Leandra Chandri-18 (District 6)
Eighteen Months before the Reaping
Leandra didn't know how she was going to make it through this. Dealing with her boss was a struggle when she was at her best, and she was far from her best today.
She'd been up all night baking. And, after finally getting done and collapsing in bed at around three in the morning, it had taken everything she had to roll over two hours later and force herself to get up and come to work. Not that she had a choice.
As successful as her little bakery was, she wasn't sure it was successful enough for her to quit her job. Not when the cost of buying supplies on the black market was eating up most of the money she was making.
No, the only way for her and the bakery to survive was if she had this job. It was the only way for her to pay all the bills.
That was why she kept showing up even though she died a little each time she thought about the pathetic excuse for a man she worked for.
She hated him. She hated everything about him.
The way he talked. The way he smelled. The way he looked at her and smiled when they were alone. Everything about him made her skin crawl.
He was the most disgusting thing on the face of the planet. And it took every ounce of self-restraint Leandra had to be in his presence without throwing up.
And he wanted to see her. Why, she didn't know. But the barely legible note he'd taped to her locker said to come see him as soon as she got in.
"Let's get this over with," she mumbled, her hand shaking as she reached out and knocked on the door.
It slid open with a soft woosh.
"Yes?"
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"I did," he slurred, his smug voice drifting out of the darkness as the light on his desk flickered to life. "Please come in and sit down," he cooed, his crooked yellow teeth shining faintly in the dim light as he smiled at her. "We need to talk."
He was drunk. Leandra could smell the cheap whiskey from here. And she could see the empty bottles on his desk.
Fantastic.
"About what?" she asked, her body tensing, her heart pounding as she edged toward the threshold.
"It's nothing bad, I assure you," he slurred, his lips curling back in a smile that made her stomach turn as he motioned for her to come in. "But it is private."
"Fine," she growled, her hand slipping into her pocket to check for the switchblade she bought after her last meeting with the pig before reluctantly stepping into the cramped, smelly office as the door slid closed behind her with a soft click.
"Thank you." He smiled. "Please, take a seat."
"I'd rather stand if it's all the same to you," she mumbled as she tightened her grip on her little switchblade.
"I said, SIT!"
"And I said I'm fine," she replied curtly.
"That's no need to be a bitch, Leandra." He sighed, his tone changing. "We're just chatting. As friends do."
"I'm not being a bitch," she snapped, her voice tinged with rage as she stood there and glared daggers into his fat face. "And you're not my friend."
"Maybe not," he leaned forward and sneered. "But I am your boss." His chair groaned under his weight as he leaned forward and braced himself on his desk. "And I'm hurt, Leandra," he mumbled as he wrapped his fat fingers around the neck of a nearly empty bottle on the edge of his desk, and took a long, slow drink.
"I'm sure you'll get over it."
"Is that how you deal with everything?" He looked up at her, his eyes crossing as he struggled to focus on her face. "With snark and sass?" He spat as the bottle slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.
"Only when I'm dealing with people who deserve it," she mumbled, her control hanging by a thread as she stood there and tried not to gag as the smell of sweat and cheap whisky seeped out of every pore on her boss's fat face. "What do you want? I have work to do."
"Fine," he growled. "We'll get to the point." He signed as he placed his hands on his desk and pushed himself to his feet, the cheap wood groaning in protest under his considerable weight as he let out a series of short, ragged breaths. "We need to talk about those filthy lies you told the peacekeepers."
Her mind went blank as he spoke those words. Her blood chilled. Her body shook. And her eyes glazed over with rage as the weight of what he said settled over her.
"That's what this is about?!" she whispered. "Me reporting you for pinning me to the wall, sticking your hand down my pants, and trying to kiss me?" Her body tensed as all of the trauma and rage she'd kept bottled up inside came rushing back to her.
He'd done those things to her. And the peacekeepers who were supposed to protect her from him had laughed in her face when she'd told them what happened.
She felt like she was going to be sick.
"I didn't do anything that you didn't like, and you know it."
"You're insane," she choked out. "I hated every second of it. And when I pushed you away and screamed at you to stop, you hit me." Her voice shook as she held back tears of rage. "You called me an ungrateful slut, and slapped me so hard you dislocated my jaw."
