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Did She Cry? [A Hunger Games Fanfiction]
Forum-Index → Fanmades → Fanfictions → Did She Cry? [A Hunger Games Fanfiction]
Posted: Tue, 16/08/2022 19:39 (1 Year ago)
Did She Cry?
tw:// violence, death, general warnings for the Hunger Games, possible suicide ideation
...
The Sinclair family has lived in District 9 since the Dark Days. The earnings of the people flow into them for the processing of wealth in the Capital. As such, they are the wealthiest family of District 9, and a treasured Capital lapdog. Never has a child bearing the name "Sinclair" ever entered into the Hunger Games. They're ushered into the square, but everyone knows that their name can never be drawn.
Until Majoree, a girl who's Sinclair in nothing but name turns 13. And until her name is drawn and she is thrown into the Games which will kill her. And nobody, but her sister weeps.
This is the story of two sisters and the death of both.
or
An analysis of Majoree and Chia, the Sinclair sisters, from childhood to death.
[Updates every two weeks on Tuesdays. Next update: Undetermined. On Hiatus..
Posted: Tue, 23/08/2022 19:25 (1 Year ago)
beta read by sprigatito
Part 1.
--
A small child made her way to a familiar dwelling that it felt as though she had visited a thousand times before. But this time, she was told that she needed to see her. It seemed to be more urgent than usual this time.
What could she need to tell me? she wondered.
Slowly, she made her way over to the door and knocked upon it. “Who is it?” the kindly old voice rang out. “It’s Majoree. I was told to come over?”
“Ah, yes, Majoree Sinclair! Come in, child.”
Majoree made her way into the building, where the woman beckoned her inside, looking upon Majoree, before closing her eyes with a sort of... pensiveness?
“It’s time to brush your hair."
“Oh.” Majoree deflated a bit. That was boring.
“Come here.” Majoree slipped into the waiting chair. She heard the old woman pluck things off the vanity. She fought the urge to turn around and look to see what she had.
The comb slipped smoothly into her hair.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Majoree Sinclair pondered this question with the importance and pompousness of an eight-year-old who was asked a very important, life-changing question. “Something special,” she decided pompously. Maybe this is the important thing?
The old woman with the worn face nodded, a serene smile on her lips. “I know you will do very special things someday, Majoree.”
“’Cause I’m a Sinclair?” Majoree asked curiously. “That seems like a right mean way to go around-” she yelped as a knot snagged.
The woman was quick to run the tangle through. She didn’t answer Majoree. Grown-ups rarely did, when she tried to “adult talk” with them.
She kicked back and forth, waiting for the wrinkly arm to make its final ascent. It was taking forever. Like every time I get in trouble. “Are we almost done?” she asked.
The comb tugged, admonished at her, no doubt for another stupid reason. The arm glided down. “You shouldn’t talk like that, Majoree. It’s uncivilized. Chia doesn’t speak like that- and neither does Cotton or anyone else, for that matter! No, Majoree”- she opened her mouth to protest- “do not kick up a fuss. You’ve admitted your wrongs before.”
She had. But then things got bad again, when she stopped trying. And she found that she was so much happier when she tried. It was what the good guys did in the books. They tried for the people they cared about. And-
No- She stuck out her bottom lip. “They don’t like it when I speak like Chia.”
“Chia has friends, does she not?”
The comb stopped, trapped in a curl by her ear.
“We have different friends.”
“And why, Majoree, would that be?”
“We’re not related, at school,” she admitted. The comb tightened.
She perked her eyebrow, appearing deep in thought. “Then you are to be related from now on.”
Majoree found herself hating the way the civilized words rolled off her tongue. “Yes. I understand.”
The comb slipped from her hair.
“Your little sister’s quite the spirit, isn’t she?”
“I suppose she is,” Chia said diplomatically. “Why? Why do you ask?” She craned her neck to see Caretaker Paws- (she called her that for her large, flat hands which even when they hit were soft)- and felt a little surprised at the dark look on the woman’s face.
