A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy the next chapter. I couldn't get the story out of my head so I continued to write. I may go back and edit this up some more. Happy reading!
As we travel down the road two tractors pass us, pulling large carts of manure to be spread on a section of the fields. The Capitol's liquid manure smells terrible, but the cow dung shipped from District 11 has a sweet tinge to its odor. It is silly, but I am almost pleased that it is the cow dung that passes us now. I've always enjoyed the smell. I'm sure if you asked anyone from the district what dung smells like, they'd probably list a number of things and sweet would be one of them.
Due to the sheer power needed to pull the carts, the tires on these tractors are almost as tall as my father. The wide ridges of the tread dig shapes into the dirt road. At the end of each day a machine called the tiller is driven down every access road to churn the dirt up so we don't have giant ruts in the ground where the tractors drive.
A large dirt cloud billows up in the wind behind the envoy, clinging to my clothing and hair. It fills my nostrils and eyes, but I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut. You would think that on Contract Day people wouldn't be working, but the Capitol deems production too important for it to halt even for a day. The only workers granted leave from their assignments are those who have children being contracted.
All the fields in the district are assigned numbers. At school there is a large map drawn on the wall that charts each one. There are hundreds of plots. A rotation system has been designed where every year a number of fields are left bare and nutrients are pumped into the soil by the plant geneticists who are sent from the Capitol. Every year those strange Capitol trained scientists attempt to grow some new strain of the crop. Crop rotation is important to keep the soil fertile, but when your district is slotted to only grow grain new alternatives must be provided.
The Capitol plant geneticists have spawned specific traits in the wheat that gives it the best characteristics. The domesticated wheat that we grow here has larger grains and seeds, called spikelets, which remain attached to the plant by a toughened rachis. Citizens of the district talk about wild strains of the plant that have a more fragile rachis, which can easily be shattered and allow the spikelets to be spilled.
I've never seen wild wheat. The wheat we grow has improved greatly as a food source, or at least the government thinks so, but the loss of the natural seed distribution mechanism means that our wheat would never survive in the wild. It's too highly domesticated.
The train station of District 9 is on the farthest edge of the village. It's made of a large grey stone that is not natural to the land here. As we cross the town square my mother weaves the fingers of her left hand into my right. My father nods solemn hellos to passersby whether he knows them or not. Brenna and Bronwyn walk silently behind us with their arms laced at the elbow. The gravel beneath our shoes crunches in a pattering rhythm. The air feels entirely too hot, even with the breeze.
Ahead, a large crowd has formed at a series of tables. Peacekeepers, dressed in pristine white uniforms, work quietly maintaining an efficient system as my classmates sign their contracts. I notice the Head Peacekeeper standing at the far end of the square, watching the proceedings with a calculated expression. He's new to the district. I've only seen him three times since he arrived last month. He has menacing eyes and it has been said that he isn't tolerant.
My family leads me to the nearest table. Father places his palm on my back as he leans in to whisper something to my mother. She nods seriously and takes my luggage bag. She and my sisters join the family members cuing beside the tables. Some people have hardened looks of sadness on their faces and others seem happy. Contract Day has a reputation for invoking a wide array of emotions.
My own feelings seem muddled like my mind isn't entirely sure what to think. The strongest feeling is an all encompassing apprehension. It is like a coiled copperhead snake churning inside the pit of my stomach and swiveling in the recesses of my mind, hissing questions like: Will my contract partner be a decent man? Will he beat me? Will he force himself on me? Will I love him?
In our district it isn't seen often, but there are contract partners who don't get along. Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, the couple who run the bakery in the village, are notorious for their public arguments. Mrs. Gordon likes to throw her rolling pin at her husband and smack him with it, while Mr. Gordon likes to throw his fist or hot pans. They smashed a window in their storefront once during a particularly nasty brawl.