"It was no less than you deserved," he snapped, his breathing shallow and ragged as he struggled to stay on his feet, "for refusing to give me what you owed me."
"I don't owe you shit!" she screamed, her voice dripping with venom as she squared up on him.
"Yes, you do," he snarled.
"I saved your worthless life, you ungrateful little bitch," he shot back, his voice shaking with anger as he tried and failed to straighten up. "Without me, you'd be dead or spreading your legs in a scummy back ally like the pathetic slut you are.
"I. Saved. Your. Life. And you repaid that kindness by slandering me to the peacekeepers."
"I told them the truth!"
"You lied!" he screamed, his temper boiling over as he slammed his fists into the table. "And you're going to go down to the Hall of Justice and tell them you made the whole thing up."
"No," she snarled, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she reached back and slid the door open.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she whispered defiantly.
"That wasn't a request, Leandra," he growled. "It was a command." He smiled. "And if you want to keep your job, you'll do it."
"No, I won't," she whispered, her anger melting away as the reality of what she was about to do washed over her like a cleansing wave. "And I'd rather die than keep working here." She shook her head, her eyes burning with a sense of purpose that resonated in her soul. "I quit."
Dana Shouwei-15 (District 6)
Six Months Later (Twelve Months before the Reaping)
It had been three days since she'd eaten. Three days since she'd scarfed down a bag of berries she'd found in a garbage can like an animal despite the bitter taste they left in her mouth.
She'd kill for that taste right now. The bitter, rancid, stomach-turning taste of those berries would have been heaven compared to the gnawing emptiness she felt instead.
"Come on, Dana, you can do this," she mumbled, her dull, listless brown eyes scanning the faces of the people entering and leaving the little shop as she willed herself to sink deeper into the shadows of her hiding place. "If you keep your head down and act like you're supposed to be in there, no one will notice you.
"Easy. Right?"
It was—in theory.
In theory, the woman running the shop was so busy helping her customers that anyone could walk in there and steal something with their eyes closed. And Dana wasn't just anyone. She was a pro.
Stealing was how she survived on the streets. And she was very, very good at it.
And with how busy it was, she could probably steal a few things before the owner or one of her customers realized what she was doing.
But still, there was something about the situation that didn't feel right.
She didn't know if it was the woman, the store, the day, or some combination of all three. But her gut was telling her this wasn't worth it. And Dana always listened to her gut.
It was the only reason she was still alive after a year alone on the streets.
But she was so hungry. And the bread smelled so good.
Maybe she was being too cautious?
"Screw it," she mumbled under her breath, her gut screaming at her not to do it while the all-consuming hunger that had been gnawing at her for days roared in triumph as she slipped through the door and melted into the mass of people inside.
Leandra Chandri-18 (District 6)
Leandra had never seen the bakery so busy, and that was a good thing, especially today.
Being busy meant she didn't have time to think. And if she didn't have time to think, she wouldn't have to dwell on the fact that she was only this busy because so many people were celebrating that they or someone they loved made it through the Reaping without getting reaped.
Not that she blamed them.
Making it through the Reaping without getting reaped or losing someone you cared about was cause for celebration, even for someone as jaded as her. And while she hated that she was profiting off the games—even if it was indirectly—she did appreciate the extra business and the money that came with it.
She'd made enough in the last two hours to pay her bills and buy supplies for the next two months. And if she was lucky, she might have enough to finish paying off her debts and fix her oven by the time she closed for the night.
And if Leandra could do that—if she could find a way to climb out of the hole she was in and get back to being poor instead of poor and in debt—she would find a way to live with the guilt.
"Excuse me!"
Provided she didn't lose her shit on a customer, that is.
"I'll be with you in just a second, ma'am," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness as she focused on the small cake in front of her while the irritated woman glared at her from the other side of the counter.
"I'll just wait then."
"Thank you," she mumbled sarcastically, her eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head as she squeezed the last of the icing out of the tube and onto the cake. "I appreciate your patience."
"I'm sure you do."
She ignored that. It took everything she had to do so. But she managed to choke down her anger and finish frosting the cake before carefully sliding it into a box and placing it on the display shelf with a satisfied smile.
Only then did she turn her attention to the now visibly scowling woman.
