"Aren't you tired of eating that every day?"
"What?" I reply, with a mouthful of oatmeal.
Emma wrinkles her face. After all this time, still, her biggest pet peeve is table manners. Especially mine. "Plain oatmeal for breakfast. Every single day."
I swallow, then shrug. "I like it."
I've been having oatmeal for breakfast ever since I could remember. On top of it being one of the rare kitchen staples we could afford when I was growing up, I enjoy having it.
I also like knowing what I'll eat today, tomorrow, and the day after that. I like the sense of control it gives me. I don't mind what I'll eat for the rest of the day, but my day always starts with a bowl of oatmeal if I feel like having breakfast. Paired with tea, coffee or water; with coffee being the latest addition. I never drank coffee before I got reaped for the Games, it has always been too expensive. I don't have it too often though, I don't like being dependent on it.
We're alone at breakfast today. We'll be at Thirteen by noon, so since there's nothing to prepare for, Janet and Logan are probably still asleep.
"Janet said we have some time until the celebrations at home, right?" Emma asks.
"Yeah," I nod. "About four, no— Five days. Why?"
The celebrations at your home district are saved for the last. There's a parade and a dinner at the mayor's —Emma's father— house.
The edge of her lips forms a defeated smirk. "I just want to rest before the disaster."
"It can't be that bad," I say, in an attempt to cheer her up, but I think we both know I'm not genuine at all. It's Winston, for fuck's sake. "Okay, fine, it's not going to be a picnic. But if we handled the tour, I'm sure we can handle dinner with your dad."
"Sure," She nods dismissively, lips pursed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." She picks up the satin napkin placed over her lap, folds it, and gets off her chair.
"Where are you going?"
"I forgot my cardigan in your compartment."
"Oh," I place my spoon in the bowl. "I'll get it."
"No, I got it,"
"I was going to go change my shirt anyway."
"Alright, then."
Once I leave the dining compartment, I make my way to the very end. My compartment is the farthest one. Yet when I walk past an open door, my instincts scream at me to pause, because I know this door in particular is not supposed to be open. This compartment belongs to the head of our security, Rory— One of the most entitled peacekeepers I have ever met. He sits at his table, his back turned to me, watching some… CCTV footage?
It takes me only a few more seconds to understand what I'm really seeing. This isn't CCTV. It's live footage from District Eight, I can recognize the Justice Building we visited weeks ago.
However, this is not the District Eight I saw when I was there.
The Justice Building is being vandalized by the people of Eight. X's are drawn on the building walls, and formed with their arms. Flames erupt from the right side of the building, as if to highlight just how much chaos is reigning in the district.
An army of peacekeepers is trying to contain the people, but they fight back. No matter how hard the peacekeepers hit them— they fight back. Rory immediately shuts the door when he notices my presence, but before he does, I see them. On the corner of the screen, I spot the kids marching towards the Justice Building with the rebels, holding pictures of me.
It didn't work. The tour didn't work, our show didn't work, our engagement didn't work— Nothing worked. Eight is not just rebelling, they're fighting against the Capitol. And I just know that the Capitol is intimidated by them because there were too many peacekeepers on that screen.
Fighting against the Capitol. This has never happened before. Ever. Not since the first rebellion.
So on a cold morning in January, on this very train, it dawns on me.
It could be here. Another rebellion.
Like every boy growing up in a poor district, of course, I grew up dreaming about a revolution. Hell, my grandfather used to be a rebel. I too, wanted to be one, when I was a child.
But as I grew up, I saw the reality of the world I lived in. I saw people's houses get searched for forbidden books. I saw people getting arrested for trying to remove their X-Gene deactivating chips. I saw peacekeepers executing people who they thought were rebels. And after Dad died, I had a family to look after. Mom was too depressed to take care of us for the first few years.
I had to make sure we survived. I had to make sure Alex didn't read any forbidden stuff. I had to make sure Gabriel didn't hang out near risky territories. I had to make sure no one knew about our family ties with the rebellion. I had to make sure we were safe, that we survived.
So even though I hated the Capitol with my entire being, that's what I did— And I did a great fucking job at it. But now… The second rebellion is most likely here, and I'm the face of it, whether I like it or not. (Ironic, isn't it?)
The face of the rebellion. The face of a revolution. The leader. Could I be…?
Could I be a leader?
For crying out loud— Obviously not. I'm just a nineteen-year-old. Maybe I am a spark that starts the fire, but not the fire itself. A leader needs to be able to unite everyone, convince everyone to work for the cause, have enough courage to go against the Capitol… But perhaps most importantly, a leader has to have faith in the cause, which I don't have. I don't even have faith in myself. In fact, lately, I doubt I have any faith at all.
