Chapter 19- Cass Oceansong
Osa's left side is bruised, the dark skin blossoming into purples and blacks where the Peacekeeper hit her with the rock. She hasn't cried, though, just keeps her hand over the bruises as though to protect them.
Willow hasn't said much either, and neither have I, since we pulled out of District 5. All that's left for us to go to is District 2, and then the Capitol- and after that I don't know what's going to happen. I don't feel much right now, only the sharp edges of the rock I'm still holding in my hand.
Buck, for all his might and determination, has slumped down on the opposite side of the train, his head in his still shackled hands. The new boy, Link, his name is, already looks worn out, his blonde hair limp and straggly. He looks at his hands, at the cuffs that nobody's bothered to take off yet.
"Oak?"
"What do you want, Silver?" Oak says from her spot directly behind me. Her district partner joined her a little while earlier, and her voice is softer than before.
"Do you still have the hairpins?"
"Osa does."
"Here," Osa says, pulling another pin out of her braided hair with the hand she doesn't have held to her side. She holds it out to Silver, who's also sitting fairly close to us, with the little girl we just picked up.
Silver shakes her head. "I don't know how to do it. Oak, could you take the cuffs off of Violet? Please?"
Oak hesitates for only a second, then takes the pin from Osa. "Come here," she says, gesturing to Violet. The girl, who must only be a year or two younger than me but seems much younger than that, edges her way towards Oak and holds her hands out. Oak fiddles with the pin in the lock for a moment, before the cuffs drop to the ground.
"Thank you," Violet says, her voice high. Oak nods to the girl, and Silver pulls her back towards herself. Silver seems to have taken on a protector role with Violet, and I'm still surprised she left the other loyalists. Silver's changed, but I think it's a good change.
Seeing Violet with her red hair makes me want to cry; she reminds me of Wave. I'm so glad that Wave didn't have to come on this train, and that she's not headed to the Capitol like I am. She's safe; she can always be safe now. I hope that we are the only tributes that have to die, and then the Capitol can forgive the districts and move on with rebuilding them.
"I want to go home." The voice, a girl's, is unfamiliar; it sounds rusty, as though it hasn't been used for a long time. "I want to go home," she says again, and this time I realize that it's Aldera. I've never heard her speak before. Somehow, it's almost impossible to think that she and Sanguin got on just yesterday morning. I don't even know how long I've been trapped in this train car.
Aldera coughs into her hand, and I see the red blood spatter against the white skin. "Please!" she moans, "I want to go home!"
"Well who the hell do you think is going to take you home?" Buck snaps at her. "Nobody's going home, don't you get it?"
"Somebody's got to," Link says, sitting beside the door. "That's the point; somebody's going to get home."
"Which means the rest of us will be dead," Volt says drily.
"We could always refuse to fight," Willow says. Her hands clasp the candle in the same way I'm clutching the rock. Her candle is shorter than it was yesterday, but still so precious. Candlelight warms me, and makes my mind turn away from the train and the fact that my stomach is gnawing at itself from hunger.
"Light the candle, lass," my father says, holding the lantern out to me. Carefully, with my eight year old hands, I guide the burning match into the lantern and light the candle inside. Warm light spills out and illuminates the deck of the Luna; I wave the match until the flame flickers out and all I hold is a burnt piece of wood.
"How come you didn't pick Sea to come out here?" I ask, blowing on my fingers to stay warm. Though it's summer, it's a cold night. I don't even know why my father has decided to go fishing in the dark; he always leaves as the sun is rising and comes home when it's setting.
"I've taken Sea out when she was your age, and I'll take her out again in the daylight hours. I'll take Wave out when she's your age as well. But tonight, it's your turn." He hangs the lantern in the cabin of the boat, where it sends out tendrils of light all over the deck.
"What are we doing?"
My father smiles in the candlelight, loosing the fishing boat from the docks. District 4 is quiet behind us, and the sea is calm in front of us, as the Luna slips silently through the waves and out into the open water.
While my father guides the boat forward, I stand at the bow, watching the moonlight on the waves; silver-white against blue-black. Here in the darkness, the ocean is eternal, never-ending. I'd like to find out what's beyond the districts one day, go over that dark horizon and sail to a world outside Panem. One day.
My father comes behind me and stands at the bow by my side. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he says, hushed. I nod. "You're wondering why I brought out of your warm bed to look at the moon, aren't you?" I nod again.
He runs his hands over the boat railing. "Out here in the dark, we are our own people. You're not too young, Cass, to know that the Capitol owns us, every one of us. We fish for them, and that's how we play our part for Panem." Father turns and looks down at me; I can barely see his face in the candlelight.
"Remember, Cass, they own your body, but they don't own your mind or soul. One day, I promise you, things will be different. One day everyone in Panem will be free to speak their minds and choose where to live."
"You promise," I say, and it's not so much a question as a statement. My father never breaks his promises.
"I promise. Now, look, Cassandra," he says, and he never calls me Cassandra unless he's serious. "Look at the water and the moon and the stars. None of those can be tamed or owned. Your soul is like that. Inside, you are always free. Do you understand?"
"I think so," I say, even though I don't really. "Can you tell me the constellations again?"
I see my father smile through the darkness, then he points up at the night sky full of stars. "There's Cassiopeia, almost like your name- and Cygnus the swan. Do you see its wings?"
"Maybe," I say, squinting at the tiny dots of light. Maybe I don't understand what my father means now, but I think I will one day. Right now, I'm just happy to look at the stars beside my father, and feel the Luna rock underneath me, cradled by the waves.
The pain in my hand brings me back to the present time, back to hunger and loss and tears. Back to a stinging palm from the rock I've gripped too tightly.
"Not fight? They're going to make us fight in the end, you know that," Flick says.
"We can choose not to," Willow insists.
"And you think they're just going to let us go if we don't play their game?" Volt says. "You're stupid if you think that."
"I don't want to kill anyone," Willow says.
"Like any of us do?" Flick gives a harsh laugh that's devoid of any humor.
"I say the rebels go out first and then we see where we stand," Glow says, pointing at Oak. "They're going to bring the others back, and then we're going to show you that loyalists come out on top." Glow briefly glances at Silver, who holds Violet's hand. "Usually."
"I can take you any day," Link says, fiddling with the chain between his cuffs. "I've killed self absorbed idiots like you before, I'll do it again."
"Sorry, what was that? Are you threatening me?" Glow says, sitting up very straight.
"Yeah, I am actually. I'm not taking any shit from you- what's your name again?"
"He's called Glow," Oak says behind me. "District 1 idiot."
"I could tell by the name," Link says, smirking. "Like I said, I'm not taking any shit from a guy whose name sounds like a lightbulb. I told my girl I'd get home, and I'm not breaking that promise."
Breaking promises. My father said he would never see any of us go to the Games if he could help it, and now he has, and he couldn't help me. My father who told me that the Capitol owned my body but never my soul; I never understood what he meant, but I think I do now.
The Capitol has my person on their train going to their Hunger Games. I can't change that. They don't have me, though, they don't have my thoughts and hopes and dreams and memories, and they can't take them. They can force me into the arena, but they can't make me kill my fellow tributes.
They don't own me, and they never will.