“She’s quite fine, Chia. Don’t worry a bit about that.”
“Oh.” Chia bit her lip, hesitating to inquire more and label herself ‘a spirit’. It wasn’t the nicest label for a Sinclair to have.
“It’s for the future Majoree, that I fear for.”
Chia enjoyed the way Paws spoke to her. She had a light, whimsical tongue, and she used metaphors like the people in books did.
But to hear an ominous warning about her sister-
“Why?” she asked, blinking past the ache of the comb in her hair.
“Careful, Chia.”
She shut her mouth quickly.
“She cares, Chia. She cares for people who she can’t care for," Caretaker Paws continued, shaking her head.
“Like... criminals?” Chia asked. “Or the Graine Brothers?”
She could hear the amusement vibrating off Paws. “No, Chia. It is fine to care for criminals or your parents’ business partners.” The levity in her tone ran grim. “She faces a more insidious threat.”
“Like... what?” There was no one more evil than criminals. That was why they did bad things.
“Other children. She cares so deeply that she might hate people she can’t afford to hate.”
“Hating people because she cares for people?” That didn't make a lick of sense...
“We’re done.” The comb promptly removed itself from her hair. “Let her know, Chia. She trusts you. You can make her understand. Please.” There was a flash of urgency in her caretaker's eyes.
Chia didn’t want to, but- “Alright, Caretaker Paws.”
“Go along now. You have the whole day ahead of you.” Caretaker Paws patted her on the back with a strange smile.
She slipped off the chair and scampered away. She glanced behind herself and saw that Paws was leaning against the vanity. Her face was wet.
Hours later...
Chia padded down the halls of the Sinclair house. She focused on the way her feet dug into the carpet- push, then spring! Step after step, trudge after trudge.
She smiled. She loved the sounds it made! Then, a tiny girl lunged at her from around the corner.
“Attack!” Majoree Sinclair yelled. The two sisters tussled. Chia managed to seize her sister by the collar. Majoree rolled in her grip and pinned Chia down. The two panted, glaring at each other.
Then they both burst into giggles.
“Get- off me-” Chia gasped. She gave Majoree a push, and she ceded, tumbling off her with a loud giggle.
“Look out for your surroundings, sister~” Majoree singsonged. “There could be little mice in the walls. Coming for you-” she poked her with a teasing grin.
Mice. Usually, Majoree hated that word. What was with her?
Chia’s unease returned. What had they-- what had Paws and Majoree talked about?
“Majoree-” she began, then cut herself off, shifting uneasily.
“Yes, Chia? I extend permission to speak.”
Taking deep breaths but trying not to do so too loudly, Chia continued, “Paws said that you’re getting too attached to people. And that it’s dangerous...” she trailed off at the expression on Majoree’s face.
The smile was gone. And anger was slowly building in there.
She needed to do damage control, quickly-
“You don’t mean that, Chia,” Majoree said quietly. “You’re just repeating what she said, right?” Her eyes searched Chia's.
Oh- She should tell Majoree that it was her speaking, extending her influence like Paws told her to, but, she really didn’t-
“Naw, just Paws.” She quickly shrugged her shoulders.
Majoree relaxed. She smiled at Chia again, and Chia cursed herself out for the feeling of warmth that enveloped her. “Alrighty, then! Wanna go to the woods, today?”
“Not the actual woods.”
“Not the actual woods,” Majoree confirmed with an eye roll. “Fine. 'The Place'.” She made sarcastic air quotes with her fingers as she said it.
Chia sighed and tried not to roll her eyes back. This was only to hide what was really on her mind. She drew invisible lines on the wall with her fingers, trying not to show her panic...
She’d explain to Paws later, she decided. She’d tell her that Majoree hadn’t listened. That was what she had to do, it was the truth.
Majoree would understand. She could yell back, and she knew that Chia couldn’t.
