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: I was doing pretty well with this chapter, until a euphoria-induced writer's block claimed me. See, I finally got the result of my licensure exam and I passed. Huzzah! So, you can only imagine my joy. Things are going to be pretty busy for me from now on, since I have to train, take an oath, get a job... you know, all the horrible stuff. I'll update, of course, but I'm not too sure if I'll be able to meet the two-week deadline. Even so, I do hope you guys bear with me. Here's chapter 5. :)
Chapter 5
Richard sat idly on a stool behind the counter - the very same stool he was sitting on the day Sara, his deceased wife, first entered his bookshop – as he punched through the digits of his calculator. The window on his right framed the inky black sky – a canvas God had painted on with tiny dots of light – and the closed shops whose windows were alit with the faint yellow-orange glow of battery-operated lamps or candlelights (power was a rare commodity in District 12, and the citizens suffered plenty of dark nights). The bookseller sighed and flicked the switch of his battery-operated desk lamp on and off, dark and light alternating with each other, casting eerie shadows against his face. Lately, he spent his Saturday nights waiting for his daughter to come home.
Effie was not one to stay out late on a Saturday. In fact, she was not one to go out, at all. She spent her free time reading books, and trying to expand what little education the district had to offer into something worthwhile. But recently, Richard noticed that his daughter's interests were shifting. While she spent her weekdays doing homework and reading books, and her morning routine remained unchanged, Saturdays became a mystery to him. It's not that his little girl left home without a word; she provided details. She would tell him of her plans to spend the day on the meadows – to get some fresh air, to smell the wild flowers, or to watch the birds fly south; she had an arsenal of excuses for going out – but the mudtracks on their wooden floor raised a certain awareness that his daughter's activities were not completely innocent, or harmless. The grass stains on her jeans and the streaks of earth on her shirt did not provide reassurance, either. Week after week, when his daughter would wear her leather boots and walk out of the bookshop with her backpack hanging on one shoulder, the bookseller hoped that things would return to their normal state the following week; that next Saturday, he would find Effie curled up in her bed, reading about the adventures of a certain boy wizard and his friends, or else, cutting out newspaper clippings from the Panem Daily (an utterly worthless source of news, in Richard's opinion, but if it kept his daughter away from going out too much, he'll gladly support this obsession). 'She'll be fine,' he would tell himself, 'let her have a little fun outside once in a while.' But many Saturdays had passed – a month's worth – and by then, he was certain his daughter's choice of outdoor recreation did not involve merely lying peacefully on the cold, grassy earth. 'After all, how many children came home with muddy boots as a result of watching the clouds?' He sighed. 'Forget the mud. How many children who had such a passive activity in mind wore leather boots, at all?' Effie was never a very good liar, and he could only take so much of her fib about meeting Amy and Kathy at the meadows, especially when he'd seen the two girls buying bread at Cal's shop. As a father, he spent too much time feigning sleep while listening to his daughter's faint footsteps as she tried to tiptoe her way upstairs, when he should be scolding her for staying out too late. Tonight, Richard Trinket would ask his child what she's been up to, and she would tell him the truth. 'Once in a while, you should play the role of a strict father.'
The unmistakable sound of a turning knob alerted Richard of the girl's arrival, and he flicked the switch of the lamp on to get a good look at his daughter's guilt-stricken face.
"Well?" Richard's tone was grave, and Effie paused with her hand still grasping the brass knob, her eyes wide. "Care to explain why you're out late again, Euphemia Trinket?"
Her forehead was beaded with sweat and her cheeks were smudged with dirt. Effie bit her lower lip as she squirmed from where she stood. The soles of her boots were filthy with mud and stones, and each slight movement of the feet caused the tiny rocks in the crevices to grate on the wooden floor. The name Euphemia was reserved for long, serious discussions about the sad realities of life, or her unbecoming behavior. Effie knew tonight's discussion would be about the latter, and it made her a little nervous. 'I can't tell dad that I've been cavorting with a bunch of teenage poachers outside territory.'
