Welcome to 2021, friends!
This update took longer than I wanted. I ended up swapping one of the POVs twice until I found who I really wanted to narrate this from, but it ended up all well.
Enjoy!
~ Meghan
"In order to discover the character of people we have only to observe what they love."
- St. Augustine of Hippo, 354 AD - 430 AD, Western Roman Empire
The Goodbyes.
...
Kyrie Dirge - 15 y.o. - D3
...
- District 3 -
Kyrie tried not to be sick.
Mayor Gage continued reading the Treaty of Treason in his usual bored droning. It couldn't be helped. Reading the treaty was required tradition, despite how long and dull it was. It definitely didn't help to distract Kyrie.
"And our lucky boy tribute is... Kyrie Dirge!"
He swallowed down the bile threatening to come up his throat. How was it him?
His teal eyes stayed staring up, trying to see something, anything that wasn't his father standing along the square's perimeter. Someone in the crowd exchanged a betting slip with somebody else. Of course. There were always people betting on the tributes, on what age they would be or if they would cry or-
Get sick. Kyrie took a deep breath. He blinked back the tears threatening to come. He couldn't cry in front of the cameras. He was a tribute now, and the sponsors would be watching. They never took well to tributes sobbing on the stage, even if they had just been sentenced to death.
"Shake hands, both of you."
Kyrie nearly jumped, realizing that the mayor had finished reading the treaty and was now staring at him.
All of District 3 was silent, waiting, watching.
Kyrie turned to the short fourteen-year-old girl beside him. She hadn't cried when her name was chosen, she'd just gasped from the girl's section. Kyrie had watched her slowly walking up to the stage where the escort waited, straightening her black cardigan and smoothing her long brown skirt as she went, as if someone were guiding her to a public execution.
He'd felt bad for her, pitied her, completely believing that the odds were in his favor to not get chosen. His name was only in the bowl four times after all. How could it have been him?
Kyrie quickly wiped his clammy palm on his gray slacks, hopefully too quick for the cameras to notice, and shook the girl's outstretched hand.
Cordaye Bell, the Capitol escort clad in a glittering pink pantsuit, motioned to the two children. "May I present your District Three tributes for this year's Hunger Games: Hanna Techroe and Kyrie Dirge!"
The crowd gave a smattering of half-hearted applause in response.
Kyrie tried to muster up a small, friendly smile for Hanna's sake.
She stared back at him. Her brown eyes were cold.
Kyrie bit his lip, dropping her hand. As soon as he did, the Panem anthem blared from the speakers.
He couldn't help it anymore, and his eyes drifted towards the crowd of fifteen-year-old boys and latched onto Vinyl Streak's face. Just ten minutes ago, Kyrie had been standing next to Vinyl, both of them silent as they watched the reapings unfold. Kyrie had seen his best friend tense up as Cordaye pulled out the slip that he would soon find out had his own name.
"You're going to be alright," Kyrie had whispered to Vinyl.
"... your District Three tributes for this year's Hunger Games..."
He swayed on stage.
Mercifully, the anthem ended. Peacekeepers appeared, guiding him and Hanna away from the crowd and towards the large wooden doors of the Justice Building. As the sound of the crowd dispersing reached Kyrie's ears, he was herded inside and onto a black-and-white checkered tile floor.
He turned, catching the back of Hanna's light blonde curls as a couple of the Peacekeepers ushered her through a pair of double-doors.
Another Peacekeeper motioned to Kyrie with his white-gloved hand, and then he was in a room by himself. The Peacekeeper pulled the doors shut, cutting off the view of the Justice Building's hallway, and closing Kyrie in silence.
He stood still on the spot, slowly taking in his surroundings. He'd never been inside the Justice Building before. The walls were paneled with wood polished to a shine, heavy red drapes hanging beside floor-to-ceiling windows, and cream carpeting so plush his shoes sank a bit. The whole thing was different from the typical scenery of District 3 that was so often colorless and clinical. Maybe being picked to go into the arena meant a person got to enjoy a bit more luxury than usual.
Kyrie drew in a shaky breath, feeling his stomach churning again. Suddenly the collar of his white shirt feel too tight, too constricting. Was someone turning up the temperature of the room, too?
The doors opened.
"Fifteen minutes," a Peacekeeper outside it said.
Kyrie watched as his father entered the room, face clouded with his eyebrows drawn, mouth set in a hard line.
Hermes Dirge wasn't exactly Kyrie's definition of a doting parent. He couldn't exactly help it, as his job as a communication technician demanded long and odd hours. Whenever Kyrie used to complain about not having meals together or having to go to sleep without saying goodnight, his father reminded him that it was because of the technicians that the districts could communicate with the other districts or Capitol at all.