Father's voice shakes me from my reverie, "Now listen Arwen, and listen good." He isn't looking at me as he speaks, attempting to keep attention away from us. His voice is soft and low, so unlike his normal boisterous nature that it catches me off-guard. I try to keep my eyes straight ahead, focused on the table where I will complete my official Capitol paperwork.
"There is a lot of unrest in other districts. It's different than here. Like a completely different world," my father nods a hello to a man that passes with his son. He licks his lips and rubs them together before he glances around us once more.
"I wasn't sure if I should mention it, but something tells me it is worse than I thought. The Head Peacekeeper has his gun out, you see…" father nods and looks down at the ground. As steadily as I can manage I raise my eyes to watch the Head Peacekeeper for the briefest moment. It's true; he has a large gun slung at his side, not resting on his back. In our district some Peacekeepers don't even regularly wear their guns. There are some things that make people upset of course, but never enough to warrant Peacekeeper action.
"Signing contracts is harmless and they've never brought weaponry before, it can only mean that they've had trouble elsewhere," he says as he presses me forward with his palm. I hadn't realized that in my daze I wasn't moving up in line.
"You need to be smart. Always protect yourself. Promise me you won't seek out a rebellion if the opportunity arises," I inhale sharply at his whispered words. He finally meets my eyes, pleading with me.
I nod shakily, "Yes Daddy, I promise." He nods and faces forward once more. The matter is settled and he speaks nothing more of it.
My mind is muddled once more with thoughts of rebellion. Is it truly possible that things are so bad in other districts? I try to think of things that anger people here. There are plenty of ways to get injured and unsafe working conditions are what anger people the most.
Just while driving the combine harvester alone you can accrue a number of injuries such as: falling from the combine; being run over; being cut by any of the parts of the equipment like the stripper rotor, reel, knife, straw chopper, or spreader; and most of all becoming ill from the exposure to wheat dust.
Not to mention all the ways to become injured in the mill. Now that I think of it, there is a lot to be angry about here. There isn't a high rate of death, but losing a limb is considered normal. My Papa's best friend had his arm ripped off in the mill. All the Capitol cared about was that he had ruined that particular batch of flour. I remember how frustrated Papa was, when he came home and threw his lunch pail against the side of the barn. The loud clank had scared our horse and goat.
When I finally reach the table the female Peacekeeper asks for my documents. I provide her with everything that she needs and watch her quickly read through my papers. She makes an "X" on three different pages where I must sign that I have read my requirements and agree to adhere to the laws of Panem. She uses a large electronic pen to prick a measurement of blood from my finger and confirm that I am truly Arwen Southerland.
I press my bloody fingerprint onto the final document beside my name. The Peacekeeper folds my papers and tapes a sticker of the Capitol seal over the edges, binding them together. Next, she presents me with a computerized pad for the official signing of my contract. I glance at father quickly before I pick up the pen and slowly sign my new name, Arwen Briony Hawthorne.
The screen solidifies my name to the document and my heart shivers in my chest when I see that Gale Aspen Hawthorne has already been signed. Somewhere out there, in District 12, he has already bound himself to me. The woman hands me a key to one of the train compartments and a paper baggy filled with pamphlets. I notice that my fingers shake as I grasp them from her.
"Congratulations Mrs. Hawthorne, you may now move to the visitor section to bid loved ones farewell. Please keep in mind that all luggage should be stored appropriately within your designated compartment. Thank you, your service for the good of Panem is greatly appreciated," the woman's voice is dull as she recites the memorized congratulations to me.
Father rests his hand on my back as he leads me away. My sisters are looking a little more chipper. They both smile reassuringly at me as we approach.
"Did he sign it already?" Brenna asks, her expression one of barely concealed interest. I nod lightly.
"His handwriting is jagged, like Papa's," I muse as I take my luggage back from mother. Father laughs softly as he thinks about my contracted husband's signature. The four of us stand facing each other in silence for a few moments. I let my eyes wash over their faces, memorizing every feature.