"I'm sorry about the wait," she lied with a smile. "What can I get you?"
"It's about time," she sneered. "I've been waiting for almost twenty minutes!"
Bullshit, she thought. The impatient bitch had waited for ten minutes at the most, and most of that had been while Leandra helped other customers.
What had she expected her to do? Drop everything and ignore the customers who had been there first to cater to her every need.
"I apologize for the wait, ma'am," she lied through gritted teeth. "We're busy. And I'm the only one here."
"Excuses, excuses," she huffed. "Do you want my business or not?!"
"What can I get for you?" she asked curtly, her knuckles popping as she gripped the counter so hard it hurt to stop herself from saying something stupid.
"I'll take three loaves of the sweet bread and that cake you just frosted."
"Which flavor of sweet bread? I have honey, cinnamon, ginger—"
"Three of the honey will be fine," she snapped. "And hurry up. Some of us have places to be."
She nodded, her anger simmering just below the surface as she bit down on the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep from snapping at the woman before turning to grab her stuff.
She had just finished wrapping it up when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of motion as someone slowly reached up and grabbed a loaf of bread off the cooling rack before melting back into the crowd.
They made it as far as the door before she caught them.
Dana Shouwei-15 (District 6)
Her gut tried to warn her. It had practically screamed at her that trying to steal from that bakery was a mistake. But she didn't listen.
Instead, Dana had let her hunger get the better of her. And now. Now, she was in trouble.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she mumbled under her breath, her voice raw from screaming, her hands sore from pounding on the heavy wooden door of the room the owner had locked her in without saying a word after she caught her trying to sneak out of the store.
That had been, what, four hours ago? Maybe five.
And in that time, Dana hadn't seen or heard from anyone. Not the owner. Not a peacekeeper. No one. Not that she was complaining.
She'd tried that already. And after an hour, all she had to show for it was a sore throat and a couple of nasty bruises on her hands. The door wouldn't budge. And since there were no windows for her to break—and thus, no way out of this room—her only option was to wait.
And if she was going to wait, she might as well make herself comfortable. So that's what she did.
She found a few bags of flour, dragged them into the far corner of the room, piled them up, grabbed an empty sack to use as a blanket, and settled in to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait.
But she didn't touch the loaf of bread the owner left on the table.
It had gotten her in enough trouble already.
"I'm such a fucking idiot."
"You'll get no argument from me," said a voice behind her.
The sound snapped Dana out of her stupor, her body's fight or flight instincts kicking into gear as she jerked up off her makeshift bed and fell forward, slamming face-first into the floor with a surprised squeal.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," the voice said. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she snapped, her cheeks flushing as she bit down on her lip to keep from wincing before popping back to her feet. "I just wasn't expecting—" she trailed off, her words dying on her lips as she looked past the woman standing in the doorway to scan the dark hall behind her. "Where are the peacekeepers?"
"I haven't called them yet."
"Why not?" Dana asked, her body tensing as she gave the woman in front of her a quick once over, sizing her up in case she had to fight her way out.
"Because I don't think I need to involve them in this," she mumbled, a long, tired sigh slipping past her lips as she closed the door. "Do you?"
"Not really," Dana said, her confusion painted all over her face as the tension started to seep out of her body.
"Good," the woman said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her full lips as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the door. "So, why'd you try to steal that bread?" She asked, nodding to the loaf Dana had left sitting on the floor when she'd thrown in here hours ago.
Dana didn't know how to answer that. Should she lie and hope she gets away with it? Or tell the truth and hope the woman takes pity on her instead of turning her over to the peacekeepers as a thief and a runaway?
Oh, who was she kidding? The answer was obvious. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie.
"No reason," Dana said with a shrug. "I saw an opportunity, and I took it," she added with a huff, a sarcastic grin tugging at her lips as she poured everything she had into selling the lie.
Not that she needed to. It was a perfectly believable lie, especially for a troublemaker like her.
The woman stared at her, her soft, greenish-brown eyes searching Dana's for answers as she ran a hand through her curly, dark brown hair. "I don't buy it."
"I don't care if you buy it," Dana snapped, her eyes wide with shock, her voice a little too defensive. "It's the truth.
"I didn't have a reason. I just walked in, saw that you were busy helping that bitch, and took my chances."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar?" the woman asked with a smile.