"We don't communicate," Kyrie had grumbled. It wasn't like he knew much about the other districts. The Capitol made sure of that.
"Well then, it's because of my job that you have food to eat," his father responded.
Eventually Kyrie stopped complaining. As he got older, his father started sleeping at the office and stopped coming home most days. But he tried to make up for it by bringing unused supplies with him when he did come back. So that was their arrangement. His father stayed at work, and Kyrie got old tech.
For a moment, they both just stared at each other, neither speaking first.
"Dad," Kyrie said, his voice breaking.
His father took two long strides, and then his arms were around his son, holding him tightly like he used to back before Kyrie's mother walked out on them both.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Dirge whispered.
Kyrie wasn't sure what for. Was it for never being around, or was it for the reaping? He didn't ask.
They just stayed like that until Kyrie wasn't sure how much time had passed. He just wished it didn't have to end, and that he could stay in 3 and go back to his home, even if his father would go straight to work and leave him alone. He just wanted to stay. But of course, the Peacekeeper opened the doors and said that their time was up.
Mr. Dirge let go of him slowly. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he lifted a hand and pressed it to Kyrie's cheek. And then he was walking back out.
As the door shut on his father, Kyrie could still feel his warm hand on his cheek. He sucked in a stuttering breath. Suddenly, all he wanted was to see his best friends. They were the only people he could bear to see right now. His friends wouldn't have forgotten about him, they wouldn't let him go to the Capitol without a goodbye.
The three of them were as close as any best friends could be. They'd met in school in detention because the three of them never seemed to be able to stay out of trouble. They'd finally pulled something big together after that by breaking into the school's power system. While it had been miscalculated a bit and caused a tiny blackout - alright, well, a 2-mile radius blackout - they'd been inseparable every since. Most days, they hung out together at an abandoned hardware store where they kept all the computers and little devices that fell into their hands.
They weren't just Kyrie's best friends, they were his partners in crime.
The doors opened, and Vinyl's face appeared. Before he set one foot in the doorway, Lyra Crescent flew around him and tackled Kyrie with a hug, nearly knocking him over.
"I'm so sorry," Lyra sobbed. She pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "It's not fair, Kyrie, it's not."
Kyrie felt his throat constrict, threatening to make him cry, but he forced the tears down again. He couldn't let his last moments with his friends be him crying. "I know. But... well, it was going to be someone, wasn't it?"
Vinyl looked between the friends grimly. "Maybe not just someone."
Lyra shot him a curious look and straightened her glasses. "What?"
"Guess I'm just unlucky," Kyrie muttered.
"I don't believe in luck," Vinyl said quietly. He raised his eyebrows, his voice lowering. "Maybe not just anyone got chosen."
Kyrie opened his mouth, puzzled. Obviously it hadn't just been anyone. They had all watched the escort read his name. But then he noticed the look in Vinyl's eyes, the way his friend subtly glanced in the direction of a small silver circle in the ceiling that anyone with half a brain would know was an audio recorder.
Realization dawned on Kyrie like he had just swallowed ice.
"You don't think..." he muttered, unable to go on.
Vinyl nodded.
Lyra gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth.
Kyrie's heart sped up, blood pulsing in his ears, until he had to sit down on one of the sofas. Vinyl wouldn't say it out loud, not with the the camera and what was bound to be several microphones hidden in the room. But Kyrie understood what he was hinting at now. Maybe the reaping wasn't random this time. Maybe the bowl was only full of names that said Kyrie Dirge. Maybe it was punishment for what they'd done.
"But how?" Kyrie whispered. He tried to choose his words carefully, cognizant of the recorder. "We... we always cleaned up after ourselves."
Vinyl shook his head slowly. "I thought so too. But maybe we missed something?"
Kyrie stared down at his hands. It had been a year ago - nearly down to the day - when they'd intruded into the last Hunger Games. They'd gotten a little too ambitious with their projects as they got older, and one day Lyra listened to her parents speaking late at night about their jobs. Her parents worked with some of the most highly sensitive hardware there was in District 3, the kind of stuff that was too tempting for Kyrie and his friends when they got their hands on some broken, discarded pieces. But that night, when Lyra heard her parents talking, she'd jotted down what they were saying: new methods of keeping outside parties from tracking them.
The trio managed to use it to hack into the security systems of the 41st Hunger Games. It wasn't anything too extreme considering it only lasted five minutes, and all they managed to do was get access to a camera in the arena.
Lyra had assured them that the method they'd used wouldn't leave any digital fingerprints.
