I sat on the rotting wood of the pier, my feet dangling toward the ocean. I stared down at it; mesmerized by the way it glistened and rippled against the sun. I'd never seen a real ocean before. The colour captivated me, reminding me of her eyes; a deep and incredibly pure blue. I wanted to swim in the depths of that colour. I wanted to drown in it.
The sea breeze blew my hair over my face along with a slight spritz of the salty ocean. It played with the tendrils, creating new knots in the thick locks. The fingers of the wind were my only company in this deserted part of the Island. But it was company enough, reminding me not to take that final step and slide off the edge of the pier, into the blue depths and sink to the bottom. As much as I wanted to.
The Island was a strange place. The brilliant blue water surrounded it on all sides. I sat near the ferry dock, the only entry and exit point for all the residents. Despite the water stretching out far beyond what my eyes could see, I felt incredibly closed in. Almost claustrophobic. My only way back to the mainland was now gone until tomorrow. I couldn't leave. I still had my entry permits in my hand, the documents that permitted me access to the Island. I wondered why it was necessary to control who entered. Or who left for that matter. I shivered, remembering the sullen Peacekeeper who had looked over my credentials before granting me entry.
I was used to small towns; my own home had housed only 1000. But what my old home had that the Island didn't was the freedom of the forest. You could walk for hours, for as long as you wanted and it would never stop. I supposed the ocean was the same. If my arms pushed off just now, I would fall quietly into the waves and slowly float out to sea. The only difference being that once I went away I would not find my way back.
I got up as another gust of wind blew. I willed my morbid thoughts to float away with it. The sun was just beginning to set which meant I needed to move. I'd have more of a chance of locating the house in the daylight than the dark.
I started my disaster of a car. It was loud and rusted and required at least three goes before the engine turned over. Back home in the confines of the country it hadn't seemed so run down. But being on the Island I began to notice the differences between it and my home. The houses here were closer together in urban blocks. They were also much more modern in architecture, using sloping roofs and walls of glass. I noticed this as I drove away from the abandoned area of the pier. As I drove into civilisation I noted significantly more people were around; couples walking dogs, children running for ice cream and surfers walking home. I wondered why there was nothing by the pier.
My confidence slipped as I navigated the streets. I glanced down at my white tank, denim shorts and hunting boots, an outfit I had deemed suitable before I made the 32 hour drive and slept in my car. Now all I could see was the faded colour of my shirt and the loose threads of my shorts. I didn't fit into the luxury that was the Island. My life never had been luxurious.
When the house loomed in front of me I quietly wished I had stayed by the pier until tomorrow's ferry. It was large, maybe five times the size of my family's log cabin.
It was Haymitch Abernathy's residence, my supposed uncle. I'd never met him. Hell, I'd never even heard of him. All I got was the letter last week, the one that currently resided in my glovebox, with an invitation to the Island.
I parked on the street despite the empty room on the drive. There was no need to embarrass myself further. The sun was slowly setting behind the monstrosity of the house, casting yellow and orange rays against the white walls. The clear blue of the ocean peeked out, directly behind it. I was tempted to simply pass by the house and keep walking, boots and all, until the surface covered my head. I didn't get the chance. The door was thrown open as I approached and a woman stood in the doorframe. She was an explosion of colours and textures that made me slightly seasick.
"Katniss! There you are! Come in dear, come in! Where is your car?"
I stopped and stared cautiously at the woman who was clearly not Haymitch Abernathy. I'd never seen someone dressed so garishly, although back home we didn't ever venture far from denim and flannel.
"Who are you?"
"Oh dear, where are your manners?"
I didn't move. I almost walked away until a gruff voice came from behind the woman.
"Effie, give the poor girl a break."
An extremely dishevelled man pushed past her roughly until he stood on the landing of the porch. He looked down at me where I stood at the beginning of the porch steps. Haymitch Abernathy. I don't know what I expected to see when I met my father's brother but it wasn't this. His clothes, while expensive-looking, were stained and rumpled. His shirt sat half untucked from his pants and the end of his belt had either fallen out of its loop or never been there in the first place. Red veins created spider webs across the whites of his eyeballs and his blonde hair shone with grease.
