Taiga's POV

I'm shaking uncontrollably as I run, as fast as I can push myself to go, thinking of nothing but to put as much distance between me and those Peacekeepers as I can. The image of Angelo, pinned down under that huge one, getting beaten bloody, lingers horribly in my mind. His deep amber eyes – an eye color I'd never seen before or since first seeing him, though Dad told me he got them from his mother – burning with fury and defiance as he refuses to give up his fight is a sight that never ceases to amaze me.

Sora is amazing as well, in her way, but…there's just something about Angelo that draws my attention to him. I admire him so much, for his unfailing strength and his good heart, but the Peacekeepers – most of them the polar opposite of him – frighten me so badly. The knowledge that even Angelo can and will fall to them unnerves me terribly, sending icy shivering to my core and all through my body, because if they can bring Angelo down, then of course they'll do far worse to the rest of us who cannot muster the courage to stand up to them with no fear.

I'm fairly certain the Peacekeepers were too occupied with beating up Angelo and Sora to notice me scavenging around amid the berry bushes, but there could be more, and I locked eyes with Angelo for a moment before I ran away, so if he saw me, chances are the Peacekeepers may have. I'm hoping fervently that they didn't, because I tremble to think of what would they would do to me if I were caught, with as many berries as I could take before I realized I was not alone. I've never been whipped myself; I've been scared into line for most of my life. This is only the second or third time I've even tried to steal food. I never even went through with it the first times, I was too frightened of being caught and punished.

It's nerve-wracking to do, under the pressure of the fear of being spotted and punished, but Angelo has been doing it for years, to get food for his friends at the community home. Nobody's ever said it outright – nobody wants to see him hurt except for the Peacekeepers – but the home kids do seem to be more accepting of their rations than most, and sometimes I see them furtively nibbling pieces of food that couldn't have come from their normal rations. And judging from the things I've heard them say about that place, and what they whisper to one another about a certain pair of orchard workers who live there with them, that's the only explanation.

But even Angelo gets caught at it sometimes. And everyone sees what they do to him, how they slice his back to bloody ribbons dozens of times over, to hold him up in front of all of us and torture him to make it horrifyingly clear that they are not to be defied by the rest of us the way Angelo defies them. And we understand. Every time I have to watch him get whipped, I wonder how he can stand it at all and eventually come out fine. It must be even worse for him, because of how his father died.

I was only seven when it happened, but it was the first whipping I'd ever seen and remembered, and I'll never forget it; it's one of the most horrible things I'd ever seen one human being do to another. The sight of the poor man's bloodied body, shaking and sweaty, terrified me. Brodie and I buried our tearstained faces in our father's jacket, not wanting to watch; but I think I remember something else, it was very strange. While my brother and I were so horrified we couldn't watch, ten-year-old Angelo couldn't look away.

I could see the horror and agony in his eyes, but he seemed too numb to even cry – not that Angelo ever does cry, I heard Sora mention once to a friend that she's known him for years and never seen him cry – and he looked like he was hurting on the inside even more than his father was on the outside. After the death, in school or in the field when I saw him, he had the same hollow, suffering look for a long while. It's almost impossible to match this image to the strong, brave young man that is admired by so many, me especially, and will never again give in to pain. And if Angelo, after all the Peacekeepers have done to him and all he's seen and felt, can do something to defy them, then what's to say I can't? I want to be as strong as him one day, instead of skittish and weak the way I am, the way I always have been.

I suddenly realize I've run far from the berry bushes and the sight of any Peacekeepers, and that my burning lungs are screaming in protest. I stop short, clutching the precious fruit as close as I can without crushing it and trying to conceal it better, and lean against a tree to rest for a moment, breathing hard through a raw throat. I'm exhausted, from being up since before dawn trying to steal food unnoticed under cover of darkness and from running farther and faster than I thought I could. Perhaps fear really is a good motivator.

The good thing is, I'm close to my home, which is on the edge of the farthest cluster of houses that make up the smaller part of the district; the bulk of it is fields and such. I have to be thankful for one aspect of our lives in this district: a benefit of working day in, day out is that every worker, myself included, develops plenty of stamina. I make sure the berries are secure and look back to make sure no incriminating berry was accidentally dropped on my frantic race away from the Peacekeepers, then dash off again. A few minutes later, I safely reach my house. I push open the door and wish it didn't creak so loudly. Brodie must have been half-awake already, because he immediately flies up out from under the tattered green blanket on the mattress we share.

"Hey, Taiga, where've you been?" the nine-year-old boy chirps. I sigh. No one was supposed to know I was gone. But there are only three people that live in this tiny, two-room shack of a house, so I guess the absence of one is too easy to notice. Dad steps out of the other room, where I guess by the smell that he was cooking our ration grain, and he looks at me concernedly.