Not too long after, Vinyl had an idea. It came after he found an obsolete computer from the Dark Days in some of the equipment his mother brought home from the factory to repair. In the end, the computer wasn't completely salvageable, but some of the technology in it gave Vinyl the idea of using short wave communication, a kind of tech so obsolete now that even the Capitol didn't seem to use it.
Kyrie and Lyra had met him at their hideout for two months every night, working on the project. It finally happened one frigid evening in November. For a solid half-hour, they managed to use a shortwave radio to display the message "We are here!" with the coordinates of District 3's center on old boards from the computer. It was common knowledge that nothing existed outside the districts, but they couldn't help but wonder if someone was out there in the woods and if they might just have a shortwave radio too.
The next day, there was a commotion when they were coming home from school.
They were walking down the street during one of the first snowfalls of the year, laughing and catching snowflakes, bundled up in coats and scarves. The street was busy as people carried bags of essentials for the cold, getting extra food and oil to burn. But around the corner, a squadron of Peacekeepers sprinted, coming straight at the three children.
Kyrie had felt dread fill him like a nightmare. He hadn't been able to move, he just held onto his backpack straps and watched as the Peacekeepers ran at them.
Surely this was it. The Capitol had somehow found out what the kids were doing, and they were coming to arrest them. He could already imagine being thrown into prison and his father having a Peacekeeper show up at his work. His father would be fired, and probably thrown in prison too. Then Kyrie would be taken out in front of the Justice Building alongside Vinyl and Lyra, and the mayor would read from a piece of paper in his bored voice.
"I hereby sentence you to death," he would say.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
But on that snowy street, the Peacekeepers had run past Kyrie and his friends instead, chasing someone else down the street.
After that, Lyra started to get nervous. They all took a break from their scheming.
Kyrie had always known they were taking a risk, but somehow the threat of getting executed had never really occurred to him before then. He was always careful to triple-check that they were covering any footprints that could point things back at them. But maybe he'd missed something.
Maybe getting his name called at the reaping was just a drawn-out execution.
The thought made him want to scream.
"But... but that was your idea," Kyrie said, glancing at Vinyl. "So why would it be me who got picked?"
"You were the one who managed to hook everything up with the shortwave receiver," Vinyl murmured. A guilty look crossed his face. He mouthed the next words: It... it was from your dad's workplace wasn't it?
Kyrie tried to swallow, but his mouth was paper-dry. His father. The one who had just said goodbye to him, and probably thought he'd never see his son again. Were they going to let him watch his son die in the arena and then execute him after? Were Vinyl and Lyra and their parents going to be next? Or would his friends be chosen in consecutive Hunger Games, forced to watch each other fight to the death, and then go into it themselves?
It seemed like something Kyrie couldn't put past the Capitol.
"Maybe we're just overthinking this," Lyra said, a hint of desperation in her voice.
"What if we're not?" Vinyl whispered.
The doors opened, and a Peacekeeper nodded his head. "Time's up."
Vinyl blanched. He blinked at Kyrie and then stared at the Peacekeeper as if expecting her to arrest him right that instant.
Lyra's eyes welled up with tears again. "B-but we need more time. We haven't gotten to-"
"Time's up," the Peacekeeper snapped.
Lyra's bottom lip wobbled before she leaned forward, hugging Kyrie awkwardly as he sat on the sofa. He could feel her shaking with sobs threatening to spill over, but Lyra just stepped back and gave him a thin smile.
"Come back, okay?" she said. What else was there to say?
Kyrie nodded, numb, as Vinyl embraced him and then moved away before the Peacekeeper could chase them out. Kyrie watched as they walked towards the doors, both of his best friends turning back to look at him. And then the Peacekeeper was pulling the doors shut, and the parade of goodbyes was over. This was the end of hearing from the three people closest to him in all of District 3. In all of Panem.
Unless I make it back. Kyrie leaned his head on the arm of the sofa.
He couldn't stop the tears that came this time.
Princess Daylight - 13 y.o. - D2
...
- District 2 -
Princess bit back a smile as she sat on the velvet couch.
She'd done it. She was finally a volunteer. A tribute.
"Princess, the victor from District Two," she whispered. She could already imagine the sleek silver train that would take her to the Capitol, the surprise on their faces when they learned about the child prodigy who had volunteered, and the showering applause of the crowd during her interview. She was going to look amazing with that golden victor's crown on her head.
She couldn't wait to see the look on everyone's faces when she came back home. They would be sorry.
But she'd be free.
Loud footsteps sounded in the hallway outside of the lavish room of the Justice Building.
Princess stood and smoothed her hands over her white reaping gown decorated in a multitude of flowers. Maybe she would wear something like it for her interviews, to remind the audience of who she was, of who she was going to be. Her parents would be watching. She would want them to see.
