Chapter Text
In Spite of It All
“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.”
—Georges Duhamel
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Halle sketched at a furious pace, not caring whether she drew unsteady lines or misshapen objects. All that mattered was capturing the scenery outside her window.
She raced to depict the pine trees towering over her uncle’s quaint cabin. When a bird perched itself on a branch, she focused on drawing the feathers of the wine-colored bird—a Purple Finch, she believed it was called. After she roughly sketched out its form, she moved on to showcasing the light as it poked through spaces between the trees. The calm of it all contrasted from the chaos bubbling inside.
The calm before the storm, she mused.
As soon as Halle had woken up this morning, she’d become overwhelmed with an urgent need to draw. Normally, she drew portraits of her loved ones or scenes of memories she couldn’t forget. But when she’d seen the scenery outside, the image she’d woken up to every morning for the past four years, she’d allowed that need to drive her as she’d snatched some paper and a worn pencil from underneath her bed.
This was what she came home to when she kicked her boots off after a double shift at the sawmills and paper factories. These trees were the same ones she’d climbed as a child with her brother, Lane, and her best friend, Sophie. Although she hadn’t grown up here with her uncle, this had become her home, a haven she found comfort in spite of the horrors that plagued her world.
After adding in some final touches to the beak of the Purple Finch, she dropped her pencil that had been worn down to the nub, allowing it to roll onto the mattress and rest against her thigh. A strange ache settled in her chest as she held out the drawing to appraise it.
She had created hundreds of sketches like this over the years, all neatly tucked away in a box under her bed. It was her way of documenting what was important to her. She’d always felt a pull towards the simple moments, like Lane’s tired form after a long day in the forest, or Cody baking after bartering for sugar. Between all the portraits she’d drawn of Lane and Cody, and of Sophie and her family, she could replicate a person’s features with alarming accuracy, but the same couldn’t be said when she tried to draw from memory.
Every portrait she’d ever drawn of her mother never looked quite right. Perhaps there was something off about the nose, or maybe Halle had failed to capture the kindness in her eyes. The only references she had—three aged photos hidden away in her room—would never compare to what her mom had really looked like, what she had felt like. And then there was her father. She could still see the dog tags hanging from his neck and the clothes he’d worn that day. But whenever she tried to draw him kneeling on that stage just before he’d died, she always failed to capture the expression on his face, just like the others. Juniper and Dylan, Cynthia and Jasper, Willow and Finley—they all sat in a red, beaten-up box underneath her bed with her parents, each of them poor attempts at preserving what once had been.
However, today it would all come to an end. No more drawing. Two tributes would be reaped from each of the twelve districts, sent to the Capitol for training, and then thrown into an arena until twenty-four tributes were butchered down to one. It was the same every year. Rinse and repeat.
Halle sighed and picked up her pencil, leaning over to sign her name. There was no use dwelling on it today, not when she’d had years to prepare.
Just as she finished writing the curl of a ‘t’ she heard the sound of a floorboard creak. Leaning against the empty door frame was her older brother Lane, already dressed in his reaping clothes and gazing at her with a slight frown.
Based on the fresh mud on his boots, he had just come back from a walk around the woods, something he’d been doing an awful lot lately. His red hair looked tousled, as if he’d run a hand through it too many times, and his bright green eyes that were so similar to her own, crinkled at the corners from his furrowed brows. The closer the day had come, the more worn-down he’d appeared, and today there was no hiding the frustration and despair written all over his face.
She leaned back against the wall, fidgeting with the pencil in her hand as she stared back at him.
“Hey,” she said carefully.
He scanned over her for a moment before he pushed himself away from the doorway. He walked over and sat down at the edge of his bed that was adjacent to hers. They had been sharing rooms ever since they were kids, something that hadn’t changed when they came to live with their uncle. While his side of the room was clean and organized, Halle’s was messy and cramped, a stark contrast to how meticulous and careful she was in planning her days.
Lane lowered his head and began picking at the frayed edge of the blanket next to him.
“Cody’s almost done with the food,” he said, unwilling to look up.
“Well,” she forced a smile, “guess we’d better go down before he eats it all.”
“Yeah.”
Lane stopped fidgeting with the blanket and moved to stand up, but paused when he noticed what sat on her bed. He frowned. “What’s this?” he asked, reaching forward to grab her drawing.
She remained silent as he scanned over every detail.
