Chapter Text
“Good gadgets, kid, ya scared the crap out of me!”
Acie Pascal startled, jumping near out of his skin. His elbow collided with his notebook, sending it careening onto the floor. His pencil and pen clattered down a second later. He bent down to pick them up, flushing.
“S-sorry.”
The school janitor stood silhouetted in the doorway, hands on his hips. The scant light illuminated the hints of a scowl on his face.
“Why are ya still here, anyway? School ended hours ago.”
“I-I lost track of time,” Acie half-lied, ducking his head with shame. “Sorry.”
The janitor cocked his head. “What were ya doin' that's so important that ya didn't even notice the freakin' sun goin' down?”
He jabbed a finger towards the classroom window. The sky wasn't completely dark yet — not that it ever fully got dark at night in Three due to the pollution — but it wouldn't be long before night fully set in. Acie's eyes must have grown so accustomed to the dark that he didn't notice the change in lighting.
“I was studying for my chemistry test on Friday,” Acie answered. It was true — he needed to study for his chemistry test. He'd bomb it otherwise if he didn't study until balancing chemical reactions haunted his dreams at night.
The janitor sighed, leaning on his broom handle. “Kid, the Reaping's tomorrow. You should go home and rest. Don't ya gotta get up early tomorrow mornin' to catch the train?”
The Reaping. Acie really didn't want the reminder. The upcoming Reaping was the whole reason Acie was here in the first place. He didn't want to be at home. Home would be too silent, too morose. He couldn't deal with that. He had a test to study for.
The janitor jabbed his thumb behind him. “Get outta here. I need to clean this classroom.”
He'd have to go home eventually. Now was as good a time as any.
Acie nodded and mumbled another apology, before sweeping his things into his bookbag and setting off for home.
The Pascal family lived in one of the many blocky, crammed apartment buildings that made up North City's Serv district. It was only a fifteen-minute walk from school, but at twilight, it felt like much longer. At night there was always the off-chance that you'd get mugged or that you'd get approached by someone not in their right mind. Thankfully, that night, the streets were quiet. The only souls Acie saw were weary factory workers, heading home like he was. No one bothered him.
At long last, Acie reached his apartment. He counted to three before slowly opening the door, careful not to make too much noise. He then stood still and listened for a moment. The only sound was the buzzing of the hallway lights and the ticking of the kitchen clock.
Acie relaxed, relief sweeping through him. His parents must have gone to bed early, anticipating tomorrow morning's early awakening. He wouldn't have to face them and the complicated emotions associated.
Acie crept to his bedroom, again opening the door as silent as he could. Inside, Siri was curled up asleep, curls splayed across her pillow. She stirred as he closed the door, but didn't wake up.
At one point, there had been three people crammed into the bedroom, but now only two remained. The only evidence that there had been a third sibling were the clothes hanging in the closet — clothes that Acie had recently started wearing, as he’d outgrown all his own clothes and they didn't have the money for new clothes. Acie had commandeered Gemini's bunk long ago, using it as a storage shelf. Gemini wasn't there anymore to use it, so might as well make use of it.
It was that bunk that Acie set his bookbag down upon, careful not to wake Siri. He slipped into his pajamas, ignoring his growling stomach. He forgot to eat dinner, didn't he? Oh well. This wasn't the first time he'd forgone dinner in favor of studying. He'd eat something in the morning.
He didn’t go to sleep just yet, despite the heaviness pulling at his limbs. He had to finish studying. He grabbed a pencil and the packet of practice problems he had just started filling out when the janitor interrupted him from his bag, as well as a flashlight and a calculator. He crept up to the top bunk and beneath the covers, creating a tent. There, using his pillow as a desk, he fought his way through the remaining practice problems. Chemistry wasn't his strongest subject. Heck, nothing was his strongest subject. Which is why it was important for him to study so hard.
In District Three, there was only one way out of places like the Serv – education. The Capitol rewarded the smartest and most diligent of them, those who made good enough grades to secure themselves spots at the Academy in Central City, where the district’s Researchers studied and created the newest technology and innovations.
Gemini had been on that track. He had the highest scores in the entire secondary school by the time he graduated. Everyone – teachers, friends, career counselors – agreed that he would easily secure both entrance and a scholarship to the Academy. He had just started the long, grueling application process before his untimely demise.
The Pascal family’s hopes of leaving the Serv died with Gemini. Or so they thought.
Just a few weeks after his death, Acie stepped up to the plate. He was nowhere near as smart as Gemini – before, he’d always made average grades – but he had to at least try. He was the eldest child now. It fell to him to help his family. In District Three, the best way to do so was education. Acie vowed to finish what his eldest brother had started.
