Haymitch grunted. Sitting through a boring Science class with the most boring teacher in the faculty, beside the ugly and repellent Eric Dugan was not his idea of a pleasant Monday morning. But it was his fate today, and for several Mondays to come. He had to make do.
The Big Bang Theory and What it Says about the Nature of Our Universe
The words were written in large, bold print, staring back at Haymitch, as if inviting him to look on but he did not feel compelled to know more about the Universe and its wonders. He found the scenery outside the window infinitely more interesting than the contents of his book, so he turned his face away from his desk, where his book was laid forgotten, and stared fixedly at the picturesque courtyard of Saint Fabiola Preparatory School.
From the fifth floor, Haymitch could see the span of the quadrangle, the loamy soil clothed in velvety green grass kept fresh by the drizzle that sprung forth from the ground. The trees towered over it, casting mosaic-like shadows over the grass as specks of sunlight penetrated through the small gaps between the leaves. Those trees, he knew, were once lush and green, but the seasons had done well, and patches of yellow and rusty orange appeared on their leafy crown. Soon, those leaves would travel towards the ground, circling according to the rhythm of the soft winds, until there's nothing left but the sturdy branches – arthritic hands lifted up in prayer. He began to wonder why people – scientists especially – went out of their way to find intergalactic marvels, when really, the World itself was a ball of secrets waiting to be unraveled. Of course, there were other scientists who took it upon themselves to dig through the many layers of their home planet, but Haymitch deemed Cosmology a pointless Science because the Universe would be nothing but an ever-growing enigma unless humans learned the heart of their own world, first. 'Screw that, we barely even know ourselves.' But that was just a humble opinion.
Haymitch stopped to look at the tall, metal pole that stood erect in the middle of the landscape, casting a long, slanted shadow across the courtyard. It bore the national flag of Panem, a pristine white banner with a horn overflowing with bread and harvest sewn in the middle – the undying symbol of their country's prosperity. Below was the flag of Saint Fabiola: A silken rectangular fabric of deep purple that bore the school emblem – a golden shield with a wreath of laurel leaves encircling it, and at the bottom of the wreath was a pale yellow ribbon with the Latin phrase Sapere Aude (Dare to Know) Est. 2xxx. These flags swayed in the rhythm of the gentle autumn winds like spineless kites caught in a branch. His eyes followed the graceful movements of the colors, and he began to doze off.
Meanwhile, Professor Porth droned on about the Big Bang theory and the complexities that made it subject to many revisions. His baritone voice echoed across the quiet room, lulling the class as he spoke with lyrical monotony, and fragments of his self-absorbed speech made their way into Haymitch's ear.
"It is the consequence... inflation... errors... revisions of the theory led... and because of this, Cosmologists are considering... the world and her inhabitants has countless duplicates... billions and billions of lightyears away."
"Mr. Abernathy!" Clayton Porth's sudden outburst roused the class, including Haymitch, whose head was bobbing up and down while he slept. The professor stood before the inattentive student, his face gaunt and sharp. "I would like to believe that your disinterest in my subject is rooted from the fact that you have already mastered it."
Haymitch's eyes were blurry from sleep, but that did not stop him from noticing the varied looks his classmates were giving him, as if they weren't guilty of the same offense. Tiffany was sitting far across the room, her eyes scanning him with worry. Plutarch, whose eyes were almost shut from the bruises he received last Friday, could not suppress a smile. But it did not last long because his split lip started to ache. Conrad Hart, Bilius Videbeck, and Fredward Fitzgerald gave each other knowing looks, and offered their troublesome friend half-hearted smiles – a gesture of surrender – for they did not know what to do to help him ease the heat of embarrassment. Some of the girls looked at Haymitch and sighed dreamily. They could not care less if he was in trouble, so long as he looked good while doing it. Eric Dugan, who could not get a good look at the dark-haired spectacle because Professor Porth's back was blocking the view, hurriedly reached for his inhaler because even simple encounters like this triggered his asthma.
Haymitch cleared his throat. "I am sorry if I have offended you, Professor Porth," he said, "but I fail to understand the significance of this lecture." He watched as blood rushed to Clayton Porth's bony cheeks.
"Here we go," Fredward's voice was a barely audible whisper.