The doors opened.
"You have-" the Peacekeeper began.
"We know," Cassidy Daylight snarled, shoving her way past the Peacekeeper. Her husband was right at her heels, face furious.
The Peacekeeper glanced between Princess and her parents, confusion drawing his eyebrows together. Princess could already imagine what he was thinking: What kind of parents of a volunteer would be so angry? The hour in the Justice Building for goodbyes was usually spent in celebration. Friends would bring drinks, there would be photographs taken, sometimes a token would be gifted.
But Princess had expected this.
She gave her most dazzling smile. "Aren't you proud of me, Mother?"
Mrs. Daylight's hand slapped against her face so hard, Princess stumbled backwards, nearly crashing into an oil painting of some former mayor.
"Please don't harm the tributes," the Peacekeeper sighed from the doorway, seemingly resigned to the odd situation in the room. He shut the door behind himself.
"How dare you," Mrs. Daylight hissed, eyes blazing.
Princess pressed a delicate hand against her smarting cheek. She could already feel it turning bright red. Would it show up as a welt on the cameras? Her parents had threatened to hit her before, but they'd never actually done it before now. Princess forced herself to smile around a grimace. "I thought you always wanted me to volunteer."
Mrs. Daylight raised her other hand and Princess flinched. The woman clenched her fist, mouth twisted, shoulders shaking. "You idiot."
"You don't realize what you've done," Mr. Daylight said lowly. "You've made a mockery of our family."
Princess lifted her chin, standing up straight. She wanted to ask just when exactly they had suddenly considered her such an important part of the family. Was it when they forced her to go to a special school to train even though she begged them not to? Was it when they took away her dolls and gave her practice knives instead? Or maybe it was the time her mother came home one night reeking of liquor, pointing a finger at Princess, and said, "the only thing you're good for is winning the Games."
"I apologize profusely," Princess said, voice dripping in sarcasm.
"We're going to be the laughing stock of the entire district," Mrs. Daylight spat. She pointed out the window. "Do you know what they'll say about us? About the ones with the daughter so utterly stupid she volunteered?"
Princess narrowed her eyes. "You wanted me to-"
"When you're older!" her mother shouted. She shook her head. "You were supposed to volunteer when you were older and your teachers had chosen you, not at thirteen."
"Maybe you just don't know what I'm capable of," Princess muttered darkly.
Her father moved, squeezing his hand around Princess' arm and dragging her to one of the windows flanked in heavy red drapes. "Look." He shoved her towards the patch of clouded sunlight in front of the window. "Don't say anything, just watch."
Princess clenched her jaw, but didn't make a sound. She just looked out at District 2 with all of the ugly, gray, blocky buildings she'd grown up around. The Panem seal shimmered on red banners fluttering from buildings all the way into the valley beneath the large mountains surrounding them. People were mulling around after the reaping, going out to celebrate the day with their families. Reaping Day was one of the biggest holidays in District 2, and restaurants would be in full-swing with celebratory meals.
"They aren't celebrating for you," Mr. Daylight said behind Princess. "It's for that Raymond boy who volunteered. You've just guaranteed him the victory."
"You don't know that." Princess turned, staring up at her father.
The man gave her a derisive look. "You just volunteered to die in the arena."
Mrs. Daylight took a deep breath, staring up at the gilded ceiling. "I can't believe we wasted thirteen years. We wasted them, Connor. And to think, we were the ones who kept her safe, who gave her everything she wanted, worked so hard to provide for her..." She looked at Princess, but her daughter could tell she was looking through her at this point. Her mother was just peering outside the window at the district. "I can't believe this is how we're being thanked."
Princess stood rooted to the spot, hot anger burning in her stomach like a white fire.
They had taken everything from her. She had never been a person to them. She was just finally old enough to realize it.
When she was little, she still adored her parents and just wanted to hear that they were proud of her. That they loved her. She always behaved, always dressed in pretty outfits, always brushed her golden waves until they shone. She looked the part of a daughter worthy of her father's prestigious position as one of the quarry directors. She went to the fancy dinners her parents attended dressed in gowns and onyx jewelry, not speaking until spoken to. She wanted them to see that she knew her position, and she was proud to be the only child of the Daylight family.
She even defended them in school, when the other children would call her spoiled.
"They just want the best for me!" she would yell at the other students until tears were running down her cheeks.
It didn't help that her parents didn't allow her to invite anyone home to play. They were afraid that children running around could break something in their house. Not that it mattered, really, because once she was old enough to go to the training school, she didn't have time to make friends anyway.
