TW: Zora's pov deals with the suicide of a close family member and how it's affected the family. Please dm/pm me if you need a summary.
Meilin Seacole, 15
May 1st, 2427
2 months prior to the games
District Three
New Alexandria
Meilin yawns, pulling open her double curtains to be met with the sounds and sights of the bustling city outside her window. Rays of orange light gleam the high-rises giving them a warm hue - warm like Meilin's heart. The sun signals another day that's been gifted to her to bring joy to the world and the people in it.
A deep-seated smile appears across Meilin's face. People always tell her that her lips are shaped like a heart, and she always thought that sounds about right because she uses her smile to warm other's hearts. It's been her goal for a long time to make sure that anyone she meets throughout the day ends up being in a better place than before they met.
Last night, Meilin stacked all the books that she'll need for today. So, the lean, petite girl skips over to her school bag and gently places them inside. She never found the need to be muscular or athletic. It turns out, her brain comes in quite handy. It's all she needs to bring kindness to the world.
She slings her rucksack around her shoulders, and jogs down the stairs, her heart beating with radiant energy.
The scent of freshly cooked omelet tickles her nose; her mum's omelet is always to die for. Meilin scoots into the kitchen, taking a seat next to her father.
"We hear you're top of the class at the moment, sweetie," her mom says with a smile.
"Yeah! The City Library has also been in touch… they said they'd like to offer me an internship in a few years!" Her voice is soft yet excited, like a bird that's just learned to fly.
(The Library in New Alexandria is a big deal. It's the biggest in the entire country.)
"That's wonderful!" her parents say in unison.
Her mother then tosses an omelet down on her plate. "But remember, our only concern is that you do your best and that you're happy."
"And that's my only concern for you too," Meilin replies, with a smile. "Oh, that reminds me, good job on the promotion at work Mom!" She turns to her dad and sticks her thumb up. "And good job on launching the new software for the Library's database, Dad."
She takes a forkful of her potato omelet. "We make a pretty good team," she says through a mouthful of it.
She is then met with a kiss from both her parents on her head of straight black hair, cropped at the shoulders.
The family are soon scurrying around the house, collecting what they'll need for the day, and taking the last sips from mugs of coffee. Finally, the echo of the front door shutting signals her parents leaving.
So, as soon as they are gone, she takes that as her signal. The small girl flickers her mono-lidded eyes before gathering her packed lunch from the fridge, and placing it neatly in her bag.
As soon as she steps outside, she's hit with the sounds of the bustling city: cars zooming past, crowds of people rushing to get to work and school, along with the sounds of construction as Meilin passes by a building site.
Just outside their zone train station, a boy fades into view, leaning against a lamppost, clasping his books to his chest. He's average height, with curly blond cropped hair, pale freckled skin, and blue eyes - Toller Erics, one of Meilin's best friends.
(And she has a few.)
He sends her a smile as soon as he sees her, and she returns it, only hers is ten times brighter.
(Not that there's anything wrong with Toller's smile. It's just that no one can seem to compete with Meilin's.)
Together, they hop on the train, right on time, and it carries them off, rising above the District on a bridge that fits the track. Meilin presses her palms up against the train window, and her large eyes light up in wonder. It doesn't matter that she takes this train every day; the journey over the vast urban forest of cylinder high rises will never stop grabbing her attention.
Eventually, she takes a seat next to Toller. They begin tirelessly going through their notes together for biology class later.
There is some snickering from a few seats back. Some kids from school are pointing at them, and whispering to each other.
"Nerds," Meillins catches one of them say. Toller glances behind them, ready to fire back however Meilin catches his wrist.
"Whatever's causing them to be like that… it can only be fixed with a bit of kindness," she says. "But unfortunately, I'm a bit busy at the moment."
The train descends back down to ground level, the doors slide open just outside their school, and the two of them scamper out, arriving five minutes early for their biology class.
