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It was an early summer afternoon in District 12, the sun blazing overhead, not a cloud to be seen in the sky. It was almost silent, save for the sounds of crickets hiding in the long grass and the birds around them, accompanied by Wyatt’s low, gentle voice as he read aloud to Maysilee beneath a willow tree, her head resting comfortably in his lap.
She twirled her hair as she listened, eyes trained on the clouds before flickering back to the sight above her.
Wyatt’s black hair was a tousled mess, the sleeves of his coal stained dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, toned arms.
She could watch him like this all day.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked, moving the book aside, a smile daring to appear as he peered down at her.
Maysilee felt her heart pick up and her stomach dip, though she wouldn’t dare show it. Instead, she smirked up at him, her eyes round and full of mischief.
“Not really,” she teased with a shrug.
Before Wyatt could even think of a response, she grabbed him by his suspenders, pulling him down to her lips to which he gleefully accepted, letting the book fall to the ground beneath them, his eyes fluttering closed, more than ready to feel the brush of her lips against his until a bitter voice cut through the air.
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t the bitch of District 12 and her booker boy dog.”
A tall girl in a faded blue dress stood a few paces away, her pale, gaunt face contorted with barely contained anger.
Maysilee only rolled her eyes, her hand slipping from Wyatt’s suspenders as he pushed himself up, helping her to her feet.
“Watch your mouth!” he warned. “And I’m an oddsmaker, not a booker boy.”
The girl scoffed, her next words laced with venom.
“Like there’s any real difference. You’re scum, just like the rest of your pathetic family.”
Maysilee smoothed out her baby pink dress and sighed in annoyance.
“God, Holly, isn’t there an outhouse you should be sticking that hideous head of yours into right about now?” she bit out. “Go, scram!” She waved the girl away.
Holly shot her a sarcastic smile. “Funny. I finished my rounds hours ago.”
She made her way toward Maysilee with unsettling slowness.
“I heard this ugly willow tree was a spot you frequented, so I just had to check it out, see what you were up to.” She shot Wyatt a stone cold glare before coming face to face with the blonde beside him.
A cruel smirk spread across Holly’s face as she reached out, grabbing one of Maysilee’s many necklaces, a silver, heart-shaped locket and turned it over in her hand.
Wyatt’s arm shot out in front of Maysilee protectively, his face full of concern. She locked eyes with him and shook her head. A silent signal that it was okay. She could handle it.
“Imagine my surprise to see the smug, uptight merchant girl with a coal-digging, lowlife betting loser but on second thought, you deserve each other. You’re both good for nothing vermin, after all,” she said, faux sweetness lining her words.
Maysilee kept her head held high, staring daggers at Holly.
“I couldn’t care less what you say about me, but keep Wyatt out of that filthy, cavity filled mouth of yours before you end up regretting it,” she snapped back, eyes narrowed.
Holly’s grasp on Maysilee’s necklace tightened.
“Him and his rotten family bet and profited off my little sister’s death last year!” she spat, tugging at the necklace.
“I'm sorry about your sister, Holly. I really am. But just let us be. You’re doing yourself no favours by insulting and harassing us. You’re only making things worse for yourself,” Wyatt told her calmly, shifting closer to Maysilee.
Holly said nothing, only tugged forcefully on the necklace, snapping the chain and clasping it greedily in her palm.
“I’ll be taking this,” she cooed with a fake smile, turning on her heels to walk away.
Wyatt jumped forward to intervene, but Maysilee stopped him.
“I can only hope it’ll be your death they’re betting and profiting over next.”
Maysilee’s harsh, anger-filled words had Holly stopping dead in her tracks, unmoving. A long, uncomfortable stretch of silence followed, the air so tight it felt suffocating.
Holly’s broken laugh filled the air, and before she could react, Maysilee was struck hard and fast, sending her to the ground with a thump, the taste of metal filling her mouth as her ears rang.
A panicked voice reached her through the fog, accompanied by Holly’s retreating footsteps.
“Maysilee! Are you okay?!”
