Snowdrop

Chapter 2

What have I signed myself up to? I think, as I walk towards the stage.
I know everyone is staring at me, and briefly I wonder what Ember will think of me doing this. I know, from Bailey's death-glare, that she certainly isn't happy with my decision, but I couldn't let her go in there alone.
"And what, my dear, is your name?" Maximus asks as I mount the stage.
I swallow. My throat is dry, and I feel like I might choke. This has only happened a handful of times before, and usually it's been when I've run too far without water.
"Melia. Melia Cressview," I say.
I wince at the sound of my voice. Weak. I sound weak.
"Well, that's certainly a surprise! Two volunteers from District Twelve in the same Games!" He grins his scary grin, then crosses to the other reaping ball. "And now, for the boys."
My stomach squelches into knots again as I stand beside Bailey. A wind is beginning to pick up now, and my skirt flaps about my knees.
I look down at the crowd. My mother stands with the oldest two and Posy. She still has a hand on Misty's mother's shoulder, but I see her pained expression. Kaitlynn has buried her face in her hands, and Burnet shifts Posy on his hip.
"Ember Cressview!"
My mother changes in an instant. Her hand flies to her mouth, and her knees buckle. Even from up here, I can still hear a strangled cry of, "My babies!" Kaitlynn crouches beside her, pulls my mother's head onto her shoulder.
I close my eyes and exhale, forcing myself to keep calm. My breakfast is threatening to come up. A hand squeezes my own.
I open my eyes and look over to my brother's age group. It's not hard to find him; all heads are turned towards him as he moves towards the stage.
His fists are clenched, his face drained of all colour, and I'm not sure if it's because I volunteered or because he was reaped. He looks up at me for a fraction of a second, but it's enough to see that little flicker of anger. He takes his place beside me, grabs my other hand.
"Siblings... oh, my. What a pity," says Maximus, his voice hushed. He sounds genuinely upset. "Do we have any volunteers?"
I know Burnet would if he were still eligible. But nobody, not one person, steps forward to volunteer for my brother. They all stare up at us. Cowards.
"No? All right. Now for our final tribute." He spends an unnecessarily long time scrabbling around for the final name, then looks out at the crowd for a few seconds before he speaks. "Haymitch Abernathy."
The boy, a grumpy-looking sixteen from the Seam, makes his way to stand beside Ember. He barely looks at us, instead glaring straight ahead.
Maximus asks for volunteers, but nobody comes forward. "Oh boy. I think these are going to be the best Games yet! I present, the tributes of District Twelve!"
Nobody claps. Haymitch barely has time to snort derisively before my brother takes up his hand. Then, as if he and Misty have been planning this, they raise our arms up into the air, our fingers linked. You can almost see the district give a collective gasp.
I'm not quite sure what this means, but I know the President won't like it. He won't like our unity, our blatant disregard for everything the Games symbolise. We aren't supposed to act like friends. We're supposed to be the bitterest of enemies.
The mayor motions for us to shake hands. It's far more fuss than any other year, since there's four of us. Ember squeezes my hand and gives me the smallest of smiles, his eyes overly bright as if he's trying not to cry. We all turn to face the crowd again as the anthem blares, then we're taken into the Justice Building.
I'm led to another room, where I sit by myself. If it weren't for the horrible circumstances, I might like this room. The carpets are thick and fluffy, the couch covered in this deep red, soft fabric. I can't name the material, but I run my hands over it obsessively.
Should I cry? Should I pretend to be weak? I remember a few years ago, a boy did nothing but weep and snivel, and he was overlooked to the point where nobody paid him any attention. He ended up battering the last tribute to death with a rock. It was awful, but obviously the tactic works.
But then my family burst through the door and my mother envelops me in her arms. "My baby," she murmurs into my hair.
I look over her shoulder. Kaitlynn looks like she's been crying and has made no attempt to wipe the tears, and Burnet's face is pale.
"Posy?" I ask.
"She's with Aspen," Burnet replies, speaking of the old woman who lives next to us. She's quite kind, and often offers to look after Posy when my mother is busy and the rest of us are at school or work.
Burnet folds his arms, shooting me a half-smile. "You're so stupid, Mel, you know that?"
My mother pulls away, wipes her eyes. I force out a laugh, but it sounds wrong.