The class is split up into tables. Meilin's and Toller's friend group is together as always - near the front. A friend group she has built up with no small amount of effort on her part.
The friends wave at each other. Cassie, Preta, and Tron. Meilin plonks down next to Tron, laying her book and pens neatly out in front of her on the table.
The class proceeds as usual. Meilin, Cassie, Preta, and Toller are always ready to excitedly call out answers to the teacher, like they are contestants on a quiz show.
However, Meilin is the only one that notices Tron aggravatingly groaning next to her and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
She gives him a warm, comforting smile. "What's up?" she asks.
Tron flips his page aggressively. His eyes are shifting rapidly between the board and his notes. "The teacher… she's going too fast," he complains.
Tron has told her he struggles to write at the same pace as the rest of the class. He's told the school too but they don't seem to pay attention to that sort of thing.
Meilin offers out her hand. "Here, let me," she says.
Tron turns his eyes to hers. "But… don't you need to take notes as well?"
"I can copy mine from yours later," she says with a shrug. "It's important that you get your notes down as well."
Tron doesn't argue anymore. He slides his notepad to his friend before passing her his pen. Meilin then begins diligently scribbling down the notes for Tron, making her handwriting as clear as possible. Her eyes flip between the board and his notepad diligently. She wants to make sure she can get as much information as possible down.
After class, the gang is gathered out in the corridor mulling over what they just learned. Tron tucks his notepad into his backpack, now with a pleasant smile plastered on his face; Meilin's smile seems to have infected him.
Suddenly, a pen bounces off Tron's head.
"Ouch!" He rubs the back of his head.
"Idiot!" A boy sneers from behind him.
Meilin's heart pumps with displeasure all of a sudden. She glimpses past Tron to see who threw the pen. A tall, muscular boy is leaning against the wall with his arms folded, adorning a snarky grin… Chad. The school troublemaker.
Meilin inhales, closing her eyes, momentarily. She hates cruelty for the sake of cruelty. But no one is just cruel for no reason, right? Meilin doesn't believe that for a second. No one is irredeemable.
So, she'll handle Chad like she handles every other situation: with kindness. She's not afraid of bullies, because she's always thought bullies are the most afraid people of all. She supposes that nobody else is showing Chad kindness, so if she does then maybe he'll start being kind to others? It's worth a shot.
Meilin breathes out, starting to march forward to Chad with her shoulders back. However, she feels Tron's hand on her shoulder to try to pause her. "Please Mel, just leave it… I'm fine," he whispers.
"Don't worry, I'll handle it," she smiles. "You know me. I can't let this sort of thing slide."
So, the small girl paces right up to the much larger, smirking boy, surrounded by his equally snarky friends.
"Oop, watch out everyone," he giggles, eyeing Meilin from top to bottom.
"I'm shaking in my boots," one of his friends adds, sarcastically.
Meilin stops in front of the bully, her eyes fixed confidently on him, and somehow Chad doesn't feel like he would get away with throwing a pen at this girl's head.
"Hey, so my friend doesn't really like you doing that. He'd prefer it if you stopped," she says politely, gesturing back to Tron.
"You mistake me for someone that gives a shit," Chad shoots back.
Meilin won't back down. She squints curiously, leaning against the wall. "So what is it? I heard you've been getting crap for your grades lately, I'm sorry."
Chad is suddenly red in the face, a spark has been ignited deep down. Did she touch a nerve?
"What's it to you?" he growls.
Meilin just shrugs. "If you need some help with your schoolwork, and nobody else is giving you any… then I'm free at lunchtime," she offers with her usual smile.
"What makes you think I need your help?"
Meilin just shrugs again. "The offers there. It's up to you if you take it."
Chad glances back at his friends but they are also in stunned silence.
He freezes for a moment, his eyes suddenly appearing slightly vulnerable…
The school bell signals the end of lunchtime. Meilin places her pen down next to the notebook in their school library with Chad sitting opposite. She spent the entirety of lunch helping him through his science homework.