Haymitch did not know much about the topic at hand, but he did know this: the Big Bang would remain a theory, unless proven otherwise. And the proof they were looking for was in a distance so great, they did not have a name for it. 'What idiot would believe the existence of an alternate world?' "Professor Porth, the Big Bang is practically on a dead-end, here. Obviously they're forgetting something, or else they're just – I dunno – plain wrong. You have to admit that the notion of having a duplicate lightyears away does sound rather preposterous, don't you think? Why even talk about it?" It did not take long for Haymitch to realize that once more, his aggression got the better of him. But it was too late to take it all back; he had spoken, and only luck or mercy could save him now.
"My boy, it is the consequence of this theory! The Universe is vast, how are we to know that somewhere, a young man strikingly similar to yourself is, let's say, mining coals instead of studying in this prestigious school?" he chuckled. "Well, we can't, but even still, we couldn't deny the possibility of your parallel's existence simply because you did not meet him."
Clayton Porth believed the standard theory of how the Universe came to be. Of course, like other theories, scientists needed to patch up the loopholes created along with their studies. The theory could not be confirmed as several factors were overlooked, and these factors were detrimental to the validity of the Big Bang; inflation, temperature, and the measurement of time were among these. Cosmologists did further research to fill the gaping holes that mocked their previous conclusions, and after several revisions were done, they came up with a more intricate theory that responded to the previously unanswered questions. But like before, these new findings had ramifications. The conclusion explained everything perfectly, but it also implied that billions and billions of lightyears away from each other, parallel worlds existed – an alternate world, some called it. And in those worlds, similar people who led different lives might exist, too. It was embarrassing, even for them, to admit because they had no way of proving it. Thus, the veracity of their theory remained questionable to this day. The Big Bang theory was akin to an old, beaten cloak riddled with holes; the seamster did what he could to patch it up, only to find that his success at covering the holes worsened its condition. In the end, the cloak was perfectly functional, but it could not be worn outside because it looked ridiculous.
"Do remember that Science knows no bounds. And sometimes, even the most ludicrous things that do not ring true may in fact, be a breakthrough." The Professor continued. He drew in his breath, anger forgotten. He was the kind of man who entertained, even enjoyed his students' questions and doubts, however impertinent they may be. It was the quality that made him remarkable as a teacher, the reason why he was asked to remain in Saint Fabiola in spite of his students' constant complaints about his primitive methods of teaching (he was the only one who assigned leather-bound textbooks when other teachers required them to use an electronic book reader). Ironically, his enthusiasm did not manifest in his speech – his voice was a sedative that could lull anyone to sleep – in turn, his students became inattentive, opting to get lost in a world of dreams and fantasies – something that frustrated him to no end. "So listen, my boy, and take it all in. Because while this theory's validity is questionable, a nugget of information goes a long way. And you may never know, but there might be a similar boy in this Universe who's wishing he had your luck." A tight smile formed on his lips. "I'm glad that you shared your insights, Mr. Abernathy, and for that I will not deduct points from you."
Haymitch did not want to thwart his good fortune, so he admitted defeat. To spew out more ignorance in front of a seasoned professor was akin to swimming against the raging seas – it cannot be won. 'I should really try to control myself,' he thought wanly, but those were empty words. Sooner or later, belligerence would rear its ugly head and get him into a world of trouble, but for now he was grateful for the consideration he received.
"Thank you, sir."
Despite himself, Haymitch wondered about how his life would have differed if he lived in one of those other worlds Professor Porth had talked about. It sounded inviting. Maybe he'd trade places with the theoretical coal miner Haymitch who wished to live his luxurious life. 'Let's see how he likes it.' He let out a small, bitter laugh. What if in some other world, he was fated to endure one of those crazy arenas his father came up with? What if he already has? What if in every alternate world, his counterpart was just as miserable as he was, only in different ways? The joke would be on the boy who wished to live as himself in another world. The joke would be on him.
'What luck that would be,' Haymitch thought, and did not speak for the rest of the class.
Haymitch and his friends, Conrad, Bilius, and Fredward stood at the side of the courtyard after the lunch bell rang, basking in the faint glow of the autumn sun. Around them were other students walking around campus in their standard issue purple blazers – it was a shade so deep it almost appeared black – and grey slacks or plaited grey skirts. While swirls of deep purple and grey buzzed around them like bees, the four boys just stood by the corner and watched the Marching Band of Saint Fabiola perform their routine – a steady cadence and relentless drumbeats whilst the girls, in their short, purple skirts, and knee-high leather boots, twirled their batons gracefully. Tiffany was among them; she would occasionally steal a glance at Haymitch, and smile sweetly. He always smiled back – not an arrogant smirk, but a genuine smile, the kind that revealed a little of one's soul.