When a plethora of emotions flashed across his face, she knew he’d seen all the thoughts and emotions she’d poured into the sketch.
Lane had been the one to teach her how to draw all those years ago. When he’d found a pile of papers recording all of her ramblings, he’d quickly admonished her, trying to impress upon her it wasn’t safe to write about rebelling against the Capitol. It wasn’t safe to write about their father’s death or the rebellion. Instead, he showed her how to capture her thoughts and feelings through images. ‘So no one can accuse you of treason,’ he’d said.
Lane finally met her eyes and held the drawing out to her, his lips drawn into a thin line. “It looks nice.”
She hesitated before taking it back. “Thank you.”
This all felt wrong. There was none of their usual teasing or playful insults. For weeks it felt as if they had been walking on eggshells around the other, neither of them sure what to say.
Was this how both Cynthia and Jasper’s families felt when their reaping came along? What about the others? Halle remembered the faces of their families when their children’s names had been called. None of them had been surprised. They’d been devastated and heartbroken, as any parent would be when their child is sent off to the Hunger Games, but they had known it was coming. After all, they were on what had been deemed the list.
Just like me, she thought to herself.
She took a deep breath before moving away from her bed. Walking over to Lane, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Why don’t we go downstairs and help Cody?”
Lane glanced at the hand on his shoulder. Instead of replying, he simply nodded and pushed himself away from his bed, her hand falling once he reached his full height.
Before she could follow, Lane turned around to face her. Even though he was twenty-one and no longer had to worry about getting reaped, so much could still be seen in those stormy eyes of his. He opened his mouth to speak, but promptly shut it before rubbing a hand along his jaw. Whatever he’d wanted to say was replaced with a reluctant smile. “Go ahead and get ready first,” he said. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Halle nodded and watched as he left.
Instead of stewing in her emotions, she immediately did as she’d been told. After washing up, she slipped on a green dress for the reaping. Because all of her other clothes had been too small, Sophie had been kind enough to lend Halle a dress she’d worn the previous year. It was short-sleeved with buttons that ran down the middle and had two pockets on the bodice. The hem fell to the middle of her calves and swished with each step she took. It felt strange wearing something so nice, and she found herself itching to shrug on her tattered, muddied jacket, but she restrained herself. There would be no point hiding from the cameras.
She glanced over at her worn-out flats. They were a little tight, so she decided to slip on her boots until they had to leave. Her hair was a beast to tackle all on its own, mostly because there was so much of it, but she finally managed to wrangle her red curls into a half-ponytail.
She gave herself a once-over in the mirror of her mother’s old vanity.
Keep it together, Hal.
She was just about to go downstairs when she noticed the drawing still resting on her bed. It wasn’t her best. The lines were rough, and there were smudges from where her hand had rubbed along the graphite. A strange emotion threatened to come bubbling up, but before she let it surface, she walked over and grabbed her drawing, then crouched down to slide out the box from underneath her bed. She set the drawing on top of all the others with gentle hands and left her bedroom to go downstairs.
Her uncle’s cabin wasn’t very big. Cody was one of the rangers who helped manage the forest and scout out new logging sites, so he had to live in the outer sectors of the district. It was a dingy little cabin with a patched-up door, a cramped kitchen, and very little moving space. If one wanted to go to the living room, all they had to do was walk two steps over to the frayed couch.
As soon as her feet hit the ground of the first floor, a variety of smells filled the air. She noticed Lane had already begun setting the table with chipped plates and bent utensils. He squeezed past Cody to grab something else from the cupboard, and she smiled when he grabbed her favorite mug, a grisly little thing with colors that vaguely resembled the shade of vomit.
Uncle Cody stood at the kitchen sink as he washed some berries, ones that she recognized came from the surrounding forest. Cody had broad, muscular shoulders, a shock of flaming red hair, and a scruffy beard that fell to the top of his chest, a true logger in every sense of the word. And yet, he looked nothing like his usual, doughty self while he wore an apron and handled the berries with such tender care.
She folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “Anything I can help with?” she asked.
Lane glanced up, finally taking notice of her, before shaking his head. “I’m almost done setting the table.”
“There should be some juice in the fridge,” Cody said with a scratchy voice, not once removing his attention from the berries he washed, “if you wouldn’t mind grabbing it.”
“Sure thing.”