The girl immediately stands up, rubbing her eyes with a quick yawn.
"Wow, that was actually really insightful… I wish one of my teachers would have just sat down with me for an hour to help me," he mutters.
Meilin manages a smile. "No problem. Can I trust that you'll be leaving my friend alone from now?"
The boy is still in a state of bewilderment. "Uh… yeah…sure," he says, shaking himself out of his shocked state.
"Shake on it?" Meilin asks, offering out her hand. Chad clasps it firmly and gives it a shake, and then Meilin is free to leave the library and head to her next class.
By the end of the day, Meilin has been anticipating the final bell for some time. Finally, it rings through the school, cutting her English class to a close. She hastily packs her bag with her books and scampers out into the school corridor. As she wanders the corridor, squeezing her way between students, Tron appears in the corner of her eye, waiting on their other friends. His eyes facing the floor sheepishly.
Meilin yawns, patting her small skinny friend on the back. "Don't worry, Chad shouldn't be bothering you anymore - and if he does, let me know," she says.
Helping Chad at lunchtime certainly drained her; he's not the sharpest tool in the shed. It meant she didn't perform to her usual for her afternoon classes, but if it meant that Chad's grades improve, Chad will leave Tron alone, and in turn, they are both happier, then it was worth it.
Meilin takes the same train home with Toller. Now the setting sun casts a gentle pink glow across the city. It reflects across the train window, lighting Meilin's heart with warmth.
From the end of the train, heavy boots begin reverberating down the floor of the train carriage towards them. Meilin shifts her eyes from the window to the direction of the noise… white uniforms… Peacekeepers. They are marching down the train, snatching tickets from passengers as they go.
Meilin plonks back down on her seat next to Toller and keeps her eyes glued to the back of the seat in front. The first Peacekeeper stretches his hand out once he reaches the two kids, then hastily demands that they present their tickets. Luckily, the two friends play by the books, so they smile calmly and present their two tickets.
As Meilin's weary legs take her the remaining distance home across the rapidly dimming street, she can't help but wonder one simple thing. If kindness can help someone like Chad and stop him from bullying others, then why can't it also help Panem? Maybe it can stop those Peacekeepers from treating people like that? Maybe that's what's been missing all these years.
Maybe that's exactly what Meilin is destined to do, to fix the world with kindness. She knows one thing for sure: that she will give it a damn good go.
Chaney de Kuyper, 17
July 2nd, 2426
One year Prior to the games
District Nine
The golden, glowing, setting sun beats down upon the fields of equally golden wheat as they sway gently in the wind. Everything is placid with the only sounds being the calm whistle of the wind and the humming of cicadas.
VROOM
The peace and serenity of the evening are shattered by a red car zooming across the empty road, pressing 120 miles an hour down a long stretch of road without a Peacekeeper in sight. District Nine's vast empty space allows for such things to exist; it's possibly the only reason Chaney de Kuyper is glad that he was born in District Nine. Chaney sits back in the driver's seat. A grin forms on his face as he stares at the vast fields outside the window. He'll let his foot which is pressing down on the gas decide exactly which direction he's going. It doesn't matter to Chaney; life is not about the destination, it's about the journey and the moments that make it up. What happens along the way is out of his hands. He's here for a good time, not a long time.
When the road is so straight, it's easy to get lost… lost in thought, more than anything.
The dim tarmac between the fields of wheat transforms momentarily into the narrow kitchen in the house he grew up in.
(Bills were piled up on the dusty table, Chaney went into his father's bedroom and found most of his belongings gone.)
(When his dad left all those weeks ago… he never came back)
Chaney's eyes narrow in on the road ahead, that's all that eyes briefly flicker to his fuel gauge. Half a tank… that'll be enough to get him to Millbank. His fingers tighten on the wheel, and he presses his foot down harder.