I commit even the smallest things to memory. They don't flinch at my scrutiny; rather they seem to be doing the same thing to me.
"When you look at the sun and the moon, when you look at the stars and planets, know that we are seeing the same thing. We will be with you always," my mother's voice is pained, but she doesn't shed any more tears. She simply hugs me tightly. Brenna and Bronwyn share twin smiles as they squeeze me between them.
"Arwen sandwhich!" They cheer. It reminds me of the years we spent sharing a bed as children, before I got my own cot. I allow myself to laugh heartily, because it releases some of the pent up tension. When they unleash me and step away, my mother brings me aside for a moment alone.
"Be patient and kind. Don't be afraid to take charge of your own body. You are to share yourself with him, but he cannot just take what is rightfully yours. Learn and know him first. Be careful." I nod at her advice and remember our previous conversation about the consummation of the marriage. Something that will happen to me eventually, because I need to meet my quota and have four children.
In order to do that I will have to know my husband in a way that makes me feel vulnerable just thinking about it.
When I had begun my genetic testing this past year I came home from school one day and found mother and Nana waiting for me. They took me to the barn and the three of us sat in the hay loft drinking the malt liquor that can be brewed from the wheat.
"You're a young woman now, so you can drink like one," my mother had mused as she poured the awful liquid for me. I was confused on why they were taking me to a private place and had blushed deeply when Nana told me I needed to know about the things they don't teach me in the mandatory health course.
"If you don't want to do it, it won't feel nice. It'll hurt like something is ripping you from the inside out," Nana said as she took a long swallow of the amber liquid. I blanched at the thought.
"Did Papa hurt you?" I felt ashamed to ask, scared to know why it hurt her.
"He didn't mean to. He loved me. It was me who didn't love him. I knew he wanted to and so I did it, but I didn't feel ready. You have to want the person," She mused. I bit my lip and peered at the two women of my life.
"You need to be attracted. You need to feel like you need him to fill a part of you. You know what I mean about that?" My mother asked. I nodded, though I didn't have the slightest inclination of what she meant. I wondered if I would ever feel empty enough to need someone to fill whatever void had opened within me.
"Your body needs that natural wetness to make things go easier. If you are attracted to him and allow yourself to feel that unabashed need, then it will be okay. What we really want to tell you is, get to know him. Don't just let him have you. You need to know him first, learn him, and love him. Otherwise, it is more pain and harm than good," Nana said.
I swallowed back more of the amber liquid and listened to them describe their first experiences with Papa and father. It made me uncomfortable, but I learned more about what to expect than what the teachers told me in school. The worst part was listening to Nana talk about her own mother's experience.
Apparently, Nana's father wasn't a terribly nice man. When her mother had been contracted to him he forced her to share his bed during her first night with him. He forced her to do a lot of things that hurt her physically and mentally. Nana said she needed to tell me, just in case, but that I shouldn't worry because her parents' relationship isn't common. She said her father was a good man to the children, but he controlled his wife because he needed to feel powerful in some way. It still hurts my heart thinking about it, even though I know that Nana's parents are probably long since dead.
I let the memory of blushes and hot liquor wash away from me and find myself focusing in on my mother's face once more. I see the tension in her eyes before she turns back to our group with a false cheer to her voice. With that I attempt to shake all thoughts of marital beds from my mind.
I kiss each of my family member's cheeks before I step back and appraise them a final time. The whistle on the train blows to announce that departure will commence shortly. I walk toward the entrance to my assigned train car and don't look back. Only when I have finally found my compartment do I allow myself to take one final look at my home. I regret it immediately, because the feeling it invokes is the worst of all. I feel as though my gut has fallen right out of my body, flopping helplessly on the carpeted floor.
I watch my family leave the platform, from the window in my compartment. Father has his arm wrapped tightly around mother's waist, as he ushers her away. My sisters keep glancing back at the train over their shoulders. I watch them until they disappear from sight. My eyes prickle with pain from lack of blinking. My throat feels exceptionally tight as I try to swallow back my emotions. Forcing myself away from the vision of my district, I turn toward my surroundings.