He threw himself into his studies. He spent all his free time on assignments and studying. He couldn’t afford any downtime. He wasn’t Gemini, who could read things once and then recall them with almost perfect accuracy, who could only study for one hour and then receive a perfect score. Acie had to work for it. He couldn’t afford to think about anything other than his studies, or else it would slip right out of the cracks of his brain.
His mother and father encouraged him. They encouraged him a little too much, actually. Whenever Acie stumbled, whenever he received a 95 when he could have received a 100, he heard all about it. They’d nag him until his ears bled. Usually referencing Gemini in some way.
“Gemini could have aced this algebra exam in his sleep!”
“Your handwriting is so messy! You should study some of Gemini’s old essays, his writing was nice and legible. Maybe if your teachers could actually read this, you would’ve gotten a higher score.”
“Gemini completed this project in one day! You should pick up your pace.”
They were still grieving him, he knew. And this was their way of encouraging Acie to work hard. Perhaps in a way, it was wish fulfillment for them. Acie’s mother, Alexa, had once been like Gemini, a high-achieving student, but had to put her Academy plans on hold to care for her ailing mother, and now just jumped from low-paying job to low-paying job, bored out of her mind. Acie’s father, Bixby, never had a chance at the Academy. He couldn’t focus on schoolwork – or anything, really – well enough, no matter how he tried. He, like Alexa, jumped from job to job, although not by choice. No matter what, it seemed, he always got fired within a year at any job.
So Acie gave it his all when it came to school. He had to. He had to be the one to succeed where his brother fell. The Pascals couldn’t keep living like this, in their crammed, drafty apartment with holey, threadbare clothing and hardly enough food in the pantry most days.
It was well into the night when Acie finally finished his practice problems. By then, he was nodding off, sleep pulling at his eyelids. Satisfied for the time being, he turned off his flashlight and crammed it, alongside his other supplies, under his pillow. He could study more tomorrow, after the Reaping. For now, his brain was going numb and he needed sleep.
It felt like Acie had been asleep for only a few minutes when his mother woke him up. Outside, the sky was just starting to lighten, the same brightness as it was last night when the janitor busted Acie.
The Pascals ate a quick breakfast of cheap, lab-grown eggs that tasted like rubber, piled onto stale toast. A cold, tense silence loomed over them. Acie and his parents knew all too well the significance of the Reaping. Siri wasn't old enough to know yet, but she sensed the somber mood and stayed quiet.
From there on, it became a game of waiting. The Pascals made their way to the nearest metro station, where they, among every other family with Reaping-age children in the area, waited for the train to take them to North City's central train station. Once they got there, they waited even more for the train that would take them to Central City. After thirty minutes, they finally made it onboard a train. Then, they waited the forty-five minutes it took the train to reach Central City. Acie got smushed against one of the windows, the train cars full nearly to bursting. From there, cheek resting on the cool glass, he watched the prairie and small settlements fly by.
From there, the Pascals then had to take another train, another metro, to the Soldier's Stadium, where District Three's Reapings took place. Central City's central station was so crowded that it took forty minutes for the Pascals to even make it onto a train – about the same time it would have taken them to just walk. The streets were equally packed.
They reached the station by the Stadium, and from there, the family split. Acie joined the line for Reaping-eligible kids, while his mother, father, and Siri left to go stand in the line for families.
Waiting. Waiting. More waiting. It was overcast that day, making the temperature at least somewhat bearable. Acie stood in line, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. He wore the nicest thing he owned — a short-sleeved collared shirt, light blue with nice stitching, tucked into olive-green pants with the legs cuffed so they wouldn’t drag on the ground. The pants had once been Gemini's. Acie hated that fact, especially considering the occasion, but they were the nicest pants he had. The ones he wore last year no longer fit.
Tucked into his pocket was Gemini’s favorite fountain pen – the type produced in District One. It had been a gift from one of Gemini’s favorite teachers. He distinctly recalled watching Gemini writing the first of his scholarship application essays with it, watching the ink flow out in smooth ribbons. Not long after Gemini’s death, their parents had tried to pawn it for some extra money, but Acie hid the pen before they could do so, and they thought it had gotten lost. The ink had long dried up, but Acie still kept it around as a kind of talisman. A reminder of his brother.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Finally — finally — Acie reached the front of the line. The Peacekeeper pricked his finger, confirming his identity, then let him into the Stadium. He was corralled into the fourteen-year-old boys' pen, where he stood and — you guessed it — waited for the pen to fill up, for the Reaping to finally start.
A boy behind him had brought a book to read. Acie stared at him, peeved he didn't think to do that. He should have brought a textbook with him. He could be using all this time waiting to study instead of wasting it.
Finally — finally — after what felt like an eternity, the Reaping commenced. District Three's escort, Arete Spencer, strutted onto the stage. She donned her usual cherry-red hair, piled high upon her head, as well as a short, tight dress and platform boots that gave her several inches more in height.
