Summary:
In a world of grey, some people would do anything to find some more color. When a girl meets a mysterious man dressed in black, she is sent on a crazy adventure. Traveling with an unlikely group of kids, the soon find out that their journey is anything but candy-colored. Will they survive? Or will they fall right back into District 13's hands?
I wake up staring at the gray ceiling. Every morning it never fails to dampen my spirits after a nice dream.
Disgusted, I turn on to my side and face my brother. He's never a peaceful sleeper. I see him in an awkward position with the thin gray blanket on the floor. He is drooling.
The only vibrant colors in this room are my brother's and my hair. A fiery red color.
I stay on my side until my alarm clock rings. Its annoying sound startles my brother awake and sends me on my feet. The alarm clock is strategically built in the wall in the other side of the room so you have to get up to turn the blasted thing off.
As soon as my feet touches the ground, I shudder at the ice cold floor. I hate this place. Putting on some slippers, I punch the clock off.
District 13 is a high-tech underground city that houses thousands of families that never gets hungry. My brother and I are one of the thousand families living here. We live disciplined lives. Get up at seven. Take a shower and get the schedule printed on our forearms. Learn, eat, play, go to the bathroom and kill the day. Bed at nine. The cycle restarts.
It's a dreadful life. Boring is an understatement.
I tickle my brother to stop him from drowsing again now that the alarm clock is turned off. I target his neck, armpits and sides. I know all his weak spots and in the morning, he's too weak to resist.
"Hey, stop. Stop! Gwarsh, will ya stop! This is sooo unfair! Hey!" my brother yells, trying to kick my hands.
Marlin is a nice kid. Well, most adults call him impulsive, rude and immature. I call him vigilant, brave and curious. It doesn't hurt to look at the good side of people, even people like Marlin.
Marlin's green eyes flash with protest and laughter. I finally stop, leaving him breathless and clutching his sides.
Marlin's nine. A good, strong nine-year-old. He may be called handsome by his classmates, only they're too young to understand these things.
We get ready for the day. Put on the gray uniforms, strap on our shoes and hold out our arms out to the printing machine. Marlin calls it the 'letter spewer'.
We walk out into the hallway and I see Marlin's friend, Flyer, across the hall in another dormitory. Flyer gives Marlin a huge smile and skips to us.
"Hi, Marlin! What's your first subject?" she asks.
Marlin squints at his arm. "Um... history. You?"
"Aw. I got maths. Well, see you in lunch," she says, running to her classroom with her curly brown hair bouncing behind her.
As soon as Flyer was gone, Marlin succumbs to his usual morning silence. It's my duty to escort him everyday to class. I don't know why he wants me to. He seems old enough. Flyer goes to her class by herself, without anyone.
I stuff my hands into my pockets and I feel my right hand brush against a metallic object. I take it out and examine it. Of course, there's nothing to examine. I look at it everyday. Its a silver coin. Engraved in it is my name in neat print. Rooba.
My brother also has another one of these coins with his name engraved in it.
Before I know it, we arrived at his door. Once I drop him off, I finally look at my schedule.
Weapons training.
Not my best subject but the schedule insists. I pocket the coin and start running because it is almost eight and Captain Smilodon is quite scary once she starts screaming at you. No, scratch that. When she stops screaming and starts roaring. There's a distinct difference. Her spittle flies and lands on your face and you end up thinking, when's my shower?
My bag shakes and makes noises thanks to the numerous key chains I had created out of metal parts I found laying around in the blacksmiths' rooms. I barely make it in time to the Weapons Class. Smilodon's teaching us close combat today. I hope I don't end up with Trey, who would probably bludgeon me to death with a club.
I meet Zee in the armor room. We have to grab a helmet and some boots every start of the class. Standard protocol.
Zee's my friend. She's really cool. She's funny and really sarcastic. I like her. She was the first person I met when I first arrived in District 13. I was eleven and Marlin was five. Still a little tyke.
You see, we didn't originally live in District 13. We used to live in 6, where they make medicines for the Capitol.
My mom is a very important person today. In District 6, she used to be a wash lady. My dad worked as a gardner, gathering important herbs and roots for use in labs. We were poor and lived in a one room house, like everyone else. We never saw Dad. He's always in the greenhouse early in the morning. You don't get a choice, actually. Don't come and they'll beat you up, come and they'll try their hardest to find a reason to beat you up.
By 'they' I mean the Peacekeepers. Dad usually takes the second option.
Sometimes Marlin and I tagged along with him on Saturday. He taught us different kinds of plants, their names, their uses and how they taste like. He always brings home special treats every end of the week. Some berries. Fresh milk from his friend's goat. Fabric.