"Taiga?" he asks. "What have you been doing?"

"Getting us some breakfast," I mumble to the floorboards, holding out the couple handfuls of berries I gathered. Brodie gasps and Dad's eyebrows shoot almost to his receding hairline.

"Taiga…" he says, his voice rising. "Where did you get those? Who gave them to you?"

"I…No one gave them to me," I mutter. "I got them myself."

"You did?" Brodie says, surprised but glad. "Cool!"

"Brodie, quiet," Dad says, looking at me with a mixture of anger and fear, mirrored in his voice. "Taiga, you stole them? After all the warnings I gave you, you snuck out and stole food? I'm ashamed of you, Taiga, I thought you knew better!"

"I know, Dad," I say, looking up and meeting his eyes. "But you know as well as I do that that they don't give anyone enough food. So we've got to get the food we need from somewhere."

"And risk punishment?" Dad counters, taking a long step towards me. "After all I've told you about how we need to protect our family; you disregard me completely, throw caution to the winds, and knowingly put you and your brother and me in danger!"

"But Dad!" I protest. "I was being careful, I wouldn't have gotten caught! We've never had enough to eat and I'm just trying to help! You know we need more food, and I got some! What's wrong with that?"

"A handful of berries could land us all on in prison or on the whipping post, that's what's wrong with it!" Dad says forcefully. "What on earth gave you the idea to stray so far out of line this way, Taiga? I taught you to keep yourself safe and you go and do the exact opposite behind my back! Why?"

"To help my family live!" I plead. "We can't get by on just our rations – "

"I think we've done fine with them all our lives."

" – and I just want to help! Our family will do a lot better if we just had a little more food, which I can get; don't you see?"

"What gave you that idea?" Dad says, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You couldn't have come up with that yourself."

Brodie looks like he wants to contradict him, but doesn't want Dad's anger taken out on him for being on my side. I don't really want to either, but I was only trying to help, I don't deserve to get yelled at. And I can't just stand and take it like I normally would. No, I need to start being stronger like I want to be. Like Angelo would be. Angelo…In all honesty, I got the idea from him, but I don't want to admit it in front of Dad, he hates Angelo just as much as I admire him.

"I…I…" I stammer uselessly. I'm at a loss for words. I'm normally a good liar, but I can't lie to Dad. The look he always gives me when he's upset with me somehow nixes my ability to lie. Maybe it's a quality all parents have. Whatever it is, it's very inconvenient for me. I sigh deeply and begin to speak, with no choice but to admit it all. "…I was walking past the community home one day a couple months ago."

"What were you doing there?" Dad demands.

"I was taking the long way home from school," I explain quickly. "I wasn't doing anything wrong; I just wanted a little change for one day."

Dad nods. "That's fine. Go on."

"I was walking by, and I…I saw a group of boys in one of the rooms through a little window."

"Who were they?" Dad says immediately. "Tell me all about them."

"Um…" I hesitate, trying to remember. "There were…three or four of them, I don't quite remember how they looked and I don't know most of their names or how old they are."

"Most of their names?" Dad says, picking up on what I tried to avoid.

I swallow, fidgeting under his piercing gaze. "Well, I only knew one of them…"

"Who? Taiga Vernesh, you tell me right now."

"I-It was…Angelo Tenshi, Dad," I whisper, hoping not to be heard. Sorry, Angelo, I think. I didn't want to sell you out, I had no choice.

"Angelo Tenshi?" Dad shouts, making Brodie and I jump. "Had he been stealing food again?"

"Y-Yes," I squeak. "He…He didn't eat any himself though, he was breaking it up into pieces and giving it to the other boys. They were younger; I think they were home kids, too. I...I…I think…I think he just wanted to help his friends, is all."

Dad's lip curls into a sneer. "Of course he was," he says, in a low voice dripping with sarcasm. "Of course he and that girl of his were. And I suppose the fact that that pair of lowlifes go around regularly breaking the law with no regard for their friends' safety is of so much help to them."

"Dad!" I cry. "Don't say that! He…He's not bad!" Even as the words come out, I know they're pitiful. Yes, Taiga, of course you can change Dad's mind in a second with such astounding feats of articulation, I think bitterly, wishing that his disapproving eyes weren't boring into mine quite so intensely.

"And how would you know?" he shoots back at me. "Don't tell me you've gotten yourself involved with that ratty boy and that streetwalker girl of his?"

"No, Dad, no! I'm don't…I'm not…I don't know either of them, I've never even talked to them! I'm just telling you what I saw! Please believe me," I plead with him, growing desperate now.