"Victors don't need friends, it's a distraction," her father had told her when she'd cried to him about how no one at school wanted to eat lunch with her. "Now go calm down in your room."
It hadn't been until that night her mother came back drunk that Princess realized what she meant to her parents. She was just like the dolls they didn't let her have: she existed to be dressed up, shown off, and shoved away when not wanted.
And she was never wanted.
"Get out," Princess said.
Her mother arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Princess turned to look up at her father. "I said get out."
Silence settled between them, growing, so tense it felt like it could snap. But Princess almost wished it would. All of her life - her entire life - they had told her what to do, what to think, who to be. And now she was finally breaking away from them, and they couldn't stand it. They wanted her to volunteer when they told her to, to come back and thank them for getting her there, to let them move into the Victor's Village like it had been them going into the Games.
They could get out of her life.
"If you think you can order me around, you're even stupider than I thought," her mother seethed. "I raised you. EVERYTHING YOU ARE IS BECAUSE OF US."
"Then consider yourselves cut off," Princess said more calmly than she felt.
Her mother stared at her, incredulous. Then she laughed, a sound empty of humor, shaking her head. "You're going to die in there, Princess. And you know what? I don't care. You're not my daughter anymore as far as I'm concerned."
As if I ever was. Princess nodded at the wooden double-doors. "Leave."
Her mother scoffed. Her eyes hardened even more somehow, harder than flint, sharper than steel. "Fine. It's not like anyone else is coming. I don't have anything else to say to you." She turned, starting for the doors. "Connor?"
"The odds aren't in your favor," Mr. Daylight said softly to Princess. He shook his head slowly. "You could've been someone." And then he was turning away from her too, walking towards his wife as she opened the doors.
They vanished outside, not bothering to look at the Peacekeepers who stood there, confused as ever.
One of the Peacekeepers turned, peering at Princess curiously, and then shook his head. It reminded Princess too much of all the people outside who had mumbled to each other when she'd thrown up her hand, screaming I volunteer, and run to the stage before one of the older girls who was supposed to volunteer could stop her. She'd watched the crowd grumbling, shaking their heads, staring at her underneath furrowed brows.
None of them believed in her. They couldn't see her potential, but she knew they were wrong and she was going to prove it.
The doors shut. Quiet enveloped her, the room seeming too silent, almost stifling.
Princess wrapped her slender arms around her chest, hugging herself, or maybe holding herself together. Either way, she was alone. She stood there in the middle of the room, sandals sinking into the soft carpet, watching the dim sunlight shimmer on a gilt frame around some other nameless mayor of District 2. She had gotten used to the silence over time. All those years of sitting alone in her bedroom weren't exactly full of music and laughter.
But it was the loneliness that always surprised her. No matter how many times she had been by herself, no matter how many times she had sat alone at lunch, the feeling of that clawing loneliness always felt fresh. She never got used to it. It hurt all over again every time.
A sob rose up in her chest, threatening to break out, but she kept it in.
She wasn't going to go to the train station with puffy red eyes. She couldn't let her parents or anyone else in this district see that she'd been crying.
In a month, she would be the victor and would come back to claim her title. All the other kids in her class who had called her spoiled or hadn't wanted to be her friend would be at the train station to welcome her. They would beg for forgiveness. They would beg to be her friend. She would be gracious, of course, and forgive them. But she wouldn't forget. She would live in her mansion in the Victor's Village, and they wouldn't be able to come over. Instead, she would have new friends from the Capitol, ones who would never let her feel lonely ever again.
She turned, walking back to the windows.
Outside, the mountains rose up like guards surrounding District 2. Up above all the dark layers of granite, she could just make out the gray clouds obscuring the mountain peaks. In the winter, Princess loved to look up and see their snowcapped tops, like tiny white helmets that the Peacekeepers wore. When she was really little, she used to think that the mountains were protecting her. Every day, they were steadfast, watching over her night and day and keeping her safe from danger.
You just volunteered to die in the arena.
District 2 seemed too cold now. Even in the dead of summer, baked in heat despite the cloudy weather, no warmth emanated from the district Princess had grown up in. Instead, it just looked lifeless and tired, defeated and resigned. It was just like all the people here. So many of them sent their children to the school to train for the Hunger Games, just like her own parents. So many of them probably just saw their children as means to their own end, just like her own parents.
She didn't need them anymore.
She didn't need any of them. She was done with District 2.
A raindrop fell, splashing against the window pane.
In the glass, her own reflection stared back at her, ghostly. She'd heard stories of ghosts from some of the older citizens with their funny little superstitions that hadn't died during the Dark Days. Princess had listened to them talking, spinning tales of the dead who lived in the mountains, roaming around until something called their soul was satisfied. They had unfinished business during their life, the elderly people said, and now they had returned from the grave.