His grin returns, then he begins muttering a little tune he came up with himself, progressively getting louder as he reaches the song's end.
"Half a tank is all it takes."
"No need to use my brakes."
"If everyone ditches you… what can you do?"
"Don't need a heavens load!"
His foot is now extended fully on the gas.
"Put your foot down to the floor!"
"One hundred and twenty miles an hour and never more!"
He begins bobbing his head as he repeats his little song, over and over. In all honesty, when Chaney first hotwired this car and drove away in it, with the previous owner screaming and chasing him down the road, he was never happier to see the back of his hometown. His dad abandoned him, his mum abandoned him, so why the hell shouldn't he abandon that place as well? He remembers distinctly sticking his middle finger up behind him as he drove out and his wheels screeched.
The little, old town of Millbank gradually fades into view at the end of the road. Chaney spots its signature rotating mill first, and the rest is just rotting, grey, wooden farm houses scattered about over the yellow grass.
Chaney's foot eases off the gas slightly. Millbank is the last town before the District Centre, the largest, bustling hub in the District. It's always crawling with busy workers moving back and forth from work to their homes. Chaney knows by now that more people equals more Peacekeepers. He doesn't understand how they can just be cogs in the machine of the Capitol with their whole lives planned out before them, like puppets on strings. He may be a known bandit to the law, always turning his head to Peacekeepers, but at least he has some semblance of freedom.
Chaney is simply drifting through the town now, going no faster than twenty. His eyes scan about the dusty streets for his first robbery victim of the day, like a cat searching a field for mise. It doesn't matter who it is, as long as they look like they have a decent amount of wealth.
The first is a large man in blue, worn dungarees, leaning against his truck and sweating from a hard day's work. Chaney eyes up the truck first. It's pulling a large container, probably full of grains. What sort of grains, he doesn't really care. "Grains or some shit?" Chaney muses to himself, as he tries to read the writing on the back of the truck.
(He's never really cared much for their industry; it hasn't helped with his survival since his dad left him. He's had to rely on his vast circle of friends, Nine's criminal world, and his strong knack for getting himself out of trouble.)
His unsuspecting target seems to be daydreaming, so he doesn't notice the young highwayman pull up a few metres behind him. Chaney yanks up the handbrake, wipes his cheeky grin from his face, and attempts his best puppy dog eyes.
The boy hops out of his vehicle and twists loose the first cog he sees on the engine. Acting sheepishly, he approaches the man from behind. "Excuse me, sir, I think there's something wrong with my engine, could you take a look?" he asks, rubbing his fingers over his buzz-cut hair.
The truck driver glances at him, knocked out of his daydream. However, he simply stares for a moment.
Clearly, he needs some more convincing, so Chaney turns up the charm. "I'm a bit of a ditz ya see, and I don't really understand these things," he chuckles innocently.
"I'm trying to get back to the District Centre, and I can't get stuck here… no offence. My family will be worried about me, besides my dad will be mad… i-it's his car ya see," he lies.
"Alright, alright," the man sticks his hand out to stop Chaney's verbal assault. "I'll take a look," he agrees, if not to just shut Chaney up.
The truck driver pushes himself off of his truck, and heads over to Chaney's car.
"Thank you, thank you," Chaney presses his hand against his heart. "You're a good Samaritan, sir, I'll be sure to name my firstborn after you."
"I don't know about that," the man mutters, eyeing Chaney up and down.
"You're right," Chaney says. "There's no way I'd have kids, they're annoying."
"Can't imagine where they'd get it from," the driver replies under his breath.
Chaney stares back at the man's truck and waves his hand over his face. "Does it always leak that much smoke when it's off?"
"It's on… I left the keys in the ignition…"
"Oh, of course," Chaney replies, sticking his fingers into his head, and making a fart sound with his mouth.