The Woods, or The Place as they both called it, was a scatter of trees sprouting off of an outcrop. If marked on a map, it would be on the Southernmost edge of District 9, a natural barrier from the woodlands beyond it. To Majoree and Chia, it was marked only by the path they took to get there.
Chia sat on a boulder, swinging her legs back and forth. Majoree was chasing after a squirrel, laughing hysterically. It was a peaceful morning.
She breathed in.
Nice and cool, the onset of fall and the approaching winter. The surrounding waters growing colder, the leaves on the trees darkening in color and crisping in texture. A few had already fallen, and they crunched under Majoree's heavy shoes. The breeze rustled, somewhat cooler than it used to be.
She was broken out of it when Majoree tripped, sprawling on the gravel.
Chia jerked to her feet. “Majoree! Are you-” she cut herself off. Majoree sat up and brushed the dirt off of her clothes.
“Just fine!” she chirped. “I better get-” she hesitated, her voice trembling. “B-Bandaids. I think I scraped my knee."
“I could go for you,” Chia offered.
But as expected, Majoree shook her head. “That’s fine. I can go.” Her eyes brightened somewhat. “You can wait here! And watch out for the squirrel or somethin’-” A sob shook her shoulders a second later.
“Majoree, I’m getting it.”
Majoree hesitated, her gaze flitting. “Alright,” she mumbled. “Be real fast.”
Chia nodded. That was a good concession. She turned on her heel and headed towards the town. The people of District 9 bumbled about their work already- some pushing carts of hay, others making their way to the factories. Children sat next to drains, watching the mud seep in. Elderly people hovered on dilapidated porches, snarls set upon their wrinkly faces.
She didn’t like District 9 very much. The people weren’t nice at all.
And then a screech ripped through the air and Chia jerked to attention. None of the people seemed to notice- except the angry old woman on the porch who yelled at some kids halfway down the street.
Chia saw the kids, and then she saw the bird.
They’d grabbed it by the wing and pinned it. One of the larger wielded a rock, which they brought down against the other wing.
The screams of the bird echoed through the bustling street.
She watched, transfixed. The children released the bird and laughed as it hopped around. The rock was lifted, the bird was flailing, and then-
Blood pooled on the pavement, running into the gutters. The child sitting on it gave a yelp as a stream of red water approached and scrambled back.
No one had tried to stop it.
The eldest boy gathered up the bird in his shirt, just as the Peacekeepers turned the corner. He ushered the children away, and they vanished into one of the rickety old houses. The old woman screamed explicit language.
Majoree, she realized. I have to get Majoree-
No. She had to get home.
She turned back on her heel and raced through the gutters, past the old woman who was now red in the face. The gutter child looked up as she approached and flinched back, wrapping bony arms around herself.
Majoree saw her coming and rose to her feet with an expectant smile. Her face was still red, but clear of tears.
Chia’s was not.
Majoree’s smile vanished. “What happened?” she demanded, rushing over. She began checking Chia. “What happened, Chia? Did someone-” she cut herself off.
“It’s a bird,” she muttered, wrapping an arm around Majoree.
“A... bird?”
“Children. They killed a bird. With a rock.” She was shaking.
“Oh.” Majoree blinked. “I hope they cook it.”
“Majoree!” she gasped, releasing her and whipping to glare at her. “They killed an innocent bird. For no reason! How can you forgive them? That’s evil!”
“Not no reason. They’re hungry. I’d kill a million birds to help District 9. A million.”
“They’re not District 9! District 9 isn’t like- And you don’t know that either. It was sadistic! The bird was in pain.”
Majoree blinked. “Do birds cry, Chia?”
“What?” she was caught off guard.
“Do birds cry? Did she cry when they hit her?”
“She screamed.”
“People cry. People scream. And they do that when they die and you and the rest of them don’t care a bit.” She tilted her head to the side.
Rage built inside Chia. Was she just going to-?
