they'll know our names | i&b

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

There's a dramatic thud on the table that brings me out of whatever daymaring state I was in. Aren't you a bit too animated and chipper given the circumstances? He's one of the boys from District Five, Itzal, and he's already acting as if we go way back. Hey, bud! I won't call him out here and now on it because I'm sure he doesn't mean any harm, but words like bud have always made me feel minimized. It's like kid or my guy. People say it when they're casual with someone. Even then, though, it just makes me feel small.

Itzal plays with the oatmeal in his bowl, tossing it around and, accurately so, critiquing the preparation. "They probably don't understand what it is to love your food." Surely he's not talking about District Three's food, right? The most creative thing my parents have made are some veggie omelets and waffles, which was a treat of course, but nothing inventive or full of culture. There's a lot more taste and flavor in some of the other districts, certainly. Maybe he's not talking about me specifically, and he's just making a point that the people of the Capitol are so detached from everything but themselves. Regardless, I keep chipping away at the sandwich while he talks, quick to swallow so I can smile and nod whenever he's expecting a reaction.

You know how it is.

Mhm. Totally.

We just appreciate it more, some of these kids just don’t even know.

He's losing me again, but my eyebrows raise as if I've had this exact conversation before with someone back home.

People like us have to stick together, right, Karl?

The next piece practically goes down whole in a choking disbelief and recognition that I have had this exact conversation before.

Right, Karl?

Because… Karl is my name! It's Karl, Skyler, Mason, Gerald Fitzbrennan, Brendan– (okay, I can actually excuse Brendan.) It's the look of certainty on Itzal's face that I'm Karl, a tribute from Eleven, that seems to hurt the most. I empty my glass of water trying to force the rest of the sandwich down.

I smile as if it doesn't hurt my feelings. It's okay. Well, no, it's not okay. People mix names up all the time. I don't, but I also have nothing better to do than memorize everyone's names as they move and shake around the Training Center.

Just… politely correct him! He seems like the type of person who will listen. And if he doesn't, I can grab a sword and chop his head off once we get into the arena.

"It's Brennan, by the way. Karl is from District Eleven, and I'm from District Three." I speak matter-of-factly, which certainly wasn't the intention. Play it off, play it off. "I was getting a bit confused, there. District Three's not really known for our… tastes."

It's just a harmless mistake. It wasn't his intention to hurt you. It's not his fault, he's not to blame.

Intentions. Fault. Blame. Give people too much runway and they'll start walking all over you.

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

I almost feel guilty when he coughs up some of his oatmeal after my correction. Itzal sits there, thinking for a moment. I don't want to be that guy; the one who has to resist the urge to comment on something that's truly no big deal.

"I hear that, Brendan."

Okay… is he listening to what I'm saying or is he just pretending to care? I curl my legs up onto the seat and wrap my arms down by the ankles as he continues going on. Thankfully, he seems to just be making generalizations about District Three being so lame for an "Upper" district. We're not adventurous, we're not stylish, and we're certainly not existing with the intention of standing out from anyone else. It's interesting to see how people outside of my district see us. What's even more satisfying is that from the looks of Itzal's opinions, he believes we're all indistinguishable. When push comes to shove and the prideful bullies in District Three zoom out into the world around them, they're nothing special.

Perhaps what's most interesting about Itzal's observation is the last thing that he says. You didn't ask to be born there. I stare at him for a little bit too long, hand moving up as a pedestal for my jaw to land on. How can someone speak so obliviously yet so astutely at the same time? I nod along actively now. It's the first time someone in this experience has gotten me to think critically about my place in this world.

"I like how you think. People don't normally choose the environment they're put into. I'm from Three, involuntarily, and you're from Five, involuntarily"

I pick at the stitch of my district's number on the uniform. "But you're still Itzal, and I'm still Brennan." The emphasis I put on that n is as well-defined as an encyclopedia on Three's tech. To prove my impeccable social skills, I throw a jab back to him. "We're more than just the general themes of our districts. I couldn't tell you the first thing about District Five. Like… if someone put a knife to my throat and told me to say what you guys did, it was nice knowing me!"

I smile. "But I can tell you're a nice guy after talking to you for a minute."