Windgrass (A Hunger Games Fan Fiction)

Nineteen: Bloom

My piping is happy now.

Maybe not all of Nine dislikes me… Tally, Frida, Élysée, and several others have shown that they’re capable of overlooking Aisling’s ‘disappointment’ three years ago.

My father is alive and I’ve avoided the PK draft. So far: two out of three things I’m fretting over are dealt with. The third thing I’ve come to call The Attraction Issue.

The Attraction Issue is the problem between myself, Kael, and Valley (a.k.a. Percival Ripley). There’s an undeniable tension surrounding the three of us… I’m not fond of it, though i like the people well enough.

I suppose it doesn’t help that I keep seeing Percival… oops, he’s Valley right now… almost everywhere.

The day was fading, twilight encroaching quickly. The streets were dimly lit and few people were out. I knew most of them would be doing something related to C’s recent explosion, especially people living in C village (which I call Cancanaugh, which is actually a name I ran across in a book once. I found it fascinating, though hard to pronounce at first, and began calling C by that name secretly because it was better than calling it just C… it reminded me too much of the Capitol).

I was walking along, on the verge of skipping, when the grumble of a tractor suddenly made itself audible. I turned around and saw the grimy black contraption puttering alongside the sidewalk. It moved a bit faster than normal tractors, but then again it didn’t have to cut through/drive over who knows how many stalks of grain in order to move.

“Need a lift?” Valley asked with a grin.

“Sure,” I grinned back.

“Where to?” he asked as the tractor slowed to a stop and I climbed on behind him.

“Uh… I dunno. Anywhere?” I suggested, wrapping my arms around his torso. His uniform is clean, a complete contrast to the bloodied one I last saw him in. It’d seem silly for him to wear the same uniform every day (it would get awfully smelly), so this must be another uniform.

“Alright, one second,” he replied. I let go, since we wouldn’t be moving right away. He began removing piece of his armor, until he was wearing just a plain white button-down shirt and grey pants. He must’ve worn the pants under his white PK slacks; I can’t be sure because I respectfully averted my eyes, despite the fact that he was stripping in the middle of C/Cancanaugh Village, where any number of people could see.

“Are you nuts?” I asked, bewildered.

“Yep!” his reply was perky and cheerful, like he didn’t care what he was. “Hang on tight, Flower, this could get rough.”

The tractor has been modified. Valley could get into serious trouble for tampering with District (and Capitol) property. A small yelp of surprise escaped my mouth as we raced off down the street, and I instinctively tightened my grip around his torso, warm and moving rhythmically with his breathing beneath my hands. It’s normal to see people driving tractors and other vehicles around Nine, but none go this fast.

We tore through the F fields, which have been re-plowed recently so they’re ready for another crop. Dirt was flying behind us and suddenly we were speeding along the broken, unused train tracks cutting through the District. The worked metal is smooth and slick under the tractor tires. My hair was lifted away from my face by the wind pressure, and I removed my glasses because I was scared they’d fly off my face and get broken.

“Having fun?” Valley called over his shoulder.

“Yes!” I called back, absolutely giddy. We enter the E fields and he veers off towards the Grove.