She shook her head in an attempt to steady her swaying surroundings, snapping back to reality when she felt the warmth and steadiness of Wyatt’s hands cradling her face.
“I’m fine, I’m okay,” she croaked, letting him pull her up on shaky legs.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, bringing it to her nose. “Easy. You’re bleeding.” He dabbed gently, soaking up the blood before moving to the split at the corner of her mouth.
“She—she can’t get away with this,” Wyatt stammered, his hand trembling as he cleaned the last of the blood.
Maysilee’s hand found his, the trembling ceasing at her touch, steady and reassuring.
“She won’t. I’ll make sure of it,” she promised. “I only regret that I didn’t get the chance to strike her back twice as hard.”
He let out a shaky laugh. “All that matters is that you’re okay.”
Maysilee felt her heart constrict with a painful ache at his words.
She smiled weakly, gazing longingly at the boy whose existence was one of the only good, stable things in her miserable, candy selling life here in District 12, apart from her dear sister Merrilee.
Everyone around them thought him cold and heartless, but she didn’t, she never had. All she saw was a boy with a heart of gold, selfless and endlessly kind.
How deeply could you love another? And where did it end? Maysilee didn’t know, for when it came to Wyatt, it was infinite and ever-expanding.
“There, all done,” he breathed out, eyes finding hers, sad but relieved.
She stepped back somewhat awkwardly, hands tucked behind her. “Thank you…” her voice trailed off before finding its way again. “I better get home, get myself cleaned up properly and all.” She gestured to her dirty dress.
“Are you okay walking back alone? I can come with you.”
Maysilee shook her head and smiled. “I’ll be fine.” A moment of silence. “See you tomorrow?”
Wyatt nodded.
A sense of dread washed over him as he watched her go. It followed him home, growing heavier as the day wore on. The incident plagued him, replaying over and over in his mind, like his scrip coin he’d been obsessively flipping in his palm since entering the house.
It was evening now and Wyatt found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, unable to relax. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a bundle of cloth tied with a pink bow. Maysilee’s gift, the one he’d planned to give her before Holly ruined everything. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow, he had to see her now.
He stood, placing it back in his pocket and quickly shrugged on a jacket and some shoes, and made his way downstairs, slipping out the front door unnoticed.
Despite the late hour, people were still out and about, working and keeping to themselves. As he left The Seam, a black armoured truck caught Wyatt’s attention, followed by a piercing scream. Two Peacekeepers hauled a kicking, thrashing girl into the back of it, slamming the doors shut.
Holly.
He averted his gaze immediately and kept his head low as he passed, headed for Town Square.
The Donner’s sweet shop was a sight for sore eyes when he finally reached it. He slipped into the alley beside it and emerged at the back of the shop, gaining a clear view of Maysilee’s room above.
Wyatt picked up some small pebbles from the ground, tossing them at her window until he saw the flicker of an oil lamp and Maysilee’s tired, confused face as she opened the window and peered down at him.
”Wyatt!?” she called out in a loud whisper.
He said nothing, only gestured for her to come down. She sighed and turned, disappearing from view, reappearing moments later on the back porch of the sweets shop.
Maysilee yawned, oil lamp in hand, dressed in a white linen nightgown. “You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” she mumbled, sitting on the porch steps and placing the lamp beside her. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”
Wyatt joined her, their shoulders brushing as he nestled close. “I just needed to talk to you.” His mind wandered to what he’d seen on the way over. “Holly…I saw her being taken away in the back of a truck. What happened?”
Maysilee smiled to herself. “I passed her the other day in the streets. She was rambling about a stash of guns she apparently had. It was nothing to me, until today.” She brought her fingers to the cut on her lip. “I dobbed her in. Told the head Peacekeeper I’d heard she was keeping guns.”
She paused and looked at Wyatt with a glint in her eye.
“I might’ve said something about her planning to rebel. And well, the part about the guns must’ve been true if she’s been hauled away. She never did know how to close that loud mouth of hers.”
Holly deserved it, he decided. He’d felt terrible about her sister and his part in it, but she’d been a thorn in both their sides for a long time, and now that she’d attacked Maysilee, she’d gone too far.
