The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword {Gemma}

“He’s like a pirate: grumpy and controlling, and always after the gold. But he’s done me and my cousin well. It’s not his fault that life didn’t turn out as he wanted, I suppose. He lost an arm in an accident, so now he has to make signs for the docks. I test them, since I can’t... you know.”

I nod, trying to grasp what it must be like to live with a man like that. I don't even know Fleet's uncle, but I can tell that he's been through a lot. I want to ask what kind of accident he was in, but I don't want to here gory details on an empty stomach. Before I realize it, though, Fleet is throwing a spear at a dummy very close to me. I cringe as the spear flies past me, the wind from it rustling my hair. I turn and watch it land just an inch or two to the left of it's "heart."

“When Harp didn’t get into the Games, he was furious. Now he’s determined for me to go in. I don’t mind – I want to. But these last few years have been so pressured; I want to, need to, get more training in so that I’m prepared, but I’ve been stuck in school, held back a year, bored, useless. All I want to do is fish, swim and fight. But people can’t seem to let me do that!”

I watch as Fleet spins and shouts, releasing all the anger that is bottled up inside him. I don't say anything, or, well, mouth anything. I let him rant and release his emotions. I would do the same if anything would come out. He suddenly stops, but he still has a look of fury in his eyes. He looks at me, still angered, and takes a small step towards me as if indicating if he wants to fight. He steps back though, finally cooling down.

“The Games are my life now. I can’t see anything else anymore.”

He sighs and slams his fist against the wall, showering himself in plaster dust. I want to do something to comfort him, but I think it's best to just let him pour out his emotions right now.

“So how come you can’t talk? You’re not an escaped Avox are you?” Kidding. What I mean is, I get that people lose their sight and hearing, but voice? How does that even work?"

I sigh in relief that he may have finally calmed down. I bite my lip, trying to recall what caused me to lose my voice Even though it happened only five years ago, I don't remember. I do remember, though, that the doctor simply said I would never be able to speak again, and then left. Whether or not he told my parents how it happened, I do not know. I always managed to convince myself that I was sick and had lost my voice.

I had never tried to speak after that, though. I was afraid I would somehow mess my body up even further. My parents never said anything to me about it until about a month ago, when they told me I could get an operation that would allow me to speak again. I wasn't as excited as I should be; I knew there would be a catch. My voice wouldn't be how it should; I could figure out it wouldn't sound like my actual voice without asking. I never told my parents that I felt either way, though. I still try to convince myself sometimes that I'm just sick, and in a few weeks my voice will be back.
I remember that Fleet asked me a question, so I set my weights down. My arms are starting to get tired, and I need to get a little closer to Fleet so he can read my lips.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure how I-"

I don't get to finish my sentence. I trip over my weights that I had so carelessly tossed in front of me. The trip isn't anything big, though, but I'm still falling, falling towards Fleet. I try to steady myself, and I end up grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him down with me. I end up on top of him, and in my attempt to get off him, my lips meet his. I don't pull back.