My train compartment has two bunks, a large mirror, and a tiny enclosed bathroom. I've never washed in a shower before. In District 9 there are probably only showers in the Peacekeeper barracks and the Mayor's home, though no one has ever spoken about them. Our home had one small toilet and baths were taken in a large basin of water from the pump outside. Baths were only taken twice a week. The rest of the week we all washed ourselves with bars of soap and washcloths. Just a quick cleaning at the beginning and end of each day.
I secure my luggage beneath the bottom bunk just as the door to the compartment unlocks a second time. A genuine smile graces my face when I realize that Sophie will be sharing a compartment with me. She looks beautiful. Her hair is twisted elegantly on her head and her face is flushed from the heat.
"Oh, Arwen! Hello, how wonderful that we can share with each other one last night." Sophie laughs as she sets her luggage on the floor and quietly closes the door to our compartment. She is always so prim and proper, it makes my insides warm.
I laugh with her and help her secure her own luggage beneath the bunk. We stand side by side, staring out the window for a long time. When the rolling fields of wheat begin to fade and the fence that marks the boundary of our district comes into view we both sit quietly on the bottom bunk. Sophie picks at the hem of her new dress and releases another short laugh.
"They had some trouble choosing from those two boys. They ended up assigning me to the one from District 3. Do you remember? He had that deep tan in the picture. Well, anyway they assigned us to District 2. It feels strange to think that I will be living so close to the Capitol," Sophie says without looking at me.
"When we arrive in District 3, we will be picking him up. I'll spend my first night with him on this train. I guess we'll be assigned a different compartment once you've gotten off in 12," I can sense the fear in her voice. The fear that she will soon be sharing private quarters with a man she doesn't know.
I place my hand gently on her arm. Our eyes meet for the briefest moment and I notice for the first time that Sophie's eyes are a light grey, not unlike the silver of my husband. Two thoughts float in my mind after I notice. Firstly, that I have already categorized this unknown man as my husband, though I suppose that is how I have been trained to think. Secondly, that Gale must be from one of the original genetic lines from his home district. Original lines are regarded with respect in the districts; their genetic markers have strong characteristics.
After a time of silence and contemplation, Sophie and I open the paper bags filled with pamphlets. We each have a pamphlet that discusses the rules and regulations of our new home district. Sophie reads me a pamphlet on her vocational assignment. She will be a seamstress.
She encourages me to read my pamphlet about being a healer aloud. I will be the apprentice to Healer Everdeen in the Seam. I read briefly about my apprenticeship and Sophie excitedly listens. We both have pamphlets on being caregivers to our family unit with various pamphlets on proper house cleaning and other silly things.
At dinner time we have already passed through two districts, dropping off some people and picking up others in their wake. Sophie and I eat with several classmates. Everyone is quieter than usual, contemplative. We try all sorts of foods from the various districts. Sophie is partial to the bread of District 7 and I am pleased with the chocolate drink from the Capitol.
We retire to our room after some quiet conversation with the others in the dining car. Sophie and I both stare at the top bunk in trepidation before we "rock, paper, scissors" for who has to sleep up there. Naturally, I lose.
Sophie helps me climb up and apologizes that she isn't brave enough to sleep up high. I press my body tightly against the wall, afraid that I will tumble off the bunk and break an arm. For a long time, Sophie and I whisper to each other about life. I cling to this last bit of home that we can share together.
We hear the bells for two more districts before we drift to sleep.
I wake quickly and accidently knock my head on the ceiling of the compartment. I curse under my breath and try to shimmy myself off the bunk, without breaking a limb. My efforts serve in almost kicking Sophie in the face.
