the reaping * september yorgos

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

{ september }

I got into wood carving during the war. Not the big statues that Dad always said were at the festivals of his childhood; he said that the attacking eagle or the roaring bear were favorites. I made the antique things, the smaller things. That was all I had during the war itself. Whenever August and I's rotation came around we had to keep ourselves awake to make sure we didn't miss anyone. We never expected anyone- our shelter was through the grapevine. But we had to stay ready for whenever they'd come. We never knew how many would come or who would come for that matter. We just knew that we had to be ready to welcome them with our open arms and open stalls. So, in order to keep myself awake during my part of the night shift I got into wood carving. Leftover logs or twigs or sticks we had laying around from when we still needed them for the farm. I made simple things. A horse head. A sunflower. The things that I knew home were. Sometimes I'd give them to a younger one if they'd happen to stumble in with the rebels. It was my token of respect to them for being in war at such a young age, because I couldn't imagine not having a constant home. I'm not sure if they kept the carvings, but my heart hoped they did. I wanted them to know that there was always going to be a home here at the Yorgos barn.

After the war ended they created this new form of punishment which all of us had to pay. Guilt by association, I guess. The Hunger Games. Twenty three people from my age to Noelle's age would be put into a Colosseum to fight. Originally, talk was that these would only be one year. Like they'd just give us one single slap on the wrist and then bam we were free to go back to life as it was before the war. Death was not a time out. It was not our "I expected better from you" coming from your mother or grandmother. Death was not only a punishment; it was our bind. Our crimes were committed and the sentence of our kind. The world will feel the wrath of our - their deeds. The Second passed by just as fast as the first, and the third is now on the horizon.

Appa was eighteen now, which was scary. I had a theory that they tried to rig it for the rebels. They wouldn't push the innocent without having a hidden motive. This was their way of telling the rebels they should watch where they step - when they step - in war. They stepped into the wrong territory. Anyway; Appa. For some reason I thought they were doomed; that they were basically guaranteed it. Appa was spending a lot more time at the barn the past few weeks. I was sure it was because they had already gotten told that this was the end of the line. In response, I took one of the last spare pieces of wood we had lying around and I started back to the carving. I never made something for Appa, sadly, because by the time they came around Mum yelled at me to stop using the wood we had.

I carved a wax candle sitting on top of a taper like the candles I made for Appa in the past and painted it. I wanted to put every last ounce into this, because if this was my last time I'd ever see them, I wanted this to matter. To me. To them. To us. I painted the flames a light yellow, a small orange on top of it. This was no inferno that held us together like a fire welded metal, we were simply a candle. The small but imperative bright to the dark that people need to remind them that they weren't alone.

The night before the reaping I gave Appa the candle.

"Sev-" Confusion. "What the hell is this for?

God, they were so clueless. They always have been. They never knew why I was so scared for them to leave and go back to the war. They never knew why I cared so much for them. They never knew why I thought it was so important to provide the candles. We both didn't know much, really, but I understood that Appa was my happiness. They were my lens that gave life, outside of horses and family, purpose.

"Listen," my breath felt that light hiccup of a fluster, trying to not sound so goddamn stupid with this theory even though I was so goddamn convinced. Appa never believed my theory for some reason. They thought it was a complete random draw. "You're eighteen. They say that the older you get, the more your name gets put in and I'm just so sca-"

"Can you shut the fuck up about this rigged thing?'

Appa's eyes held the ember of the millions of burned homes the war had. They held the ember that I wish I could have in this candle. In my life.

Their words hit me like a shatter bomb hitting the ground. Splitting into millions of tiny, jagged, shredded pieces to spew everywhere. They did not care where it landed, as long as it hit. As long as the damage was done. Appa never talked to me that way before and I hated it. I didn't like how they just shut it down. How my idea was suddenly invalid. My fear that my life and my purpose for life outside of the war could be taken from me. Did they not understand my fear? Were they so incredibly torn from war that my fear was an inconvenience to their life?

"I-" god, I'm such a child. "I just don't want to lose you. During the war I made these carvings for people that I wouldn't see again because I wanted them to know that they always had a home here." I gestured around the barn, the very one where we spent the night talking because Appa couldn't even fathom closing his eyes to see darkness. "I never made you one because I just, just knew-"

You know what I mean? That feeling that this isn't the end. It wasn't. It couldn't be. God has a way of bringing people together in moments that they need it and I needed Appa. God, I needed them. I needed Appa in my life so goddamn fucking bad. I needed to know that the people out there fighting were real. Appa and I spent so many hours that night. Every night they were here. They talked about the war. How they were so goddamn scared that they wouldn't have a home to come back to when it was all over. How there was no home to go back to in the first place. It was gone. Decimated. The Capitol turned their home into ashes for rebelling against them.