Sometimes when it would rain, Princess imagined she could almost see them beyond the curtains of droplets, walking across the mountain passes.
Another raindrop splashed, then another, on her gray-blue eyes in the reflection.
Her gaze drifted towards the mountains as the rain began to fall in earnest. It battered the Panem banners, sending people running for cover. The rain fell until a gray haze covered the far ends of what she could see, pattering on the window. She'd been much younger back then, when she thought she could see the ghosts. But for a moment, just a sliver of a second, she watched the reflection of her eyes stare back on top of the mountains. It was almost like the mountains were crying.
Princess lifted her chin and watched the rain drown District 2.
Caoimhin Austin - 16 y.o. - D7
...
- District 7 -
Cin watched his tears fall onto his brown trousers.
"Let's see who our male tribute is! And it's... Coy... Coy-min Austin?"
He was going to the Capitol.
"What? Oh, my apologies, darlings. Our male tribute is Kwee-vin Austin!"
He was going into the arena.
"Come on up, my darling, that's it! Shall we give Coymin a round of applause?"
He was going to die.
"Your tributes for the Forty-second Hunger Games!"
The door to the Justice Building room opened.
"You have fifteen minutes," one of the Peacekeepers outside said.
Cin stood up, wiping at his watery eyes.
A woman with long brown waves tumbling over her shoulders appeared. Her slender eyes - the same pecan shade as Cin's - didn't bother to look at the Peacekeeper as he shut the door behind her. Instead, Laurel Austin just hurried into the room, opening her arms for her son.
He fell into them, holding her like a vice as if she could keep him from being taken away. Cin bit his tongue so hard, willing himself not to cry in front of his mother, that he tasted the metallic tang of blood. But he couldn't let himself sob in front of her. He couldn't let her last memories of her only son be him crying.
"Oh, my baby," Ms. Austin whispered, her voice choked. She tightened her warm arms around him. "My baby boy."
Cin wasn't sure how long they stood like that, surrounded by all the grandeur that District 7 could have in a room, with the Peacekeepers standing guard outside the mahogany doors. He just knew that he didn't want to let go. If he did, he felt like his mother might fall apart, but deep inside he knew that wasn't true. His mother was strong. She had survived Cin's father, and she would survive this too. Maybe he was just scared that it would be him who fell apart if she let go. But they didn't have forever.
He pulled back. "Mom, listen to me. You need to keep yourself safe. He would've heard my name at the reaping-"
"They won't let him in," Ms. Austin interrupted, anger flashing through her eyes. "I told them to turn him away if he tries."
"Still." Cin gently squeezed his mother's shoulders. How many scars she had on them, he didn't know. He just knew that he never wanted there to be another one. "Stay with the Hazels for a week. Mrs. Hazel is your best friend, she'll be happy to have you. I have a paycheck coming soon from the mill for my last week of shifts. If the foreman tries to not let you have it, go ask for Maple. She'll sort it out for you."
Ms. Austin gulped. She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I shouldn't have let you take the tesserae. I'm so sorry, I should've-"
"It's not your fault, Mom," Cin said quickly, shaking his head before she could start blaming herself. "It's... it's neither of our faults." He tried to take a deep breath, but his throat ached from crying before.
"You need to come home," Ms. Austin said. Her lips trembled, but her gaze up at him was constant. "You can win."
Cin stayed quiet. His mind flashed through the tributes from 1, 2 and 4 that had no doubt already volunteered. District 7 was in the final wave of districts broadcasting their reapings. The other tributes would have been chosen already. There would be trained killers coming out of those Career districts, kids who had grown up cutting the heads off of practice dummies and couldn't wait to get into the arena. They wouldn't hesitate to kill him. In just a week, he was going to be in an arena, hiding as they hunted him, running as they caught up to him and-
He smiled for his mother's sake. "I could."
"You know how to use an ax," Ms. Austin continued, unaware of her son's fragile tone or, maybe, choosing to ignore it and pretend that he really did stand a chance. "You've worked down at the lumber mill since you were ten, you can use an ax in your sleep. And you know plants, too, you know which ones you can eat. You can win this, Cin. You can come home."
Cin bit down the sob rising up. "I'll try, Mom. I will."
The door opened.
"Time's up," the Peacekeeper said.
"Please, just another minute," Ms. Austin whispered.
"You had fifteen minutes-"
"He's my son."
The Peacekeeper hesitated. His eyes flicked between the two before he sighed. "You have one more minute."
Ms. Austin turned back to Cin, pressing her soft palms against his cheeks. "You're going to come home to me. You will."