Effie remembered the first time they asked her to join their adventures; how reluctant she had been at the prospect of skipping school to break just about a million other rules. How her heart almost exploded against her ribcage! The moment she said 'Okay, I'll come along,' thousands of ugly images swirled inside her head – getting electrocuted while crossing the fence, Buck Vega catching them red-handed and accusing them of rebellion, getting tried in the Justice Building and being shipped off to the Capitol to get their tongues cut out, a life lived in servitude to spoiled Capitolian families. It made her dizzy. The District 12 citizens had so little freedom, and she was risking this trickle of privilege for an afternoon of daring fun. 'This is insanity.' The words reverberated in her head as she walked towards the forbidden grounds with Virgil and his friends – her new friends.
All her worries dissolved when she successfully crossed the fence, and saw a piece of earth far more rich than what her home could ever hope to be. She could smell the mustiness of the damp earth and the slimy mudpits, the sweetness of autumn flowers in bloom. She heard the crunching sound of leaves as they crumbled beneath her feet, the countless birds who sang a chorus in glorious harmony. She marveled at the vibrant hues that overwhelmed her eyes; all the colors were so rich and diverse that Maysilee's bright yellow hair, and Robert's ocean blue eyes dimmed in comparison. Her mouth was agape, her azure eyes wide in wonder. Effie felt invigorated by such awesome beauty that she barely noticed the grinning faces of her companions, and the appearance of Gabriel Hawthorne whom at age eighteen, felt responsible for his younger comrades' safety.
"A newcomer?" Gabriel's eyebrows shot up in mild surprise, and his obsidian orbs scanned Effie. The object of his scrutiny looked upon him with questioning eyes, and his fleshy lips formed a tight smile – an attempt he made to ease her discomfort. "A bit too young, don't you think?" He turned to Virgil who was retrieving his bow and arrow from a log.
Virgil shrugged, "I was twelve when you introduced me to the wonders of juvenile delinquency," he reasoned, "besides, we didn't even bring her here to hunt."
"Then, why'd you drag her into the forest?" Gabriel's eyebrows were quirked, his nostrils flared, and his head was turned ever so slightly to the side. It was how he always looked when genuinely confounded by his friend's actions. "I don't – "
"Education," Maysilee said before he could finish. She gripped a hand-made weapon she crafted on her own in one hand – a long wooden pipe – and long pointed needles on the other: It was a blow dart. She usually dipped the needles on a tranquilizing solution so that the prey would be immobilized. Gus and Robert, both adept in short-range combat, were her usual hunting companions. "We brought Effie here to learn a thing or two about survival."
"I didn't know we're taking in apprentices," Gabriel said, but did not protest. He walked toward Effie and put a callous hand on her shoulder. "Sorry, I think I was a bit rude," he said. "Anyway, my name's Gabriel, but people call me Gab, feel free to do the same." He paused for a moment, taking his hand off the younger girl's shoulder, and just as Effie was about to open her mouth, he continued. " Remember, it's Gab. Not Gabe. Not Gabby. And especially not Briel. I don't like how they sound – just Gab, 'kay?"
"Gab," Effie repeated, nodding. "I'm very pleased to meet you. My name's Euphemia Trinket, but I'd rather people call me Effie. It's shorter."
"Great, nice to meet'cha, too," Gabriel said, "Now, if you're really goin' to hang out here with us, you should be able to pull your own weight. If you can't, well –" he thought about it for a moment. What did happen to people who cannot fend for themselves? 'they die,' he thought grimly, but he did not want to scare the girl off, so he bit his tongue and sucked on his teeth.
"I die a gruesome death?" Effie finished for him.
Gabriel shook his head, as if clearing it of the nasty thought, and smiled a little too brightly, which convinced Effie that he was indeed thinking about death. He averted his eyes to the distance, and pointed to a sizable mound of earth and stones – a hill of sorts. "That's where we're heading," he told Effie, changing the subject, "to our usual spot. It's relatively safe over there, and it's not far from here." He stressed the word safe, as if that's what mattered most – and it did – and signaled Effie and his friends to start the short trek.