A bird swooped down and landed on Chia’s boulder
“Look Chia! Look!” Majoree gasped. And then they were both distracted, by the sweet shape of the bird and the beautiful feathers that ruffled as it ran a beak through them.
But Chia couldn’t get Majoree’s words out of her mind.
Do birds cry?
Yes, they do, Majoree. But apparently, you don’t.
Cold sunshine streamed through her open window. Chia snuggled deeper into her blankets, relishing in the scratchy warmth.
Suddenly, her door burst open.
She jerked up to see Majoree, panting in her doorway. “You went swimming in November? It's so cold out!"
“It’s not my fault,” Majoree grumbled, crossing her arms tightly, dripping water all over Chia’s floor as she did so. Chia cringed internally. “Cotton dared me.”
“When will you learn not to listen to him?” Chia asked exasperatedly. When Majoree remained stubbornly silent, she sighed and left the room. She returned with a towel that she handed to Majoree. She watched her sister wrap it around herself. “You could try patting yourself dry. The water is stealing your body heat.”
“No,” Majoree muttered. “Not moving the blanket.”
Chia huffed a laugh. Majoree glared at her underneath her blanket hood. Chia began, “Don’t be like that, Majoree.”
“It’s not my fault!” she protested in return, her eyes seething with frustration.
“Of course,” Chia agreed.
Majoree scowled at her.
“Will you ever be happy with me?”
Chia was silent, her face twitching as she tried to figure out what expression to form. She opened her mouth slightly, as though she was going to say something, but no sound came out. Her eyes shifted from side to side before looking at the floor.
“That’s what I thought.”
With that, Chia slowly, stiffly walked out of the room to retrieve her hot cocoa. Majoree glared at her back the whole way. When she wasn’t too busy sniffling of course, and tugging the towel up to her ears.
Chia laughed a bit, and the tension from the past day- Paws warning, the children, the bird- it all faded away. Today, they were sisters again.
Posted: Tue, 06/09/2022 21:39 (1 Year ago)
This fic and High Stakes will be updated every two weeks from now on. Due to life (a job, school, and other commitments), I am going to be very busy. Two weeks will be the norm for this fic and any others I publish.
“Flax, why’re you following Cotton around?” Seven year old Majoree Sinclair popped, recently annointed the “tiny terror” of the house.
Flax Sinclair glanced down at her feet, distaste immediately evident in her eyes. Chia hovered at the corner. She was curious too. Flax was usually mean, but she didn’t follow people around just to pick on them. Not her siblings, anyway.
She didn’t seem to be very mean to Cotton either. She just-
‘That’s not your business, Mouse.”
Majoree’s face got very red very quickly. “D-Don’t call me that! That’s not my name.”
“It’s what you are, aren’t you? A little pest that crawls around in the walls, listening and looking at things you have no right to see.”
“What are you talking about?” She cocked her head to the side. Chia’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. Oh Majoree, please just accept the blame-
Flax blinked, and promptly scowled. “Don’t lie to me. Sleet saw you.”
“No she didn’t!” Majoree’s eyes flashed.
“Majoree,” Chia quickly intervened. Majoree and Flax both turned to see her. Flax was scowling, but Majoree’s eyes lit up with hope.
“Chia, tell her she’s dumb. I saw nothin’ bout her and Cotton. Just her making googley-eyes at him.”
“Talking like that- no wonder you’re the pesky spy you are.” Flax scoffed.
“Chia! Tell her.”
“It’s okay, Majoree.”
Majoree scowled. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Flax scoffed and ran a hand through her hair. “Whatever. Stay away from us, pest. Got it?” She gave Majoree a push that sent her stumbling back. And then she stormed away through the halls.
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Majoree whipped to her. “You wanted to know too! You brought it up earlier!”
“You’re the one who asked.”
Majoree scowled and looked away. The clock ticked ten times. Chia counted. Fifteen
f it reached twenty, then-
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
Chia felt sick. “Me?”
