Bonds of Summer [Yani/Haizea flashback]

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

★

Yani Izar
[Time: Summer Prior to the 93rd Games]

Yani took another dish to the sink and placed her hands through the warm soapy water for a sponge. She hummed as she scraped off the last of enmolada from dinner. She slid the white plates onto the drying rack while the radio sang out boleros. Her great-grandmother Marisol dozed across the plaid loveseat in her living room, swallowed up by a patchwork quilt they’d stitched together the previous summer.

Through the hum of the warm yellow lights that hung from overhead, Yani listened to Estoy Enamorada and as the glasses clinked under warm soapy water, she imagined her bisabuela dancing through the kitchen, hair tucked behind her ears, wrinkles gone, not much older than Yani was then.

Born before the dark days, Marisol came of age not long after the world had fallen apart. She had become one of the last remaining links back to a world forgotten. Preserved now only with yellowed photos and whispered stories of names now etched across the Izar cemetary, she was all that remained of a century gone by. So it was with every generation, a vanishing of what had been to the last drips of wax and flickering smoke.

And yet watching the rise and fall of Marisol’s chest felt so much more worrying than it ever had, even when her bisabuela had caught that cold last winter and there’d been a whole Izar vigil to nurse her back to health.

Yani stretched her imagination to understand what their world would be without the old stories, of days when Marisol or Vasco would speak on decades she’d never see. What was their history if she didn’t know it, hadn’t heard the last story, couldn’t share it with her daughters or sons, or cousins?

Pride in their history was worth more than any crown or seat of gold. Their story was bred out of a space that so many others could never reach.

‘You need to go home, mija,’ Marisol had opened one eye and caught Yani glancing back over her shoulder. ‘It’s a summer’s night. You ought to be out, eh?’

“It’s better seeing you,” Yani moved to help Marisol from her seat when she shifted, and the two headed down the hall so that Marisol could settle into her bed and the cool of her sheets.

‘Come back tomorrow and I’ll have something for your father. He’s getting too skinny again,’ Marisol noted, and Yani nodded her head in agreement. She’d rather he have a belly than how his jeans would hang off him now, his belt clipped a few notches too tight. ‘You know, your father used to get into so much trouble out in those fields during the summer…’

Marisol yawned and gave a smile. Yani pulled up the covers and kissed her forehead.

The lights clicked on in the kitchen again, and Yani started to tuck away the dish Marisol had wanted her to bring back to Emma. She fiddled with the strings on her knapsack and clicked her tongue when she couldn’t get the knot to loop. As she set her backpack on the butcherblock, she eyed the liquor cabinet that had been long collecting dust.

When had been the last time she’d seen Marisol take a drink? From the sight of the bottles of wine and brandy that sat atop the cabinet, she’d guess that it had been some time. Her uncles seemed the ones to pack away the moonshine and whiskey – a favorite of her father – and her aunts and cousins kept the beer flowing. But Marisol? Maybe that’s why she had kept her wits about her so long, Yani thought as she held a bottle of red wine by its neck.

---

Nestled in the basket of her bicycle, Yani’s knapsack shifted left and right with every move of the handlebars. The wine bottle clanked against the dish as she pressed against the pedals. She fell into the sticky heat of august and cut through the black of night as she barreled down the old road from Marisol’s to the west. Now and again her face would be drenched in the light of a solitary streetlamp before being swallowed up in darkness again.

She crossed right past the fork that would’ve led her south back to her parents’ farm and instead headed further east. In another twenty minutes Haizea’s house came into view and Yani slipped off her bike to walk across the gravel road to her front door.

It always amazed her that she’d spent twelve years of her life without knowing her cousin (less so when she had heard Elias was involved) but would never stop being thankful for Haze having come into her life. Sure – she could throw a rock in district eleven and hit one of her cousins at this point, but they weren’t Haizea.

Yani had made it a point to introduce her to all things Izar to her, and tonight would be no exception. A rite of passage for kids their age, especially on a night with clear skies and a moon so full.

“Haizea, eh, venga!” Yani gave a knock at the girl’s door with a grin, “Vale, I have something important I need to show you.”

elegant

[Deleted]

⤷ haizea rose-izar ⤶

Quiet was the villa this warm summer day, sunflowers of Vasco's dance in the softest of breezes. There's always a wafting scent of sweet grapes and pollen lingering around the vineyard, following where the wind chooses to take it. It finds Haizea through her open bedroom window, mixing with that of cinnamon apple candles as she sits on her bed, nose stuck in the spine of her textbook. She always had a spot in her heart for History of Panem, even if it was riddled with propaganda. Somewhere in between the lines lay the truth, she can't help but wonder what the narrative would be had it been written locally. 

To the winners go the spoils - oh, what could have been. Next year she can enroll in AP History of District 11 and she itches for it. It seems sophomores get all the better classes, narrowing down from the broadness of all of Panem. There was so much nuance lost that she couldn't help but dream for more information; still, she hovers over each page pining over what life must be in other districts. 

The voice comes before the knock. 