"I'll try," Cin said. He forced a smile. "Promise me, though, that no matter what happens you'll keep going. You'll wake up and eat and go to work and see Mrs. Hazel. I want you to promise me, Mom. Please. For me." He held up his wrist. Around it was tied a red bracelet that had been passed down through the family as an heirloom. It had been crafted by his great-grandmother back before the rebellion and before the Hunger Games had been created. What would she have said if she had known her great-grandson would be taking it as a token to his death?
Ms. Austin took a slow breath as her eyes latched onto the bracelet.
"Please."
"Ten seconds."
"Mom-"
"I promise." Ms. Austin shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks. "You have to win."
Cin leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mother's forehead, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "I love you."
"Time's up."
And then another Peacekeeper was coming in and pulling his mother away, telling her she needed to leave, that their time was up. She reached out a hand towards Cin, a scar on her palm visible under the bright lights of the room.
"I love you!" she called just before the doors slammed shut.
Cin stepped back as if he'd been shot. He reached up, digging his hands still wet with tears into his curly brown hair. That was it. That was the last moment he was going to see his mother, wasn't it? The last time he got to hear her voice would be here in this room that smelled like old things and was filled to the brim with paintings of people long since dead. He would never get to have another hug from his mother again.
Just as he was about to dissolve into tears again, the door opened back up.
A pale, blond-haired boy shoved past the Peacekeepers, another boy with dark skin rushing in after him.
"You have fifteen minu-"
"We get it," the blond boy interrupted.
The Peacekeeper rolled his eyes and closed the door, leaving the trio alone. The two boys stopped in front of Cin.
"Please tell me you didn't wet yourself, Cin," the blond said, nodding at the tearstains on Cin's slacks.
The dark-haired boy shot him a look, amber eyes narrowing. "Jack."
Jack gave Cin an apologetic look. "Just trying to break the tension..." He paused, looking down at his leather shoes like he wasn't sure what to say.
Usually, Jack Jones was the one who never stopped talking. He was always there to crack a joke and babble on. He was the complete opposite of Cin, the extrovert to his introvert. It was probably why they'd been best friends since the time Jack sat down next to Cin in class and just sort of adopted him as a buddy. Still, for as talkative as he was, Jack was trustworthy. He was one of the few people who Cin had told the whole story about his childhood to.
Tony Griffin was just as dependable, even if he and Cin weren't quite as close. But he was the reasonable one, the one who always calmed down Jack and appreciated Cin's sarcasm more than anyone else. He was like the calm before a tree was felled, the kind of person who knew exactly who he was. Cin wanted that kind of assurance - to trust himself like that.
"We came as soon as they dismissed the reapings," Tony said solemnly. "Your mom saw us waiting in the hallway."
As the mention of his mother, Cin's heart panged. What was she doing right now? Was she waiting to see him leave, to maybe catch a last look? Or was she already heading to Mrs. Hazel's? He hoped for the latter, but he knew it was probably the former. "Yeah," he said softly. "She just came by. They had to... they had to pull her out."
"The Peacekeepers are just bastards," Jack muttered under his breath, shooting a glare at the closed door. He turned back to Cin and blinked his blue eyes. "You're going to come out of this, alright? So look alive."
"Can't say that for long," Cin quipped drily.
Tony shook his head, and even Jack winced.
"Sorry," Cin muttered.
"You've used an ax before, and you can climb," Tony said.
Cin frowned. "What if there aren't any trees?" And then his mind was spinning to all the different kinds of arenas he could be thrown into in seven short days. Last year was that marsh, and a few years before that was lots of snow. What if he was going into a desert? Or a frozen wasteland? A volcanic island? Dread settled in his stomach all over again.
"Stop," Jack said, grabbing Cin's shoulders and catching his eyes. "I know what you're doing, you're overthinking it. Look, to be honest, that won't help. You have to focus on what you can do. I swear, Cin, don't you dare count yourself out of this."
"You can win," Tony said, nothing but confidence in his voice.
Hearing them both, Cin felt his calm demeanor start to crack. Tears blurred his vision. "I don't want to die."
The door opened again and one of the Peacekeepers appeared. "Time's up, boys."
"That wasn't fifteen minutes," Tony said confusedly, glancing between Cin and the guards.
The Peacekeeper shrugged. "I said time's up."
Cin pulled Jack into a hug, sniffling, but his best friend didn't seem to care. He reluctantly let go, hugging Tony next. A thought occurred to him as he stepped back, wiping at his eyes. "Wait, did either of you see Willow around? I haven't seen her yet and I thought... I thought she might stop by."
"Knowing her, she probably caught your mother," Tony said, a gentle look in his eyes.