“Did you tell your father what happened?”
Maysilee shook her head. “God, no. He already hates that we’re together. His one rule is that we remain discreet. If I told him I’d been assaulted while in your company, he’d lose it and forbid me from ever seeing you again.”
“He’d take me away from you and—” Maysilee hesitated, intertwining her fingers with his. “I wouldn’t be able to handle that.”
Wyatt felt his stomach twist as he looked at her.
Holly hadn’t known her, not like he did. None of them did.
District 12 saw a mean, vicious girl, but Wyatt knew what was hidden beneath it all. It was a front, a wall she had built to protect herself, a way to unleash the anger she felt toward the Capitol, toward being stripped of her individuality and forced to work behind a counter for the rest of her life.
Her cage may be golden, but it was still a cage.
Wyatt had known from the moment he laid eyes on her that she was far more than what she showed the world, more than the stories and whispers.
She was strong and resilient, braver than most. And though she liked to pretend otherwise, she was sweet, caring, and good-hearted.
He loved her, all of her. Flaws and all.
That’s why he had to do this.
“I think we should stop this,” he exhaled nervously.
Maysilee stilled beside him. “What!? Stop what?” she asked, voice uneven.
“Us,” Wyatt bit out, unable to look at her.
“What—why!?”
The shocked, broken tone of her voice made Wyatt snap his eyes back to her. She didn’t pull her hand away, only held on tighter.
Wyatt took a deep breath.
“You were assaulted and I’ve been feeling sick about it ever since. It’s why I had to see you tonight. My biggest fear came true, and I can’t be complacent in that. Us being together puts you at risk and I refuse to be the reason you get hurt or worse, killed!”
Maysilee scoffed, shaking her head.
“Come on, Wyatt. We’ve been discreet like my father asked! What happened today was just a once off. Besides, they’ll hate us whether we’re together or apart!”
“But that’s the thing, Mays. We haven’t been discreet, not really. We’ve been careless, and I know. But they hate us a lot more when we’re together. Today proved that.”
Her eyes welled with tears as the realisation hit. His mind was made up, he wouldn’t waver.
“So we just never see each other again? Pretend that—” she gestured between them, her voice high and thick with emotion. “This doesn’t matter?”
“I…we should go about our lives, like we did before we met. It’ll be—” He stuttered, holding back tears. “God, it’ll be hard.” His eyes caught Maysilee’s devastated face, and he hesitated. A selfish part of him didn’t want to let go of her completely, not yet, not ever.
Wyatt let out a pained sigh and cleared his throat.
“I don’t want us to be apart forever. The idea alone is unbearable. Maybe—“ He stopped for a moment, then continued.
“The reaping is in a couple weeks and tensions are higher than normal. We lay low, act like we don’t know each other until things settle down. Then maybe…maybe we can find a way to be together, not just discreetly, but privately. We’d have to take it seriously this time. District 12 isn’t huge, but there must be places no one has discovered. A place just for us. There must be.”
He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing softly across her skin.
Maysilee wasn’t a public crier. She refused to let anyone see her tears, burying her sadness and grief deep down, reserved only for those she trusted and loved most like Merrilee. And now, Wyatt.
She burst into tears before she could stop herself, her head in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably. She soon felt the warmth of Wyatt’s hands on her face and the strong embrace of his arms pulling her into a tight hug.
She clung to him, tugging at the soft, worn material of his jacket.
“We can get through this. We’ll get through this,” he soothed, rubbing comforting circles on her back.
Once she was calm again, Maysilee pulled back, drying her remaining tears with the backs of her hands.
“We will,” she said fiercely, a sad smile on her lips.
A breeze rattled a nearby wind chime, and with it an idea entered Wyatt’s head.
“I have one reaping left, you have three. What if in three years—” Wyatt took her hand. “The abandoned farmhouse on the hill, the one with the pond.”
Maysilee tilted her head, intrigued.