"Where have you been? The ferry docked hours ago."
The sick feeling was back in my stomach. "I…uh…." I thought back to my hours spent at the pier, pretending that I wasn't far away from my home and that my family wasn't dead. I'd sat there simply because I didn't know what else I could do.
I then did something that shocked both me and Haymitch. I burst into tears.
000
Effie was the housekeeper. I'd found that out after my embarrassing moment outside. Effie had attempted to hug me in what was supposed to be a comforting way but it felt strange and foreign to me. My skin scratched uncomfortably against the fabric of her clothes. Haymitch had quickly barked at her about some work that was unfinished and she went inside the house with a huff.
"You alright?" He asked guardedly. I nodded, embarrassed.
Haymitch showed me around the house casually as if this wasn't the first time we'd ever met. As we moved from room to room I began to scrutinize the man. He towered over me, maybe six feet tall to my five foot two but he walked with a slight stoop to his shoulders and a strange uneven gait. I spied a bottle of liquor on a mantelpiece and suddenly his appearance made more sense. He was a drunk. Was that why my parents had never spoken of him? Not for the first time I doubted my decision to move here. Maybe there was a good reason I had never heard of him. Maybe I should have stayed away.
My unease increased as he showed me my new bedroom. It was large, excessively so. Two entire walls were made up of glass panels showcasing a view of the ocean as well as the house that flanked this one. But that wasn't why my jaw dropped.
"I hope you like green." He said almost uncomfortably from the doorway.
"It's my favourite colour." I muttered absently, wondering how he had turned my room into a slice of my forest back home. The walls - the ones that weren't glass - were painted in a muted, earthy green complimented by rich brown wooden furniture throughout the space. The bedspread was made of cream linen that complimented the beautifully woven rug on the floor.
He was quick to change the topic. "Your bathroom's through there," he pointed to a doorway on the side wall, "and the closet's already stocked with some clothes. If they don't fit we can change that."
I wasn't looking at him as he listed off my amenities. I was staring through the glass walls of my room down to the ocean below. "Why don't I know you?" I questioned, still not looking at him. I thought of growing up in the country back home just above the poverty line. I thought of how we struggled to scrape together enough cash for Christmas every year and learned to hunt animals when money ran too tight. And all that time, some estranged uncle was living on this island, not batting an eyelid until they all died.
I heard him sigh. "That's a long story sweetheart."
"I have time."
He shook his head. "Another story for another day. I'll let you get settled."
I stayed rigid, unbelieving that that was his final answer. When I spoke again, he froze in the doorway. "Why did you invite me here?"
"You had nowhere left to go."
000
My meagre possessions fit into one corner of the room. I'd unpacked them when Haymitch - with surprising care - brought my luggage from my car and placed it outside my door.
I sat cross legged on the plush carpet staring at the water, both the bed and couch too lush for my liking. I was in an almost trance-like state, watching the water, but when my phone rang I sprang for it like a rabid animal. Like all my other things it was old but functional. I had no desire for the trendy new smart phones that were on the market for the same price as what my car was probably worth. Besides they all seemed to break too easily, anyway.
"Gale!" I answered immediately.
A low husky voice greeted me in relief. "Did you make it?"
"A couple of hours ago, yeah."
Gale was my oldest friend. We grew up in the same small town. We were inseparable for most of our childhood, both the eldest children of our families with a mutual interest in helping our father's hunt to bring food to the table. We were both very similar; quick tempered and strong willed and it was always expected that one day we would marry. That was never our intention. Gale was more idealistic than me and a year ago left the creature comforts of home to take a shot in the city. I was angry that he up and left but who was I to hold him back? He had been visiting home when the accident happened and helped me leave for the Island.
"How is it?"
