Chapter Text
The 4am light gradiently peeks over the plot of strawberry bushes, becoming only so light a squinting infant could see me. The watchtowers in the middle of the fields stand tall with lights that only flicker when peace guards walk past.. Most of the peacekeepers walk the paths in between lots and shacks, some stand leaned up against light poles or houses. Most of the guards on the Night Shift haven't gone to sleep or just woke up, considering the time, some may have had more time to wake up than usual.
I've memorized their patterns, I know who each peacekeeper is, like the one in front of the collards, is collard 5, they have a naming system assigned by yours truly to identify them, the first name is the plot they stand in front of; and the second is the rotation they are set on, it being a thursday today, he has a 5; 1 starting on Sunday, 7 on Saturday. Collard 5 isn't the rudest peacekeeper I've come across, unlike Orange 3, it was orchard harvest day and quitting time came; Sparrow and I were high in the tree, the highest I believe, everyone below us had already gotten down and we were shortly after them but 3 had followed us to our home. being the narc he is, he informed father that the time we took to get down from the tree was inadequate. Thinking about him now, I hadn't seen him last time we harvested in the orchards, maybe he got released from his duties here and stationed somewhere else, I hope so.
Even with the knowledge of each peacekeeper, coming out at 4 is still a risk, they check all shacks at midnight and dawn, some times earlier. I needed to come out earlier, but ‘Row wasn’t asleep, this time I just had to go, no matter that. If I were to get caught I am old enough now to get a more severe punishment. I remember all the people who got tied to posts and beaten with leather whips. It's always so terrifying to watch, when I was younger I never understood why they did it but now I understand a little. Before I was extremely cautious because if I got caught it would be taken out on my family; now I have to be still careful as anyone caught gets whipped in public. I've seen thirty-five to possibly sixty-five whippings so far this year and it's only July.
I walk down the rows of various plants till I reach the tuber veggies to pluck from the ground, I watch carefully of my surroundings as my hands dig around. Three peacekeepers stand keeping watch, fiddling with a coin or a strap on their jackets, Finally grabbing the last to fill my basket. I creep away from the fields and duck behind two of the shacks. Back to back, They sit in lines between our fields till they meet in the middle near the orchards. We are lucky for our house to be away from the walls, not to worry about the issue of Peacekeepers walking in them. Stalking down the alley, I “accidentally” drop some danvers to the houseless. The first night my clumsiness started, I woke up dangerously early, close to 1 when the peacekeepers were out doing checks and told the people I gave, “if they stumble across some from me they must eat it then”. Most have done so, the rest have kept their mouths shut, who would rat out a 10 year old? By the time my basket has reached half, I get to my house. I breath in the familiar smell of my families home as I open what I have dubbed “the hatch” it's not as much of a window as I would hope it would be, it's more of a square with a thin layer of cloth to keep it closed, we can open it on our own accord but most people don't, we don't really have windows, it's just these trapdoors.
Preparing the food is a difficult task to do silently. With the creak of a board father would be awake telling me off for being awake so early, then he would see the food, and then I’m pretty sure my life would be over. It's not like he doesn't know I go out at night, he says I don't have to worry about that as I am just a kid but really I do have to worry about that, with this excursions I ensure that all of my family gets feed just enough to be contempt, we can't be full, that will never be an option for us.
With practiced measures, I lower the basket outside the shack and grab a pail of water. It's safer to wash them outside than inside where father would most definitely draw a peacekeeper near with his passive-aggressive whispering compared to a year and three quarters experience of splashing water. The peacekeepers have questioned the wet spots near the back window, but I’ve just told them the bathtub leaks, knowing they will never try to fix it.
After hiding the food in the cabinet, I return to my brother and I’s bedroom, it's nothing really special, it has our bed and a small wardrobe there are some things we personally have made to decorate, Sparrow and I would love to make mud creatures and when they dried we would take them in here and place them on the dresser, I walk over to them, careful not to touch them incase they crumbled. In the darkness it's hard to make them out but I can see them clearly, sparrows sit on the right, he likes defying the normal with these, he makes things I can't really describe. It looks to be a jumble of hair? Or octopus tentacles, he's told me how he wishes we could paint them or dye them and how he would color it a dark purple with a brighter purple in the dips of the tentacles. I yawn and head to our bed to lay down. It's not really worth it to go to sleep now, I would wake up in two hours anyway, hearing the rustling of my mom, Plus the Paul's need to be filled. Sparrow pulls the cover closer as if the summer night is giving him frostbite. I glance over to him to find he is on his side facing me.
