The Quarter Quell

Coal

It's still dark when I wake up, cold and grimy, the blankets having been pulled off in the middle of the night, and the coal dust settled over me. I hate the dust here, it seeps into everything, our homes, our lungs, our lives. My younger brother, Abbot, sleeps next to me, wrapped in the blankets that we were supposed to share. Normally I'd be upset, I've told him a thousand times to stop fidgeting and taking the blankets during the night, but this isn't an ordinary day. Today is the day of the Reaping. Being only 12, this will be Abbot's first. I know how terrified he must be, I remember how scared I was, still am honestly. Name entered 4 times instead of 1, the thought that I might be going into the Arena starved and skinny like I was, terrified me. I'm doing all I can, making sure he eats, refusing to let him take any tessera, the measly year's supply of grain and oil we get for entering our names in extra times. I've entered 4 times each year, once because I've had to, and 3 more times to feed each member of my family. I live in the Seam, the poor, run-down side of District 12. It's where all the workers live, normal folk that spend their days a thousand feet under in the mines. My dad used to be a mine worker, until he starved to death. Keeled over right in front of me. I was 7 at the time, it still haunts me 9 years later. Since then, my mom and I have done everything we can to keep us and little Abbot alive. She cooks and sews, I read and write. I've been making most of my money by doing the homework of the rich kids who live in the merchant houses downtown. They're snobby and spiteful, but hey, money is money. I know I'm smart, but being from District 12 doesn't really give me any options. Maybe I could be Mayor one day, I think I'd be good at that. Or a doctor, maybe go work in District 2 or someplace fancy. In the meantime, it's just the 3 of us, trying to stay alive.

I slip out of bed, having given up on sleep. My mind is racing, worrying about the Reaping, which is pointless of course. Worry is useless, it's wits that keep you alive. I worry anyway, thinking about the 20 slips in the reaping bowl with my name on them, just waiting to be picked. I pace around the room for a minute, brushing off the layer of dust that collected during the night. Abbot stirs, and I quietly slip out of the house. I jog lightly, the cool breeze refreshing against my cheeks. It's not even dawn, no one will be up for hours. I stop at the familiar house, completely dark except for a light in the back. I circle around, gently tossing a stone at the window. Her parents would never approve of her dating someone from the Seam, so I make an effort to be discreet. The light goes out, and a few moments later the door swings open. She stands in a white nightgown, looking like an angel against the night sky. I sweep her into my arms, running my hands over her hair

'What are you doing here?'

'Couldn't sleep'

'Me neither'

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She can't have more than 4 slips in the bowl, barely more than I had in my first year, but I humor her. Our lives are completely different after all.

'You'll be okay'

She pulls away from me, reaching behind her head to unclasp her necklace. It's a dainty thing, a tiny silver flower hanging from a gold chain. She presses it into my hand

'Take this. If I don't make it back to you, keep it. Remember me'

'You're not going anywhere' I feel kind of dumb now, I didn't think of bringing her anything, not that I have much to bring. The fine necklace looks so out of place in my dirty hand. It could keep my family alive for months, maybe more.

'I didn't bring you anything, sorry'

She smiles, and my heart lifts. I could die tomorrow, and I wouldn't even mind, with her smiling at me like that.

'You can give me something now'

She hooks her arms around my neck, pressing her lips to mine. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Her touch is gentle, her body fragile, like a porcelain doll. Suddenly, I'm so afraid for her, afraid that the unthinkable will happen, that I'll lose her. She pulls back, planting a light kiss on my cheek.

'I'll see you later. Be safe love'

'Bye sweetheart'

She runs back into the house, door closing gently behind her. I wander back home as the sun starts to break through the clouds. I gently close the door and Abbot blinks up at me sleepily

'Haymitch, where did you go?'

'Just out. You want breakfast?'

He springs up, sitting down at the table, our mother joins us a little while later, pulling a loaf of bread from the oven. Abbot jumps on it right away, tearing off a large hunk. I roll my eyes, taking the knife and slicing the bread into neat sections.

'You eat more than me and mom combined. When's all that food gonna result in a growth spurt anyway?'

'Hey! I'm almost as tall as mom!'

'Mom's only 61 inches, that's not much to brag about'

He looks confused '61 what?'

'Right, I forgot you were dumb'

My mom shoots me a look 'Haymitch, we can't all be as smart as you'

My brother grins from ear to ear

'Yeah Haymitch'

I muss up his hair and he squeals, trying to rearrange the dark curls. His hair matches my mother's, dark brown and curly. They've got the same eyes too, a light hazel with little flecks of brown and green. I've got my father's eyes, a dark gray like the others in the Seam. The girls say they're mesmerizing, make me look dangerous. I've got something of my own too, sandy hair, hovering somewhere between auburn and blonde. It's a rarity around here, everyone in the Seam has hair as black as the coal we mine, and all the townspeople, the merchant class, are a light blonde. I pull Abbot up as he stuffs the last of the bread into his mouth. There's a small mirror in our shared room, dusty and broken but still functional, with a rickety old stool in front of it. I position him facing the mirror, and pull some water from the basin, raking my hands through his curls.

'It's about him I teach you how to do your hair'

I show him how to part it, swooping over his forehead slightly to the right, just like my father wore it. We can't afford the gel some of the merchant kids have, the stuff that slicks their back and makes it stay, so I make do with the water, trying to tamp down his wild curls. His grins at me in the mirror, front tooth still chipped from the time he fell onto a rock in front of our house and I almost died from fright. Now he just looks ridiculous, and I look at it every time he's being a pain in the ass.

'I wish I had your hair' he whines. 'Why's yours so much lighter than mine?'

I shrug 'I don't know. I'm the only one in the family with this color'

'Did Dad have hair like yours?'

'No, his hair was just like yours. He used to wear it like this too'

'Was Dad nice?'

I smile a little, remembering his smile, his laugh, the way he always used to go out of the way to pick the dandelions on the side of the road and bring them home for my mom after a long day at work.

'Yeah. He was nice'