“Welcome, welcome all, to the Reaping of the Eighty-Sixth Annual Hunger Games!”
Then there was more waiting. The Panem history showcase. This year, there was a noticeable change — it was narrated by the new President, Hortensius Dovecote, rather than President Snow. Then there was the showcase of last year's Victor and then Arete read the names of District Three's six Victors, like every Three kid didn't already know them and their Games numbers by heart. And then it was time for the Reaping.
“We'll start with the ladies this year!”
Arete picked up the Reaping tweezers and sashayed over to the glass orb that contained the microchips of the girls' names. Next to it, the boys' orb spun. The chips churned in metallic waves. Somewhere inside, Acie had eighteen chips with his name encoded in it. He'd taken tesserae for four people every year he'd been Reaping eligible.
Arete plunged the tweezers into the girls' ball and plucked out a chip. She transferred it to the reading machine between the two orbs, and a name and portrait popped up on the large screens surrounding the Stadium.
"Perogrim Provenzano!"
The entire place stood still for several seconds, no one daring to breathe. Then, the sound of shuffling punctured the silence, followed by commotion.
A girl in a fancy plaid dress flew down the aisle, heading away from the stage.
"She's running!"
The Peacekeepers snapped into action. Three blockaded the stadium's back entrance, while four others closed in on Perogrim. She was fast, but not fast enough to outrun fully-trained, fully-grown Peacekeepers, and they quickly had her surrounded. The screens showed them grabbing her by the arms and starting to drag her to the stage. She started screaming and thrashing.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!"
She kicked and writhed, bellowing screeches of rage as the Peacekeepers half-carried, half-dragged her towards the stage.
"FUCK YOU!" She screamed. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"
Her boot-clad foot made contact with a Peacekeeper's groin, and he doubled over in pain. The ones holding Perogrim tightened their grips on her and hurried up the steps of the stage while she continued to repeat her profanity-laden war cry and struggle against the men holding her.
A Peacekeeper holding a syringe emerged from the wings, stabbing the needle into Perogrim's neck. She gave a few more desperate flails before whatever drug they injected into her took hold, and she went limp. The Peacekeepers holding her up pivoted so she was now facing the audience. Her head lolled forward, long brown waves obscuring her face.
Something fluttering up above the stage caught Acie's eye. A bird of some type. It was shaped like the pigeons common to both North and Central City, but the plumage was all white rather than the usual slate-gray.
A vaguely-remembered biology term came to mind — albinism. Albinism was when animals were born without pigmentation. It had something to do with their melanin production and their genes — Acie couldn't quite recall the specifics. Could the bird be an albino pigeon? Or was it some other bird entirely? Whatever it was, it was pretty.
The bird took off, soaring above the pens. Acie watched it fly away, transfixed. He wished he could fly away like the bird. Fly away from all his worries, all his stress—
“-cie Pascal? Will Acie Pascal please come to the stage?”
Huh?
Acie jolted as though he had been doused in cold water. He tore his eyes away from the bird and onto the large screens surrounding him.
His own face and name stared back down at him.
No.
He hardly had time to gasp before a strong hand clamped down onto his bicep, and he yelped.
“Walk,” ordered a gruff voice.
Acie obeyed. There was no other choice.
No. This wasn't happening. I—this is a nightmare. This is a bad dream and I'm going to wake up any moment.
Any moment now.
Any moment.
No.
No. No. No.
The more time passed, the more it became apparent that it wasn't a dream.
Acie Pascal was being Reaped for the Eighty-Sixth Hunger Games.
Just like his older brother, Gemini Pascal had, four years before.
The tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them. The stage in front of him turned blurry as the Peacekeeper holding him deposited him right next to Arete.
“Nice to meet you, Mister Pascal!” She beamed, much too joyous for the occasion. “Your mentor will be Xenon Lee-Parson.”
A tear escaped from Acie's eye. The world snapped into clarity, as did the face of Xenon Lee-Parson.
The last time Acie saw Xenon was at Gemini's funeral.
It was one of the few things he could recall from it, clear as day. He recalled the sparks flying up from the funeral pyre into the night sky as Gemini burnt away into ash. He remembered the tear tracks gouged into his parents' faces that lingered for weeks. He remembered the mourners’ melody as they sang the funeral song that would release Gemini's soul from his body and float him up into the sky. And Xenon Lee-Parson's face, frozen into an impenetrable mask, firelight dancing shadows across it.
Xenon's face had turned paper-white, a stark contrast against his jet-black hair. His eyes bugged out of his head behind his glasses. He angled away from Acie as if he had some sort of plague, mouth parted on the edge of what seemed like hyperventilation.