Besides, everyone knows how awful I can get with words. How can a person like me lead a rebellion? What will I do, read from Janet's cards while there are people out there counting on me?
"Scott?" Emma's smooth voice interrupts my racing thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Is everything okay?"
No.
"Yeah, I…" It's as if I've lost my ability to speak properly. "Yeah."
"Where's my cardigan?"
"Oh," I must have directly walked back here, caught up in my thoughts. "Sorry. I'll be right back."
I've never thought about this actually happening. I thought I could stop it if I was good enough on the tour. I desperately hoped it would all go away. I had to hope that it would all go away to make sure everyone was safe.
This isn't going away. It won't, I saw them. That look in the people of Eight's eyes. I saw the fire in them. And I know for a fact that those flames are even more dangerous than the ones inhaling their Justice Building.
The closer we get to Thirteen, I can only think about two things. One, I'm in so much trouble. Two, I know what to do.
"We need to run away." The words leave my mouth with determination, bitterness, and a pint of awkwardness because it is the first time I'm seeing Jean in weeks, and this is the first thing I tell her.
The moment we arrived home, I told Gabriel to tell her to meet me at our spot in the woods. I told him to tell her it was important, because I knew she was certainly angry at me, and possibly didn't even want to see me. Turns out, I was right. You didn't have to be a genius to see how livid Jean was as she approached me, with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and nose slightly red because of the cold.
"What the fuck, Scott?" She snarls, disgust painting both her face and tone. "You go away for weeks, get fucking engaged—and you have the nerve to ask me to run away with you the second you come back?" She scoffs. "Only a couple of weeks, you said. But I knew something like this would happen. It's all an act, though, right? So I should just relax, like you said. The wedding will be an act. The rings will be an act. Have you decided on what to name your firstborn yet?"
"It is all an act," I say. "Look, we need to—"
"Maybe for you," She interrupts me. "Maybe for you, it is. But for her?"
Why did I have to tell Jean that Emma wasn't acting in the cave after the Games? Why? Nope— I need to stop thinking that. I did the right thing. I was honest.
"For both of us." I counter.
"Please," The word comes out bitterly, she shakes her head. "You know what? I'm glad she saved you during the Games. I'll never be able to repay her. I'll always respect her for that. She didn't have to keep saving you, but she did. But I don't have to overlook all thi—"
"President Kelly threatened me before we went on tour," I blurt out.
Her eyebrows remain furrowed, but I can see her narrowed eyes slowly relax, like melting butter on a warm piece of bread.
"Wait, what?"
"He was concerned that me taking out the berries would trigger a rebellion in the districts. So he wanted me to convince everyone that the berries were an act of love, not rebellion. So that's why…"
"You and Emma were so close throughout the tour," She says, momentarily shutting her eyes.
"We couldn't convince all districts. About five of them… And then we just came up with this, to make a statement."
"The marriage?"
"Yeah," I nod. "But that's not everything. He had footage of us kissing, and he threatened me with everyone I loved if we failed to convince the districts."
Jean sighs, brushes away snow from the rock on our left, and takes a seat. She takes her time to digest the words.
"District Eight is rebelling. We failed. I saw some footage from there on the train. They're fighting back, Jean."
"Fighting back?" She raises her eyebrows, her lips separated.
I nod. "Everyone is in danger. Mom. Gabriel. Alex. You. Your family too, probably." I take her hands in mine. "But we can get out of here."
"What?"
"Remember how we used to talk about running away into the woods when we were kids? We can do it. You, me, our families."
Logan and Emma too, because they'll certainly come after them, but I won't mention that to Jean now. I'm already walking on tightrope.
Jean stares at me in disbelief. "No," She says. "We can't."
"What?"
"Scott," She starts, squeezing my hands. "Can't you see it? You… You can make a difference."
You have got to be kidding me.
"Make a difference," I spit. "So they can kill my entire family? You?"
"People are already talking about it at the factories," She says. "All they need is a match. Someone like you. Maybe if they knew about District Eight…"
A lot of people died because of me. During and after the Games. I can't pretend that doesn't matter, like a revolution is a game.
I can't have more people dying because of me. Especially when we don't know if the people of Thirteen will act when the time comes. Maybe they'll shut their doors and hide. Maybe they'll chicken out. That's not a risk I can take.
"We don't even know if it'll work," I say defensively.
