Of Victors and Tributes

Chapter 29: Life Back Home

It takes me a full month to convince both Jean and her mother to abandon their home and move in with Lacey and me. I eventually convince her mother when I tell her I intend on marrying Jean one day, and even though she says that's a stupid thing to say since we're still so young and since the Capitol probably has other plans for me, she agrees to move in. They don't have anything left anyway, considering her husband is gone and won't try to stop her. Plus, Jean had been convinced to move in only one day, when Lacey practically begged her.

I help them to move some of their things, but it's mostly clothing, knickknacks, and keepsakes. Jean asks me to grab a leather belt from the closet in her parents' room while they clean out the kitchen, and I suppose it's the only thing worth saving of her father. I go to the room and dig around before finding it– old, cracked brown leather with a tarnished silver buckle– and lace it around my wrist. I never knew Jean's father that well, I spoke to him maybe once in my whole life. I try to recall the conversation when I hear footsteps, and Jean's mother walks in. She holds out her hand and I give her the belt.

"Thank you, Taylor," she says. She touches the buckle and frowns. "He wore this on our first date."

"Really?" I reply. "I never knew him that well."

"Ha! Neither did I," she says. "Oh, I like to think everything would've turned out a bit different if we didn't live here and now." That's the most rebellious thing she's ever said to me, probably ever. It would do no good for a servant of the mayor to go around talking badly of District 8 and Panem.

"He was a good man for some years, but it's hard to keep yourself happy when you have to work or starve to death. Too many days at the factory, too much anger towards our world, it tortured his soul. But that's no excuse for what he became," she continues. "I know you'll never become like that, Taylor."

"How do you know?" I ask as we leave the room.

"Because your chance to become like that is now, but you are working towards healing," she explains. "That's how we should all be."

I like her take on things, because honestly I don't feel like I'm trying to heal. It's been two, almost three months since the Games. I've attached the stupid prosthetic arm and it works well, but I don't wear it if I don't think I'll need it. I take care of my sister, take her to school, and walk her home. Once, I even told her a story about Meadow, but that had me in bed for the rest of the day afterwards. I spend my time with Jean, her mother, Cecelia and her family, even Woof if he's coherent. The guy spends most of his life sleeping, apparently. Anyway, I guess that's progress. Of course, there's no stopping nightmares, or pain, or death, or that I'm the victor. There will always be that.

Back at home, things are arranged. Furniture moved around, rooms chosen, old clothing and keepsakes set up. We choose things that we can part with, things from the Capitol we don't want to see that came with the house, and go trading at the town square. Of course, we aren't really trading. A blanket that you'd spend your life trying to buy is given for two metal thimbles. Food is pressed into hands, though most people still have things saved from my arrival or Parcel Day. Soon, even money is given. Quietly, secretly, because it may not be illegal but you never know how a Peacekeeper would react. For good measure, some of the Peacekeepers are given their own share of coins.

One day, a list of suggestions arrive for what Koi thinks I should consider for talents. Among the list is playing the fiddle, singing, dancing, drawing, raising an animal, and architecture. I sit with my family and try each one: the fiddle is given to Woof, who barely knows any of our names but somehow remembers how to play it, singing is crossed of the list entirely, dancing is for Lacey, we acquire a large hound dog that is basically uncontrollable, and architecture is impossible for any of us to pick up. That leaves us with drawing, which I'm okay at, but have no will to do.