It had started out as a dare and accepting a dare was a lot like life, once you took the plunge you couldn’t go back. Besides, the sting of the needle hadn’t been as bad as her friends had joked it would be. It kind of felt like the time she had been stung (rather unpleasantly) by a pair of angry wasps in the forest.
“What do you think?” Savanna asked as she pulled her hair over her shoulder showing off her brand new tattoo that now rested on her shoulder blade. The chuckles and gasps had been enough to confirm Savanna’s own thoughts. Here mother would have a kitten if she could see it, but that would require her being around.
That was why when the Escort for District Twelve started talking, Savanna couldn’t help but yawn. Every year it was the same spiel and dance and more people dying. In her head, she wondered if her father ever pondered the thought that all their sacrifices during the Rebellion hadn’t been worth it. They had wanted to end the Hunger Games and here twenty-five years later, they were still participating.
If the Rebellion hadn’t happened, would Katniss still be alive? Would her father have won her heart over with more time? There were no doubt in her mind that was what her father had originally had planned for his future at one time. Everyone had thought they would end up together until her sister’s name came out of the Reaping bowel.
The 74th Hunger Games had shaped so many lives; her father’s, the woman he would have married otherwise, her mom’s sister had also died in that fateful games. There were also the invisible scars it had left on Savanna’s life before she was even born...
At the sound of her name, Savanna was brought back to reality. Right, she was going to the Capitol. Big surprise. Anyone that knew her and her family, knew with this twist she would be going. The Capitol hadn’t changed that much, they couldn’t resist the drama. Here was a child of a would-be-lover of the fallen Mockingjay, a girl that was named after the Mockingjay, and a niece of a tribute that died in the Games. It was as if her life was written for some cheesy Capitol soap opera.
With a nonchalant shrug, Savanna pulled her hair back off her shoulder exposing the open back of her dress and her shoulders. More importantly, the golden mockingjay that had been inked there a year earlier. From somewhere on her left she could hear the old Victor, Haymitch chuckle.
Maybe she was more like her namesake than she had originally thought.
The schedule hadn’t changed in the last 6 years that they’d been married, first she would make a breakfast for her husband and his parents who now lived with them - a burden that Ceres had to grin through on a daily basis as they chastised her for not giving everything that they could to their darling boy. It was a marriage of convenience after all, not love, she’d never felt that from James.
When she was younger, Ceres had been considered one of the most beautiful girls in District 9 while James had been gangly and sickly, they’d grown up together through school and then when Ceres had gone off to work the fields he’d continued his studies.
“He’s educated.” She would always be reminded by her own parents. “You could do worse.” The worse thing about that was they were right, she could do worse than James Brewer.
By the time 7am rolled around Ceres had cooked the meal and served it to the family, never receiving thanks for her work, and then it was off to work for James running one of the biggest processing factories for crops in District 9. Her thanks would come in not having to work the fields or the factories where the pay was small and the chance of a good life was even smaller.
“He’s educated and wealthy.” Ceres would remind herself, remembering how her family lived before they married. District 9 was one of the larger Districts of Panem and more people meant more mouths to feed but even surrounded by food there wasn’t anyone in District 9 that would dare take food from the mouths of The Capitol, that meant death and public shame on your family, and if there was one thing that District 9 cherished, it was family.
James would leave Ceres in the capable hands of his parents Frederica and Claus Brewer who would see to it that she followed through with the rest of her “chores” for the day. Her morning would be spent cleaning up the dishes for breakfast, running errands in town and starting to cook the meal for the evening. She would then be expected to follow the fitness regime that was set out for her, keeping her strength and fitness up. Then came beauty, skincare, haircare, nails & makeup. All ready for the evening, when they would sit around the table and eat the meal that Ceres had prepared, again with little thanks. Occasionally her parents would join them but they only spent their time fawning and doting on Frederica and Claus, agreeing when they chimed in with a dig at their daughter.
Life was repetitive and Ceres hated it, she hated that she was a doll under the control of a family of snobs that expected her to be obsequious. She would fall into bed at night and despise the world for a while, occasionally considering what would happen if she took the nail scissors from the bedside cabinet and plunged them into the neck of her sleeping husband and then took to his parents room with a cleaver from the kitchen, hacking them to pieces before fleeing. Those were the thoughts that sent her to sleep at night.
There was only one day of the year where everything changed and that was Reaping day, every year she’d hoped and prayed that James’ names would come out of the Reaping bowl and he’d be sent to The Capitol and just die. She even fantasised about her own name being pulled, about flipping him off from the stage and letting the trio know how much she hated them but this was the final time that this could happen, James was in the Reaping bowl just as many times as Ceres and this was it, if she didn’t leave through the games she would need to find another way out.
Ceres was expected to present herself as the doll that The Brewer family wanted her to be, all done up in makeup and finery and she arrivedin the town square that way, her hair all pinned up in curls while the young women around her looked worn from their work.
