Chapter Thirty-Two: Skill (pt.2)
"Music?" Maize murmured, "What- I, how would that work?"
Seeder gestured for Maize to follow her into the kitchen, "Every Victor needs to showcase a special skill or talent. Because of our status as Victors, we are no longer required to work, the Capitol has come to expect that we take up an activity. You'll be interviewed on it during the Tour. And you do have a beautiful voice Maize..."
"But singing?" the teen reiterated nervously, "Would that be enough?"
The woman nodded, "My talent is poetry Maize. With your voice, singing would be more than enough." Seeder eyed Maize's nervous form, "If you would like, we can try and find someone to teach you an instrument."
When Maize was Juliana her papi had shown her how to play his guitara after an evening of lively music. Her first parents had been in charge of providing the music during mass and it was something they'd done with great love and gusto. Her younger self had loved learning to play the instrument and she'd even brought the acoustic guitar he'd gifted her everywhere. That was perhaps what she'd missed the most from her life. Strumming the strings as her fingers moved across the elegant neck to form chords.
"Wh-What kind of instruments?" Maize blurted out.
Seeder eyed Maize curiously, "Any that you want."
She rubbed the bridge of her nose shyly, "Do you think that I can play the guitar?"
The woman shot her a warm smile, "I'll make sure of it."
And Seeder did. Three days after their conversation Seeder presented Maize with an acoustic guitar and sheet music for beginners. In a few weeks, someone from the Capitol would come to give her some in-person lessons that would eventually turn into some sort of video-call music lessons. For now, though, Maize needed to get her fingers used to the unique pain forming on the tip of, well, her fingertips so they'd form calluses. She practiced in the few moments of her day where she was alone, rediscovering songs from her first life and adapting others from her new one.
By the time her teacher, a gold-skinned man named Leto, arrived Maize's fingers had mostly stopped hurting when she formed chords. Leto had been impressed by Maize's self-study, something he fawned over in addition to her status as a Victor. He showed her new techniques that'd been developed and introduced pieces that were popular in the Capitol.
Maize was more than happy when Leto left two weeks later. It had been more than a little uncomfortable to house a Capitolite in their home. Baba had quietly seethed the entire time the man was in the house, her mama hadn't really known how to handle the strange man in their presence either. Birch had been decisively bitter with Leto's presence, he'd told her that for a moment he'd forgotten that Maize would have to leave once more. Brier and Piper gave Leto a wide berth whenever they saw him and often joined Birch in his endeavor to avoid the man. Her youngest siblings only eyed the man like he was one of the most strange individuals they'd ever met, much like they had treated Goldie before she went back to the Capitol.
Leto, while passionate for his music and craft, had been Capitolite through and through. The fake gold tint of his skin was but a small part of his overall appearance, his hair was neon orange, and his eyes, somehow, an unnatural shade of burnt orange. He was very effeminate in nature and had bragged about his conductor boyfriend -Baba had not looked happy when he heard- waiting for his return in the Capitol. Apparently, Leto's man, Iggy, was very jealous and proud that Maize was being taught to play the guitar by his paramour.
The guitar instructor's overall personality was similar to that of Maize's prep team... Passionate, overly touchy, patriotic, enthused with the Hunger Games, blind to the suffering of the Districts, naive, and a bit of an airhead. Harmless. A bit annoying, but harmless in the end.
Somehow, slowly, the rest of the District learned of Maize's new talent. Maize blamed Birch and Ollie. The two preteens could not be trusted to keep their mouths shut. Even Brier and Piper could be trusted more... though, if Maize was being fair, Birch did know how to keep a secret if he'd been instructed to, her brother had never said a word to anyone about Amla's pregnancy and had helped their cousin like she'd asked when Maize volunteered for her. And it wasn't like Maize had explicitly asked the boys to keep it quiet.
Still, it had thrown Maize for a loop when a month and a half after she picked up the guitar Fern, the younger sister of her childhood friend Edelwyse, asked her to bring the instrument to the grotto. Hand-carved flutes and homemade drums were the more common instruments in District 11, there was maybe one other guitar player in the entire District and he was a part of the mayor's family. Apparently the other fruit pickers had decided that it would be wonderful if Maize played the guitar whilst they sang. And Maize, being Maize, couldn't tell Fern 'no.' Especially when Birch, her sisters, and Ollie all looked up at her hopefully.
That was how Maize found herself sitting on a stump and nervously tuning the acoustic guitar as the other fruit pickers on lunch break surrounded her excitedly. Maize eyes the two taskmasters in the vicinity, though the men wouldn't raise a hand to stop them since it wasn't like anyone was putting off work to hear her.
"So, what song did you all have in mind Fern?" Maize asked the curly-haired girl.
Excited dark brown eyes locked onto her own, "Have you learned any of the working songs?"
Maize sent the younger girl an amused grin, "It was the first thing I tried to learn."
"What about 'Wolf,' can you play that one?" a thirteen-year-old boy that her brother played with when they were younger named Moss asked excitedly.
She hummed the tune under her breath as her fingers quickly found themselves in the right positions. That was one of the songs she'd learned to play first since it was one of Amla's favorites. Yarrow, a teen a year younger than Maize, grabbed an empty peck basket and turned it upside down and began beating against it rhythmically to the beat.
"Wolf mother, where you been?/ You look so worn, so thin," Maize started before being quickly joined in by other enthusiastic voices, "You're a taker, devil's maker/ Let me hear you sing/ Hey ya, hey ya!/ Wolf father, at the door/ You don't smile anymore/ You're a drifter, shapeshifter/ Let me see you run/ Hey ya, hey ya!"
Words 1180