For Everything a Reason
Chapter 2: Three Cheers For Twenty-five Years
I want to run back to the beach. I want to hear the wave's crash into the rocks. Instead all I hear is the buzz of an
uncomfortable silence. My eyes meet my mother's bright blue ones; they say please say something, anything. I turn to Declan.
His head is down; he won't look at me. Accusations swirl around in my head violently. "How long have you known?" I demand.
Declan lifts his head up and looks me straight in the eye. "I found out just before you walked in." I believe him. "What about
you?" Holden doesn't take his eyes off of Paisley.
"Same," She mumbles into her shoulder. It scares me how easily we thought our own friends and family would go
traitor on us. "When?" I speak directly to my dad. He looks calm. Our reaction was probably a lot better than the scenario he
had conjured up in his head. "Two weeks," he says steadily. To be honest I kind of saw this coming. "Why?" Holden asks to no
one in particular. "To reconnect with their bff, Haymitch," I say super sarcastically. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm," Holden
narrows his sea green eyes. "I do. Sarcasm is like a polite way to slap someone across the face," I smirk. "Wait, how old is
Haymitch anyway?" Paisley asks. "I don't know, old. Does it even matter?" Declan sounds annoyed. "No it doesn't. But what
does matter is that this year is the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Capitol, "Johanna breaks up our trivial argument. "And
District 12 was chosen to host the celebration for obvious reasons," my mom adds. She can't say it. She won't say it. But I will.
"Because of Katniss," I state bluntly. "Yeah," Annie shifts uncomfortably. It was sort of an unspoken rule that no one spoke of
her. Maybe it was because she associated my dad with the death of her sister. Maybe it was because he thought he loved her
at one point in his life. I don't know, but either way they haven't spoken in twenty-five years so it doesn't matter anyway. Or
does it? "So what does this have to do with us?" Declan says with an edge to his voice. "It's your history, Declan, and you have
no idea how lucky you are," my dad reprimands him. "Plus I bet the public is just dying to find out how the war heroes' children
turned out," Holden notes. "That is probably true," my mom admits. The thought of being on display for all of Panem to pick
apart makes my head spin. "I'm going to my room," I say as I run up the stairs two at a time not caring if they weren't done
talking; I was done listening.
I find a photo album under my bed and begin to flip through it absent mindedly. I notice that pictures are pretty recent. There's
a picture of Holden trying to kiss my cheek as I'm laughing. There's one of Declan and I covered with flour and frosting after
baking a cake. That cake tasted pretty damn amazing I might add. There's one of Paisley and I doing cartwheels on the beach.
My favorite has to be the one of my dad, my mom, Declan and I. We're on the patio, Declan and I are hugging each other like
a close brother and sister do, my dad has his arms wrapped around my mom's waist like a man who really loves his wife, and
my mom has a huge grin on her face that shows she knows it. This is the only picture that, in my opinion, captures how much
my family really loves each other. My dad met my mom after two years of living in District 2. He said it was love at first sight,
which would have sounded cliché and cheesy coming from anyone else, but coming from him it sounded genuine and real. My
mom was a nurse in training at the time, now she is a very prestigious doctor. One of my dad's favorite things to do is show
me old pictures of when he and my mom first met. He always tells me how much I look like her, and I do. We have the same
bright blue eyes, chestnut brown hair, and tan skin. My personality is mainly my dad though. When I first met Johanna she
said, "You are definitely your mother's daughter," but after she got to know me she changed it to, "You are definitely your
father's daughter." I have the same fire, aggression, and temper as my father. But I have a softer side, deep down. I pretend
that I don't care, but in reality I care way too much. I hate getting close to people because I know how easy it is to lose them.
I'm trying to work on that. Aside from my parents, Holden and Declan are the only other ones who know all of my sides.
Paisley is too oblivious to see past the sarcasm and snide comments.