“‘Row, it’s me.” He hums a reply, he's awake for the same reason I left tonight, Today we will gather in Sambucus Center to watch as one boy and one girl get called to fight to the death- when me and sparrow were younger we would fight with twigs in the orchard as if at the age of 7 we would get spontaneously drawn to compete, there are many times I can Remember getting yelled at by peacekeepers, like having fun was against the law. We turned twelve two months ago, which means our names are officially in the pool. Me and Sparrow wanted to split the tesserae evenly, but we devised to flip flop tesserae each year, one year I would sign up for tesserae, the next Sparrow would. Statistically, it would mean we would have less slips individually and together each year. This year, the odds are against me. One thing I didn't tell Sparrow is that he won't ever have a higher chance to get drawn than me, that is if we never get reaped.
“Brother, while you were out on your morning walk did you happen to find lavender or chamomile?” If there's one thing that I know about my family is that our sleeping problems must be genetic, father is the only one who can truly get a full nights of rest but mom, sparrow and I don't get that luxury.
“I did get one or two of both, no roots sadly. May I ask, for you or for mother?”
“All of the above, the chamomile to calm her and mine nerves for today.”
“Well, Maybe in the morning we can stop by the fields to collect some for bands?”
“That would be nice, before the reaping today?”
“Looking forward to it.”
Sparrow lets out a sigh as his body relaxes, that was a reassurance he was looking for. Asking me if I had an ounce of doubt one of us would be drawn. I listened to my twins slow breathing until I heard movement from the other room. When I got out of bed again, my mother is chopping some of the veggies from earlier on the counter, once I enter the room, she looks at me like she wants to tell me off but refrains.
“Morning mother.” I say not attempting to hide my lack of drowsiness.”
“Well Morning Lark, I do hope your brother slept through the night.”
“Hope not, as the lavender got here late.” I say in a slate voice. Her face frowns slightly at my pessimism.
“There's nothing wrong with hope.” She says while grabbing the flowers from the cabinet i had stored them in not even 2 hours ago. “These are very beautiful Lark, we are extremely lucky the peacekeepers allow us to harvest them, How accommodating.”
It’s not that she doesn't know about how I use my inheritance of my fathers stealth or defiant nature. It's more of how she doesn't acknowledge it
She says as she finishes chopping and puts them all into a pot for soup. She glances over to the area where we keep the pails and sighs slightly, “Please try to use less water when washing the food.”
“Will do ma’am, would you like me to head to the taps and get some more?”
“Oh, yes, thank you.” With that I grab the empty pails from the past week and set all but two outside the house as I walk down the road. The gravel crunches beneath my feet. The taps are the primary places the people of district 11 get their water. The earlier you are at it; The more likely you are to get water. The aquifers only fill once in the morning of each day at 6am. It being a quarter till 6, there is a small line forming to get some. There are only few who get their water from the river just outside of the square, primarily peacekeepers or people in good sitting with one. I don't know much about anything outside of the square. Father does though, What i’ve heard about him from elder neighbors, he was a daring child, sneaking out of the square is more dangerous than what I do, you would be immediately assumed for treason, you would be taken to the capital and who knows what happens after that, tortured for information on rebels? Killed? No they would just do that here, no need to go to the capital and scare their precious puppies. I laugh lightly before walking up to one of the pumps and filling my buckets. Our taps are set up outside of the mayor's house and the victor's village. It's quite poetic how poor the last victor's house looks 5 years after the previous victor's death. Poor Minnow Slollan, died from pneumonia not only a year after her survival. The victor before her is still alive but there isn't much he is able to do now that his muscles are weaker, Mr. Goldmops is a cranky old man, but tolerates me and Sparrow because of our mothers pies when she can make them.
With my now filled pails, I start to head home, Smiling at the peacekeepers when I walk past. There are the occasional neighbors who stop me to talk claiming I need to “rest my arms”, I do stop to talk to some out of pity. They are up as early as me out of habit, and with work and school canceled today there isn't anything to do till three. We talk about our plans for the week, the weather; I talk about going to the field with my brother at noon. Surface level, good for nothing other than passing time conversations. When I reach the house again, a quarter hour into 8, the soup has cooled to a barely comfortable temperature. I sip on the soup
Sparrow walks out of the bathroom fully dressed, he is in a simple light green tunic and dark brown pants, the ones he wears the least often. I beg him over so I can braid his hair. This is one of the best parts of getting ready for school in the morning. Both of us have dirty blonde, curly hair that doesn't get cut as often as many other people in the district. Men in district 11 usually have their hair cut close to their head because of how hot it gets in the summer, but ‘Row loves having his hair longer; I think he might also be scared of having it cut too. There is a barber, her shop and house is 15 minutes down the path but she's gotten old now and her children never really picked up her skill. I fold wet strands of hair over each other until they form a nice curtain for the rest of his hair to fall beneath.