"Strange." I admitted. "I…I miss home. I miss you. I should've just stayed there instead of coming to this place."
"Katniss, we've been through this. You couldn't stay in that town alone. Your next neighbour was a mile down the road and the house was gone."
I wanted to tell him that he could've stayed with me but I knew that wasn't fair. Gale had worked hard to get himself out of our tiny town and make a new life in the city. And I couldn't blame him when I wasn't part of that picture. If I'd asked, I possibly could've moved in with his family. However they were barely able to make ends meet at the best of times and there were 4 of them in a 2 bedroom cabin.
"I should've just moved near you."
"With what?"
He was right. I was 19 and qualified for nothing. The house was gone, my parents had about 100 dollars in their bank account and no life insurance. Before the letter from Haymitch came I'd been facing the reality of being homeless.
"What's your…uncle like?"
I bit my tongue, a metallic taste filling my mouth. "He's a drunk. I think that may be why my parents never mentioned him."
A wary silence stretched between us. Gale swore. "I don't like the idea of you in a house alone with a drunk."
Despite first impressions I was quick to dismiss his worries. "He seems harmless. Besides, I'm pretty sure the housekeeper lives here too."
He snorted. "There's a housekeeper?"
"You wouldn't believe this place. It's a fucking mansion."
"Well things are looking up already apparently." He said dryly.
"You know I don't care for any of that fancy stuff." I said, as I continued to watch the blue ocean through my gigantean windows. There were few people on the beach. Two, in fact – a jogger working their way up the sand and a surfer cutting up the waves in the setting sun. I got the impression most of the Islanders visited the beach on the other side of the Island, where the majority of the houses sat. As I spoke with Gale, I watched absentmindedly as the surfer rode a wave towards shore and paddled the rest of the way in. When he reached the sand he placed his board down, shook out his hair, and opened his wet suit, letting the top of it hang at his waist. At the sight of his muscled chest I watched with a little more interest. He had a sleeve of tattoos covering his entire left arm, which I saw as he collected his board and walked up the sand, toward the house that flanked mine. My interest was now completely piqued, and my eyes followed him as he let himself in the back door and I confirmed that this was indeed my neighbour.
"Katniss?" Gale's voice distracted me and I realized I'd been listening to nothing Gale said as I watched the surfer.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Never mind," Gale sighed. "Just, try to like it there, okay? This'll be good for you, I know it. Make some friends."
"You know I'm not the best at making friends."
"I know," he said, "just try, okay?"
"I'll try. Love you."
"Love you too. I'll call you tomorrow." I set down the phone still staring at my neighbour's door. I told myself to stop being a creep and averted my eyes. I stood up and walked closer to the window and stared down at the narrow strip between the two houses. I nearly jumped out of my skin when my eyes travelled back up and found two blue ones in the other window, directly parallel to my bedroom.
"What the fuck?" I muttered. It was the surfer from the beach, the one I'd watched go inside. I recognised the tats, as he was still shirtless. He didn't smile. I instinctively reached for the curtains to yank them shut but my hands were met with nothing. I looked around wildly trying to find something that would cover the windows. Nothing.
"HAYMITCH!" I stormed down the stairs and into a lounge where Effie was standing looking startled.
"What's wrong dear?"
"I have no curtains in my room. People can see right in." I grumbled, once again losing any sort of manners.
"Oh, Katniss, honey, the glass is electric. There's a remote on the wall, you just click the button and it turns opaque."
I stared at her open mouthed, my brain not comprehending such a concept. All I could think of was the ratty curtains that had been in my old bedroom that had shielded only the smallest amount of light possible.
Effie came back upstairs and showed me the remote. The surfer had disappeared from the window. She clicked the button and the walls turned dark.
Where the hell was I? I wondered.
000
I didn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned in the king bed that was far too soft and big for my liking. I was used to sharing a hard double mattress on the floor. I was used to her rhythmic breathing and warm body.