Thankfully, she was already awake and able to dodge my stray foot. She laughs as I land unceremoniously on the floor, annoyed, but relatively unharmed. I use the tiny bathroom first, because we will be arriving in District 12 within the hour. Sophie has to help me figure out how to run the shower, an adventure in itself. We laugh hysterically when it squirts us in the face.
When I stand alone in the hot stream I let the water cleanse my body, but I only dab it in my hair, trying to keep Brenna's masterpiece intact. The steady beat of the water against my back relieves some of the tension that has settled into the expanse of muscles.
After several minutes my fingers appear prune-like and feel slightly strange. I slip on my best dress once more and Sophie helps adjust my tousled hair. She smoothes the braids and curls with a wet cloth and re-pins Brenna's hairpiece with care. I thank her.
She holds my hand as we sit on the bottom bunk once more, watching the landscape through the window. When large trees begin to dominate the view we both stand and watch everything pass us by. Though I have seen it in books, actually seeing the real thing with my own eyes is dreamlike. How bizarre it must have been for my mother and Sophie's mother to come from districts like this and end up in the sloping fields of District 9, where the number of trees is less than the number of people.
"Wow, it is better than I dreamed," I whisper.
Sophie's mouth is slightly agape and her only response is a nod as she examines our surroundings. We pass a tall barbed fence when the bell announcing District 12 resounds in our compartment. I watch with fascination as the wooded areas fade into a large town with rows of houses. Children are waving from the streets, chasing after the train.
"My mother was right. It's beautiful, even with all the dust," Sophie laughs as she grins at me widely. I nod and feel my entire body shake slightly as the train finally halts at the station. Seeing my distress, Sophie unlatches my luggage for me and wraps my fingers around the handle. She hugs me tightly for the last time.
"Have a wonderful life, Soph. Watch me from the window?" I say as she pulls away.
She nods while she blinks back tears and opens our compartment door. I feel immensely grateful that she is the last person to send me off, the last piece of home. I clutch my luggage tightly in my fist and slide the grip of my other hand on the railing as I gingerly take the steps down. I am the only girl who exits the train from District 9.
A boy who I recognize from school steps off before me and the others who exit after us are from other districts. As we step out of the way, a number of people climb onto the train. The sunlight temporarily blinds me and I brace my eyes from the sun with my forearm as I blink white spots away. A large burly Peacekeeper greets me with a firm handshake when I finally feel level headed enough to turn toward him.
"Welcome to District 12. Your surname and residence please." He pulls a clipboard from a nearby table. The others cue behind me. My tongue feels glued to my mouth. I swallow thickly and look at him with a strangled expression. He simply stares back until I am able to shake the strange feeling and conjure my voice.
"Hawthorne, House #45 the Seam," I finally state.
The Peacekeeper nods as he checks my name on the list. I return the key that was given to me for my compartment. He hands me a house key and points me toward the visitor portion of the platform where he says my husband is waiting. My heart is beating so terribly fast in my chest that I feel faint as I walk shakily across the platform.
There are a lot of people milling about, interested in seeing the new arrivals. I feel my face flush hotly as a number of eyes appraise me. The crowd is mostly silent; so that they can hear the new arrivals state their surnames. I wonder if the people watching me know Gale. Halfway across the platform I stop and turn toward the train as it begins to pull away.
For a moment I am frantic, because I don't know where Sophie's compartment is. Finally, I see her waving and blowing kisses at me, her face streaming with tears. I wave back and feel overwhelmed with emotion. I drop my bag and foolishly start running after her compartment, making hand gestures at her, blowing silly kisses back. I throw a "rock, paper, scissors" in there for good measure. She laughs and shakes her head. My new leather shoes snap harshly on the platform as I run all the way to the edge. I wave one last time and slowly turn back to the crowd behind me. A few people are laughing at me and I feel the hot blush once more.
I slowly approach my luggage at the same time that a tall man walks toward it. We both eventually stop mid step with just the luggage between us.