Coin’s voice trilled over them as she explained the twist for this years quell and an excitement ran through Ceres when she learned that 10 people were going to be picked. Even a week away from the family would be better than going back there tonight, she couldn’t think of anything worse than James being picked too though.
“Ladies First.” Called the host on stage, his deep red suit looking classy and gaudy at the same time, the first two names that came out of the bowl weren’t her, then the third name swapped excitement for numbness as her feet carried her and her face beamed with delight. She was leaving the family for at least a week, no cooking or dishes or makeup. In an act of defiance Ceres lifted her hands to her head and pulled at the pins that kept it up off her face, letting the blonde locks fall and throwing the pins to the floor.
If she was going to go out to The Capitol and die in The Arena, She was going to do it on her own terms.
They should carve that about the entrance to the passway that led to the stage rather than some epitaph to a deceased President. Surely her slogan would be much more appropriate for the future that awaited all that graced the stage in the Capitol.
Lia rolled her eyes and shifted her weight knowing soon it would be their time to face the grilling lights of the Capitol. Her mentor, Julius, had told her to be light and happy (like he imagined the shores of Four), but her joy had been slowly siphoned away in this place. Living in the Capitol was like living with a parasite…
Yet, Lia had smiled and played along with the mentors and even Fenn to an extent. Her dress scintillated softly in the lights, not unlike polished sea glass that they could never afford, and it would incite envy in the hearts of every Capitol teenager without a doubt. Smile and let Fenn do the talking had been her instructions and she had smiled and agreed. Good puppets smiled and agreed and that’s all Lia was, a puppet and the Capitol was the puppeteer.
“She’s not a siren, she’s Medusa.” Lia pointed out Fenn's comment. There was nothing alluring or mystical about Dora Tales. No, the loose lipped interrogator would turn them all to stone if it meant increased ratings for her interviews.
Quietly, Lia sat on the couch smiling when she was supposed to and looking like a well groomed Capitol doll. Thankfully, Fenn was much more charismatic than she was and had the sponsors eating out of his hand. He was a natural. If she thought about the fact how she would soon be dependent on their money, Lia would vomit, but she chose instead to just smile and nod as needed. The Career Districts had nothing on them.
At the mention of a story, Lia smiled slowly at Dora. Oh, she knew the perfect story for the lady. Etiquette ahad dictated she could not break the finger that had dared to touch her nose, but Lia was more than a capable adversary when it came to a game of wits.
Dora deserved this.
“We do have one story in District Four,” she started smoothly in a honey-sweet that matched Dora’s own. “Have you ever heard of Charon?” Lia asked as she smiled happily at the host hoping that most people in the Capitol had not heard of the famed Ferryman.
She gave pause to give the audience a moment to catch up and waited with baited breath. “Charon is a mythical man, not unlike many here in the Capitol…” Lia started. “Tall, unkempt and lugging his burden, a boat oar. You see, it is his job to man his ship and he’s a proud captain. Never has he failed to accomplish his task.”
“Be wary of eyes that burn like coals in the fire…”
Lia stopped again as she pondered how to phrase her next part of the tale. “Eyes like fire that will burn in the darkness as you cross the River Styx into the unknown abyss. But beware, for the ferryman demands a toll.” Was it too much, maybe, but Lia was committed now. “It’s why we bury our dead with silver coins,” not unlike the one Lia had shoved into her sister’s cold hands. “Not unlike,” she reached up and seemingly pulled a silver coin out of her mouth; a slight of hand, but the Capitol people would never know. Her secret was safe with Fenn. “The fee for a safe passage into the next life.”
In a smooth motion, Lia tossed the coin up in the air as if to toss it to Dora, but at the last moment she snatched it out of the air. “I think I better keep this, don’t you?” She asked Dora with a sly smile. The Capitol wanted to focus on the happy, the drama, and the festivities of the Hunger Games. It was about time someone shoved it in their faces the reality of the Games. Reminded them in a few days they would have twenty-three or twenty-two dead tributes.
Smiling, Lia leaned back into her chair and let Fenn pick up the questions. She liked to think she unsettled Dora by the way she quickly moved onto Fenn and his love affair with Valentine. All the tributes were nervous and unsettled, it was only fair to pass the feelings onto the rest of them if she could. Surely the Capitol would be captivated by a story that did not strike as close to home as it did for the tributes.
It wasn’t until Dora asked about Onyx that Lia’s attention came back to Dora. Of course she wanted to know about their little rendez-vous in the Capitol. “Well,” Lia said slowly, hoping Fenn could pass her a little of his charm magically. Coming from his mouth the lines seemed natural and charming, whereas she was awkward and candid. “What is there to say that you don’t already know?” The Capitol reporters had followed them the entire time. “We just wanted to have some fun, unwind a bit…” Which was not entirely false if she was being honest. “Sometimes you just need a little fun to recharge the batteries before you buckle down and get to work. So, don’t worry, I’ll be well prepared for the Games.” Lia cooed softly.