"How safe are we, Scott?" Jean snaps. "We don't have to rebel for them to kill us. They've shipped so many peacekeepers here ever since you left for the tour. Every day, stores are raided. Houses are searched. People get beaten up in the streets for things they didn't do. Shot in the head for nothing. Do you seriously think we're safe? We're living on a ticking time bomb. But this thing in Eight… I've never heard anything like it. If you take charge, you can unite people. And maybe we can…"
"Overthrow the Capitol?" I scoff. "That's never going to happen. We don't have our powers."
The stakes are already low. The Capitol has too much power over us. Without our powers, we'll never stand a chance.
"But we have weapons. We're Thirteen."
"It's never going to work. And I won't risk any more lives for something that'll never work, don't you get it?" I sigh. "And I certainly won't risk you," I add. "So let's just do this together. You. Me. Both our families. Out of all this mess. Forever."
"Do you love me?"
The question goes through my chest like an arrow, leaving me completely blindsided.
"I… Jean, I told you. All I can think about are the Games. Kelly's threats. This mess… I can't feel anything else right now. But if we do this together, once we're out of this hell, then I'll be able to figure things out."
"We're not doing this." She shakes her head.
"Stop saying that,"
"What happens to everyone else, Scott? Do they have to keep living this way? The reaping will be soon, you know that. Two more kids will die. Maybe someone from Gabriel's class. Maybe someone our age. Peacekeepers will keep shooting people in the streets. People will keep walking on eggshells. But now they have a chance to live better than this. A chance to truly live. And they're looking up to you to take it. You can't walk away from this."
"I don't want anyone to look up to me, okay? I never wanted any of this. Be in the Games. Act in love with Emma. Be the face of a rebellion. I just want people to stop dying because of me!" I shout. "I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore. You have to understand. I can't live with myself if more people die because of me. Especially if you're one of those people. I can't…" I choke on the words. "I can't live with myself if that happens."
Jean wraps her arms around me. I forgot just how tight she always hugs me. "Scott…" She slowly pulls away. "None of this is your fault. You were trying to stay alive."
It is my fault. There's no need to sugarcoat it. My intentions don't matter.
"Tell me," I mutter into her hair. "Tell me you'll at least think about it."
"Okay."
The next morning, I pack myself breakfast and lunch for an entire day in the woods. Just me, snow, and the trees. I've been craving some alone time for weeks, and I need to clear my head more than ever. I leave before the clock hits eight.
I know it's time to eat when my feet begin to hurt from all the hiking. I push myself to walk a couple more minutes, just so I reach the small cabin in the middle of the woods. Jean and I found it when we were eleven. I'm guessing it's been abandoned ever since the first rebellion. When we hiked too much, we liked to rest on its patio and talk about the family who used to live there. It was nothing but empty guesses, really. I always believed that the father was a rebel, and he was caught during the rebellion. The rest of the family could have been taken down with him, maybe.
"Shh!"
I whip my head around. No one. Just trees and snow.
I go back to setting down my bag on the patio of the cabin, but then I hear it again. I check again, just trees and snow. Great, I think. Now I'm imagining things.
Except, I begin to hear light thuds. No, not thuds… Steps. Yes, these are steps, and I doubt they belong to a single person. This is forbidden territory. No one ever comes here, I know that from experience. It's usually just me and Jean. Hesitantly, I reach for the knife in my bag and make my way into the swarm of trees. The more I walk, the more I hear their steps. When I see two shadows nearby, I take cover behind a tree and take a look at who I'm up against.
Two peacekeepers. One tall, one extremely short.
"Just admit we're lost!" The short one yells to the tall one, kicking a lump of snow. Her voice is too high-pitched for a peacekeeper.
"Shut up, Yana, I'm trying to think!" The tall one throws the gun between her arms on the ground and takes off her helmet. Dark brunette curls frame her face. She lets herself collapse to the ground. "I can't breathe in that thing."
The short one also takes off hers. "Yeah, me too,"
They're both teenagers. The brunette is probably around fifteen or sixteen. But the short one, the blonde, looks like an average twelve-year-old.
Hold on.
I saw the blonde before. I know her, I met her. She was one of the girls handing us flowers at the Justice Building when we were touring District Eight. She looked extremely annoyed that day. Someone probably forced her to be there, and she definitely didn't bother masking how pissed she was. I remember liking her for that because that made two of us, I was being forced to be there too. That's why I asked for her name while taking the flowers.
I think her name was… Isla? No, Ivana… No.
Illyana. That's it, her name was Illyana.
These aren't peacekeepers. They're just two girls from Eight.
I lower the knife in my hand and hide it behind me. Obviously, I won't attack them, but better safe than sorry. The brunette does have a gun, and I won't be relieved until I retrieve it. But first… The casualties.
"What the hell are you two doing here?" I ask, not bothering to mask how fed up I am with everything and everyone.
So much for wanting a day to myself.