"Haizea, eh, venga!" It calls out, snapping her out of her focus. "¿QUÉ?" Haizea yells back into the void, taking a second to register who it was calling for her. She clambers out of the comfort in her bed in a hurry, I know who that is! Once she hits the floor she scuttles over to her window, pushing back flowing yellow curtains and propping her hands on the ledge. "¡Yani! ¿Qué estás haciendo aqui¹?" Her newfound cousins had a habit of showing up when she least expected it, but just at the sight of Yani she had mentally cancelled all plans to continue studying tonight.

That can wait, she had years of stupid fun to catch up on with her. "Vale," Yani says, "I have something important I need to show you."

"Coming!" Haizea yells back, already turning on her heels and rushes to her mother's room before she heads out. "Te quiero², mami, Yani's here. I'll be back before dark!" She peaks her head in just long enough to spout what was going on, closing the door behind her and heading down the staircase. Her mother returns her love, "you two stay safe!" Ever cautious, she doesn't even have to respond - of course, mami. 

"And don't go to the Town Square!" Her mother tacks on, voice carrying through to the bottom floor, audible over the pitter patter of Haze's footwork going down stairs. It goes without saying why not: peacekeepers. Whatever the specifics, she cared not to know - usually less traumatic that way. She shouts back a quick okay before opening the door, coming face to face with one of her favorite cousins. 

Is it bad to have favorites? She never had any growing up, with no siblings herself and neither did her mother. As much as she despised her name, her Izar cousins had embraced her with open arms in a way she couldn't get enough. Yani being no exception to this, daughter to Vasco and the exact same age as her. As strange as it was to have a classmate become a cousin, she liked to think the universe worked in funny ways like that. She had the faintest memories of who she was before they became family, but her mother always told her to stay away from those Izars. 

How ironic is that? 

"So?" She says, a smile already plastered on her face, "what's the big reveal, what's going on?"

---

¹ - what are you doing here?
² - i love you, mami
 

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

★

Yani Izar

Yani could hear Haizea as she called through the window. She bounced backward and forward on the heels of her sneakers, grin now stretching from ear to ear. She didn’t let Haze get a few steps without wrapping the girl in a hug. She lay a kiss on each cheek before snaking her arm in her cousin’s and pulling her down the steps toward her bicycle. She let out a laugh as she turned to look back at Haze’s mother.

“Adios, Señora! I promise Haizea and I will be safe. We won’t be anywhere we could get into trouble,” She gave a wave with her free hand and a smile that could certify her good girl status (that only years of living as Vasco’s daughter could provide) before she gave a wink to Haze.

“Oye, just walk with me for a bit,” She said through gritted teeth to Haze as they turned to head down the drive.

Flickers of light from the fireflies that’d gathered on the lawn reflected off the pins on Yani’s jean vest and the slow crunch of her bike’s tires against gravel filled the air. When they’d gotten to where the streetlight stretched over the road, Yani stopped her bike. She moved to hold a finger to her lips before uncoiling the knot holding her knapsack.

“I was helping Marisol tonight, and I got to thinking about how we’ve gone this whole summer and I’ve been the worst cousin because I haven’t introduced you to one of the most important traditions,” Yani finally pulled free the wine bottle and held her prize out between them. “You, me, this probably heinous old bottle of red wine. Our first botellón!”

For every Izar, there were certain rites of passage that marked the entry into adulthood. Carving your name into one of the oaks on the hill that overlooked the river that snaked near the victor’s village. Watching the sunrise on your eighteenth birthday from inside the remains of the old stone homestead the first Izars had built. And perhaps Yani’s favorite of all, a good botellón with one of her best friends.

It had never been hard for her to make friends, what with thirty or more cousins always running about. But perhaps the overwhelming multitude had made it harder for her to be recognized. Whether patiently standing behind her father as he managed a district or posing for a picture among the whole Izar clan, In her eyes, Yani had never been imagined as much more than the youngest of Vasco’s daughters, the one who had been pegged to continue a legacy of patience and faith.

“It’s when you sit outside and drink, and pass a bottle between friends,” Yani explained, “To share what you have with someone you care about.”

A part of her regretted stealing a bottle from Marisol, but standing in front of Haze, she could only take pride in doing something for herself – and her friend – that wouldn’t hurt anyone. Didn’t they both deserve something that wasn’t heavy with the weight of living?

“Alfer told me that we could head out toward the river and there’s a good spot to sit under the stars. He and his friends set up a whole little cabana, pillows and blankets,” Yani waved her hand as though conjuring the plaid cuts of fabric and yellowed pillows with her palms before them. She held the bottle with both hands, aware then how much this was what she wanted (and hoped that was true for Haze, too).

“What do you think?”

elegant

[Deleted]

⤷ haizea rose-izar ⤶

"Oye, just walk with me for a bit," Yani starts as soon as they're out of earshot of Haizea's mother. She caught her cousin's wink and held it to her chest - whatever they were about to get into, she was so very down for the cause. Of the last three years, Yani had become a staple in its highlights, no matter how reluctant Haze was in the beginning. It was strange, time spent with her fellow Izars started off as an obligation. Truthfully, she hadn't cared much about them to start, cursing the day she turned 12 and had to get her blood drawn in the first place. They'd have never found her if not for that blood work, but under the twinkling nuzzle of ticklish firefly lights, she'd never been more grateful. 