As they went deeper into the woods, the song of nature was made clear; the unseen barricade that muffled Gaia's breathtaking voice seemed to have been lifted. The sound of flapping wings as birds flew from tree to tree, the steady streams of water as they flowed from narrow channels, the soft thuds of a graceful animal's footsteps, and the rustling of the leaves as the soft autumn breeze caressed them filled the youngsters' ears. But while the others were used to hearing this sweet lullaby, Effie was rapt in awe as she took in the steady sound of life, and the pulsating rhythm of the circle. 'We are one.'
Virgil was the first to speak upon their arrival at the hilltop. He turned to Robert and Gus who were carrying unsculpted wood in their arms. They got the wood from the scraps in Robert's father's workshop – wood the older man deemed unusable, or else, of poor quality. Out of these useless things, they created weapons, which were strategically hidden inside the hollow of the log. They leave their stock of wood nearby, hidden beneath the bushes.
"You better make some stuff for the bookshop girl," Virgil told them. "Weapons she can practice with, I mean."
"Don't forget to teach her, too," Gabriel added, "remember the old saying: give a man fish and he will be fed for a day, but teach a man how to fish and he will be fed for life. I think that applies to our friend's situation, here."
"Shouldn't Effie learn about basic survival, first?" Gus protested, and Robert nodded behind him in agreement. "I mean, she's in the woods."
"Crafting something that can defend you is a survival skill," Virgil reasoned. "You, of all people, should know that." He shifted his attention to the youngest member of the group. "Now, bookshop girl, I know you'd like to go exploring, but we'll save that for next time. For now, listen to Gus and Bob. You're going to need their skills."
The bookseller's daughter merely nodded as she was too busy marveling at the new sights the hill afforded her.
Effie spent that afternoon watching Gus and Robert carve objects out of wood, while Virgil, Gabriel, and Maysilee hunted and picked fruits. She sat across the two young men, absorbed by the ceaseless motion of their nimble hands. At one point, Gus gave her a carving knife and taught her the basic skills. It was not as simple as peeling potatoes, or slicing onions, and her hands were soft, even for a district girl. She received a cut, or two, maybe three, which was fortunate – according to Robert – compared to the cuts he received when he was learning the art from his father (wood carving was their family business, and it was a small one, too, because lumber came rarely). At the end of the day, Effie managed to carve a crude figurine of a three-legged shark (she insisted it was a horse), which Gus and Robert regarded as magnificent despite its obvious disfigurement. Gus managed to create a wooden replica of his dagger, and gave it to Effie.
"Something you can use for practice the next time," he told her. "I'll teach you some of the skills I learned from rough housing with my older brothers. They're good with a knife too, see?"
Extreme poverty was commonplace in the Seam, so Gus' brothers used to frequent the forest to assist illegal poachers, and were given the animals' skin as token (this was before they were old enough to work at the mines). His brothers taught him different ways to skin an animal, to drain the blood from their jugular vein. But they also taught him to kill and defend himself with a blade. Gus was the youngest of four children; he was small for his age, and skinny, too, but he learned to use these to his advantage. He could easily escape the tight huddle his brothers encased him in, and could slip between their legs when they tried to block his way. He dodged their homemade training knives with ease, and he learned to do an offensive attack with one swift movement. The eldest, Jeff, worked for Robert's father. He promised to teach Gus everything he learned in the wood carving shop, but did not get to fulfill that promise. Four years ago, Jeff was reaped for the Hunger Games, and died of an infection after three days in the arena. He was eighteen – a year away from safety. In the end, it was Robert who taught Gus how to carve – to create rather than to destroy – but Gus was the one who taught Robert how to kill.
"I'm not so sure if there is going to be a next time," Effie replied honestly, "I can't keep on skipping classes. I know our lessons are limited to what the government wants us to know, but I want to learn everything I can. I value education."
"Oh, there will be a next time," Gus sounded certain.
We're here every Saturday, too," Robert chimed in. "We only skip classes when we're desperate."
