❝𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀❞ ━ TREECH

51. the market

“Well, we do. But it’s more like multiple streets with shops, I suppose. From what Treech told me, your market seems to be on some sort of square. I’m just assuming because he said shops are closed in a clockwise rotation,” she ponders aloud. “And I rarely went there anyway.”

Ironically, the trip to the market indirectly saved Treech’s life. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get to thank the lady at the bakery who gave her the food coloring, not knowing what kind of role it would play just a few days later.

“‘Cause you had people doin’ it for you,” Birdie concludes, reading the other girl like a book. She flushes, and Birdie has to laugh. “I was kidding. Are you serious?”

June shrugs, now feeling a bit bashful just from thinking about it. Here, her privileged life seems so far away, even though she was living right in the middle of it around this time last week. While the Academy was treating the students to lunch and supper, the tributes were left to fend for themselves, and they had to rely on the donations.

It’s no surprise Treech has been eating like a starved man, claiming he “needs to get back to the weight he had before.” And, admittedly, he is a bit skinnier than he was before he entered the arena, but not to the point at which it would be concerning. But the more she thinks about it, the more ashamed she feels of how, despite being aware of the Districts and their hunger, she still relished everything she had access to in the Capitol. There’s a strange guilt that comes with being here in Seven, knowing the Capitol is hoarding what these people need.

For a moment, she has her mother’s words in the back of her mind. “I don’t want a maid or a chef that I can’t speak to,” is what she’d always say when another member of the Capitol’s elite questioned her refusal to make Avoxes work for her family. June finds it even more backhanded now, knowing that her mother is perfectly comfortable experimenting on these poor people. She never took pity on Avoxes that were forced to work in people's homes; she simply didn’t seem to think they were worthy of working in hers.

It’s ironic, considering the fact that the house is technically not even hers.

“We have a maid,” she eventually explains after a few seconds of hesitating. “And a few chefs. My parents always said they’re too busy to cook for us.”

“Maybe they’re just bad at cookin’,” Birdie jokes. “You ever thought about that?”

June has to laugh. “It could be. But if that’s true, I don’t know why my brother is so good at baking,” she says, her voice a bit softer. “I hope he’ll bring his recipes with him when he eventually follows me here. His cookies are unmatched.”

Birdie smiles. Although she’s making light of the situation, she can see from the way June grows more quiet than usual that she misses her brother. But she understands that all too well. It’s not the same thing, but when Treech wasn’t at home, she also didn’t know what he was up to until they first showed the tributes on TV.

“I hope he doesn’t bring any fancy suits,” Birdie says, catching June slightly off guard. Her eyes flicker over the girl’s attire — the dark green dress and her clean flats. She doesn’t think she has ever seen a fabric so untouched, not in this part of Seven. Near the train station, where the richer merchants live, sure. But never deeper in the outskirts of the District.

“Treech said to stick to earthy colors.” June tries to defend herself when Birdie touches the ruffles of her sleeve and rubs her thumb over the smooth fabric. “I had a few more I wanted to bring, but they might have made me stand out too much.”

Birdie looks down at herself and the faded flower pattern on her dress in particular. “It’s less about the color and more about the fabric,” she explains with a carefree shrug. “Almost everyone that works at the lumber yard wears jeans. Something strong that doesn’t rip if you give it a little tug. But say, if you were to knit yourself a blue scarf, people wouldn’t care much.”