97th Reaping [District Eight]

“They’ve got me working the morning shift, but that’s okay. Reaping days are always busy at the diner, and at least the tips are good.” Lucia is brushing the tangles out of her hair, glancing over her shoulder to see her sister making full use of the vanity mirror that was at one time meant to be shared between them. Sylvia might be her twin, identical save for their mismatched freckles, but the older they become seems to make their differences all the more apparent. Lucia can remember the days they used to stand shoulder to shoulder in their matching dresses, always struggling to be the lone center of attention. That is to say, to finally have some sense of independence from one another.

Now, those petty feelings of envy and frustration seem like a lifetime away. Lucia has since become content with her place in the background — because she chose to stand there. It’s more practical, she thinks. When you learn how to act with your head and not your heart, things work out for the better. And in the two years following her father’s death, and the subsequent revelation of his many overdue debts, the Valentine household is in dire need of a rational mind among its ranks. Lucia smiles softly as she watches Sylvia ready herself, like a porcelain doll in the process of being painted.

"Do you remember when the garden was still alive?" Sylvia is pretty like a songbird, and somber as one, too. Lucia glances to the window where her sister's gaze has strayed, to the dried patches of grass and empty cement flower beds that show signs of disrepair. No matter how they different they might seem, playing hide and seek is a memory that Lucia believes will always connect them. The roses used to be so vibrant, the ferns reaching for the sky. In her best dreams, the ones where their father is alive again and the rug has not been pulled out from under their feet, this is where she frequents. "Of course I remember. Dad used to say you sang only for the peonies to hear." Her twin has always been gentle in this way. Like their mother, quiet and lovely and helpless, she is content to stand in the same place she always has. Even as all the furniture collects dust, and the walls begin to crumble around her.

"I miss it." Lucia misses so much that now exists only in the past.

To ask Sylvia to set aside her dreams and familiar lifestyle would be like asking a fish to move to dry land. Once her hair is brushed, Lucia pulls her brown waves into a loose ponytail, dressing casually in a blue shirt and denim jeans. She’s sure her mother will have something to say, that’s not appropriate for today of all days, but she doesn’t want to put in the effort of dressing up just to waste a trip back home to change into her uniform when she’s expected to be at work. If you ask Lucia, Sylvia looks enough like the perfect daughter to cover for the both of them. She’s wearing one of her party dresses for the occasion, with a pastel ribbon tied carefully into her styled hair.

Undoubtedly, she’ll be spending her evening following the Reaping at the opera house where she’s employed. There’s no such thing as wasted effort when it comes to Sylvia and her appearance, ever the shining example of grace. Lucia may think herself brave, but just the idea of standing in the same spotlight as her twin makes her stomach flip. At the very least, the company pays her a monthly wage for her performances. That’s more than can be said for their mother, whose only source of income are the custom gowns she creates on commission — but with her ailing health, those can take months at a time to finish. The bulk of the family’s finances are from Lucia’s pockets, primarily through her job as a waitress, but she also offers her services around the neighborhood when she’s able. Pulling weeds here, bathing a dog there, babysitting Miss Abbott’s two daughters instead of spending her off day with her friends.

Sacrifices have to be made, and she knows this more than anyone. It’s been two years since she had to resign from her school’s Exy team, no longer able to afford the funding while also trying to chip away at the debt. It had felt like the right thing to do — to Lucia, family comes first, even before her own self. When everything is settled, and the Valentine manor is secured, she likes to believe that she can pick up her old dreams and carry on from where she pressed pause. That’s what she tells herself, that the hardship is only temporary. Someone has to put in the work, to take control of the bad situation and turn it around. As difficult as it is to think about her father, knowing he’s the reason for their current struggles, she knows that there was some goodness in him. It still lives in her.

“Maybe if I’m not too tired, I’ll swing by tonight to catch your show.” Even as she says it, she knows the odds are low. Lucia is always tired, but she wants to make the effort to be there for her sister. It feels right to offer the sentiment, as she's unwilling to imagine a world where they drift apart into separate beings. As much as she values her independence, Sylvia will always be her twin sister. No matter how much her life has to change to keep her family afloat, there is no force that could ever change this. She grabs her bag and pulls the strap over her shoulder, gazing on final time at the mirror her sister is using, two reflections of a single face staring back at her. “I love you, Syl. I'll wait for you before we join the crowd.”

She hugs her mother on the way out the door, trying to ignore the complaints being spoken directly into her ear. ”I know, Mom, I know— gotta go!” Even for all the chaos inside her home, there’s comfort in knowing she will always return to it. The walls are adorned with photographs from her youth, and the warm scent of cinnamon always seems to hang in the air. Her mother and sister are never very far from her. This is what she’s fighting so hard to keep. Regardless of their hesitance to adapt to their new circumstances, they are her people. And this is her life. There is no cost too high to pay when it comes to protecting them.

One day, the dead garden will be overflowing with flowers again.

🔹

But less than an hour later, standing in the cool air among the other girls her age, Lucia feels her resolve begin to twist inside her stomach like a mangled knot. This might be her final Reaping, but they’ve never gotten any less stressful over the years. She thought that focusing on her job would distract her, but just the sight of the escort taking the stage following the mayor’s speech is enough to make her adrenaline spike. Not Sylvia, she whispers so quietly it can’t be heard under her breath. Anyone but Sylvia. She turns her head in the girl’s direction, standing at her side and making her feel like she is home. Her sister deserves a long, happy life. They both do. And the last thing either of them needs is for fate to throw another curveball at them.

The Valentines have had their fair share of tragedy.

“Lucia Valentine!”

But this story is not yet finished being told.

The world tilts on its axis, and the full weight of her name being called slams directly into Lucia’s chest. It nearly knocks the breath from her lungs. She blinks, forcing herself to inhale, feeling her cheeks start to flush as the audience gives her their full attention. Not Sylvia, she had wished, not thinking of her own knack for misfortune. She clenches her fists by her side, stepping forward before she can be pushed and dragged to the stage. Before she can walk away from Sylvia, she reaches for her sister’s hand and squeezes tight, drawing her into a warm embrace. Her sister had started to cry as soon as her name was spoken, and now Lucia hushes her softly.

“It's okay. I'm still right here. I'll always be here.” She pulls away, but her heart remains with Sylvia. "This is not goodbye."

When she finally takes her place, staring out at the crowd and feeling the cold breath of fate on the back of her neck, Lucia sets her jaw tight. Her eyes are trained forward, bright with determination.

Today will not be the day she stops fighting.

^{{ lucia accepts her position as tribute }}