Haymitch's friends were fascinated by the infinite possibilities the vast Universe had to offer. They gushed about alternate worlds the way a group of middle school girls would discuss their future weddings – all smiles and bright eyes. They imagined what they would look like, how the world itself would be like. Save for Bilius Videbeck, whose obsession with scholarly endeavors rendered his skin ghostly and greyed his hair prematurely, they were not the kind of people who marveled at Science, but just this once, they shared the same amazement.
Bilius said that he watched an old Japanese animated series – the kind of show that aired late at night in an obscure satellite channel nobody ever watched – about a world that excelled in Alchemy instead of the Physical and Biological Sciences. He said that in the main protagonist's desperation to retrieve his brother's soul and body, he managed to create a gate that led to Munich, Germany.
Conrad and Fredward, who were best friends since kindergarten, had little interest in such things. The only antediluvian thing they allowed their eyes to see was an American animated movie about a group of young dinosaurs who went on adventures and sang songs about friendship. Of course, those fun activities happened before they were wiped out from the planet. And that movie was created long before the United States of America failed as a nation and became Panem. They did not enjoy the film, knowing that the little dinosaur, his grandparents, and his friends became nothing but fossils within a fossil – remnants of an artistic endeavor that had long been devoured by mankind's inadequacy to act humane. Of course, Conrad and Fredward were unable to express it as such, because even they could not point out what felt so wrong. But they were certain it was "supposed to be heart-warming, but watching it now just felt creepy."
"What do you think?" Fredward noticed that Haymitch was so absorbed in his secret conversation with Tiffany, and sighed. "Uh, 'Mitch?"
"Oh—well, I bet it'd be interesting if a bunch of happy and friendly dinosaurs co-existed with us," Haymitch said, turning his head to face his friends. "But it's not something I'd prefer."
"Maybe in another world, that would be the case," Bilius said, trying to turn the focus on parallel universes once more. "Thank you, Conrad and Fred for telling us a heart-warming and equally tragic tale about a bunch of dead dinosaurs."
"Anyway, the moral of the story is: no matter how much you hold on, dreams can and will die." Conrad said, his hands setting the unmanageable jet black mane crowning his head. His hazel eyes fell upon Haymitch who was, again, sending secret messages to Tiffany with his eyes. Conrad did not mean anything by it. He just felt a little frustrated that they could never have a decent conversation with their friend when she was within range, but Fredward cleared his throat, as if sensing a strange and unwanted premonition in Conrad's seemingly meaningful comment.
"What if there was a parallel world where we're all dinosaurs?" He said a little too brightly, his voice cracking like a worn out rubber duck.
Conrad, Bilius, and even Haymitch turned to look at Fredward, whose chestnut colored hair remained untouched by the breeze. He stood motionless on the grassy space he occupied, his blue eyes scanning the faces of his friends – faces that were trying hard not to laugh. His fleshy lips parted into a goofy smile, and they doubled up with laughter. They laughed until their lungs were deprived of oxygen, and until their insides hurt.
Miles away from the Capitol, where laughter and joy was less abundant, Effie Trinket sat on one of the branches of an old leafless tree in the deserted corner of the schoolyard. Her shoulder-length tresses were gathered in a messy ponytail and strands of unruly hair were clumped together with sweat, sticking to her dirty face. She caught her breath and surveyed the ground below, looking at the mean faces of her assailants. They looked like jackals with their sweltering glares, crumpled noses, and bared teeth, circling a prey they could not reach.
Sabrina Cole and her less-than-pleasant friends had become the regular source of Effie's discomfort. The bookseller's daughter was aware that attempting an offensive attack would be futile, for they were obviously bigger than her – she was twelve, they were fourteen, albeit with the minds of developmentally delayed four-year-olds – but she refused to be intimidated by people who obviously needed her brains to pass 8th grade. So she did the two things her tiny body could accomplish: run and climb. With her petite frame, she held a great advantage over them in these things; she was light on her feet and her weight did not hold her down, so whenever Sabrina's heavy footsteps approached – tailed by her equally big-boned associates – Effie dashed like a helpless deer.