Late into the night I drew the covers from the bed and cocooned myself on the floor. It was better. I stared out at the ocean and the constellations of stars through my strange, expensive glass, wondering if my family was out there looking out for me. I didn't think so. I didn't believe in spirits.
When sleep finally found me on the floor in the early hours of the morning, it was tainted with smells of smoke and sounds of screams. I woke up with an immeasurable amount of guilt and the urge to once again sink down and drown in the depths of the ocean.
000
Someone knocked on the front door at 11am the next morning. I ignored it as I stood in front of my expansive closet, clad in only my underwear, after taking a rather confusing shower. I'd never seen so many clothes together at once other than in the stores. Skirts and dresses hung on the left side in arrays of feminine patterns and soft fabrics. Shorts and pants were folded neatly on shelves against the wall. Following the skirts hung every type of shirt I had ever imagined and including others I had never seen before. Jackets finished the rack, made in fabrics from leather to silk. I leafed through the hangers trying to find something that held some semblance of normality. Something that wasn't pink, flimsy, or had strange shapes cut out from it. My hands stilled when I found the brown leather jacket. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled it from its hanger. It was flashier than anything available in Panem but it held enough similarity to my dad's old hunting jacket to remind me of home. I set it on the small couch in the dressing room. I didn't care how hot it was today, I would wear the jacket. I was flipping through shirts when a voice floated up from downstairs.
"Katniss it's for you!" Effie's shrill voice filtered up to my room.
I frowned. How on earth could it be for me?
Out of curiosity, I decided to head downstairs. I found the least offensive shirt I could; a simple white t shirt with a lace lining around the collar and threw on the first pair of jeans I found. They were much too skinny for my liking, making me almost feel naked, however I figured I could change them later.
When I reached the ground floor I found Effie, dressed in an equally ridiculous outfit to the one yesterday, talking to a pretty blonde girl at the door.
"Katniss, dear!" Effie exclaimed, in a sickeningly sweet tone. "This is Margaret Undersee. She came to welcome you to the neighbourhood. She's the mayor's daughter."
I stared at Effie, my mouth hanging open slightly, until the blonde girl said, "You can call me Madge." I turned toward the girl still standing in the entryway. She looked to be about my age, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. The combination bothered me and I swallowed, another face flashing in my mind briefly. She wore an expensive looking sundress, sleeveless with a collar and coloured in blue and white stripes. Large sunglasses rested on her head, pulling half her hair back. She smiled at me kindly.
"I'm Katniss." I responded, a little too slowly for normal social conduct.
Effie decided her job was done then and removed herself from the room, her heels echoing on the marble. I looked at the mayor's daughter expectantly. How did she even know who I was?
"I heard from Effie that you arrived yesterday." She said, as if reading my mind. Of course, I thought. Effie seemed like the type of woman that would be the gossip of the town. "I thought I'd introduce myself. You know, if you wanted to hang out. I could show you around town."
I was taken completely off guard. Why was the mayor's daughter offering to show me around town? Was this normal? Did she do this for everyone?
She spoke again, covering the silence, as my brain attempted to conjure up a response. "There's a BBQ next weekend at my house. Most of the Islanders will be there. You should come, I can introduce you to everyone our age."
Her face was so open and kind that I found myself unwillingly nodding along. "Okay." I said. "That would be nice. Thank you."
Her lips pulled back into a brilliant smile. "I'll give you my phone number, and then maybe we can get lunch or something this week."
We exchanged numbers and she was gone just as quickly as she came, leaving me alone in the foyer.
"Sweetheart."
I jumped and whirled around to face Haymitch, who was slouching against the doorframe to one of the adjoining rooms. I thought maybe it was the tea room but I couldn't remember exactly. His hand held a glass and the better part of me wanted to say it was tea due to its amber hue, however I knew no one that drank tea from a whiskey tumbler.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
He jutted his chin toward the door. "Who was at the door?"
I struggled for a moment to remember her name. "Um, Madge. The mayor's daughter?" It was a useless qualification. He would know who she was.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, creating a hollow in the rough flesh of his face, as he appeared to think about his words. "She's a nice girl."