It came slowly, a labor of love turning into an all consuming want, Yani and Mateo becoming as dear to her as Abii Marie and Marcellus were. Even more so because they understood, and how good does that feel? Haizea began to return those efforts with an eagerness to learn and a penchant for good times. "Nooo, no way," she doesn't dare let Yani slip that in unnoticed - worst cousin? When Manny was right there?  

"You, me, this probably heinous old bottle of red wine."

"YES!" She blurts out, starry eyed at the prospect. Where'd she even get that? That bottle was so old, even as Yani pulled it out she noticed the dust particles coming out of her pocket in the dark. Haizea had never drank - well, never did much. She was a good girl through and through, the worst of her being an evolving anger but isn't that all teenagers? Surprised at how little anxiety she feels over the decision, she wonders what it must taste like. 

Botellón. The word feels funny as she repeats it under her breath, "eh?" Inquisitively, she always found herself romanced by the prospect of learning more Spanish. It wasn't just the Izars, but the Roses as well, her language becoming a bridge between her families just as powerful as a hyphen. If she had anything to say about it, her children's native tongue would be their first and only, living far, far away from those that begged she kept it to shadows and whispers. Over my dead body, she'd surely die long before her mother tongue did. 

“It’s when you sit outside and drink, and pass a bottle between friends,” Yani explained, “to share what you have with someone you care about.”

Her cousin continued to describe the scene as they neared the end of the gravel path, the fence opening into a gate with a view of the rising stars. The night sky consumed those two girls, just as the fantasy of Yani's plan did Haizea's attention. They stop before exiting the villa, giving a chance for Haze to make her decision - as if she hadn't finalized it the second she saw her cousin below her window. "Well, I think it's crazy this is the first I'm hearing of it! You've been holding out on me," she teases with joy in the corners of her lips. 

It sounds amazing, for a second she wishes she had known prior so she could have brought her radio with her. Yani would probably groan at how many love songs she'd burned onto her mixtape, but Haze was always such a hopeless romantic. She tried her hardest to imagine them both tipsy, a sensation she had no clue of, chaffing it up over how secretly boy crazy Haizea was becoming inside that river-side hut. "¿Me estás embromando? I'm so in!"

One bike ride away from the perfect night - this is way better than that History of Panem textbook. 

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

★

Yani Izar

The older she got, the more Yani became accustomed to how she could relish in the little things – like the moment when Haze’s eyes lit up at the dusty old bottle of wine. Or how whatever was lurking beyond these fields felt much farther away when she stood next to her cousin.

“No mames, eh, I try not to keep anything from you,” Yani squeezed Haze’s arm as they walked further down the road. From the way her uncles would tell it, the Izars and other families had been drinking out in these fields longer than the district had been around. She’d heard it said that Benat had come back one night as a ghost when Deval had been drinking with Sampson, and another story where her father had found a hole that led outside the district, only for it to be covered up the next day.

She’d spent a lot of time soaking up such stories and tucking them away behind her ears and in her pockets, like treasure to hold. And yet each passing year felt a weight when she realized how few stories she’d created of her own. Maybe grief had made it harder to let any of them go. If she hadn’t been the one to collect them, would they disappear, and die, when it was her turn?

“My older brother used to talk about it all the time,” Yani rolled her eyes thinking about Manu, “I was too young to realize that when he came back smelling like beer that he’d been out in the fields with his friends all night. And I used to think it was silly to do that.”

Manu and Sofia were allowed to make mistakes, to go off and become something else. But Yani? She was daddy’s little girl, mama’s angel. She learned through love and sacrifice that what everyone else was doing didn’t matter, so long as she had her family.

Or so she’d tried her best to believe.

“I’ll admit I was kind of… lame.” She scrunched her eyes shut and smiled at the admission.

“It’s a celebration. Something we do, just – to get away from everyone.” She could go back to serving in Katelyn’s bakery tomorrow, or helping file away things in her father’s office. She’d make sure to take the wash from the line and pick up the dessert Marisol had baked for he father. But in between all of that? “Sometimes you just need a little time to get yourself together, you know? And that means being a mess first. Period.”

When the road curved out toward another set of hills and the river came into view, Yani started to lead them off the gravel and into the grass. She steadied her footing as they trudged along the grass that connected to the shore. When the hideout came into view, Yani set down her bike and turned to Haze.

“Vale,” She said, handing her cousin the wine. Before them lay a scattering of yellowed pillows and threadbare blankets, with a few rusty folding chairs dotting the edges. A cord of old white twinkle lights rounded the crash spot in a circle, with small radio and a kerosene lantern perched in the center. A few crushed red plastic cups scattered the perimeter. Yani knelt to trace her hands along the cord of lights before flicking a switch. She beamed, the batteries not yet dead, and the lights suddenly alive.

“There. Perfect, right?”

elegant