Of Victors and Tributes

Chapter 28: What's Left

I wake up early the next morning and move even slower and quieter than I did a few hours ago when Jean and I spoke on the back porch. I throw on plain trousers and a soft shirt that has been left in the closet, certainly from the Capitol. I pull on fine leather shoes that could keep a family in bread for a month or so. I feel guilty at the sight of the clothing, but I'll be changing soon anyway. Looking at the dining room table, I consider leaving a note, but I don't think I'll be too long and Jean is smart enough to figure out where I've gone. Even Lacey could figure out.

I leave the house with only a leather bag I found that I can fill with whatever keepsakes I find. The sun is still rising outside, barely out, and I know the District will still be sleeping. There will be more festivities today, a dinner with the mayor and my fellow victors. In fact, there are quite a few fancy dinners in my future. At least until the next reaping. I shiver at the thought of mentoring next year– I'll be taking Woof's place probably– but quickly push the thought from my mind. That's almost exactly a year from now, I have different things I should be worrying about. Lacey, Jean, the Victory Tour in around six months. The Victory Tour where I'll be forced to confront Meadow's father. . .

I hurry down the rocky streets, past factories and warehouses, weaving through alleyways and behind unlit houses. These people that have suffered in poverty for so long are finally going to get a break because of me. Parcel Day will be coming up soon, and we'll have that celebration once a month until the reaping. The kids will get cans of applesauce, even bags of candies that surely none of them have been able to afford. Less of them will need tesserae, keeping them a bit more safe. Still, two of them will end up on the train to the Capitol, with me and Cecelia and Woof.

The clean air is nice and fresh, not dark and filled with the usual stink of smog. There will be less work for a little bit as the excitement from the Games settles down, but everybody will be required to go back. I won't, of course. Because I'm special, and the victor. Which means I'll need a talent to show the Capitol, something that fills my days since I've got nothing better to do. That's a whole different problem, since all I've ever done was illegally harvest plants from the fence and sew clothing after school. Maybe I could convince Jean to quit work and spend her days after school with me. I'll feed her and her mom, Lacey won't ever need to work or apply for the tessera. I'll give them a nice life.

That still won't give me something to show the Capitol, but that's another problem for another time.

I sneak along the roads until I've come to my house, small and squat and sat right by the edge of the District. The old thing is basically in the exact opposite direction of my new home in the Victors' Village, but without foot traffic and with the will to get there quickly, anything is possible. I go right through the front door, left unlocked because who would want to come inside?

I go into the kitchen, but there's nothing there to salvage. The food has rotted away, so I just toss it out the window for the birds. I move into the bathroom, where I collect a silver mirror that was Mom's. It's miraculously unbroken. Next, I wander into our old bedroom. I neatly make the beds and brush dust off the pillows and blankets, then search the closets. I pull out a few shirts and a few pairs of pants that were either Weaver's or Dad's. I retrieve two dresses, an old one of Mom's and a new one that we sewed over the course of a year or two for Lacey. I also grab her favorite pair of shoes, even though I'll let her buy whatever she'd like. There isn't much of Twine left in the house, which causes me to sit down.

Everything Twine had was either mine or Weaver's or Dad's, considering he was the youngest out of three different men. What did he have that was all his own since the beginning that I can remember him by? Then I think of when he was a kid, and remember something stashed away in the rickety old dresser. I tug out a tiny silver soldier, really just plastic painted over. We got it when he was a kid, Dad somehow saved up and bought it. He probably hasn't touched the thing in years, but he used to play with it fondly when we were young.