Adrenaline Rush // District Eight

When Velocity Rush was reaped for the Sixty-Ninth Games, I was the only one who wasn't surprised. I knew she was alive, even though we hadn't spoken in a year, even though no one had seen nor heard from her through the long, hard winter. But I knew, the way I know how to breathe or wake with the sun. She wasn't dead and I hadn't grieved for her.

So when she bled out in the snow, I was the only who cried.

#

Thirteen candles (really just sticks, not all of them lit) danced against the dark glass. The putty that held the sticks looked like mud. "She's always late," I whined. Velocity always got to do everything first, even though we were practically the same age. She had a small stack of gifts, including a new sewing set, and a little pastry set aside. She was so lucky but she wasn't around to appreciate it.

"Can I have just a little bite?" I asked, eyes wide, already knowing the answer. My mother patted the cloth-wrapped present clutched in my hands. A concession present, for being younger, for having to wait ten more months until my thirteenth. I hoped by then my body would look like City's, rounded at the hips and blossoming breasts. I had the body of a prepubescent boy, all sharp angles and long limbs. I didn't know then that my body would always be gangling, no matter how hard I searched for curves in the mirror.

The night darkened. The sticks burned down, threatening the putty. My father pinched them out one by one.

"Have it all," my mother said, too exhausted to worry.

#

I wrapped a scarf I'd knitted for Velocity around my face. I took each rung up to the treehouse carefully, testing my weight first. I still hadn't managed to bridge the ten months between my sister and I, but I was a full head taller and had the extra pounds to prove it. I hated that she still loved hide and seek. I might have hated it less if she played with only me.

City's laughter above parted the clouds like sunshine. I climbed faster, wheezing by the time I hauled myself onto the platform. She reached for my face, my face reaching for her caress. But she only pushed the scarf down and blew skunky smoke into my eyes. Her friends' laughter grated over every pore.

"It won't kill you. It's a plant for ripred's sake." City lifted the joint to her lips before another snatched it away.

"I know," I said, and tugged the scarf back into place.

#

"You have to come home. You'll freeze out here."

We stood behind the warehouse, backs to the treacherous wind. Velocity shivered so hard that when she pressed the cigarette to her face, it hit her nose instead of her lips. I wrapped my hands around hers, steadying her for a moment. She inhaled and turned the butt to me. I breathed in slowly, letting it settle in my lungs.

"I can't go home. It's not even home any more, just a house, and a house is not a home."

I exhaled smoke and fog. "I know," I said, even though I didn't. "But it's the only one we've got."

She smiled so slowly, so vacantly. I pushed her hair back from her face and just for a moment her eyes widened and met mine. "Where have you gone, Velocity?"

She dropped the cigarette, stamping it out in the snow. "Somewhere you can't follow." She snatched the coat I'd pilfered from the factory. As she trudged down the alley, she didn't even bother to put her arms through, just wrapped it around her tight, shivering shoulders. I almost ran after her.

I didn't.

#

"It's my birthday. I'm sixteen." I bent at my knees, careful not to disturb to the stream of trash running down the shadowed alley. Velocity wrapped her arms around her ribs, cleaning to a backpack. Twins, people had once called us. I doubted anyone could even see the resemblance between us any more. The healthy flush to my cheeks, the bright shine to my blue eyes, the vibrant sheen of my mahogany hair. All of that was lost on City. She was dulled, distant, decayed. "City? Can you hear me?"

She unzipped the side, drawing out scraps of paper bags and receipts and needles. I leaned back on my heels, swallowing sour bile and salty tears. She pushed the scraps towards me, dipping the edges into the stream.

"I can't come visit you any more," I said.

"I know," she said.

#

It was easier after that. I told myself the same lies over and over again, until they took on a veneer of truth. City had recovered. City had moved to the forest at the edge of the District. City had found herself a family to love her. City was alive. My parents forgot they had another daughter and my friends stopped asking. My grades improved. I dated enough to know that I didn't like any of the boys in my school in that way. I learned to cook. My embroidery brought home a little extra money every month.

I stood in the reaping pens, a scarf of my own design wrapped around my neck. A friend held my hand. I knew Velocity was far away, healthy and free. I knew she was dreaming and writing, just like she used to. I promised myself I would read some of her poetry at dinner, even if my parents didn't want to hear it.

Velocity Rush.

I put the scarf over my face, the ghost of smoke rolling over me. I shut my eyes, balled up my fists. My friend asked, "Isn't that your sister? She's alive?"

"I know."

#

Across the miles, I watched my sister die. The Capitol gave her everything to feed her addiction: thrills and pills and fellow addicts. Prism Nixton shared his pipe with her. I hunched over the sewing machine, laying out the design. Elverum Trsoshaldr joined her in the land of dreams. I sat on the couch, working furiously on the embroidery. My finger bled, my eyes bloodshot as she stepped into the arena.

Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven...

I lifted the shroud, embroidered black and silver with the words of City's journals, and placed it over the television as the countdown struck one.