But when the man turns back, a subtle grin forms on Chaney's face. He just gave Chaney the only information that the robber cares about. If the keys are in the ignition, that means the doors are most likely unlocked.
As the man lifts up the hood of Chaney's car and begins inspecting the engine, Chaney steadily backs away on the heels of his feet. He slips silently up to the man's truck, and gently tugs open the door, grinning back at his victim who is innocently fiddling with Chaney's engine. His hand rummages around on the inside of the truck, opening up the glove compartments and sweeping the side compartments.
"Bingo!" he exclaims before producing one of Nine's bingo cards in his hand. Then he shrugs and stuffs it in his pocket. Maybe he'll get lucky.
Finally, his hand hits the jackpot in the truck's coffee holder: the driver's wallet. His smile becomes more enigmatic, and he resists the urge to bounce up and down in victory - realising it would make him seem a bit strange… or stranger.
He slides the wallet into his pocket, lightly closes the door then plods back over to his helper.
The man closes the hood, and begins turning back "It was just a loose screw…." he jumps back when he notices Chaney directly behind him. "It's all fixed for ya."
The boy slaps his head, rolling his eyes. "So obvious… such a dumbass… like I said."
The driver raises his eyebrows as if to subtly let Chaney know that he agrees with him. However, Chaney smirks at the truck driver as he watches him return to his truck. "But who's more the dumbass? The dumbass, or the dumbass that let that dumbass steal from him?" Chaney mutters to himself but then he frowns as he tries to comprehend the sentence that just left his mouth.
Before the man can even begin to discover the deception, Chaney has hopped back into his car and is already belting away, giggling to himself the entire time.
The cocky robber continues to get lucky for the rest of the day, getting an important-looking businessman, a prestigious woman, and even an off-duty Peacekeeper. (He's still impressed he managed to get away with the last one.) Thus, by the end of the evening, he's feeling pretty pleased with himself, and his heart races with joy every time he glimpses at the day's spoils on the backseat.
Out of his front window, his final target of the day comes into view. An unassuming girl with dirty blond hair; she seems average height and roughly the same age as Chaney. Although there's something more to her, something Chaney can't quite put his finger on, something that's telling him to go talk to her, beyond as another robbery target.
He performs his usual stunt of parking by the curb a few meters down, dropping his smirk, and hopping out of the car.
"Hey miss," Chaney calls, waving his hand.
The girl is leaning up against the wall of what looks like her apartment block, with a cigarette in between her fingers. She turns her head to him, maintaining a strict, stone-faced expression.
"I gotta bit of a problem over here."
The girl's expression doesn't change but she appears to take the bait. She lowers her cigarette and paces slowly over to where he's standing by his car.
"Could you please take a look at my car? I think there's something wrong with the…"
Suddenly, before he can even think about finishing his sentence, the boy finds a knife pointed directly at his throat and grazing the skin. She was so fast that if she wanted to kill him, he'd be dead already.
"That's the first scam in the book, you fucking moron," she groans, but with a cocky tint to her voice.
Chaney knows he should be afraid, but right now, he's just impressed, and he bursts out laughing at how easily she got him.
"I-I had a feeling you were one of my own," he grins, as she presses the knife harder against his throat and backs him up against his car.
"Oh please, don't insult me like that," she shoots back.
He holds his hands up. "You got a gang hanging about somewhere?" He asks.
She shrugs. "Nah, I prefer to fly solo these days."
"Samesies!" Chaney exclaims, all of a sudden bouncing on the balls of his feet. "That means there's only one logical next step… a partnership," he finds himself saying.
The girl's eyes stay stern, but Chaney feels the knife easing off of his throat.
"And what do you have to offer, exactly, hm?" she playfully raises an eyebrow.
"A free sidekick?" He smirks. "And a funny one at that… in my humble opinion," he adds. Then his eyes travel to his car. "Plus, a car!"
At last, the girl lowers the knife from his neck, and strolls over to his vehicle. "It's true, I could use a car," she says, running her hand over the car roof.