Sabrina and the other two waited for her descent, but Effie knew better. They would wear themselves out eventually, and decide to harass someone else into doing their work for them. She looked at her hands that were stained with wood and sap, and wiped them on her faded blue jeans but the dust from the fabric only glued itself to her sticky hands. She was dying to clean herself up, to remove the streak of dirt on her red shirt, but the girls' bathroom was inside the school building, which, of course, was built on the ground, and climbing down the tree entailed dire consequences.
"You know, it would be easier if you just get down from that stupid branch and do our homework, bookshop brat," said one of Sabrina's friends. They called her Grace, and the name did not befit her. Grace was tall and heavily muscled, with locks of greasy dark hair, and a large set of teeth that was parted in the middle. Because of malnutrition, it was unusual for kids from the Seam to grow so big, but her size was acquired through genetics. Also, she worked at the mine everyday, carrying sack after sack of coal. The brute must have figured that with her size, she could do hard labor – things average girls would not be able to do.
"Yeah. No," Effie shook her head, "I happen to like it up here. Sitting on a branch. Not socializing with my friends. Because, you know, spending time with you guys doesn't get old."
"How touching," it was Matilda's baritone voice this time, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She was more handsome than pretty. Her eyes are a deep shade of blue, like the seemingly endless ocean, her nose was high-bridged, and her lips were bow-shaped. Her chin-length hair was the color of sand, and her mandibles were chiseled, making her look like a brave Roman soldier. She had an older brother that looked just like her: Robert. Effie had seen him hanging out with the paperboy.
"Yes, definitely heart-warming," Effie said, her smile sickly sweet. "Nothing beats a daily dose of browbeating fun, eh?." she added.
"I swear to god, Trinket," Sabrina's voice was dangerously low, her light blue eyes were alit with unadulterated rage. Her long, blonde hair crackled with electricity "I am gonna bludgeon you once I get a hold of you." Her face reddened with impatience. They needed their homework done before the bell rang, and there was their beacon of hope, sitting on a tree with her legs dangling, mocking their inability to yank her down from her perch.
"Time is tic-tocking, Sabrina," Effie said in her most innocent voice, "That English homework isn't going to finish itself, you know."
She was hoping that Sabrina and her friends were desperate enough to have their work done before lunch was over so that they'd leave her alone. Her legs were starting to feel numb from the lack of circulation, having stayed in the same position for several minutes, and her skin itched. Her shoulders began to ache, burdened by a heavy backpack filled with books, writing materials, and unsubmitted homework. She shuffled in her perch, trying to move into a more comfortable position when she heard a splintering sound of breaking wood. The unsettling realization dawned on her: the branch she was sitting on was too old. Soon, it would break, taking her to the ground and leaving her with a fractured femur at best, and an open skull at worst. Knowing the people who awaited her descent, she would take the worst case scenario any day, if only they would disappear.
'Now would be a good time to get bored,' she thought. 'this is getting ridiculously perilous.'
Another cracking sound was heard, and Effie could almost feel her legs dangle closer within Sabrina's reach. The process of breaking was painfully slow, and as the bookseller's daughter turned her eyes upward, she spotted a sturdier branch. It mocked her with the promise of security, something she could obtain if only her branch would allow further abuse. But it didn't, so she did not make a move.
"God, help me," Effie whispered to herself.
Inside the school building were corridors humming with life. A variety of children roamed the campus, immersed in conversation with their peers. There were pretty sixteen-year-old girls, born of merchants and their wives, laughing softly with their hands covering their mouths. They tucked loose blonde curls behind their ears demurely and the simple a-line dresses they wore flattered their curves. There were rowdy eleven-year-old boys pushing each other. They were loud but their voices were indistinguishable among the noisy crowd, mingling with the murmurs of the gossip mongers who whispered about courtships, teenage pregnancies, and kids who lived in topsy-turvy homes. Lucy Abbott was among these gossipers, and she sneered at the sight of Cristobel Gray walking with Maysilee and Marjorie Donner. Lucy had feelings for the baker's son, Sal Mellark, but his affections were reserved for 'pretty little Cristobel' whose eyes were set on Virgil Everdeen, the paperboy with the golden voice.
Lucy and her friends watched as Cristobel and the Donner twins passed by with their hands waving as they approached Virgil and his friends, Robert and Gus. The gossipers whispered amongst themselves. Gabriel Hawthorne and Hazelle Gibbs were nowhere to be found, and this was odd, considering that Virgil usually kept their company, as well.