Cin knew what he meant. If his mother was distraught, and Willow was around, she wouldn't let the woman cry alone. She'd be there to hold her, to tell her to stay hopeful, and to keep her head high. Willow was like that. It wasn't any secret among Jack and Tony about how Cin felt about Willow. She was friends with Cin in class, but had her own group that she hung out with. Still, Cin had been holding out on a bit of hope that she might come say goodbye.
"Everyone loves victors," Jack said, finally giving a smile. "Come back and she won't be able to resist you."
"Time's-"
"We know," Jack snapped at the Peacekeeper. He squeezed Cin's shoulder once, nodding. And then he followed Tony towards the door. Both of them looked back at Cin as they stepped over the threshold of the hallway.
He lifted a hand.
The Peacekeepers closed the door, leaving him in the quiet all over again. He couldn't bear to look out the windows at District 7, so instead he just sat down on one of the couches, trying to steady his breathing. As blunt as Jack was, he was right. Cin needed to look alive, not like he'd been crying his eyes out. There were going to be reporters waiting to watch them going to the train, and rich Capitolites probably didn't get impressed by blubbering. Once he was alone on the train that night, he could let out all the tears he wanted. But until then, he needed to look like he believed in himself as much as his mother and friends seemed to.
They all seemed so confident that he would be coming back home.
What were they going to do when he came back home in a wooden coffin?
Cin shuddered.
The time passed slowly, seeming to draw itself out, and the door stayed shut. There weren't any clocks in the room, but the afternoon sun had shifted ever-so-slightly across the room's thick cream carpet. Any minute now, they would probably be coming to collect him.
The door flew open.
He stood up, his heart slamming against his ribcage.
Instead of the Capitol escort or Peacekeepers, a girl his age rounded the door, bright green eyes searching the room until they landed on Cin.
Somehow, his pulse sped up even quicker.
"You have five minutes," a voice behind the door said.
Willow Wendall didn't give a response to the Peacekeeper shutting the door, and instead slowly walked towards Cin as if she almost didn't believe he was real. She stopped a foot away, just close enough for him to smell the faint scent of woodsmoke that seemed to follow her wherever she went. He hadn't seen her at the reapings, but she looked as beautiful as she always did, even in the faded green dress she wore.
"I'm..." She swallowed. "I wanted to say that I'm so sorry."
Cin cleared his throat. "It's not your fault. I'm just glad you came. I wasn't sure if you were going to say goodbye."
"Of course I was," Willow said. "I saw your mom outside, and she - well, I was there. I made sure she's okay."
"Thank you." Cin nodded. "I mean it. Thank you, Willow. You're a good friend."
She looked down at his hands. "I wanted... I - I feel like there's too much I want to say." She hugged herself. "I wanted to make sure you had a token. So you would remember District 7. Is that bracelet going to be yours?"
He nodded, touching the knotted string. "I've been wearing it to the reapings ever since I was twelve. Just in case. I never really... I still never really expected it to ever be me, though..."
Willow bit her lip. She stepped a bit closer, and the sunlight shining from the windows made her long brown hair look blonde. It was such a little detail, but suddenly it was entirely so her that Cin felt himself falling for her even more. How had he never noticed before?
"I thought maybe you could have another token," Willow said quietly. "Something that they won't see."
Cin could hardly breathe, but Willow moved even closer, one of her hands brushing his. Could she hear his heart beating from here?
"Something so that you can remember me - until you get back," Willow said. "And then I can tell you everything else I should've said before." She tilted her head, bright green eyes flitting to his lips, moving even closer-
The door slammed open and they jumped apart.
"Time's up," one of the Peacekeepers said, looking around the doorway. "Time to leave, Coymin."
"It's Kwee-" he started, then sighed.
Willow turned back to him, hugging him tightly, and then let go too soon. "I'll see you when you're back."
And then the Peacekeeper was stepping into the room, and Willow was hurrying out, casting one mournful look back at him before the Peacekeepers were walking in to take him away to the rest of his future.
Cin glowered at them both, but let them push him towards the hallway. Bastards.
Aaaand that's 9 characters introduced!
Next chapter will focus on the reaping recap which will be from a non-tribute POV. After that, it'll be three chapters taking us on the train to the Capitol. I am beyond thrilled to start writing those, as we will get to really start seeing the tributes interact with one another! I'm so excited to see how everyone's personalities play off of one another and for you all to meet everyone else.
And I hope you enjoyed meeting this group today!
Alright, so questions for this chapter:
Question 1: Which tribute's POV did you enjoy the most, and why?
Question 2: Which book or movie in the series is your favorite, and why?
See you in next chapter!
~ Meghan