A/N: The characters, plot, and dialogue in Ocean Blue all belong to me. The world in which it is set in belongs to Suzanne Collins. Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy. Reviews are welcome.
I wake up feeling like horse crap. I fall out of bed, knocking my head against the stained dresser that sits against the wall. Moaning, I drag my blanket behind me to the bathroom and absently turn the hot water knob in the shower to full blast. I shimmy out of my pajamas and step under the scalding stream, hissing as it burns my skin. Instead of actually washing myself, I simply stand in the shower, letting the water fall over my hair until I'm convinced it's clean enough and doesn't smell like dirt. Then I stumble back out of the shower, dry myself off with a pink towel, and pull on my corduroys and beige coat. Lastly, I wrap my blue scarf around my neck and slip into my short, leather boots. I clomp down the stairs three at a time, swiftly tying my hair into a French braid.
"Shay, do you want any breakfast?" Sea asks, poking her head in from the kitchen.
"No," I say flatly, not bothering to glance at her.
She knows what I want; she has for many years. I want the truth about her past. I don't mean that she was a victor, of course I know that. I want to know why she wakes up screaming every night, calling for Tray or Haley. I want to know why Red has to hold her until her breathing evens out again. But she won't tell me.
"Have a good day at school," she sighs as I run by. I slam the door behind me, almost rocking the house.
"Yeah," I mutter as I walk down the path. "Will do."
The schoolyard is quiet apart from a few kids standing here and there. I push past all of them and through the doors, making sure not to meet anyone's eye.
"Shay," a tall boy says, nodding his head at me.
"Brent," I nod back unenthusiastically. I turn the corner and quickly slip into room 120 just as the bell is ringing.
"Nice of you to join us, Ms. Cresta," Mrs. Brandon says accusingly. I glance sheepishly at her and take my seat in the back of the room, in-between Emerald Zimmer and some kid with bright blonde hair, almost white.
My eyes settle on the board and I hunker down, hoping the bell signaling two o'clock will come soon.
I slide out of my desk and join the crowds in the hallway to the cafeteria. I settle down in one of the blue plastic chairs in the far corner of the room and begin to gnaw absently on an apple.
"It's bad for my reputation to always hang out with a grumpy girl, you know," Cedar says, flopping down across from me.
"It's bad for my reputation to always hang out with a boy who's got attitude," I retort. Cedar chuckles and grabs my apple, taking a quick bite out of the good side.
I watch him eating the apple, a silent sigh escaping his mouth.
I've seen people who treat food like a gift from the heavens. I know what kind of people get that look on their face when they're eating for the first time in days.
"Cedar do you have lunch today?" I ask quietly.
"No," he answers after a moment. "Not enough money came in this week."
Although I did nothing wrong, guilt begins to settle in the pit of my stomach. He is my best friend, and his family is starving while I have enough money to buy myself a car.
"Here," I say, reaching into my backpack and pulling out a half-eaten pack of crackers. "Take this."
Usually Cedar Moore would be too kind to want to take anything from me, but today he does. Today he gratefully snatches the crackers out of my hand and stuffs them into his mouth. I can't imagine how hungry he must be.
"You should come to dinner tonight," I say as he eats. "I'll tell my mom to make something."
He nods gratefully, but looks embarrassed to have to take food from another family. I wish he wouldn't. We have more than we can eat anyways.
"How's it going with your mom anyhow?" he asks, swinging his feet up so they rest on the rim of the table.
"You mean our fight?" I ask, sighing. He nods, taking another bite of apple.
"She won't tell me anything. I ask about her past and she shuts down. She says there's nothing special about what happened when she was young, but I know there is. She won't even tell me why she wakes up every night screaming. Does she think I'm going to ignore it?"
Cedar shrugs, straightening his back to take on the role of counselor.
"Maybe it's hard for her to talk about," he suggests.
"Hard for her," I echo.
"Yeah. She could be battling something inside, something that is hard for her to release."
I think Cedar is slightly desperate to keep my family functioning. We're all he's got, after all.
We finish lunch and throw our shared apple core into the trashcan that sits near our table. It's why no one else comes near us. It smells like rotten eggs over here. Of course, the other reason is that I have made it obviously clear that anyone who bothers us will get a fist in the nose. And I will stick by that promise.
We walk out of the mess hall side by side. His large feet, made for swimming, fall hard on the ground, while mine, small and good for running, land without a sound.
I would be good for the games.
The thought scares me. I've been doing that lately, comparing myself to that of a victor. Do I think I could win? Do I think I'd like them? They're hell, I get that. But I'm not allowed to watch them, my parents won't talk about them, and everyone avoids the topic as much as they can. All I know is District 4 hasn't had a victor since Jersey Odair in the second games. I know I've never put my name in the reaping myself; my parents have gone to do it, saying it's better that way.
"Are you coming to the bonfire tomorrow?" Cedar asks, knocking his hip against mine.
"I don't have much choice in the matter," I mumble. "But yeah I'll be there."
"Good," he responds, ruffling my light hair. "I'll see you tonight for dinner, blue-eyed girl." With that, he bounds away to his next class.
I come to a slow stop and stare at the door marked 134 in front of me. Math doesn't need me and I don't need it. I turn quickly, ducking my head, and walk quickly back through the cafeteria and through the front doors. I'll go to Urchin's place. I like it better there anyhow. And she doesn't lie to me.
