Not Really Gone (Zori)

Days like this make me wonder what she would be doing. Running up behind us, chasing us like we the cows she’s got to get back to the barn? And then I’d let her catch me, maybe sometimes, because the two of us would have a good laugh about it. Briar would laugh too—more than the belly laugh she lets out when she thinks she’s being funny, though. The sun is way up in the sky, and it’s a lot warmer than I remember it being, but that’s because spring has sprung, or is springing. The winter was so cold I just about thought that my toes were going to fall off, especially after my shoes got holes in them. We still would run around barefoot sometimes, because we don’t have anything better to do, and I don’t want to ruin my shoes anymore.

Today Briar is taking me somewhere, and I don’t know where that is but I follow her because—you’re supposed to follow your sister. We’re twins, through and through. Don’t think anything more true than that. We grew up side by side, and have the same pain, same smiles—though I think my teeth are a bit more crooked than hers. But she’s always been the leader for us, on account of her always wanting to run, to get out of the way of everything. She finds new adventures where we can discover things, get into trouble and chased by all the folk of district ten. They knows us too even if they ain’t ever seen us because we were born from the games, and that’s all that anyone ever remembers.

Must have been something, because it’s all people ever remember about Nonnie. I never got to watch what happened to her on account of they said she didn’t do anything interesting, but one of the older boys told me that she made it out the bloodbath even after all of the others attacked her, which is brave. And I know she made it three whole days, which is even braver. And then she died 14th, which is almost half way, which is just about as brave as almost all our girls tributes ever been, except for Saffron, though all of us thought she died she was going to die. That’s why my momma isn’t nobody, because she’s not got enough special about her to be remembered.

Except I remember her. And it’s ‘cause of her that people remember us.

“Where’d you go, knobby-knees,” I call out. My legs smack against the tall grass and I trudge with my warn old too-big boots through the grass. She always knows but never tells. “Where’re we going?” But sometimes it’s better not knowing. I kind of like the part about finding out, and it being a surprise. Makes things more special that way.