Rivalry [Pogue]

"Yeah....okay. I guess I should get going too." after pausing Iapitus then adds, "I guess I should...say thanks, or something. About today. Thanks for coming to my house, you're a brave guy."

All of a sudden all of the fear, hatred, awkwardness, and everything leaves me. He gave me a compliment. And one that I greatly appreciate. I feel like all that searching-in-the-fog work has finally paid off. Almost. I stare at him as he walks away. Did I really make a change? Did I do something good? I hope so.

I should say something, shouldn't I? What could I say? I'm not sure so I just blurt this out before he leaves earshot.

"Thank you! And you too!"

How much lamer could I have gotten. Oh well. The construction of an impossible friendship just started crawling. I intend to make it run.

As I walk through the district square, wet with the cold waters of the ocean, I smile. I love swimming in cold water especially. It makes me feel secure. If nothing else likes cold water, and I'm the only one in it, nothing will get me. Nothing can if nothing is there. I do regret getting out of the water though. After you go swimming in cold weather and then get out you start freezing. Quite literally. I was shivering. I could wait until I got home and then change. But we've got enough money where we could spare the purchase of another jacket. I need a new jacket anyways. I change my directory to the nearest clothing stand, sorting through the clothes I hold draped over my arm. I am only wearing swim trunks. I find my wallet and pull it out.

As I look back up to see where I am, I nearly collide with another boy. It takes me only a second to realize who he is. It's Hammil. I instantly feel embarrassment, guilt, and empathy. We haven't talked for a couple days and the gossip floating around the District involving his family hasn't been kind. What should I do? Should I offer consoling words? Should I apologize and just keep walking?

I think I should offer him the chance to vent. "You wanna talk?" I ask, gesturing in a fashion that would suggest a stroll. I see he has bread in his hands, so he might have to go home soon. Heck, I do. I have to go to a holiday party tonight.

"About what, Iapitus?" He asks. I'm sure he knows. I know he knows. But I look around at all of the civilians talking and chatting and buying that I don't dare tell him right here.

"About the party tonight!" I say in a fake happy voice. I hope he gets the hint that I'm faking. Even if he doesn't I still hope he follows. "C'mon!" I start walking, hoping he will follow. He better follow. I slip on my shirt as I do so as well.

"I know what you're going to ask, Iapitus." Hammil says. I he turns to look at me. Looking even worse for wear than I could've imagined. The poor boy. That poor poor boy. I can't even imagine what I'd do if I was in his situation. I instantly realize that normally I'd be totally blunt and ignorant and probably offer no comfort. I'm doing this because he's my friend now. Or almost. I don't do these kinds of things for people who aren't my friends. "I'm assuming you're wanting to know if it's true or not, aren't you."

Yes. I am. But that's not why I came to talk to him. That would be monumentally rude. I look him back in his eyes, his eyes that have near black circles around them. Eyes that hold intense sadness and threaten tears at every moment. Eyes that tell me all he wants is to be done. All done. They tell me that he is weak, that he is vulnerable. But I don't lie.

"Well, yes." I look down at my walking feet. Step, crunch, step, crunch, step. I'm so ashamed. "I also wanted to know if you needed to talk about it." I look back up quickly, to see if his expression has changed.

I listen as Hammil pours out his feelings. His heart. Everything that he feels is wrong in his life. I've never been in a situation like this. This is so awkward. I've never been the holder of serious information before this. I've never had to also try to comprehend the fact that a person wanted out so bad that they'd try to end their life. I feel so privileged yet so guilty at the same time. Why guilty? Guilty because my life is better than his right now. That may be a conceited thought, but it's also true.

Hammil looks at me with shocked eyes again. Like he can't believe he told me this but at the same time he can't believe he hasn't yet. I can only imagine how good yet awful it feels to have something like that off of your chest. I want so badly to hold eye contact, but I'm too ashamed. Ashamed for a reason unknown to me. Ashamed because I know this information? This personal information? I really can't tell.

I force myself to stare back and I ask him, "No problem. Anything else you need off your chest?"

As Hammil tells me all the things I've done right, I can only think of how many things I've done wrong. Shooting an arrow at him? What one Earth drove me to attempt murder. Granted I meant to catch him in the leg or something, but still. That's for the Hunger Games. And lately, I've been thinking how I don't want to go into those. Despite the remarks my father constantly makes I can only think how I would never be able to move on as a happy victor. As I'm sure everyone thinks, I can and will win if I get reaped, but I don't want to be reaped. Do I even want to win? That's a stupid thought. Obviously I do. Then Hammil tells me he has to go. He leaves and I stand there for another five minutes. Honestly not knowing if I got myself into trouble or helped a soul.

~~several hours later~~

We approach the mansion in which the party is being held tonight. All of the wealthier families were invited. I'm in a blazer and khakis, an extremely uncomfortable and expensive blend. My younger sister is wearing the matching dress to my mother and my father wears something along the lines of a tuxedo. We walk up the steps and when we get inside my mother carries the food we brought over to the food table, followed like a shadow by my sister. My father instantly is absorbed into the mob of men who are already drunk and laughing. I am left to my own devices. I walk to the food table, or rather buffet and find my mother making conversation with the hostess and my sister standing there awkwardly. I quickly start to pick off some shrimp, waiting for the party to end. Or at least something exciting to happen.

I stand by the food table, gobbling up food whenever I get bored. So about every two or three minutes. The seafood tastes the best, it always has. I've loved seafood since I could eat solid foods, or at least that's what my mother says. My parents like to say I was born for the district. That there's no other place I could've been born. They're right. I could swim all day and then have a seafood feast for dinner. Then sleep on the beach under the moonlight. This party is something else though. I stand alone, as usual at parties, and watch all the adults slowly get more intoxicated until we have to leave. Suddenly I see Hammil walk into one of those drunk crowds.

Why isn't he talking to me? I think. Then I realize how stupid a thought that was. Even though we may be something along the lines of friends now, our father's are still under the impression that we hate each other, as they do each other. I realize that I am also five steps further from the food table than I was before I saw Hammil. I can't help but feel left out and embarrassed. I hate talking to adults, it's not that I'm introverted or anything. Suddenly I see Hammil's father storm over to him. His face red with either drunkenness, anger, or embarrassment.

This cannot end well. I think to myself again, a shrimp halfway into my mouth.