I hear a series a short knocks at my door. It reminds me of the pebbles at my window this morning. Maybe it's because I know
that Holden is on the other side. "Come in, "I yell loud enough so they can hear me. Holden, Declan, and Paisley shuffle into
my room and plop down wherever suits them. Paisley delicately sits down on the computer chair. Everything about her seems
so fragile. Declan falls into a bean bag chair and Holden plops onto my bed next to me just like I expected him to. "What
happened after I left?" I ask as I pull my legs into a crisscross position. "It got quiet and awkward. Then everyone just started
to walk away one by one," Declan explains. "I know all the right things to say don't I," I laugh. "Everyone was thinking it. You
just happened to be the one to actually say it out loud," Holden says. "I don't get why no one ever brings up she-who-must-not
-be-named. Why do we act like she is the enemy?" Paisley asks innocently. Now is not a good time for her ignorance. "Enemy
isn't the right word," Declan tries to keep his cool, "However; she did and probably still does blame my dad for her sister's
death. There was never even solid proof that it was his bomb. It was war, shit happens and people die." This particular topic
really gets my brother going. He idolizes our dad. Right from the time when he first started talking all he would say is, "I wanna
grow up to be just like daddy!" Just like every other little kid; except the difference is, at fifteen he's still saying that. "We're
not saying she's the antichrist. We're just saying there are still some hard feelings, "I try to explain. "Aren't you-" Paisley
starts but then quickly stops. "What?" I ask. "I probably shouldn't say it. Declan might have a freaking conniption and
spontaneously combust," Paisley says with more of an edge than usual. I sigh. "Just say it." "Aren't you worried what will
happen when your dad sees Katniss?" she asks in one quick breath. The idea of my dad even having feelings for someone other
than my mom is inconceivable. "Nah. That was a long time ago. It's in the past for a reason," I say coolly. Declan relaxes.
"Alright. I was just wondering." And with that we drop it.
Shortly after our little discussion ended Declan muttered something about having to call Fawn and then promptly scuttled out of
the room. Paisley meekly excused herself saying she was going home to go to bed. Holden stayed for a little bit and we
watched reruns of America's Next Top Model. Holden's commentary was better than the show itself. In this moment I realized
just how grateful I was to have Holden Odair in my life. It made me wonder if this was how close my dad and Katniss were
before the Hunger Games shot their relationship to hell. If, god forbid, something ever happened and Declan died I would need
Holden more than ever. Even if by some crazy twist of fate he was involved in the accidental (and theoretical) death I honestly
believe I would be able to forgive him. Because that's what friends do. So no, my relationship with Holden isn't like theirs was.
From what I can conclude it's better.
When Holden leaves I'm too restless to sleep, so I go downstairs. When I get down there I don't see or hear anyone. I guess
that everyone must have gone to bed, but then I see the sliding door slightly open. I go outside to the patio and see my dad
gazing at the stars. I wonder if he does this often. "Are you okay with all of this?" he asks without turning to look at me. I'm
surprised he noticed I was there since I usually make close to no noise. He probably has that parental instinct thing that
maximizes your senses. "Yeah. I guess." I hadn't put much thought into how I felt about it. I was too concerned with how
everyone else felt about it. He laughs. "You need to stop worrying so much about everyone else, Aspen." "Sorry. You know
selflessness is a valued virtue." "You could afford to gain some selfishness." He turns to look at me. That gets me thinking. "I
could've won." I know he knows what I mean, but he asks anyway. "Won what?" "The Hunger Games," I clarify. "I'm sure you
could've. But I'm glad we don't have to worry about testing that statement," he says thoughtfully. "You could've, too" I speak
without a filter. "Possibly. But for the last twenty-five years I've been trying to figure out if that is something to be proud of."
After that silence follows. In the silence I can see hear him strain to hear something that isn't actually here. I see the look in
his eyes and I know what he hears. It never goes away. It's something that'll follow you til the day you die. Inside of him
echoes the silent screams of a thousand dead children.
A/N I'm hoping to post 3 chapters a week. May be more or less depending on what's going on in my life. On another note I really appreciate all of the positive feedback! :) It's great motivation to get these chapters out faster!