Chaney shoots out his hand. "So, are you in? Or are you in?"
The girl slowly raises her hand to shake his. But before he can pull it away, she suddenly grips it tight, so tight that he feels like his bones could crack.
"But if you even think about double-crossing me, I'll feed your eyes to the crows," she warns sternly, then she points her blade at his eyes.
Chaney gulps. "Fair enough." He folds his ears forward. "But can I keep my ears? I like my ears…"
Suddenly they are both chuckling together. Their eyes stay locked on each other. The street around them seems to go quiet.
Chaney's heart is twitching, trying to tell him something. Is this one of those moments he's heard about? One of those key moments where your life is changed forever. Something is telling him, yes. They always come years apart, so it makes sense. The last one was when he discovered his dad had left him all alone at age thirteen. This one seems wholly different - whether for good or for bad, it's out of his control.
"You gotta name?" The girl asks, now leaning against the car.
"Chaney de Kuyper," he answers.
"Is that French… or something?" She teases.
"Why yes, it means… super-awesome robber dude that will make you a shit tonne of money," he chuckles. "You?"
"Briar," she answers.
Two months later
The golden fields of wheat simmer under the midday sun.
VROOM
A red car zooms across the dark blue tarmac road in between the fields. This time there are two people in the front seats, bobbing their heads along to a tune. Chaney de Kuyper and Briar Bacardi - the girl that only two months ago had a knife to Chaney's throat on the street corner.
Chaney only learned her surname a few weeks ago. He's noticed that she has begun to smile more and more over the last two months - she would never admit it though. In fact, she is smiling now as her blond hair blows from the open window. They are both smiling together. It helps that they just had a particularly successful bank heist. Plus, she seems to like the little song he came up with, which surprises him, and they sing it together as they roll along the road.
"Half a tank is all it takes!"
"No need to use my brakes," they laugh together.
"If everyone ditches you… what can you do?" They sing in sync.
Briar sings the next two lines. "Don't need a heavens load… put your foot down to the floor," she chuckles.
Chaney shifts his eyes back to the road ahead and narrows them. "One-hundred and twenty miles an hour and never more."
Chaney knows that it doesn't matter what lies ahead on the road, what matters is that they are together. It's not about the destination, it's about the journey, the journey made up of these small moments.
Chaney de Kuyper is done being left in the dust. He's along for the ride no matter what.
Zora Iskra, 14
June 19th, 2427
One day prior to the games
District Six
Outskirts of Cinneridge City
For most kids, lunch times are usually spent hanging around with a large group of friends. But not Zora.
Zora is the sole occupier of the science class at lunchtime. She keeps the lights very dim - she doesn't need them. They are distracting, just like her thoughts. Her little, bubbling chemical concoction, which is simmering away in front of her goggles, shines the only light she needs.
Over the last few years, alchemy has become one of two distractions from what happened that fateful day - like a lantern in a sea of dark thoughts. That's what alchemy is to her. Chemicals and compounds seem to follow rules and structures that a lot of other things in life don't.
While splicing different liquids together, or crushing herbs, everything seems to make sense.
(Today is also The day. It was exactly two years ago. Realistically, Zora knows that it should be occupying every second of her logical mind but the here and now is all that matters.)
(Chemicals, compounds, and liquids - those are logical. Those are realistic. Nothing logical will ever explain what happened that day two years ago.)
(Will it ever make sense?)
The mixture begins puffing out smoke and turns an oily-yellow colour. No! Not what Zora had been hoping for! It's because her thoughts were drifting. She made mistakes in her life! Alchemy isn't her life, it's worlds away! There are no mistakes in alchemy. Mistakes leave scars on her.
The girl's mind moves rapidly, and her eyes follow, scanning around the science class for a solution to the problem. There it is - the mortar and pestle, perched neatly on her workbench where she left it. Her little legs carry her over to the workbench, where she begins methodically picking out different herbs to grind together.