"I just knew you would come back, because this is your home." My eyes were the water that doused Appa's fire. "Do you not remember? The nights we spent sitting under this old ass barn, me talking to you under the tiny ass candle that Mum had given me? I brought that candle down for you." I couldn't even stop the tears at this point, because my heart was so full and so filled to capacity for Appa by this foundation of a dam I built up, believing that it will all be okay that it finally broke. Because it was not okay. I was not okay.

-

I'd never been so emotional over a group leaving so far because I finally understood what it felt like for someone my age to be so enveloped in this war. Most of the groups left sometime between the sunset and the sunrise to avoid leaking shelter spots, especially ours, given it was an undercover operation. The last day felt weird, sitting on the ground, leaning up against one of our walls of hay as the sun came to highlight their last day in our barn.

"Appa?" The rays of light that peered through the fields and plains and trees we had lighted Appa's face exact to what I loved most about them. Their hair. That beautiful strawberry-blonde hair that reminded me of the color of the blonde like sunrise and the peach sunset. The color that I could imagine my heart fluttering with every time I made eye contact with Appa as a young boy. I was barely thirteen; I barely understood what this feeling was, but I do now. "You know how you told me two nights ago that you were scared that you wouldn't have a home?" Appa only gave a slight nod, shifting his gaze from the sun to me.

"You think you could come back home to here?" My voice felt like it was bubbling higher and higher with each syllable that stumbled its way out of my mouth. "I mean-" a short, embarrassed laugh from myself could be lightly heard. "Not here, but Five." My gaze went to the far away houses and the slightly distant call of a waking rooster and the awakening of the animals.

"You know, I'm not sure." I turned back to look at Appa when they responded. "It's weird. I never really thought the war would end soon, I don't even think my parents gave thought to where we'd end up once this shit is all done with."

They sounded so defeated and so goddamn tired. I remember it. I wanted to just tell Appa that they could stay and that they didn't have to go on with the war, but family was family. Appa told me that every last minute they had with their family was genuinely one of the last ones. It was never clear how many people they would have the next day. If they'd have a next day.

"Well, you can always come back here. We're your home now, don't ya forget."

Two years later, and my neighbor sure as hell never forgot.

-

"I knew you were coming back Appa. I had this feeling. Ever since we spent those nights in the barn I never wanted you to feel alone again- dark again." I looked down at the candle in my hand. "And with this whole Hunger Games thing, I-" My voice couldn't stop from the earthquake of emotion that had vibrated my bones. The fear that radiated my heart like it would to Appa during the war. "I just don't want to lose you. If you get reaped, I don't know if you're coming home." I looked at Appa like I had just faced a corpse, and their face was as blank as a canvas. They weren't saying anything. They were just standing there. Quiet.

Did I say too much? Did I say not enough? Did I just fuck this-- us up? Why were they being so quiet?

Appa's face softened after what felt like a wars' lifetime.

"September, I'm not leaving you." Appa and I held that eye contact. The same one that I remember having with them the day before they left out for war. They took the wooden candle from my hands and held it in theirs. "I never will. And if I do, you have this."

Appa gestured around the barn walls, this museum of our history together. We did so much together here. We spent nights slow dancing like how Dad said he and Mum used to before the war happened. We spent nights cleaning out the stalls together and then looking at the stars outside, because we never could've done that in wartime.

"You have the barn. You have this place where you provided so many people a chance to breathe and leave from the war for a few nights. Check out and recollect, catch up on sleep and be able to have a few nights where they weren't a bunch of Davids fighting a Goliath."

I nodded, following Appa's gaze around the barn like we were following a fly on the wall.

"And I'll always have you as a part of me. I wouldn't even be here if your family hadn't been so kind enough to provide us a shelter." My eyes had finally landed back on them, just as theirs to mine. Appa gave a light squeeze of the wooden candle in their hand. "Not to mention my everlasting candle supply on my windowsill."

I didn't even give them a chance to laugh. I hugged them. I held onto them for so long because I didn't want to even let go. I loved Appa so goddamn much, and even if they were right about all of this, I didn't ever want this to change. But as the sun sets, our families called us home for rest. Appa took their wooden candle home with them and I went back up to the loft, blowing my candle out and turning to darkness for the night.

-

They had us all lined up in front of the justice building like sheep at the corral for feeding. A bunch of young lambs in the front with the hogget in the back. Up on top of the stage was a peacekeeper and the winner of the Second games, Samiyuq. The recent victor had no look of approval for the event. The ceremony was quick. My heart was still bubbling in fear for Appa and I was still positive that it was them being called. It has to be rigged. It has to. They can't punish the innocent. I could feel the pulsation of my heart as the Peacekeeper dug their hand into the bowl.

I had never heard of the first called person before, it was an older girl. Good. One name down. Now it only came to the boy-

"September Yorgos!"

"FUCK"

Appa's voice rang throughout the center like the echo of a pot hitting the kitchen floor. My heart vibrated like the ground following every single bomb that cursed the land it would touch. That was my name. Holy shit.

Well, I guess I was right.

They can't punish the innocent.