"Maybe they had an argument," Beatrice, the homely girl with dry brown hair said, her voice soft and small. "Virgil and the two, I mean."
"Didn't you hear?" Mimi, a girl who wore her blonde hair in pigtails, added, "Gabriel and Hazelle are dating, they probably want their privacy."
Lucy huffed and crossed her arms. She was tall for a fifteen-year-old girl. She was pretty enough, but her blonde hair had no luster and her features were sharp, making her look unapproachable and unpleasant – exterior qualities that reflected her spiteful nature. She was envious of people who had more, and this made her perpetually bitter. "Well I think Virgil is about to go to the woods outside the border, again," she stated this with confidence, "and Gabriel, being the scoundrel that he is, is probably over the fence already, waiting for his friends." It should be noted that Lucy had sharp insights, despite her vile disposition.
"How do you explain Hazelle?" Mimi chimed in. "She's not exactly the law-breaking type of person."
"Hazelle's probably working in the cafeteria kitchen," Lucy said, haughtily, "you know she's so poor she probably eats the leftovers from our trays." She looked at their subjects and shushed her friends. It was imperative for her to know what Cristobel is up to.
The three boys were animated, gesturing wildly as they conversed with their female peers. They talked about Virgil's kill two days before – an arrow shot straight to the eye of a moving target – and Virgil smiled shyly, as if Gus and Robert's compliments embarrassed him. But he occasionally glanced at Cristobel, and was pleased to know that she was nothing but proud and supportive of his brave, albeit illegal endeavors.
"Who'd you sell it to, Virgil?" Maysilee, a pretty girl with overgrown bangs, asked, an enthusiastic grin plastered on her face. She looked at Marjorie who could have been her mirror image were it not for the unmistakable differences in their mien – Maysilee was gregarious and puerile, while Marjorie is prudent and lady-like. "Damn, I should've come."
"Well, I sold it to the butcher," Virgil said, "I'd sell it to Mayor Kinney, or Buck, but the deer's too big; they'll have a hard time cutting it up."
"You know, Virgil," Marjorie's voice was soft, but she sounded unimpressed nonetheless, "one of these days, you're going to get your tongue cut off for running around outside territory." She looked at Maysilee whose eyes were shimmering with excitement at the prospect of hunting. "The same goes for you, Macy. You shouldn't run around in the woods. I can't cover for your absences at home and in school forever, you know." She crinkled her nose and looked around, sensing a disturbance. Marjorie had very good intuition, and could tell if someone was eavesdropping. It was a quality she shared with her twin. Her eyes fell on Lucy and her friends. "I'm sorry, but I think you've tuned in to the wrong conversation, Abbott," she chided, and the gossipers turned away, embarrassed.
"Maysilee is very good at what she does," Cristobel said when Lucy and her friends left. Her voice was calm and her blue eyes appeared to smile with her lips. "And besides, the law is not strictly implemented, at least not here. Our mayor and peacekeepers are beautifully corrupt."
"I prefer the word tolerant," Gus said. "You don't even have to give them discounts. The taste of juicy meat is enough."
"I swear, they even thank us for it," Robert added, "poachers are like, I dunno, the modern Robin Hood, or something." He began to process this analogy. "Of course we don't steal from the rich so that we could give to the poor. We are the poor. But the point is, we're doing this district a form of service at the cost of our own safety."
"See Marj," Maysilee finally said, "we're modern heroes." She turned to the boys. "Well, I could use some extra cash right about now. We better go."
Virgil nodded, "You're right. Gabe's waiting," he turned to look at Cristobel, "Do you need anything? Some herbs, leaves, flowers? I'll get them for you."
"No, I still have a lot of supplies from your last gathering," Cristobel said, she looked at the analogue clock on the wall. It was 12:45 PM "you guys better go before the bell rings."
The group parted ways, with Cristobel and Marjorie heading for their next class, and Virgil, with Maysilee and the two boys, heading towards an exit that led to the schoolyard. Blocking their way out was a sea of people heading back inside, and they struggled against the raging current of scurrying children. By the time they made it out, almost the whole yard was devoid of students, save for the farthest corner where they saw three large girls circling the old tree. Maysilee was the first to notice the familiar face of Matilda.
"Hey, Bob," she said, "That's your sister over there, right?"