"Excuse me?"
"I asked if anyone has ever told you that you're a terrible liar?" she repeated with a chuckle. "I can't be the first, can I?"
"I'm not lying."
"Yes, you are."
"And how do you know that?!"
"Because you walked past more valuable things to steal a three-dollar loaf of bread," she said calmly, her eyes softening as she stared at Dana. "No one does that for the thrill of it."
"Well, I did," Dana lied through gritted teeth. "So either turn me over to the peacekeepers or let me go," she growled, the first signs of genuine anger slipping through the cracks in her mask as she plopped back down on her makeshift bed and stared up at the woman while she waited for her to decide what to do with her. "Either way, I'm done talking."
Leandra Chandri-18 (District 6)
Leandra couldn't turn her over to the peacekeepers. Even if she was telling the truth—which she wasn't—handing her over to those thugs wasn't an option. Not one Leandra was willing to take anyway.
She wasn't even comfortable using it as a threat to get the girl to talk. Not that it would have worked any better than what she just tried did.
She'd have to find another way to get her to open up. Maybe honesty would work.
"I'm not going to turn you over to the peacekeepers," she finally said, her decision catching the dirty young woman off guard as a soft, almost inaudible sigh of relief slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
"Don't get too excited," she said, her face softening as she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. "I'm still not letting you go until we finish this."
"I've already answered your question," the girl replied flatly, her body language all but screaming that she was about to shut Leandra out completely. "Asking it again isn't going to change my answer." She shook her head as the last embers of the light that had kindled in her eyes when Leandra said she wouldn't call the peacekeepers flickered out.
"I know it won't," Leandra said softly. "That's why I'm not going to ask it again." She smiled. "I'm not going to ask you any questions. And if you don't want to talk, that's fine.
"All you have to do is listen."
"How are we supposed to finish this if I don't talk?" she asked, her guard slipping as disinterest gave way to confusion as she tried to figure out what kind of game Leandra was playing.
"There are other ways for me to get the answers I want," Leandra shrugged.
"I'm sure there are," she snorted dismissively. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
"So impatient," she chuckled, a small smile tugging at her lips as she pushed away from the door and started toward the girl. "Do you mind if I sit?"
She shrugged, her face an unreadable mask of indifference as she did everything but look at Leandra as she plopped down on the floor next to her.
"Thanks. I'm Leandra, by the way."
"Dana."
"Well, I'm sorry to do this to you, Dana," she laughed. "But I have to bore you with my life story."
"Why?"
She couldn't help but smile at that. "Because it's the only way the rest of this will make sense."
"That's not what I meant," Dana said flatly. "I meant, why are you doing any of this?" She turned to Leandra, her eyes heavy and weary as she searched Leandra's face for clues. "I tried to steal from you. And instead of turning me over to the peacekeepers, you're sitting here talking to me. Why?"
"Because I've been in your shoes," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the low hum of activity outside as she shifted to tuck her legs underneath her before continuing. "I've seen how quickly one bad decision can snowball into the next. And I know firsthand how hard it is to claw your way out of that hole once you've dug it."
She signed, her eyes fluttering closed as she ran her fingers through her hair to center herself. "I ran away from home when I was twelve," she swallowed.
"You did?" Dana asked quietly.
"I did," she nodded. "I was young and stupid. And I hated my life so much that I thought anything would be better." Her throat bobbed, a sob threatening to claw its way out of her as the memories came flooding back. "So, I left."
"What happened?"
"I spent a year on the street," she choked out, her body trembling as a particularly terrifying memory of being chased through the streets by the peacekeepers came rushing in. "I lived in alleys. I begged. I stole. I ate out of dumpsters. I—" she trailed off, her cheeks wet with tears as she sat there and remembered every stupid mistake she made over that first year. "My life was hell. I made mistake after mistake, and I was too young and stupid to admit that and go home."
"So, what happened?" Dana asked.
"I got desperate, and desperation breeds stupidity," she whispered. "I got a job in a factory making a tenth of what I should have made because I was too young for the job, and the owner knew it.
"But I didn't have a choice. So, I worked eighteen hours a day, six days a week, for four years." She paused to wipe her eyes with her sleeve. "He took advantage of me every chance he could. But I pushed through. And when I finally walked away a few months ago, this place is what I had to show for it."
