atonement [open]

[Kyubey]

Maisy Kenner

It’s my least favorite day of the year: the day my annual sponsorship drive turns into my annual funeral drive. And today, I walk the streets with a heavier heart than usual.

I’ve been a wreck ever since they announced the Quell – that horrible, horrible twist that made my stomach turn. At the time, I was afraid because it effectively tripled my chances at being Reaped. But now, three-quarters of the way through the actual Games, I can see how selfish that was. I cared more about the possibility of becoming a tribute than the actual tributes themselves. When I saw Sticky and Ivana up there, both fourteen like me, I could have died from shame. I was worried all that time over nothing, and they were the ones who would have to be sacrificed. Not me.

I should have volunteered. But I didn’t. I’m far too cowardly for that. So I did what I always did instead. I ran a sponsorship fundraiser.

It’s hard not to get discouraged when my donation boxes are empty and when my arm gets tired from pulling the wagon of brownies around all weekend, offering to sell them for money. The people in my district are good, caring people, but not many are as lucky as my family is. Most simply don’t have any money to give, and while I don’t blame them, it still makes me sad. I try so hard to help our brave tributes and I just can’t. It’s enough to make me cry.

Mom doesn’t let me watch the Games for more than an hour at a time because she’s afraid I’ll dehydrate myself from crying. Actually, a lot of people notice that I can barely hold it together during Games week. The gore alone is usually enough to upset me, but this year, there’s also the guilt. Guilt for my fear. Guilt for not volunteering, for not saving Ivana. Guilt for failing to raise any money.

Guilt for being alive when two of my classmates are dead.

I sniffle a bit as I pull my wagon along, my gloved fingers aching from holding onto the freezing handle for so long. The brownies my dad made are no doubt cold by now, and the mason jar I brought along for money is still empty, save for the snowflakes that have landed inside. I want to stop. I want to go home, snuggle in a blanket, and have Mom bring me hot cocoa. But I won’t, not until I’ve made some money for their families. It’s my apology – my payment to them for being weak.

“B-Brownies! Fresh brownies!” I call out, my voice wavering as I shiver. My pink jacket is old and wearing thin, but I haven’t grown enough to justify getting a new one. “One coin as payment. All of it goes towards the families of the tributes!”

I’m in a park near the College, so I know there are people around. But as the biting wind swirls around me and echoes inside my empty jar, I feel like I’m yelling into a void.

Ivana. Sticky. I am so sorry.

[Sampson]

The morning air was chilled. District 6 was quiet, for the most part, as the recent flurries of snow have smothered the land with cold. Walking down the muddied dirt road that led back home from the mechanic shop her father owned, Penette was content. She'd worked late last night and had decided to crash at the shop so she could head home in the morning. While she still smelled like oil and hadn't showered all the grease off yet, the girl felt fresh. The new coat of snow that had bathed the earth last night chilled her skin and brought clarity to her thoughts. It was a nice change to finally have some cooler temperatures. Winter happened to be Pen's favorite season, even if she didn't always have the proper clothes to handle the weather.

That happened to be her only problem for the morning. Considering she hadn't woken up in her room, she was still wearing her clothes from the previous day. A holey pair of denim jeans, worn leather boots, and a bandanna normally used as a grease towel wrapped around her head hardly seemed to be a good defense against the weather. It didn't help that Penette had worn a t-shirt and failed to drag along her only coat with her. Now, she walked down the road with her bag in tow and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. The snow still seemed beautiful.

"B-Brownies! Fresh brownies!" an unfamiliar voice shattered the silence that had brought peace to Penette, "One coin as payment. All of it goes towards the families of the tributes!" Shifting her head to find the source, the older girl's eyes fell on a little pink jacket pulling a wagon. Who has the money to make brownies these days? Penette couldn't help but wonder how the girl had come across them. She also couldn't stop herself from mauling over the idea that the baked goods might have been hot out of the oven. It was enough to make her mouth water and goosebumps fade, even if for a moment.

"Are they still warm?" Penette called out as she began to make her way over. A smile lit up her features as her numb fingers began to dig in her pocket for a single coin, praying she might find one so she could enjoy a sweet treat just this once. Besides, it was for a good cause.

[Kyubey]

Maisy Kenner

A particularly cold wind blows past me, sending a chill up my spine. I guess I can understand why most people wouldn’t be out today – it’s not exactly beautiful weather. I could always go back to my door-to-door method, but it doesn’t seem to work as well now that I’m growing up. I was cuter as a child, I suppose. Now, whenever I knock on a stranger’s door, I feel like I’m just intruding on their privacy.

I adjust my knitted beanie so that it covers my ears more. There has to be someone out here, right? It’s freezing and windy, true, but there’s a fresh layer of snow on the ground, and all the noise of the district is muffled under its white blanket. Despite the cold, it’s peaceful outside. I can’t be the only one who appreciates quiet in the midst of the loud and decidedly not peaceful Games.

And it seems I’m not. I hear the crunch of feet on snow just behind me, and I whirl around excitedly to see who it is.

Oh. Wow. She’s really pretty…

My eyes widen a bit as I look over at the girl who’s approached me. She looks much older than me, maybe eighteen or nineteen, and is probably out of school by now. That would explain why I don’t know her. And unfortunately for me, she’s absolutely beautiful. I get so flustered around pretty people, it’s honestly embarrassing.