Her teeth rub together as she, in turn, grinds the leaves into a paste.
The reality of what this day means seems to stick in her mind like superglue.
Her eyes stay fixed on the particles of plants in her bowl. She rushes back over to her chemical mixture before tenderly sprinkling the green herbs in so that the liquid is no longer fizzling, and turns a light green colour.
The whole room now seems to be illuminated by this glowing green light.
A breath of relief courses through Zora's lungs, and a light smile forms on her lips. Everything has gone to plan so far today … not like that day two years ago. With alchemy, things always seem to go to plan for Zora, and so her mistakes are few and far between.
Zora freezes for a moment, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass beaker. Her dark hair is in a braid which matches her dark eyes. A sting of anxiety strikes her heart like a needle! She and her sister were not identical twins but every time she looks into her reflection she sees her, and Zora doesn't want to. Not today.
Knock, knock.
Zora jumps, almost knocking her potion over as the door swings open and another girl, the same age as Zora, practically crashes in. Her green hair matches her eyes; the girl's clothes are covered in dirt, and she's panting heavily with a red sweating face as she bounces a football up and down.
Zora's heart immediately skips a beat as soon as Bexley opens her mouth.
"Thought I'd find you here!" Bexley greets, with a smile.
Zora's hand darts over her eyes as the other girl switches on the light.
She moves closer to Zora, bouncing her ball one more time while suddenly dropping her smile. "Are you ok?"
"Of course… why wouldn't I be?" Zora smiles back.
She scurries past Bexley with her newly formed potion clasped gently in her hands before placing it down on the side and screwing on a plastic lid.
Bexley follows Zora the entire way, keeping her eyes laser-focused on her. "It's just… today's the day… two years ago…"
"I said I'm fine!" Zora cuts her off, more abruptly than she intended, and she can see Bexley's eyes are slightly stricken.
"Sorry," Zora mutters, then she reaches over and pulls Bexley into a tight hug.
The pair finally release each other after a minute.
"I know this day must be tough for you to get through… I'm here if you need to talk," Bexely says, rubbing Zora's shoulder.
With a warm smile, Bexley leaves Zora alone once again to her own thoughts. There's no one like Bexley to distract her from her thoughts; it feels like her mind has suddenly been cleansed, if only briefly. Since they shared their first kiss, Zora has been planning to ask Bexley to be her official girlfriend. She's never asked anyone out before. How do you even do it? This is the dilemma that has been plaguing Zora's mind for months now.
But after a lot of contemplating, she's sure she's come up with the perfect idea. There's a chocolate shop on her street with a card shop opposite it, and a small park nearby - perfect for a picnic.
(Her parents used to take her and her sister there when they were younger.)
So, after school, she's going to go on a little shopping spree. She'll wait until after the reapings to actually ask her out, that way they don't have the anxiety of that hanging over them.
As soon as the lunch bell rings, the short girl hangs up her lab coat where she found it, and returns the goggles to the storeroom - exactly where they were.
The rest of her afternoon flows like a well-structured river, just how she had hoped. After school, she doesn't take a moment to rest, scouring around the shops for some strawberry chocolates (Bexley's favourite), a blanket for the picnic, and a card. Her heart is racing with excitement by the time she is crossing the main road to get home, and her thoughts stay on Bexley and nothing else. That is, until her home comes into view - a three-bedroom semi-detached house in the suburbs. She turns the key to her front door as the clock strikes six. An unsettling, chilly air seems to sweep her lungs from the dark hallway.
Zora hesitates before she makes the brave journey upstairs. Her heart is pounding again, but not with excitement this time, with dread. You see, to get to her room, she has to pass her sister's old room, and the thought slightly terrifies her today.