I decided to voice my question from earlier. "Does she show around every newcomer?"
He appeared to consider his words again. It bothered me. Why did he need to pick and choose what he said? What was he hiding? His mouth remained turned down though I saw the slight shift in his eyes, as his expression became one of mirth. "Sweetheart, new people don't come to the Island."
He turned and left before I could become outraged by his patronizing tone. What did that mean? The statement was ridiculous. I was new wasn't I? Surely people moved around all the time. With him being my uncle, he would have also had to have been new at some point, too. I decided he was being dramatic.
I strode toward the tearoom to demand to know what he meant only to be met with an empty room. I spun in a circle, dimly noting the china displayed in the cabinets and the velvety looking armchairs that sat in a huddle together. Three doorways bordered the tearoom leading to different living areas but there was no sign of which Haymitch had gone through. The room was deathly quiet. He moved surprisingly quickly for a drunk. He also never answered my questions.
Giving up, I stalked back up to the stairs and into my room. My hunt for an appropriate outfit had ceased momentarily as I stood in the centre of the room. The sound of crinkling papers pervaded my mind. I had needed papers to get onto the ferry to travel to the Island. Did they really control who entered? Was there some sort of screening system for new people?
I frowned, looking out at the expanse of water in front of me. The ocean stretched as far I could see however I had a claustrophobic feeling creeping over me again. I needed to get out. Staring at the sand, I was reminded of the jogger yesterday. Striding back toward the closet I quickly rifled through the shorts section before laying my hands on running shorts. They were Nike. I'd only ever seen those on the T.V. ads.
Stripping my jeans proved to be just as difficult as it was putting them on. Stupid skinny things. With effort, I wrangled them from my body and replaced them with the shorts. I quickly found a suitable t shirt. Like everything else, my shoe collection was expansive – and unnecessary – however there only seemed to be one pair of running shoes. And they were a florescent pink colour. Sighing, I reminded myself that I'd never been picky before and shoved my feet into them, surprised that they actually fit.
The house was still quiet as I hurried down the stairs. I wondered what on earth Haymitch did during the day. Drunk himself into a stupor, I guessed.
It took me a few moments to actually locate the backdoor, which was ridiculous in itself. After entering three wrong rooms I found the glass doors that led outside.
The air was muggy and the sun beat down on me harshly. Ignoring that, I persevered toward the beach. My heart skipped a beat the moment my feet touched the sand. I'd never been to a beach so I wasn't prepared for the way my feet sunk into the ground at odd angles. I felt sand fall into my shoes. Who on earth wanted to run on this stuff? I powered forward nonetheless and found the wet sand to be much more solid.
I looked up the stretch of pale sand spanning east and west. I didn't know what lay in either direction so I picked one direction randomly and ran. I wasn't much of a runner. I'd gone on the occasional jog with Gale however the majority of our time was spent hiking through the woods.
About fifteen minutes later, I stuttered to a stop, heaving for air, my hands braced against my knees. Sweat trickled down my back, dampening my shirt.
As my breathing slowly returned to a normal rate, I took in my surroundings carefully. It was eerily quiet. A rough jagged cliff stood imposingly, casting a shadow over me. I stared up at it in wonder, my eyes roaming over the crevices.
The breeze began to swirl lightly, gently caressing my skin and a strange whispering sound floated by my ears. I whipped around, confused, though the beach was empty. It's just the wind, I thought, as I slowly began to walk along the sand again. Five steps later the whispering voice floated back around me. I stood rigidly, my eyes scanning from left to right. Suddenly the solace of the beach became intimidating. This is how girls get murdered, Katniss, I reprimanded myself, as I continued to scan my surroundings. When the sound floated past me a third time, I bolted. With my heart in my throat, I ran all the way back, ignoring the fatigue in my legs. Once the house came into view, I slowed down my sprint and my fear began to abate. That is, until a new voice came at me, almost making me scream.