I grab some of the chamomile and lavender strands and stick them around in his hair, and then turn him around to face me. “You are looking fabulous brother!”
He looks toward the mirror to admire my handiwork. I taught him how to do the same to my hair a while ago but I will just do it after my bath, as I think of it my brother agrees “Indeed! as will you, go on now.”
I pat him on the shoulder and then I leave toward our bedroom to collect the clothes he and mother left out, as they do every year. Mine is an extremely similar tunic to my twins, instead of a green it's a pale pink, similar to that of rose quartz. It almost matches one of them that father has scattered around the house. He has a particular interest in them, we can't afford to go buying them whenever but on some special occasions they may show up as gifts, whether in the form of jewelry or the raw crystal itself. Speaking of jewelry, next to the outfit lies a green Epidote pendant; thinking back at it now, Sparrow had a matching pink one.
After I finish my bath Sparrow and I head to the very middle of the square; we go past the orchards, the berries, the vines and all the other plants on our side, until we reach the apiary. Sparrow and I tend to go here after school or after harvest. This is the only place in the square where it's gated by wooden fences. Vines climb up the posts like a protective shield, when in reality it's like a stab in the back, they grow up the wood to take nutrients from the logs, they wouldn't know what, they might think the vines are there to make a blanket, hide them from the effects of nature. But they really are attacking them.
My brother reaches over the gate and unlocks it, if we didn't live so close to the tribute building we couldn't be here that long but we have an hour before mom and dad have to meet us here to start walking in together, it will only be able a 2 hour walk from here to there and the suns just an hour away from being center sky. There are people who live on the very far squares who had to start walking yesterday, and some the day before. There are trains that run under the ground, sometimes we can feel them rush past with capital goods from other districts. I wonder if anyone has ever used them to leave their district but I quickly push that thought out as Row has already begun compiling flowers for crowns and other accessories.
We collect so many kinds of flowers and every once in a while bees fly around us to collect the remaining pollen for their hives. There's this one bee that hasn't left me, At Least I don't think it has. Bees remind me of myself. Heading out into danger to supply for my family. I lift the flower the bee stands on to get a closer look at her. The tendrils on her head gather the pollen out of the poppy’s center and feed it into the naturally made baskets on her legs. It's so interesting that bees have evolved to carry their food on their legs. Why not carry it in their mouths like chipmunks or in their stomachs like birds? Why did they evolve to carry it in their hind legs? I place the flower back down and continue weaving flowers together.
“Lark…” Sparrow speaks, startling me a little from the previous silence outside of his humming.
“Yeah ‘Row?”
“Are you scared?”
“Scared of what?”
“Well, aren't you scared your name will get pulled? Aren't you scared you will get reaped?” I've avoided thinking about it for the past couple of months. I've tried distracting myself with late night missions or school work or apple plucking but sparrow doesn't have that luxury, he can't distract himself like I can. My hands have stopped weaving now; the light lily laying in my palms.
“No, I'm not scared I will get reaped..” I say calmly, like how my father would after we scraped our knees on the gravel post-roughhouse,”are you?”
Now it's his turn to think, I see his light eyebrows furrow slightly in thought, “yeah I am terrified, I don't have any skills that could help me in there, brother.” He says defeated
“Yes you do? You can climb trees, better than I can. You’re faster than I am. Remember when you beat me in the race at school?”
“Yeah, I guess that's true. I think I'm more scared of being alone in there, 23 other people, some almost adults!”, He says.
I've thought about how he was always better at talking with mom about his problems as well as her problems, he is great at talking about make believe and philosophy with her and how he is more willing listen to father when he talks about different crystals or how the world looked before the seas rose, Panem was even bigger than it is now, that's hard to fathom. I think about what it would be like if he wasn't there, if he got reaped. The home would be missing a piece of the puzzle, like the energy would be a void without him. I finally responded to him, “I guess I lied to you… I think I really am scared- scared of losing you” I say, looking up to his face, it mirrors my own, a small frown, its painful to see him like that, to see him sad, so i try to distract him with reassurances, “But remember, The odds are ever in your favor, Row. the chances of your name to get drawn is so incredibly slim, most people who are in the district can't even fit in the center square, nonetheless that small courtyard that's there.” I smile at him, and once again he is a mirror, a mirror of me. Or am I a mirror to him? He looks back to his crown and weaves in the last flower needed for it. I watch as he ties the whole head together. I will never be able to focus as hard as he can, he doesn't get distracted when his hands are working, it's some magic or something. I return back to my own crown, not nearly as close to done as his. I dont notice when he stands up and stands over me until his shadow limits my view. I look up at him and he adorns my head with the crown, then he kneels down and hugs me very tightly.
“I’m scared of losing you too brother.”