I hear Brodie make a scared sound and, out of the corner of my eye, notice him sliding back under the blanket to curl up there. He's usually a bright, unafraid boy, but when it's right there for him to see he is more afraid of confrontation than anyone I've ever met. Just watching the Hunger Games every year borders on traumatizing for him, and seeing Dad and I argue is bad enough. I don't want to make Dad angry or frighten Brodie, but I can't talk against Angelo, I admire him too much. So I pick my next words carefully so as not to harm either. And it's not even a lie, really.

"Dad, I'm sorry I went and took the food. I just thought we needed it, and I really was only trying to help. I don't want to be yelled at for that. The kids Angelo and Sora steal food for just seemed a little better off than the rest. I thought that if I did the same thing, we'd be better off too, even if I did have to do it without you knowing. If that's wrong, then I'm really sorry. Please believe me."

"Taiga…" To my relief, Dad's voice is softer, but still every bit as firm and commanding. I'm not out of the woods yet. "I trust you, but I didn't raise you to become the kind of person that goes around flagrantly breaking the law every other day and getting yourself into trouble. I don't want to see you getting punished on the whipping post like him. I don't want to see you be anything like him. Believe me, Taiga, following that boy's example like this will only turn you into a criminal the way he is, and that's not the way my daughter is going to turn out. Doing things like this – " he gestures to the berries still in my hands – "is the first step down that path. And if you don't get off now, well, you've seen what happens to Tenshi when the Peacekeepers catch him doing wrong. I can't stop that from happening to you if that's what you really want, but I can warn you. I can try."

"Th-thanks, Dad," I get out shakily, still a little nervous.

Dad gives a half smile. "It's okay, Taiga."

Brodie, sensing that the danger has passed, rises up from under the blanket again. "Do we still get to eat the berries?" he pipes up hopefully.

I glance down worriedly at the berries in my hands. Dad stares at them, his face impassive. For all his talk, the prospect of a little more food is tempting to him as well, it seems. But after a moment, he makes up his mind.

"No," he says. "No, we won't have them. If we do, it'll be a bad example to set for the future. Get rid of them, Taiga."

"But, Dad, I - !" I start to protest, but a sharp look from Dad stops my voice short.

"Now, Taiga." The finality in his voice leaves no room for argument.

"But how?" I ask. I didn't plan for this. I had envisioned us eating and enjoying the berries, not arguing with Dad over how I got them. I had stolen the berries in the predawn shadows, hoping not to be seen. Now that it's daylight, I've lost that advantage. What does he expect me to do?

"You were smart enough to get the berries," Dad says, turning back to the cooking grain. "You should be smart enough to get rid of them. And if I find out you ate them yourself, you'll be wishing the Peacekeepers had caught you first."

I open my mouth to say something else, but nothing comes to mind, and I let out a sigh. Then I notice movement from the corner of my eye, and I turn to see Brodie out of bed and pulling on his tattered shirt. "I'll come with you," he says brightly. "I wanna help!"

"No, Brodie!" I say quickly. "If the Peacekeepers catch us, you'd be punished too, and for nothing."

"Well, you don't know what to do, so I thought you'd need my help," Brodie says, pulling his shoes on. "I think I know what we can do, but if you don't let me go with you, I just won't tell you."

I sigh again. That's the thing with Brodie – he's never afraid until he's staring his fears in the face, like when Dad and I fought in front of him with no warning. They don't cloud his mind with apprehension, so that doesn't affect his choices much. He's not like me, constantly fearing what my actions will bring and often too afraid of what may happen to take a chance and take what will.

My theft of the berries was one of the most terrifying things I've ever done, with the terror of being caught running through my body and beating into my thoughts each second I went on with it. Brodie would have been careful just like I was, but he wouldn't have been scared like I was. He's ready for anything, and likely whatever ideas he has are the sort of things I'd never come up with, with fear tinting my decisions. I have no doubts that he'll grow up to be a far better, stronger person than me and with no help at all from either me or Dad. Not that we're the best examples for him, but again, he doesn't seem to need us much.

"All right," I quietly consent. "Let's go."

If Dad is watching us leave, he doesn't show it at all. His eyes don't flick over to us once as I tuck the berries safely under my jacket to hide them from prying eyes and we run out the door. As Brodie dashes in the direction of the tall grass behind the house, I follow without looking back. My insides wrench like they do when I'm doing something wrong, but this is what Dad told me I should do. If taking the berries for us would only put us in danger, this must be what will help our family. Dad would know. He's taken care of me for fourteen years, I reason, he probably knows what's best for us. Apparently I sure don't.

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