Filed To Story: Sunrise on the Reaping Book PDF Free
When I’ve played out my hand,
When I’ve paid all my debts,
When I have no regrets,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore.
The mourners have quieted.
When I’m pure like a dove,
When I’ve learned how to love,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore.
The song, suggesting our separation is only temporary, consoles the heart. Lenore Dove would approve, I think. The mockingjays do, because they pick up the melody and make it their own.
As my eyes sweep the crowd, I see person after person press the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then extend it to their dead. Our way of saying good-bye to those we cherished. I follow suit, raising my hand high, because I have so many to honor.
Then it’s over. I’m being led away. Even in my confusion, I notice that Cayson, his hands and face bandaged, spits on Jethro Callow’s grave. No one reprimands him.
I want to break away, to try to see Lenore Dove on the base, but I’m argued down again. Do I really think my appearance will help her? The best thing is to wait for word. Let her uncles plead her case. With so many kids lost in the Quarter Quell, the districts are in a state of unrest. The base commander won’t be looking to throw gasoline on the fire in 12. Lenore Dove may be let go with a stern lecture and time served.
The McCoys take the mourners back to their place, where bowls of bean and ham hock soup are ladled out. I can’t stay at the McCoys’, though. Their eyes are full of questions about Louella, and I know I owe them answers. I just can’t give them yet, not without losing my head again. As soon as I can, I excuse myself.
I go home before I remember I have no home. Just a pile of blackened beams and a pump. I’m standing before the ashes when the clouds in my brain clear enough for me to ask, “What happened?”
Fires are common enough in District 12, where the ever-present coal dust and aging wooden structures invite ignition. From the time I could toddle, Ma had put the fear of stray sparks and sleeping embers in me. No one took more care banking a fire at night. Which is how I know that this was no accident. This was arson, carried out in such a way that my family could not even make it to a window to escape. Ordered by Snow. For my homecoming.
The shards of my heart shift and drive into my lungs, making breathing an agony. “My fault,” I say for the second time this morning.
Burdock and Blair catch me as I start to fall and carry me around the bend before they set me on a stump to recover. They try to coax me to their homes, but the thought of their families, when I have none, is unbearable.
“Well,” says Burdock grimly, “there’s your new house, then.”
Only now do I remember the Victor’s Village. Desperate to be alone, I let them take me there, to this strange Capitol cage, which I instantly hate. In the bedroom, they lay me down in the artificially chilled air, and I stare at the wall.
“I’m going to find Asterid,” I hear Burdock whisper. “See about more syrup.”
“I’ll watch him,” says Blair, leaving the door slightly ajar. “Dig up some clothes, too, can you?”
Hand-me-downs are found. Sleep syrup administered, but not as much, because I wake with a start in the dead of night, mind racing, with one thought only: I must get to Lenore Dove. I must take her away from here. District 12 means death. Through the crack in the door, I make out Burdock and Blair, asleep on the couches in the living room. I climb out a window in the bedroom and flee into the night.
The Covey’s house lies dark. The uncles gave Lenore Dove the loft for her own. I climb up the drainpipe, trying to figure if she’s made it home, but the whole place seems empty. Were they at the base all night? Have Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine been arrested as well? I doubt they’re out giving a show, things being what they are. I don’t want to be hanging around the house if they return. If Clerk Carmine didn’t approve of me before the Hunger Games, imagine how the rascal’s murderous run will have played for him. I head down to the Meadow, concealing myself behind some bushes. If Lenore Dove gets freed, I know one of the first things she’ll do is graze her geese. Unless she goes looking for me at the Victor’s Village – in which case, she’ll cut across the Meadow on the way.
Sitting on a fallen log, barefooted and in the worn miner’s clothes, I feel safer than I have in weeks. I like being hidden here in the dark, where no one can find me. Out of the view of the Capitol, but also away from the pitying eyes of District 12. I try to figure out a plan for me and Lenore Dove. We can’t stay here. But where is there to run? Only Snow’s “ghastly wilderness.” I love it, but I don’t live in it. I’m no Burdock, with his trusty bow and knowledge of plants. I’m not even a bona fide bootlegger yet. I’m nothing. And while Lenore Dove’s at home in the woods, she’s no more capable of surviving out there than I am. Maybe I’m just being selfish, wanting her to run with me when the truth is she’d be fine here without me. Snow would have no cause to target her if I was dead or gone. The right thing to do is take off on my own and leave her to lead her life.
She won’t want to let me go and I sure don’t want to let her go. But what is the alternative? I’ll wait and see her one more time, go back to the Victor’s Village, and ask Burdock for a bow and some fishing line. If I die out there, so be it. Lenore Dove will be safe.
The sky takes on the soft glow that precedes the sun’s arrival. The first birds begin to sing in the day. They’re joined by a chorus of honking, then angry voices. I lift my head to see the rare and radiant Lenore Dove herding her gaggle into the Meadow.
“You’re not to go running off!” Clerk Carmine says from the edge of the Meadow. He’s agitated, shaking a finger at her.
Tam Amber stands with him, a little more stooped than I remember. “He’s right, Lenore Dove. This is stretching house arrest to its limits already.” The base commander must have given a hard-line directive. Tam Amber’s the easy parent, the one she goes to with a questionable request, so if he’s worried . . .
“I know! I heard you the first ten times!” she hollers back in exasperation. “I just want five minutes to myself. Is that possible around here? Or am I still in prison?”
“Fine. Five minutes. Then I want you back in the house for breakfast, you hear me?” says Clerk Carmine.
She gives him a Peacekeeper’s salute. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir. You can count on me, sir.”
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