reno xayahs . district five

Reno taught himself to never say no to something that brings in money. Second oldest of his siblings, he would do whatever's necessary for the entire family to survive. It was a trick, the way that leaders in the district and country as a whole campaigned for parents to have more kids. The Xayahs children number at five. The Dark Ages came and it became impossible to take care of that many kids. And after the loss, nothing changed. In fact, it got even harder for Reno's family when an explosion took their eldest's leg from the knee down.

Money, money, money– we don't have enough money.

The problem persisted as he grew up. The issue with paychecks is that you can only beg for so many weeks of pay in advance before you run out. Stressful looks and hungry stomachs gave him a headache. As soon as he was old enough to quit schoo, Reno did. The best way to learn how to survive in Five is to be on a ranch. Not at home with a book and a pencil. He applied to be a farmhand at every turn. Living in the densely populated parts of Five made it difficult to get any work. Older and more qualified candidates moved from job to job as the Capitol consolidated ranches and farms to better organize their control over production. But Reno promised himself that the first job he got would be the first one he'd take, no matter where it was or what he'd have to do.

His duffel bag carried two changes of clothes, a pillowcase, a journal, and a framed picture of his family. The first job that took him in was on the other side of the district, too far away to travel there and back home on a daily basis. Daddy told him he didn't have to do it, becoming a working man at sixteen. Parents support their children at that age, not the other way around. Reno awkwardly shrugged the gesture off, hands swept away in the back pockets of his jeans. His father was always afraid to admit that he struggled to provide what the family needed. Reno often watched his father sneak meals back into the refrigerator to save for him and his siblings when they needed a midnight snack. Why someone would feel the need to be so prideful, and why Reno feels the same way today, is something he'll never understand.

He's allowed to leave to ranch one day a month, the last Sunday. He walks through the day, rain or shine, back home. Sometimes, if he's lucky, Reno's able to bargain for a ride on the back of someone's bicycle. It's quick, the day spent at home. Daddy try to ask how he's been, shrug. His little sister Whitney shows him one of her new drawings, a feigned smile. Henderson asks if he likes living on a farm, shrug. Ma asks if he eats well over there, a head nod.

Everyone tries to hug Reno as he's grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, but in his only display of emotion for the day, the pain in his voice tells them: "No." or "Stop it." or "Don't touch me, please." Affection carresses him like pity, and that's something he can't stand. He's miserable and tired all the time, alone in the attic of a well-off family who seems to think it's cute to daydream and watch him work from their bedroom windows. The way that his family tries to show him gratitude only makes him want to reject it more.

I'm just doing my job, I'm just doing my job– we need the money.

After saying no more than a hundred words throughout a two hour visit, Reno leaves to go back to work.

Ma and Daddy find an envelope with the entirety of his month's pay under his plate.