• Athena Spring has spent her entire life carefully curating the perfect image. Perfect grades, a proud family, and the Plinth Prize nearly within her grasp, Athena has it all. However, when her plans are derailed by an unexpected twist of events, s...
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Treech's hands tremble as he stands below the beam, the lifeless form of Lamina sprawled before him in the dust. To say he's guilty doesn't seem sufficient enough to describe how he feels. Lamina, the girl from District Seven, always lost in a world of her own, now dead. They barely knew each other, Treech had only crossed paths with her once before the Reaping.
He's once again a mere boy of twelve, his day's labour at the lumber yard leaving his muscles aching and his spirit weary. The first thaw of Spring has begun, the birds starting to chirp once more despite he evening's cool embrace. He's on his way back to the circus for another night of shows despite his sore muscles, when a sudden noise startles him. It's a cry, soft andheart-wrenching, that draws him to the alley where he finds her, the barely nine-year-old Lamina, her sorrow as tangible as the dirt-stained sandwich she mourns.
Her family's plight is known to all in Seven; hunger is an uninvited guest in many homes, but it has taken up permanent residence in hers. The dropped sandwich, now ruined, represents more than a meal—it is hope, however fleeting. Treech is no stranger to hunger, there's been many a night where he's also had to go hungry. Lamina's family, however, with their six children to take care of, had barely made it through the winter.
"Hey," Treech says softly, the dim lamp in the alleyway illuminating Lamina's tear-stained face.
The girl jumps slightly, flinching away from the older boy.
"I don't want any trouble," she sobs quietly, her eyes fixated on his approaching silhouette.
Treech crouches down beside her, glancing at the dirtied sandwich on the floor and sighing. He'd seen Lamina around Seven, usually on the way to school when Treech had the time to attend. She kept to herself mostly, despite being part of one of the larger crowds. Her friends happen to be regular tormentors of Treech and the rest of the circus kids (as most do in Seven), yet Lamina had never joined in. For that, he owes her.
"Come on," Treech mumbles, holding out a hand to help her up.
Lamina stares at him for a moment, confusion etching on her face as she hesitates to accept it.
"I know someone who can help you out," he persists, smiling warmly. His genuine grin seems to soften Lamina as she reluctantly takes his hand, pulling herself to her feet and nodding silently.
The pair track along the empty, mud-covered streets without much in the way of conversation. The air is silent, save for Lamina's dissipating sniffs as she holds back tears. A large red-and-yellow tent looms in the distance, colourful lights dancing through the fabric as faint cheers echo down the street towards them.
Despite the majority of people in District Seven being wary, or even openly hostile, towards the performers who work at the circus, many find themselves heading down for a night of entertainment on the weekends, to have a laugh and a drink. It's a place where everybody is equal, where both Capitol and District citizens alike can watch and forget about their division.