“I don’t care.” Majoree had that voice that meant she really did care. Like she really cared. She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m going to bed. You can talk to her about whatever you saw her doing with Cotton and stupid Sleet. Fine?”
“Alright, Majoree. Thanks for not telling.”
Majoree flinched. She said nothing. And then she tore off.
At least Flax wouldn’t tell their parents. She never said anything about Majoree. So Majoree ought to take the blame... right?
...
She heard Majoree sobbing that night.
“You’re twelve, Chia.”
Chia looked up from her desk. She had an essay to write on the 7 Minute Battle of the Dark Days. One of the greatest wins in Capital history. She really had no time to talk.
But past-Chia-
She placed her pen down and shifted on her chair to face her visitor.
Majoree hovered by the door. Her face twitched, struggling with itself. Eventually it settled on Majoree’s usual frown.
“Do you know what that means?”
“Harder homework?” Chia guessed.
Majoree scowled.
“The Reaping,” Chia quickly inserted. Sorry, Majoree- I just have homework on my mind.
“You could go to the games.”
“That’s what The Reaping means, Majoree.”
“Not for you, I guess.”
“The Reaping, obviously, does mean to me, that I can go to the games. But, being twelve does not mean my life has to revolve around the concept that-”
“Harvest, Chia, can you just shut up sometimes?”
Chia shut up. She watched, heart thudding in her throat as Majoree settled on her bed. She examined her fingernails, and then glanced at Chia.
The disdain in those eyes made her heart hurt.
It reminded her of everything.
I used to love watching her cry.
I would say awful things, horrible things. And she’d cry and cry, and I’d laugh, and later we’d both smile and I thought it was alright. I never even felt guilty.
Even now, she hadn’t changed. And even now she couldn’t say sorry.
The conversation ended in silence. Majoree left without looking back. And Chia returned to her books.
She needed an education to have a productive life, didn’t she?
“Arentcha Chia? The Sinclair?”
Chia looked down. She recognized the older boy. Riggs Dawnfrost. Held back a year. Not for academic reasons- for behavioural reasons. No sense of consequences, people said.
“Majoree’s sister?”
Her eyes darted up, against her will. He smiled unpleasantly, delight glinting in his keen eyes. At fourteen, he was a giant. And as violent as something from the Fairy Tales. “So I’m right.”
“Chia, you promised we’d go to the-” Majoree’s voice cut off. Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the scene.
Chia and Riggs. Alone, in a classroom, empty noise bouncing off the peeling walls.
“She’s old enough for the games, isn’t she Majoree?”
Majoree’s jaw clenched. “As of two weeks,” she said coldly. “And I really think that’s none of your business.”
“Then whyd’ja tell me?”
“Majoree-”
“So she does speak!” Riggs brightened up. “I was beginning to think she was mute. Do her words only come back in the presence of Capitol Trash?” He sneered at Majoree.
Majoree straightened. “We’re as District Nine as you are,” she said coldly. “She could be called on, just as much as you could be.”
“Just as much? Did she take sixteen tesserae this year?”
Sixteen? Chia cringed in unwanted sympathy. She didn’t think he needed it- but Nine’s Children’s Home probably did. No wonder the kids are so round. More food to go around when one goes to the games- and leaves a heap of grain behind.
Majoree’s eyes narrowed. Her expression was indiscernable.
She raised a fist, and then-
A bird tumbled into the window.
Everyone froze, and leapt for their bags. Riggs disappeared through the door, a flash of brown and grey.
Majoree and Chia stared at one another, then burst out laughing.
“I can’t believe-” Chia wheezed. “A bird-’
“No way! It was my fist that scared him!”
The laughter faded away in the dying light coming through the window. The bird was gone, flown off.
“He’ll be waiting for us in the woods,” Chia murmured.
“Guess we’re not going to the woods then,” Majoree said cheerfully, claiming a seat. “So then! Wanna eat here?”