C’mon, Maisy. Now’s not the time to get shy – she could be your only customer today! Just…take a deep breath and remember how to talk like a normal person.

“Uh…hi!” I say after a bit of hesitation, already feeling my cheeks lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Thank you!” Maisy, she hasn’t bought anything yet, you can’t thank her already! “For, uh, talking to me, I mean. Or wanting a brownie. Gee, it’s cold today, isn’t it?”

Well. Now that she thinks I’m an absolute basket case, I guess I should think about getting her a brownie.

“They should be at least a little warm…” I say, kneeling down to remove the blanket cover I’d put over the plate to insulate it. “It’s hard to keep them oven warm in this weather, but I think they’ll be yummy either way. My dad is the best at making pastries.” I remove one of my mittens and place my hand over the stack of brownies to gauge their heat. Thankfully, they still feel a little warm, and a bit of steam rises up into the air around them. Perfect. Maybe they’ll even be gooey.

It’s then that I realize I still haven’t wiped my face from my little crying fit earlier. I’m a horrendously ugly crier – my nose runs, my eyes puff up, and my face can stay red for hours. I’d probably look like a total mess even if I was inside my warm home. Out here, in the dry, cold air, I must look a bit like a banshee.

As quickly and subtly as possible, I rub my face with the sleeve of my coat. It’ll have to do, for now.

I grab what seems to be the biggest, warmest brownie off the top of the stack, and stand back up to face the girl – or rather, young woman. I feel myself begin to blush again. She’s being so nice, and I’m a stuttering wreck. Ugh. Maybe this is why I don’t get many sales anymore.

Trying not to think about it for now, I extend my hand and put on what I hope is a natural smile. “Here you are. I hope you like it. There are chocolate chips melted inside!”

[Sampson]

Penette had just pulled a coin from her pocket when she looked up to find the younger girl staring at her. It was strange, the wide eyes looking at her held much more innocence than she had seen in a long time. While killing and dying the arena, the numerous tributes that had gone into the Quarter Quell hadn't maintained much of their innocence. The natural light often found in the eye's of children had died quickly when they were all pushed into the arena. They no longer saw the world with wonder and opportunity. Dark eyes were one of the little horrible things about the games. When the tributes lost hope, it was so easy to see, if one wasn't too distracted by the bigger things like the District 11 boy carving out people's eyes.

To say the least, the teen's new young acquaintance was refreshing. Her good intentions seemed honest enough, which only made Pen more eager to hand over the cold coin in between her fingers. She couldn't help but laugh a little as the girl began to nervously babble.
"For, uh, talking to me, I mean. Or wanting a brownie. Gee, it’s cold today, isn’t it?" the girl asked with a rushed voice. It was clear that she was intimidated, but anyone frightened by Penette definitely had the wrong idea. There was nothing special about her, except that she was quite the qualified mechanic. Other than that, she was almost simple. It was beyond her why the younger girl might have been so flustered by her appearance.

She didn't have much time to dwell on the idea because the girl asking about the weather only reminded her of the biting chill that surrounded them. Her goosebumps seemed to worsen as she shivered. The dried oil on Penette's hands made her fingers black blurs as she tried to rub away the tiny bumps and bring some warmth back into her arms. "It’s hard to keep them oven warm in this weather, but I think they’ll be yummy either way. My dad is the best at making pastries," the girl explained as she began to collect one of the many brownies from the wagon.
"I'm sure they will be worth it. One coin isn't a lot for something as rare as a brownie," Penette replied, a wide smile on her face. She could feel the eagerness building up in her mouth in the form of saliva. How long had it been since she had eaten chocolate? Almost as long as it had been since she'd even seen a brownie.

"Now, don't get too attached to the taste, Pen. It will be a very expensive addiction if you let it," her father had always been cautious about letting his daughter be exposed to different taste and foods. They normally didn't have the money for anything but simple meals of tasteless stews and stale bread. But on special days, when they had a little extra cash, he would come home with a treat, like a little chocolate bar they could split into little squares between them.
"It would be cheaper than mom's," Pen had replied as she took a section of the cold chocolate. The wounded look that appeared on her father's face at the reminder of his wife's growing morphling addiction made the chocolate taste bitter in her mouth.

"It's been a long while since I've had any kind of sweets," the tall girl explained with a weaker smile. The memory hadn't been a warming one. She turned her eyes back towards the pastry seller just in time to catch her wiping her eyes with her sleeve. It was suddenly clear how swollen with tears her face looked and that the gleaming skin under the girl's nose was actually snot and not sweat, as Penette had thought before. The realization made Pen bite her lip. Was it any of her business? Should she ask? Sometimes, the teen was at a loss of what to do during emotional situations. Depending on the type of person she was dealing with, asking why someone was upset didn't always go well. And she happened to be looking at a stranger, wondering whether or not to let her curiosity get the best of her.

Before accepting the offered brownie, Pen dropped her coin into the previously empty jar labeled for the girl's profits. "Thank you," she said before allowing the large brownie to warm her left palm. The sweet aroma radiating off the little cake seemed foreign to the teen's nose, but the new source of heat was very welcome. It helped to calm the coat of goosebumps layering her skin and let her forget about the weather swirling around her for a few moments. Propelled by the sugary scent and new warmth, Penette swallowed before finally letting her question go.

"Why are you crying?" she asked, looking up from her new brownie with soft eyes.