Two & a Half Quarters [Jack]

Jack has fast reflexes. Very. Fast. Reflexes. Even while drunk, apparently.

I feel bad for throwing Jack into the lake, but it had to be done. He needs to sober up, and quick. He can't be seen all crazy and psycho and reek of booze; what if the Peacekeepers get a hold of him? What if his parents saw him? He'd be quarantined for sure. And then what? We'll be back where we started, with him in the DC and me on the run.

I narrow my eyes at Jack as he comes out of the water to scream at me. Of course I did, but you don't seem fully sober yet.

For all I know, I could be drowning him. He seems conscious enough every time I pull him out of the water, though. Flailing and even clawing my arm, which hurts, but it does't loosen the grip I have on his shirt. I'm... I'm actually mad at him. Why? I can't fully say.

He ends up getting his legs around me and I lose my balance, so I end up going underwater also. The water is really cold, especially in this summer heat, and I feel my body quickly going into some sort of shock. My muscles are cramping and my skin hurts with the cold contact.

I stand back up, sucking in the warm air. Jack's standing, but he looks awful. Really, really awful. Maybe I shouldn't have done that...

As I'm awkwardly petting his back with my wrist nub, Jack turns over to look at me so I draw my arm back. One look at his face and holy shoot, he looks like a cat just spit him up.

I stomp back to Jack's house and wait by the door until he shows up. Even though I've been to his house so often, I still find it rude to just waltz right on in, especially since I've been away for a few days. His mother could be changing her clothes inside for all I know, so it's always best to wait for Jack to enter first so he can warn me.

Once he arrives, I follow him inside, watching him as he slides down to the ground in the kitchen, ordering me to get a paper and then write down my answer. I snatch up the paper and find a pencil, then sit down at the table and trying my best to write with two less fingers.

Do you remember that one Games where that pregnant girl was in the arena, but they sent her baby back to her district? They could right now be bringing your twins back, and what would they find? Some drunkard in his own spew behind a shed. Do you think they'd let you keep your kids? No. They'd ship them off to the community home and you'd never see them again. You can't give up this easily. And if you do give up, don't let it be like this. You still have a chance! Don't screw it up like I screwed up for Colton because what would Nonnie say if she saw you right now? She'd slap you senseless and tell you to shave off that beard, too. You look like some hermit wanderer.

I wait as he reads my paper. It's probably hard to read since I haven't gotten used to only using three fingers, but I'm so flustered that my penmanship is probably just crap. A bunch of jumbled lines and curves in a horizontal row.

It doesn't surprise me that he'd question about what they did for that girl. To be honest, I don't even remember, really. But if it is true, we can't risk being caught off guard.