My mom used to go to Peacekeepers' homes and do the laundry, a hard thing to imagine now, with her fancy job. Even though my dad was the main supporter in our family, Mom rules the household like a dictator. Her leadership skills helped us survive each winter when most of Dad's plants has wilted. Like a dictator, though, she was also strict. She looked so unlike Marlin, Dad and I. She was the only person in our family with straight dark hair and dark eyes. Dad had green eyes and red hair, which made him look so happy and lively, unlike Mom. They were polar opposites. I don't know how they got married.
Most kids my age have to work to get enough money. Marlin and I were included. There's a factory in the edge of District 6, where they bottle the medicine and ship them to the Capitol. It's not a friendly place. No one is allowed to talk and all you can hear is the whir of machines for two hours. I worked here everyday after school.
Just when I couldn't bear the depressing lifestyle anymore, things took a turn for the worse. It had been a rainy day and I was sitting in the floor with Marlin. We were playing with ribbons that Dad gave us. I was ten.
I had heard someone bang on the door. My dad had crossed the room with only several strides and opened it, revealing a soaked man wearing a white uniform. He was holding something black in his hands. Apparently, my dad knew him. From the look of his face, I had gathered that it was bad news.
"Rooba. I'm going out with a friend," he said, hesitating at the word 'friend'. "I might be gone for a while, take care of Marlin."
With that, he grabbed his worn coat and left. I thought, Marlin can take care of himself.
My mom was sleeping so I snuck out of the house and followed Dad and the man. It was night time so it would be easy for me to hide, except for my red hair. Stupidly, I had not brought my jacket with me and I was soaked to the bone already.
We kept walking until the man stopped my dad in the edge of the district. Right where the electrified fence was.
The two men started talking in whispers. Gradually, they began to shout at each other. I heard what they were saying but didn't understand it. Years later, I did. It was a silly arguement about money and debts. It was not worth the consequence.
I was hiding behind a house when it happened. The arguement turned so fierce that the white uniformed man pulled out the black object. A gun.
I screamed just as thunder rolled.
The lightning had blinded me for a while, but when I was able to see again, the white uniformed man was raising his gun and bringing the butt down on my dad's head. It let out a sickening crunch as it collided with my dad's skull. He fell into the ground, unconcious. He raised his gun and shot my father.
The man checked my dad's body for any valuables to pay the debt. He didn't find any and walked away, kicking my dad's body as he went.
I wanted to run to the man and smack his nose with my tiny fists but I didn't, knowing he was armed.
I waited until he left and ran to my father's side. His face was bloody and bruised. He was still breathing but it was ragged and slowing down. The bullet wound was on his arm and kept getting washed away by the rain, so I didn't know the full severity of it.
"Dad. Dad. Dad? Dad! DAD!" He wasn't replying. I was panicking. I ran back home, slipping several times and wake up Mom.
We had tried. Lord knows that we tried. Mom tried. Marlin tried. I tried.
The odds were not in our favor, even out of the dreaded Games. I had become a slogan for our daily lives as well as the brutal slaughters each year.
The Peacekeepers proclaimed his death to be caused by hitting his head on a rock and getting a concussion.
The lies they expect us to believe! They didn't even bother to make up an excuse for the bullet wound.
We had decided that we couldn't let them treat us like this. My mom submerged deep into a period of anger, taking out her anger on the walls, her bed and our neighbors. When she resubmerged, I suggested that we run away. I had been working on a hole in the ground. It was deep enough for even my mother to squeeze through without touching the fence that's charged with electricity 24 hours a day. I worked on it every middle of the night and covered it with leaves when it was time to go back home.
After a few months of nagging and pestering, I had got my mother to agree. We saved up money for a backpack and canned food. Then, we left just with that and the clothes in our backs. And some kitchen knives.
I learned to hunt with kitchen knives. My first kill was a squirrel. I was aiming for it's heart but hit it with the hilt, but that was enough to stun it. I was scared at first but I managed to slit it's throat.
I didn't let Marlin play with my knives. He was trying to teach himself how to fish. He could make a fish hook and by the first month, he could catch a small snapper.
We had roamed around Panem for a few months, departing but not arriving. We were nomads. We stuck to the rivers and for a holiday, we spied around other districts and saw how they operate. My favorite was District 11, where there are beautiful vinyards. I had created a mental map of all the Districts. It surrounds the Capitol. Sometimes, we see a little kid and offer him fresh game for some new clothes. We slept on top of trees, usually fearful that Peacekeepers would find us.
My mother had adopted a mask for a face. I couldn't read her face. It was annoying. If I failed to bring game home, you don't know if she's mad.
We wandered around for several months, perfectly happy. Or as happy as we can without my dad. Then, one day Marlin asked me, "Can we go to District 13?"
I stared at him. "It doesn't exist anymore, Marlin. You saw those TV programs."