“After we escape the reaping once and for all, we could live there, together. Just us. Far from The Seam and Town Square, far from our disagreeable families and everyone who despises us. A place to call our own. And…” He looked away, then back again nervously. “Maybe even get married.”
Maysilee’s breath hitched. Married.
And for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a life where that was possible, a life where the odds were in their favour.
“That’d be lovely,” she whispered. “There’s nothing I’d want more, Wyatt.”
He was an oddsmaker, it went against his very nature to believe in anything not built on facts and evidence. Yet, for once in his life, he allowed himself to forget the odds stacked against them and simply dream.
“All of this we’re going through, it has to be worth it. For our future,” he smiled, reaching into his pocket and handing her his gift. “For you.”
She glanced up at him with curiosity and untied the ribbon, revealing a heart-shaped glass vial necklace.
“It’s beautiful!” she gasped, holding it up in the moonlight. “Where did you find it?”
“I put it together myself. I found the vial at The Hobb,” Wyatt said, watching her reaction. “I know you love your perfume. It’s small, but I figured it’s good for touch ups during the day.”
“It’s perfect. I love it!” she gushed, her smile faltering a fraction. “I feel bad, I don’t have anything for you.”
“You already got me my strip coin, that’s more than enough,” he said, hand resting on the coin in his pocket.
In the early days of their relationship, Maysilee had noticed Wyatt’s nervousness and constant fidgeting and had searched for something to help calm him, coming across an abandoned scrip coin.
It had become his most treasured possession, and there wasn’t a day he didn’t carry it with him.
“Here, let me,” Wyatt offered, gesturing for her to turn around.
She handed him the necklace and turned, gathering her hair above her neck. Her heart picked up at the sensation of Wyatt’s breath on her neck and the soft brush of his fingers as he slid the necklace on.
“There we go,”
She laced her fingers around the necklace lovingly. “Thank you,” she murmured, turning back to face him, her eyes drifting to his lips.
It was well past midnight now, and they both knew one of them would have to leave first eventually.
Still, neither moved, they didn’t want this moment to end, knowing that when it did, their time apart would inevitably begin.
So Maysilee leaned forward, and Wyatt mirrored her, until their foreheads touched and their noses brushed.
And after a long, quiet moment, he brought his hands up, fingers grazing her cheeks before cupping her face gently and leaning in, sweeping her up into a kiss that was slow and impossibly sweet.
She melted against him, revelling in the feel of him against her for a brief second before returning the kiss, slow at first, then faster, more passionate, a whimper slipping through as she did.
Wyatt’s restraint snapped at the sound and he pulled her in closer, his kisses becoming heated and urgent in return.
Maysilee responded without hesitation, wrapping her hands around his neck, desperate for more.
They kissed for what seemed like forever, until they were forced to break apart for air, their breathing laboured and heavy, foreheads pressed together.
“Promise—” she began, “promise me this won’t be the last time. That we’ll be together again soon, that we’ll make it work, somehow, someway.”
“I promise.”
A beat of silence.
“I love you,” Maysilee confessed breathlessly, fingers dancing on the back of his neck.
“I love you too,” he proclaimed with a smile, his grip on her tightening.
Another beat of silence. Reality sinking in with it.
“I better get back inside now,” she said hesitantly, hands slipping from his neck. Wyatt nodded, savouring the last moments of her beneath his fingertips before letting go.
Maysilee stood, oil lamp in hand, walking backward onto the porch landing. Her sad, grief stricken eyes never once leaving Wyatt.
Helplessness gnawed at him as he watched her move further and further away.
“See you soon,” she said with a small smile, before turning around and slipping inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
Only the sounds of the wind chime and crickets remained.
Her absence was deafening.
Wyatt lowered his head into his lap, biting the sleeve of his jacket as he cried, his body racked by the sobs that crashed over him. He sucked in a breath or two, willing himself to calm down, and stood, forcing himself back toward the alley he came from but not before glancing up at Maysilee’s bedroom one last time.
The odds of them working out in a world like theirs were slim to none. Wyatt knew it. But as he gazed at her window, he chose not numbers or calculations but hope.
And with that, he turned and made his way back home.