Xenon Lee-Parson was supposed to be unflappable. He was District Three's golden boy, the most charismatic and likable Victor the district had ever had. He had bravely and boldly led his alliance — and himself — to victory during the 77th Games using a combination of charm and wits.
But here he was, staring at Acie like he was seeing a ghost.
For several moments, the two just looked at one another.
It was only when Arete cleared her throat that Xenon unfroze and offered his hand for Acie to shake. When Acie took it and shook, he noted the claminess and underlying tremor.
“District Three, your tributes!”
The goodbye room had not changed a single bit in the four years since Acie visited it last.
The same harsh fluorescent lighting that hurt his eyes. The same worn-out furniture that was simultaneously nicer than anything the Pascal family had ever owned. The same stench of ancient sweat — the Stadium was over five hundred years old and smelled like it. And Acie had the same tears running down his face.
Four years ago, he was ten, arms wrapped around Gemini's waist and begging him to come back.
Today, it was Siri’s turn.
As soon as the door had opened to let the Pascals in, Siri had flung herself across the room to him.
“ACIEEEEEE!”
She sobbed into his shirt, entire small body shaking with the effort.
“Don't leave me! Don't leave me! Don't leave me!”
Acie wrapped his own arms around her and staunched his own cries in response to hers. It was already unbecoming enough that he was blubbering like a baby. Gemini hadn't cried when faced with his pending execution. Their parents had always told Acie that he should be more like him anyway.
Speaking of....
Acie looked up and made eye contact with his parents. They stood several feet away, watching him and Siri with grim, unreadable faces.
Acie wanted to reach out to them. To let them hold him and comfort him the way they had when he was a small child, before Gemini got Reaped and everything went to hell. That version of his parents was long-gone. They loomed, out of reach, and simply stared. Acie's father's eyes shimmered more than usual, but it could have just been the harsh lighting.
There was a lot Acie wanted to say to them. So, so much. Complicated emotions clashed within him. Sadness. Regret. Fear. And maybe just a little bit, deep down inside, anger and bitterness.
In the end, Acie ended up packing all of that into just two words.
“I'm sorry.”
His parents didn't move. Siri squeezed him tighter, choking out a sob. She was too young to remember Gemini's leaving. She’d asked for weeks after his death where Gemini had gone and when he’d be back. She would definitely remember Acie leaving. She was old enough to understand death. She was old enough — barely — to understand the Hunger Games.
“Don't leave. Please. I love you, Acie.”
Acie held her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too, Siri.”
He glanced up again, finding his parents' gazes, then pushed away from Siri and bent down to her level so that the two were facing each other. “When I'm gone, be sure to study hard, okay? Make good grades in school so you can go to the Academy one day and become a Researcher. You're smart enough to be one.” Once Acie was gone, she’d be the Pascals’ last chance at leaving the Serv. “And be good for Mom and Dad. Make them proud, alright?”
Siri just shook her head. “Noooo. I want to make you proud. Not them. Come back, Acie. Please. Please try to come back.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in him once more.
Acie sniffled. “I—I can't guarantee that. I'm so—”
A hand on his shoulder interrupted him.
“I agree with Siri,” his father said, gaze cast downwards. “Please, give it your all. Maybe Gemini couldn't have—” at that, he swallowed, “But you still can.”
His mother nodded in agreement.
“I—”
The hand on his shoulder turned to steel. “Please.”
Acie gulped and nodded. “I'll try my best.”
His father nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
A Peacekeeper entered. “Time's up.”
Siri refused to let go of Acie. Their father eventually ended up having to wrench her off him, and she wailed as he carried her out.
“ACIEEEEEEE!”
The door shut. A few of Acie’s teachers trickled in to wish him well, but for the most part, Acie was alone with his never-ending tears and thoughts for the next forty-five minutes.
Acie didn't have friends. He didn't have time for social relationships. The closest people he had were Pythagoras, Trip, and Servo, who weren't really his friends but they asked for Acie’s homework every morning for them to compare answers. He was happy to help them and obliged. Outside that, they acted like he didn't exist, as did the rest of the student body. He didn't mind, but sometimes life felt very lonely.
The time alone gave him time to think over his family's request. It was an easy decision to honor the request. If there was anything Acie Pascal knew for certain how to do, it was to work his freaking hardest to win the Games. And he would. Even if he failed, and died like Gemini did, in the bloodbath mere minutes into the Games, at least he'd die knowing he worked his butt off. He owed that to them.
Maybe — just maybe —if Acie won, he'd finally satisfy his parents' demands. Maybe having a Victor as a son, and more than enough money to live off of, would be enough for them to stop comparing him to Gemini. Stop holding him to such high expectations. Maybe they'd finally be happy with him. That would be nice. Amazing, really. And if he failed — well, he'd be too dead to care.
It was definitely worth a shot.