ghosts that we knew: A mockingjay fanfiction

23

Prim pov

•••••flashback•••••

The bell tower atop the Justice Building sends eight chimes into the nippy December air.

Oh, no, I think to myself as I begin quickening my pace, I'm going to be late. I kick up plumes of coal dust and gravel beneath my tattered shoes as I hurry along the dirt road to the schoolhouse.

School is in session at eight o' clock in the morning. It takes Katniss and I about an hour to make the trek to school from the Seam five days a week. This particular morning, however, Katniss had come in from her hunt with a high fever and all of the symptoms of the flu, most likely from spending too much time outside in the harsh winter weather without much coverage. Katniss claims that she needs to hunt in order to keep us all fed and alive, but I certainly hope she realizes that every minute she spends outside in the woods with no more than a thin shirt puts her at a greater risk of getting sick, and possibly putting herself at an even greater risk of survival.

Mother has taken to her bed, as the anniversary of what would be Papa's birthday falls at the end of the week, and could not make a conclusive diagnosis on my older sister, so it was I who had to insist that she stay home from school.

Once I had managed to stifle my sister's protests, wrangle her into bed, and braid my motionless mother's hair, I realized that caring for my family had left me with very little time to make it to school before the first bell.

Despite the schoolhouse being located in town, Seam children are allowed to attend school for as long as they like, so long as their family circumstances permits. This loose regulation to attend school was put in place by Mayor Undersee long before I was old enough to be enrolled in schooling. With the staggering number of Seam boys and girls whose names are chosen from the reaping bowl each year, much of the Seam population drops out of school early, once their family is affected by the Hunger Games.

The Seventy-Fourth Games are approaching in just a few short months. I find myself shamefully pondering which of my classmates I will no longer see in the schoolyard and selfishly praying that it is no one that I know who will go and fight to the death. My year has just reached the age where we are eligible for Reapings, and unlike my sister, I have grown to be acquainted with many of my classmates. It will be too painful to see anyone I know be hurt-be killed.

My teachers almost never bother take down the attendance record of their poverty-stricken pupils, but I consider myself to be a rare exception to the stigma of a typical Seam student. I have not missed a single day of school since I began at the age of six.

Papa insisted that we attend school until we graduated. And Mother, when well enough, served as his advocate once he was no longer around. Katniss prickles at the very thought of dragging herself through the District to simply sit and listen to her superiors 'talk at her' for six hours. Conversely, I relish in what school has to offer. In addition to learning history, arithmetic, and literature through teachings from our Capitol-administered textbooks, I get the chance to spend time with children my own age, laugh, and, for a few short hours, pretend that I lead a carefree life-before I return home to a tense house, where the need to focus on simply staying alive takes precedence over any straying thoughts of multiplication or ancient texts from lands existing long before Panem.

Up until this morning, my attendance record had been pristine, unmarred by a single blemish of red ink. Although I know my teacher will not mind if I slip into the classroom unnoticed, my face burns in embarrassment anyway, especially as I wander into the more crowded streets of town. I follow the suit of my sulking older sister and keep my head low to avoid stares as tears of humiliation begin to well in my eyes.