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Chapter Two

I snap back into reality as the bell rings. Gale marches out of the bakery and heads for the woods with a sense of determination. What happens in the woods? I think, pacing the creaky, wooden floor of me and my two older brothers' bedroom. There has to be more than just hunting going on. 

I quickly push the thought away, knowing deep down that I don't want answers to the questions I've just asked myself. I walk over to our closet and grab a previously white button-up shirt and remove a pair of black and gray slacks delicately from a hanger. Reaping clothes, which I loathe so strongly. Still, I dress in them. I wander over to the bathroom and look in the mirror at the reflection of a sad boy. The shirt is baggy, having been part of one of my brothers' old reaping outfits. The pants fit right, so I decide to leave the shirt on and direct my attention to the blond curls thrusting out all over my scalp. I collect a handful of water from the faucet and spill it over my hair and face. 

It's cool and soothing, and for a moment, washing away my troubles with it as it runs down the rusty drain. As the stream pauses, and all that's left are drops forming at the tips of my messy hair that's become matted down on my forehead, my distress returns. Uneasiness takes over the calm feeling in my body and numbs me. It takes another cup of water to ease my worry. My breathing steadies, and feeling returns to my fingertips and then spreads through my body. I grab a penny-sized amount of paraffin and work it through my hair. It's not the best at keeping my wispy hair in place, but it'll do for today. I walk out of the bathroom and walk through the door to the kitchen. My father greets me with a pat on the back and a smile as my mother glares at me.

"That shirt's too big," she says, reverting her gaze back down to the half-flattened dough she was rolling out before I intervened. Her face wrinkles up, showing her concentration on getting the dough just right. I stare at her, waiting for another accusation, but nothing comes.