"But Gwen Dalson told me that it still exists underground. I want to go to District 13!" he repeated.
"No. Those are just myths. Myths don't exist."
Marlin started bawling. He was just so darn cute!
"Fine, fine, fine. We'll see the ruins, okay?"
"Yay!"
I asked my mom about visiting District 13. She just nodded. But her eyes shone with a new kind of feeling. Fear? Happiness? Hope? It was definitely a new one.
So, for the next few weeks, we headed North, in a far corner of Panem. When we arrived, Marlin was estatic. He clambered over the destroyed electric fence.
We followed him and visited some old buildings. It was dusty after all these years. Suddenly, I heard a click of metal behind me.
"You three! Put your hands up and turn around!"
We obeyed and I saw a ridiculously big man in a soilder uniform. He was pointing a ridiculously big gun at us.
"Are you runaways?" he asked.
What should I say? Is he a Capitol soilder? If I say yes, would he shoot? What if he's offering help?
"Nnnn...yeeeah," I said. Then I did a mental face palm.
Thankfully, he lowered his gun. I said the right thing. "Come with me," he ordered.
Marlin followed him but I grabbed his arm. He looked at me with pleading eyes. I shook my head.
My mom went to the rescue. "We don't trust you."
He turned around and smiled. He must get this a lot. He said, "This is District 13. We accept all kinds of runaways, refugees from the Capitol. It's the only safehouse in the entire Panem."
From then on, we lived like District 13, learning about military tactics, shooting and rebel history. We were happy for the first few days, but then it started becoming a rountine. Endless and boring. Day after day. Again and again. For all eternity.
Someone's elbowing me in the gut. It's Zee.
"Rooba. Dude. Smell's looking at you," she says.
I look around until my eyes land on Smilodon. She's eyeing me. I haven't put on my uniform yet. I'm just standing here, outside the girls' bathroom staring into space. I dash inside and practically rip out my normal grey shirt and put on my bulky camo suit. I line up with the other kids next to Zee. Zee adjusts her glasses and pins her bangs up with a clip. Her grey eyes remains trained down at her shoes.
Smilodon strolls in front of the straight line and glowers over everyone except Trey.
"As you all know, we will be entering a new unit, close combat. We will focus on clubs, maces, fistfighting and swords."
I inwardly groan. For a whole month, I wouldn't be throwing any kitchen knives. Zee wouldn't be stabbing anyone's guts with her wicked sharp daggers.
Smilodon continues, "I will put you in random pairs and assess your knowledge in fist fighting and wrestling."
She rattles off names. Zee is paired up with Mark. I wince in sympathy for her. Mark is an agile kid that knows how to use every single weapon in District 13. His small size has a large amount of strength. If only Zee had her daggers.
I am paired up with Horus. He's a dark-skinned boy, about the same height as me. I've seen him on the archery field. He's not a bad shot. I've never seen him fist fight though. I admit, I still have butterflies in my stomach.
All the partners spread out around the gym and we put on our helmets. I raise my fists in what I call a defensive stance.
"Good luck," I say even though I am the one who needs it.
He smiles before the face guard swallows up his face. "You too."
I am vaguely aware that Smilodon's blowing on her whistle. I hear punches being thrown and I decide it's time to start.
I throw a punch aimed at Horus's helmet. Our suits were thin but designed so we could feel someone punch us but don't feel the hurt. District 13 likes to stay on top of technology. Horus ducks and grabs my flying arm. He turns it behind my back. He twists my arm but only hard enough to pin it behind my back.
"Come on, Rooba! There are no room for sissies in my class!" Smilodon shouts.
I kick Horus in his shin hard and he let me go. I raise up my guard. This time, he attacks me. He tackles me and we wrestle in the ground. I kick and thrash, trying to get to my feet. Horus is able to keep me in the ground and knocks me off my feet every time I try to stand. Finally, I find myself with my face on the ground.
"Horus, you great lump! Get off me! You win!" I shout.
I feel the weight in my back cease and I roll to my back gasping air.
"You're... good," I say.
Horus opens his helmet and I see his red sweaty face. He's grinning.
"Took a lot of effort though. There's a huge bruise on my shin."
I can tell he's lying.
I look around the room and see Zee stuck in a headlock. Most of the battles are over.
Smilodon is looking at me like I just sprouted wings.
Well.
She can just fail me for all I care.
It's not like there's a war going on.
Right?
Author's Note:
Hey. How was that? This is a multi-chapter story. I'm trying to copy Suzanne Collin's writing style, but I might've changed tenses in some parts. I combed through the story several times and each time, I get several mistakes. Sigh. Zee belongs to my friend. Rooba and Marlin belongs to me. Collins owns the universe. See you.