Robert noticed that Effie was looking at his handiwork admiringly, and could not suppress a smile. He handed it to her, and watched as she ran her fingers along the crevices of his latest creation. The staff was long and slender with lovely carvings all over its body. It was unthinkable that such intricate details were created in such a short period of time, by a gigantic fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy whose proportionally big hands were not made to carve such minute details. But it was, and that's what made it so spectacular.
"It's a spear," Robert said as Effie handed it back to him,"I made it as light as possible. Just a few additions, perhaps some polishing, and next week, you'll be able to use this beauty, bookshop girl." He was just about done with the weapon. He still needed to go to Marlon Undersee's underground kiosk for the spearhead. Undersee's was a place where kitchen knives and other hardware equipment were sold, but they had a stall at the Hob, where prohibited items like darts and hunting materials could be purchased. They called it Underground Undersee's, and Marlon's son, Philip, usually manned that stall after school and on weekends. The group shopped there on weekends and have gotten discounts because Philip had the biggest crush on Maysilee. However, Maysilee did not return his affection, and even wondered what the weak-legged student body president saw in her. "We'll have Gab teach you how."
Effie had never felt such great excitement in her life, and when the day ended, after they feasted on some wild berries Maysilee plucked off, she could not wait for Saturday to come. She never knew adventures could exist outside the four corners of her bedroom. All her life, she only knew happiness, sadness, fear, tedium, and longing. Fear mingled with anticipation was something she only understood through her imagination, but true excitement, as it turned out, was much more than that. She arrived home covered in filth, and her shoes left mudtracks on their polished wooden floor. Her father looked with questioning eyes, but she only muttered about cleaning herself up before sitting for supper.
"Rough day in school?" Richard asked as he watched Effie play with her vegetables.
"Yeah," Effie's voice was small, and for once, she did not feel like looking into her father's eyes. "I fell in the mud."
The next day, Maysilee invited Effie and her friends, Kathy and Amy, to eat lunch with them. There, the bookseller's daughter got acquainted with Marjorie, Cristobel, and Hazelle. They had so much practical information to offer, and before the week was over, she learned about knitting, plants, and removing oil stains using a stick of chalk. Like so many other things, eating lunches with the budding hunters and the three older girls became a new routine.
Effie's Saturdays were spent in the woods with Gus teaching her the different ways to use a knife, as promised, and Maysilee instructing her about the 'art of stalking prey.' Virgil tried to teach her archery, but it was a skill she seemed incapable of learning. "Let's save that for another Saturday," he said after the bookseller's daughter came close to shooting Robert in the head by accident. It wouldn't be a good thing for Robert to die because he was assigned to teach her about the basics – knot-tying, and the like. And as for Gabriel, he decided it was too early for the girl to learn his skill.
Effie felt that she was living the life of her heroes and heroines, and was ecstatic. But as soon as she left prohibited grounds, her elation evaporated into thin air, like ether. What would she tell her father if he saw the mudy boots, the soiled t-shirt, and the tiny bruises on her arms and knees? She could only lie again. She spent her Saturday mornings delivering falsehoods as if they were simple truths, and did not enjoy the way her stomach turned when she did. Effie learned that guilt was the bitter aftertaste of adventure and education. 'No, it was the bitter aftertaste of lying for the sake of adventure and education, but it was worth it.' However, as she looked at her father's perpetually gentle countenance, the words did not seem to ring true. Or they did, but she knew he probably thought otherwise.
"Dad," Effie sounded awfully cheerful, but the caution and tension in her delivery was palpable, "It's quite late." She pointed at the circular wall clock on her right (Richard's left), as if to prove her point. "It's 10 o'clock, shouldn't you be asleep?"
Richard stood from his perch and walked towards his daughter. "Hmmm, I believe I should be questioning you, not the other way around, young lady," he said as he stood in front of Effie with his arms crossed. "Shouldn't you be in your room at this hour?" He wiped her dirty cheek with his thumb, and she winced at the gruff gesture. "And why on earth are you so filthy?"