“Sure.” Chia watched as Majoree opened her bag and provided a few sandwiches. “Honey, again?”
“Cotton found a hive.” Majoree shrugged.
“Nothing else?”
“Can’t really eat something not imported from the Capital, now can we?”
Poison, Chia grimaced. It’d never been that way when she was little. But ever since Flax had spent a night keeled over a toilet, Dottie had forbidden food from town. It wasn’t like it was good, anyway- but it limited what they had to eat.
Chia remembered strawberry pastries and goat cheese. They dimmed in the sky now- replaced by the pitiful replacements. Strawberry paste which tasted like cough syrup. Cow’s milk that ran like water down her throat.
Honey could only cover up so much.
And suddenly she realized what she wanted to say.
“Majoree, do you think I’m evil?” The question was infantile. Unworthy of a 12 year old, able to do algebra, able to comprehend the Dark Days.
Majoree cocked her head to the side. “No,” she answered. There was no humour in her eyes.
“You saved me. I’ve never saved you.”
“That’s alright.” Majoree offered her the honey sandwich. “You can save me from my teacher’s patronizing lectures tomorrow. And bring the sandwiches yourself next time. My bag gets heavy. You can make it up to me.”
Chia giggled. “No way. I don’t have your muscles.”
“You’re twice my size!” Majoree protested.
“Am not!”
The air cooled off. Majoree looked thoughtful.
“What is it?” Chia prompted softly.
“I don’t want you to be sad, Chia.”
A sickening lurch went through Chia’s stomach. But Majoree was already stuffing her face with another sandwich.
I wonder if I manipulated her.
But Majoree’s chubby cheeks melted it from her heart. “Slow down,” she cautioned. “You eat like a chipmunk.”
Majoree giggled, spraying crumbs. “Dmph! Nawth thru- mmph-” she gulped it down and narrowed her eyes in a squinty way. “Not true! Sinclairs are elegant, they’re clearly squirrels, not chipmunks.”
“Squirrels?” A flash of amusement went through Chia. “That’s still a rodent, though. Can’t we be promoted a bit higher?”
“Eh, we’re not that good.”
They both laughed it off.
Outside, a boy named Riggs Dawnfrost listened and crunched a slip of Tesserae between his fingers.
It was two weeks later that she saw her enemy once more.
“Sinclair duellll!” Birch chirped. “Sinclair duelll!”
Chia barely had a moment to feel a flash of alarm before she and Majoree were being pushed forward, toward the tree.
How did she get in this situation?
Every month, a special competition was held by the large tree in the schoolyard. The younger kids would swing on a dilapidated swing and watch, wide-eyed. Birds would scatter, yelping with fright. And the older kids would prepare weird prizes.
It was tree-climbing. Whoever got to the marked branch first won the first prize.
More than one kid had fallen and gone home for weeks. The constant wear on the base had made it smooth and slippery- especially bad in the rainy weather that had descended with Spring.
May was rapidly approaching, and the older kids decided to get in their time while they had it. So far, Chia had won 3 rounds- and lost two. She was competing for third place against-
“Majoree!” People cheered. “Chia!”
The sisters locked eyes. Majoree looked excited. Chia felt like she was going to die.
She hooked her arms through the first branch, preparing to hoist herself up. Majoree braced herself on the footholds.
“GO!” a kid yelled, waving a stick.
Majoree threw herself up. Chia hoisted herself onto the branch and began the frantic scramble upwards. Below, the children cheered. Even the scrawny kid, Birch looked excited. His four siblings lurked behind him- eyes round and nervous.
Chia would do her best to put on a show.
She seized a branch and flung herself off her own with a grunt, catching onto the next.
Daisy Flitree screamed praises.
The branch was coming into sight. Majoree was below her.
And then the branch snapped . Collective gasps came from below. Chia’s chin hit a broad “v” in the tree a second later and she seized it, ignoring the pain rocketing through her jaw.