According to the plan, Lia let Fenn speak and answer the questions that were asked of them. It was safer that way and to be honest, Lia did not know what to say to the questions. It wasn’t like talking to Fenn who knew her thoughts, who understood them and where she was coming from. Instead she just smiled and flipped the coin in her hand to release nervous energy.
Only, her breath caught in her throat as Fenn mentioned their sister. No, no. They were not going there because she did not want to go there. The Capitol got to decide her fate, decide she was going to live a short life, got to force her into doing things she did not want to do, they were forcing her into the arena, and taking her future. The Capitol did not get to have her sister too. Atalanta was something they did not get to have too and if she had her way, they wouldn’t even know she existed. It did not matter if it was the single thing that could give them the edge in the arena.
When Dora asked about her sister and what it was like to have a twin, Lia shook her head and crossed her arms. She would not give her the satisfaction of answering her questions. Not that any words she said could fully explain it to someone who did not live it. You could not know what it was like to be born one of two. What it was like to look at someone and have it like looking in the mirror.
“She’s my sister,” Lia told her eventually after Dora pressed. Thankfully, they were smart enough to move on when Fenn had said what he needed and that Lia was not going to add to it.
Thankfully, soon after that, the interview was over and all that was left was to smile and follow Fenn off the stage. Lia hoped this wasn’t a sign of what was to come when the Arena came tomorrow.
If she was not so stubborn, she would abandon all hope, but she couldn’t do that for her brother’s sake.
“Red skies at night, sailors delight; red skies in the morning, sailors take warning.”
When the memories came, they often came in fragments and pieces. They were like the dream Lia could never quite pin down with words. Even if she could, what words would she choose? Dreams were just destined to exist in your subconscious; the secret the wakeful were not privy to.
Yet, as she sat there toes in the sand, the sun started to break over the horizon. The clear waters reflecting the reddish tint that had painted the sky beautiful to everyone else, but they were not sailors. District Four had been founded on the backs of water-loving people and every member of District Four knew what that meant...
“Red skies in the morning, sailors take warning.”
Lia could hear her grandfather’s voice as it replayed the advice with a chuckle attached to the end. “Remember that my little starfish.” And remember it she shall. Today was not going to be a good day for District Four and Lia’s soul was heavy with the truth the world had allowed anyone awake for the sunrise to glimpse.
Still she got up and sauntered back to her home, eager to return before anyone was the wiser she had snuck out to watch the sunset. It was silly. At nineteen, she was an adult and perfectly capable of walking out the front door, but she still stealthily slipped out the back. Solitude was something she craved on Reaping Day.
Just like the truth in the sunrise, District Four citizens could tell you another universal truth, rubbing salt in a wound hurts like hell. Wasn’t that what the Alma Coin had set out to do when she stripped District Four of their honor and pride? Not that you could take what wasn’t readily surrendered.
District Four was not home to those who surrendered easily. All they needed was someone to remind me of the fighting spirit that had lived and dwell in their District and in the memories of those that passed before them.
“If I go, let it be with fire in my heart and a chip on my shoulder.” Lia reminded herself mentally as she slipped into her finest clothes and walked downstairs.
Before she knew it, Lia was standing in the vast open square of District Four. Even from there you could smell the salt on the air. It was heavy and licked at your skin and caused your hair to frizz if you were unlucky. The soft breeze was a buzz with the quite din of whispers and discontent as the ceremony started.
All Lia could think about during the ceremony was how everything in Panem had changed except this antiquated tradition. What did it say about the Rebellion if they were doomed to repeat the errors of the past? Well, her grandfather had always said they were fickle beings cursed with a poor memory. Rebellion was bound to come again, even if it took another seventy-five years.
Her thoughts were interrupted with the gasps and loud stares of her peers next to her. Right, she was Cordelia Havelock. Ugh, why had her parents given her such a lackluster name? This was the first impression she got to make to Panem and it was as Cordelia. She was already starting behind the eight ball, wonderful.
If her own name had numbed her, the next time stole her breath away completely it was as if she had been punched in the stomach. Not unlike the time the mean girl from school had given her the privilege of being her punching bag. It had taken her ribs weeks to heal. Lia was convinced neither her brother or her parents bought her excuses over where such an injury came from.
How could she fight when fighting meant forfeiting the life of her brother? District Four deserved a Victor that would put them on the map again, bestow some of the lost prestige again and show Alma Coin she had wrote them off too prematurely.
Could she let her brother be a casualty in her personal war with the government? No, she couldn’t.
Defeated, Lia let the Peacekeepers escort her towards her destiny knowing there was no fighting it. Fate had dealt her a losing hand and now mocked her for it.
It appeared that the sunrises in District Four would stay rosy a little longer.