"Hey there."
A man stood leaning against the patio of the house neighbouring mine, about 10 feet away. For a moment I thought it was the surfer from yesterday but I noted that he didn't have the sleeve of tattoos I had seen. A brother, maybe?
"Uh, hi." I greeted him cautiously. He appraised me with a flirtatious grin on his face.
"Are you new here?" I'd barely been on this Island for one day, but I got the impression that news travelled very quickly around here. And that apparently, no one new ever came to the Island. His question was redundant and he knew it.
"I'm Katniss."
He nodded, one side of his lips pulled into a half smile. "Rye Mellark." He tipped his head toward me. "Pleasure to meet you."
A light fluttering sensation filled my stomach as he smiled at me. I couldn't deny he was good looking; incredibly so. He had dark blonde hair that fell into striking blue eyes and a chiselled jaw line. He was tall, though more lean than muscular, which was a contrast to the shirtless surfer I'd seen yesterday. Stop it, I told myself. There's no need to start crushing on your neighbour.
"You too." I said out of politeness. His smile grew. "So how do you like our little island so far?" He asked, leaning further forward on the railing.
I pushed my earlier freak out moment from my mind, deciding not to tell my new hot neighbour that there may or may not be some sort of ghost living at the end of the beach. "I…haven't really seen much of it yet." I told him honestly.
"Hmm, well I suppose you'll have lots of time. Sadly there are only so many places to explore. Have you been into town yet?" I shook my head. "Well, when you do, head to the bakery," he continued, "my father owns it."
A little confused, I nodded my head. "I'll check it out." Appeased, he straightened up from his lazy position against the railing. "I'll see you around Katniss."
I stood rooted to the spot for a moment in confusion but with a small smile on my had seemed nice. Had I already made two friends within 24 hours of being here?
"Katniss!" The voice startled me from my thoughts and I turned to find Effie standing on our own balcony. "What are you doing over there?"
I jogged up the stairs and stood in front of Effie, who was appraising my appearance with a look of disdain. She started walking inside and I followed. "I was just talking to our neighbour." She whipped around so fast, I jumped. "Who?" She demanded, in a very impolite tone. It seemed far out of character.
"Rye...um, Mellark?"
Her eyes closed briefly and she seemed as if she was drawing courage from within. "We should've told you when you got here."
"Told me what?" I asked with alarm.
She gestured for me to enter the kitchen, shooting a worried glance over her shoulder. "You shouldn't talk to those Mellarks, Katniss."
"What do you mean?"
"They aren't...good people to be hanging around with. They're dangerous." She said in what seemed to be a great effort of diplomacy.
"Dangerous?" I hadn't gotten that when I had spoken to Rye Mellark. A little arrogant? Yes. But not dangerous.
"They haven't come from a good family. Just the other year, his brother, Peeta - "
"Please don't tell me you're poisoning the girl with gossip already, Effie." Haymitch's lazy voice drawled from the doorway of the kitchen. He looked angry, if not a little worn. It was the first proper emotion I had seen him display.
She didn't shy away from him however. "It is not gossip! You've seen what happens – "
"What I see is a bunch of bored Islanders making up stories out of superstition. They have had it tough enough. Leave it alone."
Effie glared at Haymitch and then swiftly left the room. Haymitch sighed and then looked in my direction. "You're going to hear a lot of rumours around here. It's best you don't go believing these things."
"So the Mellark's aren't dangerous?"
He hesitated and seemed to appraise me before speaking. "I think it's best if you don't hang around with them, sweetheart."
"But why?" I demanded.
I could already see his face closing off, unwilling to enter into this topic of conversation, just like every other conversation we've had. "You'll get yourself into trouble."
What kind of trouble? Questions spun in my mind, creating a web of confusion, as I stared into the steel grey eyes of my uncle. But I didn't voice any, knowing he wouldn't give me any answers. Instead I stomped up the stairs toward my bathroom, deciding that I'd have to get my answers from somewhere else.