"Yes, I know. But I'm going to do my best to get out of these Games, I promise. You guys – you guys can't stop. No matter what you see on the screen, no matter how awful it is..." I trail off, biting my lip. Ember should be saying these words. He's the one they'll listen to.
But Burnet simply nods. "Of course we will. I'll look after Mum and Kaitlynn –"
"Oi! I can take care of myself, thanks!" my sister snaps.
" – yes, and you won't be if anything happens in the arena," retorts Burnet. Kaitlynn's mouth snaps shut. "And I won't let anything happen to Posy. I'll make sure we've got enough food. I mean, half the district's tributes are from our family, there'll be no shortage of gifts from people. I daresay that girl you volunteered for will bring something."
I nod. He's right. Every year, the families of the tributes get gifts from others around the district. It's almost like we know that something will happen to the tributes, so we give the families food to help them through it. We know they'll almost stop living once they see their sons and daughters die.
I look sternly at my brother and sister. "And don't you two even think about arguing while we're gone. I know what you're like, but you can't." I feel like my mother, looking tiredly at them after one of their petty screaming matches. They just nod.
The door opens, and a Peacekeeper gestures to my family. "Time's up."
But it's too soon – too soon, and I'm leaping from the couch, hugging my mother and siblings so hard I almost hear my ribs creaking. I'm saying, "I love you, I love you all," and they're saying it back, then the Peacekeeper orders them out. The door slams shut, and I'm alone.
My eyes burn, and I wipe them fiercely with the back of my hand. I refuse to cry. But the lump in the back of my throat is growing with every second, and it's harder to keep the tears in.
The door opens again. I don't know who this person is. She's quite pretty, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Definitely a merchant's kid. She gives me a watery smile.
"Hello," she says, in a voice she's struggling to keep steady. I just stare at her, unsure of what to say. "I'm – I'm Maysilee. You volunteered for me."
"Oh! Um, hello." I'm not quite sure why she's here.
"I just wanted to say thank you. What you did... it was so brave, and I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you." She perches on the couch beside me.
"Oh, no. Don't worry, it's fine."
"I brought you these." She pulls a small paper bag from her pocket. "They're peppermints, from the sweet shop. My father, he gave them to me for you."
"I – I can't take them. Honestly, it's all right. I only needed a thank you." I smile, but Maysilee pushes them into my hands.
"Take them, we've got plenty more in the shop. I do live there, after all." She laughs, then goes quiet, as though she's thinking. "You seem brave. I'm sure you'll do well in the arena."
I shake my head. "No. I'll be the first one gone." And, despite my less-than-thrilled mood, we both snort with laughter.
"I expect the Peacekeepers will be ordering me out soon," Maysilee says. She leans forward and kisses my cheek, then stands. "Again, thank you." Then she's gone.
I look down at the crumpled bag in my hands. We've never been able to afford sweets, but I remember when I was younger, much younger, Kaitlynn would always take me to the window of the sweet shop so we could gaze in at the brightly-coloured candies. I won't ever be able to do that with Posy. I wonder if she'll remember me when I'm gone?
Someone else enters the room. It's Bailey's mother, Ivy. She's been crying. Her eyes and nose are puffy, her eyelashes spiky with tears.
I stand, and she says nothing, just hugs me. I don't know what to say, so I return the embrace. After a few minutes, Ivy pulls away and presses a cool hand to my cheek.
"I'll take care of them," she says. "And you'll look after each other in the arena, I know."
I nod. "Of course we will. I – I'll try and bring Bailey home."
Ivy gives a small smile, shakes her head slightly. "No. She was never made for these Games, you know that." I'm startled by how dismissive she is of her own daughter. "You and Ember, you'll try your best to keep yourselves safe, but..." She trails off, but I know what she means.
Don't blame yourself for her death.
She's given up on her daughter already.
The Peacekeepers are back. "Good luck, Melia," Ivy says, then turns and walks away quietly. I'm left staring after her, unsure of what to say.
A pair of Peacekeepers marches me out of the Justice Building and into a car, where we're driven – like cattle or like royalty – to the train station. As we all four stand, waiting for the cameras to catch a good look at us, Ember catches my hand in his and holds on like a lifeline.
We're going to have to look after each other if we want to survive.