Hello, everyone! SO here's chapter 2-right off the bat! I will probably throw chapter 3 up here as well, just to give you guys a good sample before I decide to keep going. You know me-I will probably stop if I feel like no one likes this (I tend to do that...my track record is bad...)
Anyway, this one's a little shorter than the first one, but still plenty of...what do you call it? Establishment? Lots of that...intro info. So yeah-hope you're getting familiar with Tobi's world...and that her many names don't confuse you.
New note! I edited this a little-not much, at all. I'm just doing some backtracking to implant some info on the Silverside family, and just correct the occasional typo or tense discrepancy. And if there's anything college will do for you, it's learning to catch those passive verbs! Haha...anyway...
Enjoy!
The Bobber is part of the Tributary—the oldest part of the district. It sits out on the bay, little more than a floating houseboat. It's the last remaining house built out on the water—that's why they call it the Bobber. It's supposed to be the Mayor's house…but we don't really have a mayor anymore. Not officially. The district secretly elected Grandma Suki when Brook and I were little, but the officials don't recognize her authority. Not since the district became one of the richer districts, constantly micromanaged by the Capitol's planted officials. Still, the people gave the Silverside family the Bobber, and they look to Grandma whenever they need guidance, which is why there's a little dock built out on the bay, close to the Bobber, with a little bait shop where people go who want to meet with Grandma. After all, she's a Silverside-even if just through marriage. District four still looks to the Silversides.
"I'm home," I announce after I step off the dock onto the Bobber.
"In here!" Grandma's voice floats up the stairs from the galley. I begin descending into the belly of the Bobber, smile when the scent of frying squid reaches my nose, tempered with spices. The galley is warmly lit with the soft lights that hang from the ceiling, colored blue by the glow from the portholes. It's lined with a stove and long countertops, currently crowded with chopped sea oats, cordgrass and a few clumps of Orach leaves, with a loaf of seaweed bread decorating the center of the booth in the far corner. I smile—she's preparing a feast, even on a day as bitter as this one.
I walk up behind her, wrap my arms around her middle and rest my chin on her bony shoulder. Grandma Suki is as short as I am—she and I are the only two in our family I know of who are shorter than 5'7 ½".
"Hi, Grandma," I murmur, take a deep breath. "Smells good." She chuckles.
"Of course it does—I made it." I laugh too, and let her go to walk over and lean against the table.
"Catfish Joe says hi," I tell her, once more fiddling with the little figurine from Clam. She scoffs.
"That old wave dog," she grumbles. "Why doesn't he ever show his face around here, anymore…" I don't bother answering. The ongoing flirtation between Grandma Suki and Catfish Joe is something I have little more than an amused interest in.
"Where's Brook?" I ask instead. Grandma's shoulders sag a little.
"Not home yet." Her voice is a little forced, understandably. She doesn't approve of Brook having joined Shipwreck…and neither do I. It was founded when District 4 started becoming one of the career districts, to train kids for the Games. My brother joined right after his 12th birthday…I scowl at the figurine. Brook has it in his head that he's going to volunteer someday, and every year he starts to mean it more.
"You don't think he'll actually go for it, do you?" I ask quietly. She doesn't need to ask what I'm talking about, merely laughs bitterly.
"He hasn't gone completely mad," she croaks. "He's not even 15 yet." I shrug, not wishing to dwell on the prospect. After a moment, Grandma wipes her hands on her apron and turns to me with a smile, leaving the squid to sizzle on the stove. "Now, why don't you go upstairs and change out of your boat clothes," she suggests, places her hands on my shoulders and steers me toward the stairs. "I laid something nice out on your cot. When your brother gets home, tell him the same and come down for a little something before…before we leave." I nod, unnerved by the edge of nervousness in her old voice. Even after so many years, after children and grandchildren and her own reapings, Grandma Suki is still nervous on reaping day.
My room is in the back of the boat, with one of the Bobber's largest portholes on the back wall, a writing desk nailed in place beside it, and my cot built into the right wall, along with a few little cubbies. A soft yellow lantern dangles from the ceiling. Grandma has laid a simple button-up dress out, cream with navy blue stripes and a classic sailor's collar. I run my hands over the worn fabric, smile. It's one of her old dresses—I can tell by the initials, S.S., sewn into the hem. I quickly remove my sleeveless, salt-stiffened shirt and canvas pants, leave them piled on the floor and step into the shower just outside my room. We're lucky—our boat has one of the few showers in this part of town. My father installed it when we moved into the Bobber. It works by pulling in salt water and distilling it, then spitting it back out. It can't get warm, but that's alright. I like cold water.
"I'm home!" Brook's deep voice floats over the boat just as I finish buttoning up my dress and French braid the front of my hair so that it cuts diagonally across the front of my forehead before falling to frame the right side of my face. I step out into the hall, walk up to the deck and sit with my legs dangling down towards the water. Grandma set out a pair of tan lace-up sandals with the dress, but I haven't put them on yet. "Hey there, Tobi," Brook says, chipper, and reaches down to wrap his arms around my waste and twirl me around. "Aren't you all dressed up, little silverfish!" I can't stifle a little giggle, even though I try to. Ever since we were small, Brook has far surpassed me in size—he's already hit 6'1", with brawny shoulders and tan skin. By comparison, I am small and my skin remains persistently pale, retaining no more than the barest touch of sun. Brook thinks his height gives him license to act like the older sibling.
"Grandma laid out clothes for you on your cot," I tell him when he sets me down. He grins.
"Great! I want to look good when I step up on that stage—the world will be watching!" he says, kisses me on the temple and walks inside. I glare fearfully after him, heart sinking. He means to actually do it this time…and I don't know how to stop him.
The reaping is creeping closer and tensions are running high...what will Tobi do? Can she figure out a way to stop Brook from volunteering, or...
Alright-the next chapter is where this story really starts to intersect with Suzanne Collins' brilliant novels. Don't go away-stay tuned! And if you're feeling generous, leave a bit of advice behind (in the form of a review...) and you will win-the honor of being a tribute~! Oh, wait...