The sun was high and painful to the eyes, and Robert's vision was blurry with white light. He squinted, trying to find his younger sister amongst the blur of color and mass. "Yep, there's no mistakin' it," he finally said. "That's Tilly and her friends." He spat the last word out of his mouth, as if it was venom.
"The way they're standing there, you'd think Matilda and her chums are offering a sacrificial lamb to their god, or somethin'," Gus chuckled at the thought. "They're frickin' Amazons."
"Maybe they are," Virgil muttered; his eyes were focused on the girl who was precariously positioned on a branch. "That's the bookshop girl on the tree. You know, Trinket?"
"Looks like the kid's about to be fed to the sharks," Maysilee observed. "Maybe we should give her a hand."
Robert walked past Gus, his light-colored brows furrowed in annoyance. He loved his sister but not the company she kept, and he reminded her time and time again to find better friends. Virgil followed close behind with an intent to help his regular customer from being harassed by a group of malevolent fourteen-year-old girls.
"Matilda!" Robert's voice boomed throughout the deserted grounds, "What the hell are you doing terrorizing a frickin' 7th grader?"
His deep blue eyes burned with rage as he moved toward his younger sister. Robert and Matilda shared a close relationship as brother and sister – he fondly called her Tilly, and in turn, she called him Bobby – but the former had a certain quality in him that made the latter's skin crawl whenever he spoke with ferocity and ire. In Robert's presence, Matilda seemed small and mousy. He towered over her, and she recoiled.
"I warned you about hanging out with Sabrina!"
"We were just trying to help Trinket climb down the tree," Matilda lied, "but it's hard because we're big, see. We cannot climb the tree, and the branch she's sitting on is – uh – breaking." She nodded, seemingly proud of her ability to think on her feet.
"That's a lie!" Effie shouted from her crumbling perch, "I'm stuck in this tree because you're out to get me!"
From above, Effie could see Matilda's pale face and watery eyes. She felt like smiling at the sudden turn of events. Sabrina and Grace tried to walk away, but Maysilee and Gus stood in front of them, eyebrows raised in question. Virgil was fishing out the large sturdy blanket he carried around in his bag. It was a present from Ripper, a friend whose family sold alcohol and cigarettes at the Hob; something he could use if he wanted to take a rest in the woods. But he managed to find other uses for it, as well.
Virgil called his friends for assistance. "Hey guys!" he yelled out, "Forget Matilda and the others, I need you to help me catch our wimpy friend, here." They did as they were told, and the three bullies took this opportunity to run. He turned his attention back to Effie whose eyes were now wide as saucers.
"What are you gonna do?" her voice trembled in panic while she slightly turned her head to watch the four older children spread out the blanket a little behind her. She had an inkling that their plan required her to do something a little too daring for her liking.
"We need you to dive backwards for the plan to work," Virgil sensed the doubt that clouded Effie's mind, and he sighed. "Don't worry, bookshop girl, we have impressive upper body strength." His eyes fell on Effie's backpack. "I advise you to throw your bag to the ground, though. It may hurt you."
Effie looked at Virgil and his friends, each face was showing encouragement. Her heart pounded against her chest, she heard it pumping blood and adrenaline through her vessels. Despite her fears, she did what was instructed. Carefully, she removed the bag and threw it on the ground. It landed with a 'thud' and she worried that her landing might prove to be more tragic. But the bookseller's daughter knew that she had to take a chance. If she tried to reach the trunk, the branch would break and cause an agonizingly painful fall. She had to trust her rescuers – most of them she only knew from afar – to catch her. So with her eyes closed, Effie Trinket followed the paperboy's advice to dive backwards. It did not take long, but the seconds ticked by ever so slowly. She felt the pull of gravity dragging her down, and it felt oddly exhilarating. When she opened her eyes, the soft fabric of the blanket was tickling her skin, and relief washed over her fear-stricken features. The branch Effie was sitting on swayed to and fro, awaiting its fate – an inevitable fall that would forever separate it from the tree. She looked around and saw her saviors' smiling faces. She was safe, and she owed it to them. Gently, Virgil and the others placed the blanket on the dusty soil. It was Robert who stepped forward to pull Effie from where she was laid.
"Sorry about Tilly," Robert said, his voice loud but sincere, "she has a lot of insecurities, and I guess she's taking it out on the younger kids."