She pushed herself away from the wall and squeezed between Cody and the table, mumbling a ‘sorry’ when she bumped into his shoulder, before opening the fridge. There wasn’t a lot of food stored there. Because the three of them worked so much—Halle less so because of school—they never had to starve, but quality food was still difficult to come by. Some of what they ate came from the forest, but because of the sawmills and the large number of workers that ranged the forest, it was near impossible to find a bush that hadn’t already been foraged, or a stray animal to catch. That was why they had to rely on the limited supply of food in town.
Halle couldn’t apply for the tesserae, courtesy of being on the list, she assumed.
The juice sat in a jug on the top shelf. Halle and Lane made it yesterday after school in preparation for today. She reached out to grab the handle and pulled it out, careful not to spill any of its contents. Before she closed the fridge door, however, she paused. Nestled in the back of the fridge, previously hidden by the juice she now held, was something she hadn’t seen in years.
She sucked in a breath. “Cody?”
“Hm?”
“There’s pie in here.”
Cody didn’t respond.
“Is this Mom’s recipe?”
He simply said, “You can set the pie and juice next to the bread.”
With shaky hands, she grabbed the pie with her other hand and closed the fridge door with her hip, her mind reeling with questions as she walked over to the table.
Cody finished washing the berries and placed them in a wooden bowl. There was freshly baked bread, which had been cut into orderly slices, some cooked fish, one for each of them to eat, and a medium-sized bowl filled with rice. They ate like this for every reaping once they realized what was happening. Most families waited until after the reaping to celebrate the fact their children had survived another year. Halle’s family didn’t have that luxury, so they made a point to eat beforehand.
She was careful when she placed the jug on the table, its orange contents sloshing around as Lane took a seat. When she went to place the pie down, she hesitated. Cody hadn’t baked any pie for her previous reapings. The smell was overwhelming. Just how the hell did he get the ingredients? Did he steal a sack of flour? Bribe the bakery? She didn’t even know he’d known the recipe.
“You ready to eat?”
Her head shot up, and she saw that Cody was looking at her expectantly as he dried his hands off on his apron.
She gave a quick nod and placed the pie next to the bread. She took a seat next to Lane, whose arms were folded across his chest. Cody pulled his apron over his head and hung it on a hook on the wall before sitting down across from them, letting out a slight huff when he sank into the chair.
The table was set, the food was ready, and yet, none of them made any moves to eat. They each sat there with their heads turned down, wearing frowns as the reality of the situation began to catch up with them.
Cody shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “I guess we should start eating then.”
Lane and Cody didn’t look like they wanted to eat at all. Halle couldn’t blame them. She was even beginning to feel a bit nauseous.
She racked her brain for something that she could say to cheer them up, but her mind went blank. What could she say? She’d hardly seen them the past couple of weeks. The closer the day had come, the more they’d all seemed to avoid each other. Lane took on extra shifts at the sawmills, Cody stayed up at odd hours wandering the woods, and Halle did everything she could to ignore the stares and hushed whispers that followed her at school and work.
When the silence continued she took a deep breath and sat up straight. If this was to be their last meal together, she should at least pretend that she had it together.
She glanced up at Cody and forced a smile. “The food looks great.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
And the food did look great. Cody had become a skilled cook over the years. Ever since she and Lane had been placed under his custody, he had made it a point to never let them go without a meal, even if that meant taking on extra shifts or not eating himself. Their father’s death had taken a toll on all of them, especially their uncle, but he never let it show. Today, however, there was no hiding his emotion.
Realizing that neither Lane nor Cody were going to eat until she did, Halle sighed and picked up her fork, first cutting into the fish and taking a big bite as she savored the taste. Once they noticed she wasn’t going to force them to talk, Lane and Cody began eating their food, although it seemed like Lane was pushing it around instead of actually eating.
A weighted silence filled the room. She sometimes looked up in between bites and saw Cody look outside with empty eyes, or Lane clench his jaw with barely concealed emotion. She knew what was going on in their heads—it was probably all of the same thoughts racing through hers. Still, she made an effort to maintain a sense of normalcy. She made small talk, reminisced about the past, and tried her best to pry a smile out of Cody. Lane didn’t seem willing to participate.
By the time dinner settled down, she noticed that the pie had been left untouched. She stared at it for a moment, memories of a different time flashing through her mind.
“It’s Mom’s blueberry pie,” she said, breaking the silence.
It was no longer a question. The smell, the filling, the weaved top crust, was just as she remembered. She would know Mom’s pie anywhere.