Effie shrunk under her father's stern gaze as she lowered her eyes to the ground. She knew it was only a matter of time before he asked about the sudden change in her behavior. She knew Richard was no fool; her weekend outings with the older kids in school were starting to become a routine, and if he fell for her lies the first week, she did not expect him to believe the next ones. Which was why she was mildly surprised, and relieved, that her father allowed her to go out the following Saturdays without further questioning. 'Maybe I can pull this off.' Effie should have realized that he was merely observing her behavior, wondering if her sudden desire to go out (and lie about the company she kept) was an unconscious cry for help, a form of rebellion, a passing fancy, or a newfound hobby he needed to get used to. He was the kind of father who allowed his child to explore and learn, so long as it did not cause her harm. It happened before – the sudden change in habit, and her trying to hide it – when Effie and Quincy started the paper routine. He had asked her about it, but she quickly decided that Nicholas Flamel and the elixir of life was a more interesting topic to talk about compared to her morning conversations with Quincy Parker; Richard deemed it best not to push her. For two weeks, he watched as his daughter waited for the paperboy's arrival. He wondered if his little girl's newfound interest in the news was a fleeting one, but eventually, the bookseller figured it would become a permanent part of his daughter's mornings.
"Why are you suddenly interested in the newspaper?" He remembered asking Effie one morning, while they were eating breakfast. He did not see the point of beating around the bush. His frankness would tell his daughter that hiding was pointless.
Effie's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, knowing she'd been caught. "Current affairs," she finally said as she downed a mouthful of cereal.
Richard raised an eyebrow and sighed. The way his daughter said the words current affairs made her sound all grown up; not at all like the little girl who was sitting across the table. "Trying to be an adult now, are we?" he smiled fondly at Effie. "But I don't like the idea of my little girl reading such grown up stuff. You might stop being my baby when you do."
Effie shook her head furiously. "But I'm not a baby," she said, "but I'll still be your little girl, if you want. I'll be your smarter little girl, though, so get used to that. I'll know more things about our country! Even if Quincy says that the Panem Daily offers very little information." Her blue eyes brightened at the prospect of knowledge. "It's better than knowing nothing, at all."
"The motto our education system obviously lives by," Richard muttered to himself. He noticed that his daughter's eyes were burning with question, and he backpedaled. "Don't think much about what I've said, dear. Anyway, If you want to know more about Panem, then you have to look at it with open eyes. You can read the paper all you want, or you can ask me questions, but if you really wanna know, then take a look around you and give your own conclusions." He smiled as Effie quirked her eyebrows in confusion. A sign that she did not understand much of what her father was trying to tell her. "You don't have to rush yourself into knowing. You're very young. But if you want to keep on reading the paper, then it's fine by me." Effie cracked one of her largest smiles, one that implied her elation, and it made him think that his consent was well-worth it.
He did not want to expose his daughter to the Capitolian propaganda they published in the newspaper – it was one of the government's attempts to corrupt the citizens into believing their country's crooked system; cyanide for the mind – but he trusted that Effie would grow up to be a smart young woman who held her own opinions and point of view. With a heavy heart, he allowed his daughter to continue reading the newspaper, and answered her questions as best as he could. He vowed to guide her every step of the way, to make known to her the reality behind the articulate prose and vibrant pictures the Capitolian journalists put on print. This time, however, as he looked at the tiny cuts and bruises on his twelve-year-old's arms, he instantly regretted his decision to 'let her have her fun.'
"I did not expect that the blades of grass in the meadows could cut like – " Richard paused for a moment. He did not avert his eyes from his daughter's arm. "Well, I never quite thought that they could be as sharp as blades, is all, my dear." A sigh escaped his lips. "Take off your boots, Effie." He gently took her arms and led her upstairs, to her room. "Get yourself cleaned up, and afterwards, we'll talk."
Effie listened to her father's fading footsteps before heaving a sigh of relief. She knew the feeling of security would not last, that a few minutes from now, after she washed and removed the tiny leaves that crowned her messy hair, soaped the mud away from her delicate white skin, and scraped the grime off her fingernails, he would knock on her door and ask for the truth. And Effie was old enough to know that people tend to ask for truth with the promise of accepting it, only to find out too late that it was too much for them to take.