Majoree’s head poked up from the top branch. “I’M THE PRESIDENT OF PANEM!” she yelled.
Cheers erupted from below. Chia hung for a second, and then let herself drop. She made her way down. Majoree stepped down after her.
“Trophy!” she announced.
Children tittered and giggled, and the kid came up to Majoree and offered her the stick- notched three times for third place. Majoree grinned broadly.
Riggs and Primrose approached and the air stiffened. Not him again- why's he here? Chia wondered. He was supposedly in trouble for something, and suspended for a while. She wasn't sure why he'd bothered to show up. Was it for her? Majoree? Or some other kid half his size?
“First place and second place!” the kid declared, and withdrew two sticks from his pack. Oh! she realized with a start. The kid passed them to Birch, who scampered up to the winners, and held them out in offering.
Riggs regarded them, and then snapped both in half.
Birch’s face crumbled.
“Not cool, Riggs,” Primrose muttered.
Riggs shrugged.
“Hey! Those were placements! You competed! You wanted to win!” Majoree, as always, was right in Riggs’ face.
“Just because we competed didn’t mean we wanted your trash,” Riggs said coldly. “If you were any good at all, you’d use your filthy Capital money to get us real prizes.”
Majoree recoiled, as if struck.
“Or do you keep your jewels to yourself? Lock it all up nice and easy in the bank so you can bribe Trinket when she comes around to say your names and haul you off to the games?”
The kids, sensing a power imbalance, dispersed. The whole courtyard was mysteriously empty within seconds. Only Majoree, Chia, Primrose, and Riggs remained.
“What if I went to the games?” Majoree asked bitterly. “What if I signed up for a hundred Tesserae because of you and I went? What’d you say then?”
“Riggs,” Primrose warned. “She’s not even 12. Be quiet.” The thirteen year old looked back and forth nervously. “The Peacekeepers-”
“At school?” Riggs asked sarcastically. “They just follow the Home around. Keeping an eye on Rebels’ kids in case they display a personality.” He narrowed his eyes at Majoree.
He knows what he’s doing, Chia realized suddenly. He wouldn’t leave them alone, ever.
“Hey! Chia!” Flax’s head emerged over the fence. “What’s going on? You get off early today! You gotta help me in the market!”
Chia wrapped her arm around Majoree and shook her head at Flax. Flax scowled suddenly and disappeared.
“Let’s go,” Chia murmured to Majoree.
“Running,” Riggs said coldly. “Typical.”
“That’s what District 13 did,” Chia spat back.
Majoree went as rigid as wire in Chia’s grip. But she let herself be guided out and towards the fence. She went through the gap. Chia only risked one glance back at Riggs.
His eyes were stone cold.
She shivered and pushed through.
Something told her that he saw her comment just as Majoree did...
And for a moment, she saw Birch, snivelling and weeping in the shack he called home. Five children huddled around him. Living in fear of a Power which controlled his whole life. Fearing the games, because what else could he fear?
But to her, Riggs was the enemy. And he was a more direct threat than the Games or some passive worries. She couldn’t afford to hide like that.
She had to face her fear head on.
Riggs Dawnfrost, try something. I dare you.
“Hey! Hey! Chia, wanna go to the candy store?”
“Not now, I’m reading.”
“Chiaaaaa-”
“No, Majoree.”
Majoree scowled at her, and promptly vanished around the corner. Chia heaved a sigh of relief and closed her book. She withdrew the candy pouch from the couch cushions.
Little did Majoree know, Chia had gone on an expedition already. And little did Majoree know, she would never, ever share.
“I KNEW IT! ATTAAACCKKK!” And little Majoree burst around the corner, shattering Chia’s world perceptions forever.
The two wrestled for the candy for the next ten minutes. And by the time it was over, both were laughing breathlessly, and more than a few candies had been lost to the floor.
But not their sister, which was a victory for any sibling.