Effie smiled at him and nodded, "An apology isn't necessary," she said quickly, "I should really thank you guys for helping me out." She dusted herself and stepped off the blanket that caught her fragile body. "I mean, I would've ended in the infirmary were it not for your efforts to save me." Effie did not like the infirmary. It smelled of healing herbs and vomit.
"Well, bookshop girl," Virgil chimed in while he folded the blanket, "I guess we all know what to do now that you're safe from a death-defying fall." He gave his friends a meaningful look, and the others seemed to agree with the hidden message the paperboy sent.
Effie Trinket was no stranger to them; she had a good reputation among their group. Virgil had shared a thing, or two about her in passing, and they thought she had an interesting character. They came into a mutual agreement to befriend the younger girl, and what better way to show amiability than an invitation to an activity they held so dear.
"Get back to class?" Effie suggested.
"Uh, no, sweetie, you're smart enough to skip a few classes," Maysilee said, "I think that what you need is to learn a thing or two about surviving the wilderness, am I right, Virgil?"
"Ah, Maysilee, it's as if you're reading my mind," Virgil winked. "What do you say to having a little fun in the woods with us, Effie Trinket? You know, chasing around animals, climbing trees, the works."
"Seems to me that she already knows a thing or two about climbing trees," Gus chimed in, "it's getting down that she needs to learn."
"But I have to submit my homework, and we have a test and – " Effie tried to reason.
"And you're smarter than an average 10th grader," Robert cut her off, "but know next to nothing about defending yourself against my kid sister." He gave Effie a gentle shove. "You need some fresh air, kid. So, come on. It's not like we're asking you to skip school everyday. A streak of rebellion is good. "
Besides," Virgil added, "I owe you. I'll be more than happy to teach you the ways of an illegal hunter. You'd be strong and agile before you know it."
"I might not come back alive," Effie whispered, her eyes wide in trepidation.
"Tss," Gus sounded exasperated. "Come on. D'you really think we'd let anything bad happen to you?"
Effie pursed her lips in uncertainty, but Virgil and the others were looking at her with hopeful eyes, as if they really wanted her to be part of their little group. 'Since when did mentors become so eager to take in a wimpy apprentice?' she wondered. She was not too keen on coming, but she owed them, and did not want to refuse their offer.
"I suppose not,"she decided. "Okay, I'll come along."
A/N: And there goes chapter 4.
That thing about the Big Bang Theory was frickin' difficult to write simply because I cannot fully comprehend it, myself. I'm layman all the way. Hahaha! Anyway, when I read The Never-Ending Days of being Dead by Marcus Chown, Elvis Lives was the first topic, and it was all about the Big Bang theory. I'm not a science junkie, and I can't explain it, but the bottomline is the Big Bang had loopholes that needed fixing. And they did, but their explanation also implied the existence of duplicates. If you want the juicy details, find the book, or surf the internet. They're much better at Science than I am. And seriously, I don't know if there are any updates on the Big Bang. I don't know if they're in a dead-end, or if they're looking for another explanation, or if they're just looking for a way to find our duplicates (there are so many). Personally, I don't think they're workin' on proving the existence of duplicates because our distance from them... well, let me just say that there are far too many zeroes. Unless we can utilize wormholes, I don't think we'll ever meet our parallels. Just my two cents. If you know more stuff about this, please, enlighten me, for I am your ignorant internet friend. :D
Oh, and the Japanese animated series Bilius watched. It was the first Anime adaptation of Fullmetal Alchemist. It's good, really. I recommend it, but Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood is even better. Brotherhood takes after the manga. Anyway, Hiromu Arakawa is the genius who created it.
As for the movie about dinosaurs. It's called The Land Before Time. You know the theme song... If we hold on together/blah blah... dreams will never die. I don't remember the lyrics, sorry.
And the tree, and the branch, and all that outdoorsy stuff. I almost died. I never went out of the house to play, ever. I don't know how to climb a tree, and I don't know about breaking branches. So if Effie's predicament sounded totally ridiculous, feel free to point it out.
I'm using the spellcheck here, and it's pretty efficient. The spellcheck in my word processor isn't working as it should. It says something about being in Danish, or something. I'm trying to be vigilant. I edited this over and over again, but I might've missed some things, so feel free to point out errors.
Again, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and feel free to review. Scratch that, I'm begging you to review. No, scratch that. Feel free to review. :) And yes, I am feeling specially talkative today, I don't know why, really. I'm insane. O_o Maybe not.