The bell jingles as I step into the bait shop, tapping my boots against the step to knock the dirt off. A blanket of fog and sea salt falls over me and I cough, sending dust spiraling through the air.
"Urchin?" I call through a cough. I step around a lone fish head on the wooden floor and continue making my way deeper into the musty store.
The bait shop is one known to all those who aren't lapdogs of the Capitol. It sells almost anything you could think of- from bait for the fishermen to morphling for the addicts. Urchin runs it and always has for all I know. The shop sits in the middle of town, with an abandoned sushi place on it's right and an expensive candy shop on it's left. It used to be used for exports of seafood to the other districts, but the Capitol banned that a few years back and it became a black market of sorts.
"Urchin?" I call again, brushing my hand along the fur coats that line one of the racks.
"Shay?" her wrinkly voice calls back and she steps out of the backroom, her hair flying out in every direction. She straightens her back when she sees me and takes a drag of her cigar, sending a fresh wave of stench into the air.
"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" she rasps, glaring at me. I ignore her and take a seat on one of the broken stools.
"What's on the menu?" I ask, squinting at the paper sign hanging above her that she never updates.
"Fish soup," she growls. "Just like every other day."
The old woman continues to scowl at me as I tap my fingers against the counter. I know she hates being bothered during the day, but I get the feeling that deep down she enjoys the company. No one is a true loner. Everyone wants to feel loved.
"You're going to get yourself kicked out of school," she points out, slamming down a bowl in front of me.
"And then I'll get to be with you more," I smile. She spits in my bowl, giving me a reproachful stare.
"Eat your soup and leave," she says.
I pick up the spoon and let the hot liquid wash down my dry throat. Urchin may be a grumpy old woman, but she is a good cook.
Urchin has been in District 4 her entire life, she told me so. She was born into a poor family, as most people in Panem are, and was raised by a fisherman and an unemployed mother who had Polio. This shop was her stroke of luck. She says she thanks God for it everyday. I can't help smiling at that, because there aren't many people in Panem who still believe in a greater power. I don't either. There isn't enough good in this world for there to be a God. Still, it's nice to know that some people still have hope. It's nice to know that not everyone believes humanity has gone bad.
I glance at my watch and throw down my bowl, cursing.
"Watch yourself," Urchin shouts, jumping back from the mess I've created.
"Sorry!" I shout, flinging some change on to the counter. "Keep the change."
I can feel her glare following me out to the streets of District 4. If looks could kill, Urchin would have been the death of me five times over.
I make it home by three. My pockets bulge with the change I stole from my mother this morning, and I'm shivering from head to toe, the cold air from the ocean finding it's way to shore. I step into my house, throwing my shoes off and hanging my coat on the hook. My mother is banging around in the kitchen when I walk in.
"Shay!" she exclaims. "How was school?"
"Fine. Math was a bore." She nods sympathetically. "I always hated math." I understand that she's trying to sympathize with me, but I know that she never took math. I know that without having to learn about her past. She was alive during a war, so no she didn't have to take math. Therefore she isn't allowed to say she hates it.
"Cedar's coming for dinner," I say after a minute, still standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Sea nods enthusiastically. "Okay! I'll make something nice tonight. And I set out some old clothes of mine you might like, if you want to take a look."
I give her a wide-eyed glance, surprised. My mother doesn't usually offer me things of hers, they're too special.
I walk slowly up the wooden steps, clinging to the railing as I go. My mother's room sits right at the top and the door is ajar.
The king sized bed is made neatly, a pile of clothing folded on top. My thin fingers slide under the first article and I pick it up gently, admiring the smooth silk fabric. It's a dark green dress, about knee-length with two thick straps. It's beautiful.
I bring the dress to my nose and inhale. It smells like soap and roses. Although I've never been there, I can't help being reminded of the Capitol. I bring it back to my room and slip into it, watching myself in the mirror as I go. The silk feels amazing against my skin- smooth and soft and fragile.
I walk downstairs faster this time. My feet carry me past the paintings lining the green walls and into the kitchen, where my mother is still bent over her recipe book.
She looks up with a smile when I walk in, but when she sees what I'm wearing her cheerful look falters.
"Mom?" I ask carefully, wary of the frightened look in her eyes.
"Tray," she whispers. "On the train." Then tears spill over her eyelids and she falls to the ground, her screams rattling the entire house.
If I were a decent child, I'd run to her now. I'd scream her name and try to figure out what's going on. Instead, I am frozen with fear, my feet glued to the ground, my fist clenching the hem of the dress.
Red comes running in after a minute of that, his eyes wide with fear. He glances at me but doesn't say anything. Then he's with Sea and his arms are around her and he's murmuring something in her ear.
"You have to explain," I say finally, when the house has gone quiet. "Now you have to. You can't hide from me anymore."
My dad looks up, his features masked. "Your friend's here," he says flatly. His eyes fall to my outfit. "And please take off that dress." I run upstairs, silently cursing out my father. Then I'm opening the front door and Cedar is stepping inside and I'm forcing a smile and I can't think about my family for a little while. I have to pretend my life with the two victors is fine and dandy and I have no complaints. But all I can think about is the green dress lying on the floor of my bedroom directly above our heads. The one that made me look beautiful. The one that made me look like a goddess. The one that made me look a bit too much like Sea Farley.