Just as Effie had expected, Richard knocked on her door several minutes later. By then, she was clothed in her purple cotton pajamas, and was seated on her chair trying to read an old classic by the light of her battery-operated lamp. She spoke shyly as she told him to 'come in' and gazed at the door as her father's gangly form emerged from the darkness of the living room. His calm façade was strained with fret, his eyes painted with mild disappointment. Effie felt the heavy weight of guilt press down against her chest.
"I'm sorry," Effie's voice was small and close to breaking, her eyes were glazed with unshed tears of shame and sadness. But she did not know what she felt sorry for – she regretted nothing. Freedom had its price, and she managed to steal a morsel of it without having to face the dire consequences. It was sweet, wonderful, mind-blowing – indescribably beautiful – yet there she was, apologizing for tasting and wanting more of it. 'Is it a sin to want freedom? Is it not a privilege every man deserves? Is it wrong to steal a little of what is rightfully yours in the first place?' She bit her lip as her father's eyes fell upon her face.
Richard stood still as he fixed his eyes on his daughter's face. In the dimness of the amber glow, he could see the longing in his little girl's eyes. She looked like a caged little bird, singing lullabies about a faraway world she did not even know – about a world that could have been hers. The bookseller recognized in her the same spirit he had as a boy, and felt torn.
"What you did, Euphemia," he walked towards his daughter and knelt, inspecting the mild injuries on her arms, "can kill you. Perhaps these injuries can't, but if you get caught – "
"I know," Effie's eyes were glued to the floor, trying to avoid what she imagined was a stern gaze of consternation. "I thought about it, too."
"Then why did you do it?" Richard asked. "Why would you carelessly act upon a whim when you know the danger that encompasses it?"
"Dad, we read all these books about people who are shackled by many different things," she looked up at her father, and tears began to stream down her face, "and the only way to be free is to fight, or to escape. I didn't do any of that. I just took a short breath. Is that so wrong?"
"But your life – " Richard tried to reason, but Effie cut her off.
"My life is insignificant," her voice was hard, her jaws clenched as she uttered each syllable, "I'm old enough to know that by now. They play with our lives for sport, they cheer at the sight of a dying child. If by any chance, I get called to play the Games, I'd die a prisoner. But imagine if I get caught in prohibited grounds, and they decide to hang me – to make an example out of me – well, at least I was able to have a little taste of what is rightfully ours, dad."
The bookseller heaved a sigh and rummaged through the kit for some cotton balls, and a flask of healing ointment. "Would it be worth it, princess?"
"Yes," Effie replied.
Richard paused for a moment and gazed upon her daughter's fiery azure eyes. All these years, he deprived himself of the opportunity to seek freedom. He spent his life trying to avoid death, that he had sacrificed what he truly wanted out of life. That was his mistake, and Effie did not make the same mistake. 'But who's to say that my precious daughter's decision was not a mistake much graver than mine?' As a father, he knew it was his duty to protect his child – the only memory he had of his wife – but then again, would he deny her the opportunity to know the joys a free man was afforded? 'How am I protecting her through limitations? How am I endangering her with liberation?' Safety was but an illusion the government used to keep the masses in control. He knew it - they both did.
"Then I suggest you bring with you a first aid kit the next time you go to the forest," he relented. When a father became unable to protect his child, what else could he do but support her with the best of his abilities? He swallowed the lump in his throat as Effie circled her arms around him. 'I'm a father, and I know the part I should play. But fathers have their limits, too.'
A/N: I figured Effie's dad wasn't one to neglect his only child, so it would be really weird for Effie to run around the woods like an orphaned child - with no one to ask her where she goes when she leaves, is what I mean. I've nothing against orphans.
Oh, and I think we all know who the boy wizard is. XD
And again, I edited this as best as I could, but if you see errors, please feel free to point it out. Please review! :) Hope you guys enjoyed.