The Eighty First Hunger Games «MAJOR REWRITING, REEDITING, AND REVISION»

:20: You Me and the Birds

"You crazy girl," Rave said, planting a kiss on my nose. I laughed and shoved him into the mud... again. I reached over and grasped his hand, my own almost slipping through from the slimy brown mud. I gave a jerk to help him up, but, rather than trying to help me help him, Rave pulled me into the thick liquid dirt with him. Little bubbles of hiccups ran through my chest as I was overcome by laughter. I punched Rave in the arm lightly, but he rubbed it in mock hurt, and I fell in a fit of laughter once again.

Rave and I had formed a better relationship over the past few days. We didn't initiate our "togetherness" or anything, but I think the like was mutual. Wherever I was, with or without him, he became all I thought of. When we were close, I could feel the energy and happiness radiating off of him, and I think he could say the same for me. As long as I was with him, I no longer felt weighed down by my illness. After meeting this silly boy, my hallucinations, panic attacks, fear, and tiredness ceased, although I could feel my voice dying a little every day. I'd wake up hoarse, and I'd have to drink hot water to regain my voice. My insomnia was progressing.

I wasn't afraid of death anymore. It was inevitable-it was going to happen. But as long as I'm with Rave, it no longer mattered. He became my world, my best friend, and my secret.

I was planning to tell Echo soon, but it was hard to predict her reaction. She'd already proven she wasn't going to hold back, ever.

Dangerous, I know.

I climbed up onto my knees and sunk further into the pit of mud. Rave got to his feet, laughing, and held out a hand. I playfully swatted it away and dragged myself into a standing position. My clothing and skin had grown a few layers of mud that were quickly drying. I was picking at a square of dried mud on my shirt when I felt dirty arms circle around my waist. I leaned back into Rave's chest, closed my eyes, and sighed. It was moments like these I cherished-the moments where we could pretend like we weren't in the Hunger Games and that one--or both--of us were going to die.

Minutes passed, but they felt like hours in the hug. I was the first to break free, but all I did was spin around in his arms and plant a kiss on his cheek. It hadn't been awkward at all--we were close friends with complicated feelings, as we put it.

I walked the trek back to our signature tree, hand-in-hand with Rave. It wasn't too far, maybe five or ten minutes. He let me climb up first. The cool bark scraped off a few chunks of chipping mud. The sun was beating down on my back and steam hung in the air, so maybe rough-play in the mud wasn't too good of an idea today. I scooched backwards on the tree limb to give Rave some space to clamber on. Birds sang various songs around me, and if you added that to the almost-pleasurable warmth, today would be okay. If we weren't in the Hunger Games.

But then I changed my pace of thinking. If that girl, Sarah, hadn't run, hadn't been shot down, I wouldn't have met three great friends. I wouldn't have met Rave. And I would have probably died without know about my disease. I'd have died unhappily.

The thought scared me. How could the Hunger Games make me happy in two weeks' time? The answer remains in the solid facts and supporting details.

"Rave," I started, "what's going to happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's obvious we're nearing a giant showdown staged by the Gamemakers. Only one of us, or neither of us, will live."

"Iss," he said in a serious tone, using the pet name he'd made for me that I secretly adored, "first off, I'd rather die with you or have you win than win these Games myself. Second, I'd rather not think that far ahead. Lets just stay in the moment with you, me, and the birds."

"But-"

"Illissa Wilcox, we're going to meet each other in the end. Whether in reincarnation or heaven, I'm not letting you go." Rave twisted my around and pulled me into his chest. I laid my head down beneath his head. "I've been dreading the reaping each year, but now I feel like I was meant to be picked and I was meant to meet you. Ever since I saw you in the lobby at the Training Center, I couldn't take my eyes off of you, and I still can't."

"Rave, I feel the same way. I've been the luckiest person in the world since I met you."

"You're lying."

"Not in any form, Nine."

"Yes you are. You think you're the luckiest person in the world? You're nowhere near as lucky as me."

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Mini note: I was planning to leave it here. I thought you'd need an intro to their Lè Romancè. But some action is needed before I become Cheesy McCorny Predictable.

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For the first time in days, I didn't head home alone. Rave was by my side, swing our latched hands all over the place. I playfully slapped him on the shoulder and told him to stop, but he was as ecstatic as Frankie when I brought home sweets.

When we neared the place where I knew the campsite was, a shot of adrenaline mixed with fear ran through me. How would Echo react to the fact that I'd been hiding something from her? Well, it should be natural for her, considering she held everything from me. Oh dang, that was rude. Sorry Echo.

I leaned over slightly to whisper to Rave, "how do you think she'll respond?"

"At this point, who knows." He whispered back without moving his head. I tried to remove my weight from him, but he released my had and slipped an arm around my place, calming my nerves.

Echo stood up from the rock she was perched on when she saw us arrive. She querked an eyebrow when she saw Rave's arm around my waist.

"Echo, there's something I need to tell you."

"No duh."

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I'm sorry for the quick cut, but you really must understand. The admission for the Watty Awards closes either tomorrow night or Wednesday night, and I'm going to play it safe with tomorrow night. There will be another update tonight and at least a double tomorrow.

So... when I revise, I'm going to delete all of my annoying author's notes and keep the important parts.

But when I say revise, I mean GLIMPSE OVER.

This story is completely a rough draft, and, unfortunately, must stay that way until after the Awards. During that time, I will be working on two new novels: Running Sun and a to-be-determined.

I think y'all will like Running Sun.

It's been in my head.

And I also have a story based off of Radioactive by Imagine Dragons I'm developing mentally.

Yeah. I do a lot of starts.

I have over fifty drafts in my Create section, and none have gotten through chapter 1.

Except for this.

Sigh. Thank you all. :*

Filipo97/Lindsey

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