I feel my breath catch in my throat as I gasp loudly. My husband, looks exactly like his photograph dark and handsome, but what I hadn't pictured before was his immense height. My father and Papa are both tall men, but Gale Hawthorne must be at least 6 feet tall with several inches added to that. If it is even possible, my heart is beating faster now than ever before. We stare at each other for a moment, both unsure what to do or say.
I hear a little girl's voice off to the side, "Mommy is that her!" It never occurred to me that my husband's family would still be here, silly of me not to realize it. It should have been obvious since he stayed in his home district. Gale clears his throat and visibly shakes himself as he leans to pick up my luggage.
"Welcome to District 12. I hope your travel was comfortable," I marvel at the deep quality of his voice, a rough baritone. I watch as he straightens with my luggage in hand. He's so tall and dark and everything the opposite of me. I clear my throat as well and wipe the palms of my hands on my dress to rid them of sweat.
"Thank you, I enjoyed my travel. My dearest friend shared a compartment with me. I was waving to her a moment ago. I'm sorry I didn't find you first." My face feels flushed for the third time as I explain my disrespectful actions. He nods, accepting my words and peering off in the direction of the long gone train.
"Would you like to meet my family?" He asks in a quieter voice. His face seems softer as he says it. I nod shyly.
He turns and walks toward a group of people standing to the side. It is immediately apparent that this group consists of his mother and siblings because they all have the same exact olive skin and black hair. I follow him silently and watch as a small girl runs forward to grab his large hand. She stares up at me with wide silver eyes as we walk to the remaining group. I smile delicately at her, which causes her to break into a wide half toothless grin.
"This is my mother Hazelle, my brothers Rory and Vick…" He's cut off by the small girl, "And I'm Posy! I'm five years old." She tells me proudly as she swings her brother's arm back and forth. I kneel beside her and take her free hand.
I shake it softly, "Five is a very big age for a girl. It is so lovely to meet you Posy." Her smile grows wider as she beams up at her brother. I shake both Rory and Vick's hands next. Both of them seem like mini replicas of their brother. Finally, I turn to Hazelle. She is a round faced woman with wide eyes and a beautiful smile. All these pleasantries were practically beaten into our heads when we started our coursework for contracts. Be pleasant, be obedient, be the ideal partner.
"Hello. I'm Arwen, it is very nice to meet you. You have beautiful and polite children," my voice sounds more timid as I speak to her. She smiles warmly back, but does not accept my offered handshake.
Instead she folds me to her chest in a warm hug. For a moment I feel confused, but I let myself melt into her embrace. When she pulls back she cups my face in her hands. The gesture reminds me of my mother and I feel my eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears. She presses a kiss to both of my cheeks and appraises my face for a moment. I blush under her scrutiny and she smiles once more.
"I can tell that your insides are as stunning as your outsides, you'll fit in just fine dear," she finally announces as she releases me. There is a group of women standing to the side of Hazelle. One of them is staring at me with a fierce expression. Gale clears his throat and sweeps his hand toward them. His eyes are on the fierce girls face as he speaks.
"This is Healer Everdeen and her daughters Katniss and Primrose," he explains as he gestures to both of them. Healer Everdeen will be my teacher in my assigned vocation. Her expression is open and kind. I appraise her for a moment before my eyes fall once more on her elder daughter. She looks more like Gale's family than she does her mother and sister.
Healer Everdeen and her youngest daughter are both fair skinned, blond, and blue eyed. While Katniss has piercing silver eyes and dark hair. I can't remove my eyes from hers. I bite my lip apprehensively feeling confused as the dark girl finally swivels on her foot and runs toward the town.
"Catnip!" Gale yells after her, but remains at my side.
His facial expression is torn. With one glance at the Hawthornes and Everdeens I see that everyone looks uncomfortable. I inhale sharply as I come to a bitter realization. Katniss Everdeen was probably my husband's sweetheart.
He's in love with her…
A/N: Thanks again for reading. Let me know if you want to see anything in particular from the district or see certain characters.
