I hardly have time to process the scene that just played out before the door opens again. You know, if you'd asked me to guess who it's be, I would never have said Kelly and Brandy. Two popular, gorgeous girls from my school. Kelly, despite sharing a name with the horrible mayor, and Brandy, though she was allegedly named after a fiery great aunt of hers who died in the games, are both very nice, if a little… fake.
But now, Kelly's tears are very real as Brandy pats her on the back. "Jackie, we—we know we aren't super close with you, but… we really wanted to come and say goodbye. And let you know that we'll miss you." Brandy nods in confirmation. "We will." The idea of Brandy and Kelly missing me is so strange that I'm temporarily stunned.
"What?" the word falls out of my mouth before I can think of politeness.
"Oh, Jackie, you're so nice, you never hurt a fly. You know, we never thought it was right of Eli and that to be so mean to you, just because—" at this, Kelly's tears seem to overwhelm her. I feel a pitiful tugging in my chest at the sight.
"Just because you're, well, smart. And quiet," Brandy finishes in her soft, pretty voice. Then she starts towards me. She kneels down in front of me and takes my hands. "And, Jackie? We're sorry. For everything. For Eli, and all those horrible boys being so awful to you. And, you know, we really think you could make it in there. I mean, you do so well in school."
"And you're stronger than most of us!" Kelly chimes in, having recovered a little. "I mean, look at these muscles!" She takes my arm, laughing. I can't help but laugh too. No wonder everyone loves these girls. There's a brief silence as the moment fades. Quietly, Brandy says, "could I give you a hug?" I nod and pull her in, fairly awkwardly but far too emotional to care. And we stay there, the three of us, for a bit.
"Listen, you girls," I say. "I—I really appreciate your comin' here. Really. It's so sweet and—oh, you two are so sweet. And thanks for the encouragement. You know, it's not likely that I'll return home, but—" I'm cut off by my own sobs. The girls lean in closer, crooning comforting words. "But I won't give up," I finish breathily.
"Oh, and—this will sound, well, nerdy, but at school—can you give Mr. Nedson and Mrs. Kimberley my thanks? You know, the Arts teacher and the English teacher. Thank them for, well everything. And tell them that they're amazing, and just—well, I'm sure you can put it much more eloquently than me."
They smile and nod, with a chorusing of things like, "of course!" and, "that's not nerdy, that's sweet!"
"We'll make sure to trip over Hank for you!" Kelly says, and there's more laughter.
It's a nice gesture—touching, truly—but when the pair leaves I can't help feeling angry I had to spend some of my last moments in district ten with them instead of my family. Of course, it's not like they could have given me any more time with the others, but, though they're lovely, I feel it's such a waste. I mean, I only got to exchange a few brief words with my parents, but these two acquaintances at best got this whole conversation with me. I reach up to touch the crescent moon clip—Brandy had put it in my hair for me—and run my finger along the cool metal. It's a comforting thing, knowing I have it right here with me. A good luck charm.
The visitor is somehow even more surprising: Cassidy, from school. If Brandy and Kelly are popular, he's practically president. I'm honestly not sure why he came—felt bad for me, I guess? I wasn't too sure that was an emotion he's capable of. Maybe it's his way to make up for bullying me. Ease his conscious. Yes, probably that. Well, either way, here we are. The conversation is filled with awkward silences and his advice for me to survive in the games. It's almost laughable, that he thinks he has any idea what he's talking about. He's always been the conceited type. Usually this sort of behaviour would irritate me, but right now I'm too drained to feel frustrated. So I just smile and nod and thank him for his help. When the Peacekeeper lets him know it's time to leave, he goes very easy. "Well, Jackie. Nice talking. I… hope you make it back." He gives what I'm sure he thinks is a comforting smile, and goes to pat me on my shoulder. I visibly flinch. I see the recognition in his eyes before his back is turned and he exits the room.
Next is my best friend, Eleanor. Her family's friends with mine, since they own a small plot of property neighbouring ours. They keep sheep. I don't have many friends at school at all, but she and I have been inseparable since the day we stepped foot in that place. She, unlike me, makes friends very easily, and I know she could be decently popular if she wanted. But instead she chooses me. And I will always be grateful for that. She's not too bright—quite dim, really—but kind and bubbly, and very, very funny. She's never been great with complex emotions or physical affection, but now she doesn't hesitate in throwing her arms around me. We sit there, wrapped up in each other, and we don't make a sound. What is there to say? When the peacekeeper calls time, she whispers a sweet goodbye in my ear and kisses me. "Come back, will you, dear?" And with that she runs from the room in tears.
She's hardly stepped outside when I hear the tap-tap-tapping of wood on stone: a cane. The door is swing open. A figure is revealed: sandy blond hair streaked with white under a suede cap, stooped posture, weathered hands clutching a simple wooden cane. Though I've never met him, the man is instantly recognisable.
A peacekeeper hurries up to him, whispering frantically and making agitated gestures. The man dismisses her with a wave of the hand and a bark of, "Do you know who I am, kid?" He speaks loudly, as if slightly deaf.
He dips his hat to me. "Jackie Spidell."
"I—uh—Wyatt Kennedy!" I respond breathlessly. Compose yourself. It won't do to go around reacting to celebrities like this—I'll be seeing a lot of them in the next couple of days.
He bares his teeth in a smile. He's always reminded me of a coyote, that man—the short, slim build but undeniable presence; the witty humour and gravelly cackle or gleeful yelp; and of course that sly, toothy grin. "Now, apparently, we're short on time here, so I have a couple things to tell you. Remember them. First—fight like hell in there. We're long overdue for a Victor." I nod in earnest.
"Second…" he walks in a half-circle around me, looking me up and down. Tap, tap, tap. Then he catches my eye. That grin again. "Tell Musky I said something's fishy."
I shift uncomfortably. "Who's Musky?"
"Musketta, genius. That's what we all call her."
"Right—and what's fishy? What do you mean—"
"Well, that's none o' your business, is it? I told you to tell Musky. She'll get it. Now, have you got any proper questions for me? Come on, girl, don't let me down."
"Why are you visiting me?" Once again the words tumble out of my mouth without a thought. So much for proper.
"Well, since I'm not mentoring this year I thought I'd pop in to… give you my blessings."
"I appreciate that," I say as politely and sincerely as possible, trying to make up for my previous rude blunder.
Wyatt erupts into laughter. I feel my face flush with heat. I don't know what he finds so funny, let alone what to say, so I remain silent. He doubles over, clutching his cane.
"Oh, dear, I bet you do." He's red in the face now, and hoarsely coughs into a tattered handkerchief.
The peacekeeper approaches again and mutters something to Wyatt, more urgently this time. He nods and turns to me.
"Well now, Ms. Spidell, looks like your train's waitin' for you. Remember to tell Musketta that thing." And with a slight leering smile, he turns to go. But just before he crosses the threshold he says, "oh, and, Jackie? Make sure to kill that boy Williams for me. He's a right fool."