Cody rubbed his hand along his beard. “I asked around for the ingredients and called in a few favors. It was important to me that we have it . . . before you have to go.”
Lane shuffled in his seat, but she ignored him, keeping her focus on Cody.
“Thank you,” she said, grateful that her voice wasn’t too unsteady.
“It was nothing.”
Except, it wasn’t nothing. Cody wasn’t much of a talker. He showed he cared in other ways. Sometimes that meant polishing her and Lane’s work boots, or leaving them an extra portion of food. As she looked back at the pie, affection swelled in her chest, and she promised herself that she would at least try to preserve what little peace they had left.
She picked up her knife and cut the pie into even pieces. She placed one slice on her plate and stared at it for a moment before she grabbed her fork and began eating. Cody grabbed a slice too, but Lane only sat there, his arms folded as he stared pointedly out of the window. Her gaze lingered on him, and she hesitated before stopping herself from taking another bite. “You don’t want any?” she asked. Lane had always loved Mom’s pies. When they were kids, he had been the one to lick his plate clean.
“No.”
Halle frowned. “Lane—”
“I said no,” Lane bit out. “I don’t want any pie, and I’m not going to sit here and pretend like everything’s okay.” He turned to glare at her. “Don’t you realize how fucked up this is?”
She watched him for a moment, struggling to contain the sudden rush of emotions. Lane was normally her voice of reason, but this was different. He was helpless to save her and would fight until they took her away to the Capitol. But she didn’t want to fight. All she wanted, all she was allowed to want, was to enjoy what little time she had left.
“What do you want me to do?” she finally asked. “Do you want me to break down? Storm the Capitol?”
“No! I’m just saying maybe we’ve been getting ahead of ourselves.” He leaned forward, desperation in his eyes. “Isn’t there a chance they won’t pick you? We can’t know for sure—”
“We’ve been through this. I’m next. Everyone knows it.”
He shook his head. “It’s just a dumb list! They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“Lane,” she pleaded, desperate for him to understand. “I just want to finish my last meal with my family. I may have lucked out for the past three years, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. The rest of them are gone. I’m the only one left. Do you really want to spend our time together arguing about this?”
Lane stared at her for a moment, allowing her words to sink in, before deflating in his seat as he shook his head. She looked over and noticed Cody pushing pie around on his plate, a deep frown on his face. The abrupt silence and the emotions that came with it settled like a weight on her skin.
This was what she had been worried about. Not just what she would have to do, but the toll it would take on her family. And that was the point, wasn’t it? This was what the Capitol wanted. After the rebellion four years ago, they wanted to make sure no one would ever consider fighting back. It wasn’t just about the people who were killed, it was about the people who were left behind. Crush their spirits, take the lives of those they cared about, show them they have no power, and maybe the next time they would think twice about standing up for themselves.
Halle released a sigh. “I’m going to try.”
Cody and Lane’s heads shot up from their plates, and they looked at her with wary eyes. “What?” Lane asked.
“I want you both to know that I haven’t given up. You know I’m going to try, so just . . . don’t look so down, okay?” She smiled. She glanced down at her barely touched pie and decided she was no longer hungry. They would have to leave soon anyway.
They grew silent as she stood up and cleared her plate, wrapped up the pie, and moved over to the sink to wash off her dishes. She was careful to make sure no food went to waste and was properly preserved.
“Besides,” she said, turning to face them as she wiped off her hands on a dry towel, “why worry about what hasn’t happened?”
And yet, they would worry. Even now, before her name was called, she could already see they were imagining the worst-case scenario. No matter what she said, or how she tried to reassure them, they would worry. Their eyes would be locked to the screen as they watched her in the coming weeks, taking in every score and interview, or anything that would serve as proof she was still alive . . . until she wasn’t.
She softened when she saw their faces, a little more calm, though still not pleased. She walked up behind Cody and gave him a small hug. “Thanks for the food, Cody.”
“Of course,” he mumbled.
She then made her way over to Lane and gave him a hug. “And thank you for caring.”
He immediately wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close, as if afraid she would disappear if he let go. “Always,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
She basked in his warmth before pulling away. Outside, she could see the sun towering over their home. It would be time for the reaping soon. She told Lane and Cody she would let them clean up, and they could leave as soon as they were done. She made her way upstairs, moving with fervor so they couldn’t see the way her hands had begun to shake.
Her only consolation was that after today, it would end with her, regardless of the outcome.