"And I tried to take part of that away from you," Dana whispered.
"You did," she nodded. "Are you ready to tell me why?"
Dana looked up, her eyes searching Leandra's face for any sign of deception. And, when she found none, she finally answered.
"I... I was hungry," she whispered, her eyes welling up with tears at the admission as the words came tumbling out. "I haven't eaten anything in the last three days."
"Why not?" she asked, her hand on Dana's knee as she gave it a soft, reassuring squeeze. "It's okay, you can tell me."
And she did. Dana told her about the abusive family she'd run away from. The group of kids who'd taken her in and betrayed her. The groups she'd run with for a week or two at a time since. She told her everything.
And once she finished, the only thing Leandra could say was. "Would you like a job, Dana?"
Dana Shouwei-15 (District 6)
Six Months Later (Six Months before the Reaping)
Trusting Leandra had been one of the hardest things Dana had ever done. She didn't trust easily—for obvious reasons. And the offer she'd made seemed too good to be true.
No one offers to give someone a job and a place to live without an ulterior motive. But Leandra had. And ignoring her gut to trust her had been the best decision of Dana's life.
The last six months had been incredible, and for the first time in her life, Dana felt like she was where she was supposed to be.
She liked being warm and safe. She liked not having to worry about where her next meal was going to come from. She liked having someone she could rely on. And she loved having money to spend on whatever she wanted.
She wasn't sure how long any of this would last. But, for now, she was content not to worry about the future. Not when she had much more important things to worry about.
"Ouch," she groaned, her arm throbbing as Leandra carefully dabbed at the fresh burn pulsing on the palm of her hand. "Be careful."
"I'm trying," Leandra laughed. "But it's hard when you won't hold still so I can clean it." She rolled her eyes as she let go of Dana's hand to grab the cleaning alcohol. "And I have to clean it so it doesn't get infected like last time."
"I know. I know."
"Than stop squirming and hold still." She smiled as she took Dana's hand and carefully cleaned the burn. "How do you keep doing this to yourself?" she asked. "I've told you not to touch hot stuff without oven mitts a thousand times."
"I've always been a slow learner," she mumbled, biting back a wince as Leandra carefully wrapped her hand. "You'd think you would have learned that by now," he laughed. "And you've told me not to touch hot stuff without oven mitts a thousand and six times."
"Thank you for keeping track," she laughed.
"You're welcome," Dana replied smugly.
"Alright, you're all done," Leandra smiled. "Go open the store while I clean up this mess and see if I can salvage the cake."
"Are you sure you don't need help?"
"I'm sure," she smiled at Dana. "Now, get moving, assistant," she teased.
"Yes, ma'am," she cooed. A massive, shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she hopped off the counter and saluted before running off to open the store.
Leandra Chandri-18 (District 6)
Hiring Dana had been the best decision Leandra had ever made.
It hadn't started that way, and calling Dana's first few weeks a complete disaster would have been an understatement. But they found a way to make it work. It wasn't easy. But they did it.
And in the process, Leandra started to care about Dana. She cared about her happiness, and watching her flourish had been an amazing sight to see.
But caring about Dana didn't change the financial reality of the situation. And that reality was that the bakery wasn't making enough money for Leandra to pay Dana, her suppliers, and her regular bills. And since she refused to take advantage of Dana like her first boss had done to her. She had to find another way to make enough money to cover everything.
And, as much as it killed her to admit it, there was only one person she could turn to.
That's why she was standing in the lobby of a building she'd sworn never to set foot in again, waiting to meet with a man she'd rather slap than beg for help.
But she didn't have a choice. She had to do it for Dana.
"I knew it was only a matter of time before you came crawling back."
A/N: I never imagined it would take over a year to finish this update. I won't bore you all with the details of my personal life that caused me to take this long, but I hope the wait was worth it. And I'm sorry that it took me as long as it did.
On a more positive note, I had fun writing this. The format is a little different, and I won't use it often, but it was still fun to write. Dana and Leandra are amazing characters, and I can't thank their submitters enough for sending them in and trusting me to bring them to life.
Anyway, it's great to be back, and I hope you all enjoy the update. :)