august ❀ Lamina

Chapter 1

She just shrugged and walked out of the room. I stood there for a bit, thinking. She'd gotten into my head, the sneaky bitch.

I sighed in defeat and searched the bathroom for a hair tie. When I finally found one, I put my hair up in a simple ponytail.

"Why do I always listen to her?" I murmured to myself, though I could hardly come up with an answer.

Feeling confident enough that this wouldn't be a horrible outfit to die in, I walked out of the little shack we called a home. I hoped I'd get to see Aunt Juni before the reaping at least. If I didn't and I was chosen, I probably wouldn't see her again.

I was taking my time on my walk to the reaping. I was in no rush to die, that was a given. That was when I ran into Brooke Kentwell, my best friend.

"Hey, Clove." He grinned boyishly at me. Clove was a stupid nickname he gave me that I don't even know how he came up with. He won't tell me.

"That's still not my name." I told him.

"Fine, Colette." He glared playfully at me, his smile giving away his facade. I had no idea how he was so happy all the time.

I looked at his clothes. For once, he hadn't dressed completely horrible. Probably the work of his grandmother. "Don't you look dapper." I said sarcastically, referring to his white dress shirt and black vest.

"Thanks." He said, adjusting his collar. "I wanted to wear something else, but my grandma wouldn't let me leave the house in it." He sighed. He looked hot, and was sweating. It was particularly humid, but what else to expect on July fourth, the worst day of the year?

"We kind of match." I observed, looking between our two outfits, drawing some similarities.

He followed my eyes as I looked down at my blouse. "Kind of." He said. "Same colors and... general style of the clothes." He added. "Your shirt's cream though, mine's white." He pointed out.

I looked down at both of our shirts, not seeing much of a difference. "Why are we talking about this again?" I asked. "We could both die in a few days and you're worried about the color of my shirt?"

"It goes with your complexion." He shrugged, looking back ahead. I squinted my eyes at him, confused.

"What does that even mean?" I questioned. I expected no less of Brooke though. His grandmother was a seamstress, so I assumed he picked it up from being around her so much.

"The color of your skin." He said, poking my cheek. "The cream goes good with it."

A blinked a few times, a bemused look on my face. He made no sense to me half the time.

"Anyway." He cleared his throat. "Do you think you could ask Kyla to remember my name? She keeps calling me Becky." He said quietly.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. "She-" I almost laughed. "She calls you Becky?" I asked with a smile on my face. I couldn't help it.

"Yes. Is it that hard to remember the name Brooke? It's not a complicated name, it should be fairly easy to remember." He huffed.

I covered my mouth in a successful attempt to keep myself from laughing. It wasn't that funny in and of itself, it was just how much it bugged Brooke that was funny to me.

"Don't worry, Becky. I'm sure she'll remember someday." I pat his shoulder and nodded my head.

"That's not my name." He said, looking at me.

"And Clove isn't my name. That doesn't seem to stop you." I countered.

He paused for a moment. "Touché." He responded. "Just tell Kyla to at least try and remember my name."