But with a deep breath, she begins plodding up the stairs, keeping her eyes fastened forward. But even as she makes it past the closed door, a lightning strike of memories hits her. The image of her sister's body in that room flashes before her eyes, and Zora's heart begins shaking with panic. So, she zips past her sister's room and straight into her own. She flings her bag onto her bed as her breaths pulsate from her lungs. In two days everything will be good. She won't have to think about Kalila Iskra or the reapings.
She hurries past her sister's room once more, and back down the stairs to the main room. As she passes the kitchen, she catches sight of her mother, preparing a hot drink. Zora quickly twists to head in a different direction, however, she's not fast enough.
"How was school?" her mom calls from the kitchen.
Zora places her hand in the pockets of her grey jacket and then slowly paces into the living room, connected to the kitchen. She gives her mom a warm smile. "Good," she answers.
To Zora, her mother seems to have aged ten years in just two years; grey streaks replaced her jet-black hair, and wrinkles now line her face. Riya Iskra hands her daughter a mug of warm liquid. "I made you some tea."
Zora takes one sip before her frustrations seem to just burst slightly, like a bubble. "Look I get it if you don't want to talk to me today, you don't have to," she sighs.
Her mother's eyes turn tearful at that comment. She takes Zora by the hands, and sits her down on the sofa opposite her. "Zora, we've been over this. No one in the family blames you for what happened," she says, looking her daughter dead in the eyes.
"Is that why Dad left?" Zora shoots back, the words leaving her mouth before she can even fully contemplate them.
The middle-aged woman's head sinks down with her eyes, and she lets out a deep sigh.
"Your father had his own way of dealing with it, just like all of us but he doesn't believe it was your fault… none of us do."
(But Zora can't forget the words on the note, it was there, in writing.)
(Zora can't unsee her sister's suicide note.)
Tears are now building up around Zora's eyes. She never wanted to have this conversation. She didn't want to think about it. But it seemed that today, it was unavoidable.
The two of them are stuck in silence together, until Zora's mom draws her in for a hug. "We'll get through this together. I promise," she says.
After they have released each other and wiped their tears away, her mom's smile picks up again. She begins asking Zora about school. "Created any new potions that I should be concerned about?" she asks with a playful twinkle in her voice.
"Actually… yes," Zora chuckles back.
Later that evening, Zora has the yearning for some fresh air to clear her mind of the conversation. She silently slips out of the house and finds her feet wandering down the street toward the graveyard. She's not exactly sure how she got here, but here she is. The last of the sun's rays have almost disappeared behind the rooftops entirely. However, an orange glow still shimmers through, casting a light on the stone grave in front of Zora's eyes.
It reads - "Kalila Iskra. A loving sister and daughter."
The graveyard is practically silent now, save for the odd sound of a car in the distance. The small girl stands also in silence with her hands in her pockets. Until the silence is broken by footsteps on the grass.
An old woman clad in grey moves next to her to stare at the grave. "I heard she was a sweet girl," she croaks.
"Yeah… she was," Zora mutters back, keeping her eyes on the grave.
And suddenly the image of her sister chuckling along with her flashes before her eyes. They had both dressed up in identical multi-coloured clothes to try to confuse their parents and failed miserably in the process.
"Were you close with her?" The woman asks.
Zora swallows and turns to the woman. "I… " Her eyes move back to the grave. "Just a friend," she answers.
Soon, the other visitor has disappeared into the dim graveyard.
Zora places her hand on the grave before staring up at the last ray of light of the day. "Miss you," she smiles faintly.
Then, she sticks her hands in her pocket again, heading back home. Her thoughts turn to the picnic in two days. In two days, the sun will shine brightly, once again.
We're officially halfway through the reapings! How are you enjoying how I'm doing this story so far? It's formatted pretty differently to any f my previous stories. Hope you enjoyed these three! I really enjoyed writing all of them like all this cast. Thank you to illegalcrytid for Meilin, Rising-Balloons for Chaney and VeneratedArt for Zora!