lucien grey | d6 fin

They say that District Six acts as a transit between the two worlds of Panem: the rich, whose dedication (and extreme ass-kissing to the Capitol) led to their favoritism and wealth, and the poor, whose distance from it’s tyrant led to poverty and starvation. Halfway through a dozen is six, and that’s where my district lies. Halfway, a crossroad between what the Upper Districts pity and the Lower Districts crave. District Six is a place of in-between, and that’s what I question myself with everyday. Am I pitied or craved, or am I just forgotten between two extremes of society?

Financially, I feel as though I am pitied by everyone I see, even my fellow classmates in the school and my parents’ friends that are spread across the District. My father was meant to take after Papa in the medical field, but at first glance of blood, his chances of following in his father’s footsteps were quite literally thrown up and out of the room. He described the feeling of shame and embarrassment as worse than pain, but the disconnect from his father shortly afterwards, due to disappointment, was likely worse than death itself. Still crafty with his hands, my father tended to a much less dangerous part of the body: hair. To be a barber rather than a doctor put eighteen years of studying to waste, and he failed to even benefit. As for my mother, well, she had a steady job, where she happily worked fourteen hour days creating some pills for the Capitol that did who-the-hell-knows what. But after she had my little sister, Delaware (Dela, we call her for short), she never went back. She does odd jobs for odd people now, but I think it’s better to not ask her what exactly. Together, they make enough money to keep us semi-stable, although there’s shaky parts at times.

But what I believe makes my small family of four craved is our bond. My mother and father don’t have the money to flaunt around and buy every luxury District Six has to offer. We have something prized, though, that nobody is capable of taking away from us besides us ourselves: love. My parents are humble, fun-loving, and caring. They take nothing for granted, and taught Dela and me to do the same.

My mother taught me to sing, on key at least. In the mornings when I was young, she would fix me up a slice of bread with a thin layer of butter. She would swirl the butter around while humming a peculiar tune, and upon habit and memorization, I found myself matching her sounds. Like two little birds, we bonded over the other’s voice until the butter practically disappeared, becoming one with the bread.

Dad taught me to imagine. He was never a fan of the stereotypical male attitude that his father (my Papa) installed into his brain. Dad doesn’t want me to become a carbon copy of him, afraid of his father and his judgements. Instead of shoving the ‘be a man’ phrase down my throat, he let me explore my thoughts. I told him that the first thing I imagined was a bare forest, no leaves on the branches but trees that towered miles high. Covering the floor were mixtures of green grass, lavenders, and dry leaves that crack and crumble upon contact. Stone bricks played the role of towers, connected by the trees. In one tower was a girl, ginger hair resting upon a beautiful body. The other was a handsome gentleman, white teeth shining enough to blind a fool. My father told me that my imagination was the guide to my values, and clearly one, other than family, was love. I wanted to love and to be loved. I wanted the princess I saw in my dreams.

So yes, I’m fortunate in regards to having my parents care about my well-being than hound me down for their own reputation. Money did not buy my happiness, my family did, but that happiness opened the most complex doors of my life.

Although my family taught me to be humble, kind, and loving, I kept my distance from most people in school. My sense of humor didn’t mirror most other kids. I would speak awkward one-liners and make quirky gestures. It was never mean, but people still kept their distance, which I respected. I was taught to imagine constantly, Dad encouraged me to dream and reach for the stars, so I only distanced myself from the standard in-between world of District Six. I had one friend, however, who understood me. Redd Wilson, the boy who laughed at all of my jokes, even when some weren’t very funny.

Redd, who ironically had dark brown hair, has been my best friend ever since we were twelve years old. It was a bond like the one I had with my family: undying and unconditional. He called me the pretty one, a clear face with shining brown hair, uncommonly big green eyes, and a smile that made him want to myself as well. I called him the strong one, mostly because his family was much more well-off than mine, and he was able to grow stronger and more capable while my frame was smaller due to my food situation. We were an unbreakable pair with one caveat in our friendship: us before the world.

Redd Wilson’s family was like an extension of my own. He came from a big line of men, four older brothers, but he also had a sister, a year younger than him. Her name, Scarlet, was actually more fitting than Redd’s, her hair failed to fade out into the much more common cinnamon or chocolate shade. It was red, and beautiful. She was my favorite of his family members. Scarlet was the one who made me smile, almost more than Redd, simply because of her elegant presence. She wasn’t stunning in looks, but she was stunning in how she made a room light up, even in boring times like studying or just doing work.

Mom and Dad encouraged me to spend as much time with them as possible. Family was still one of my top priorities, but they saw how happy I was when I was with the Wilsons. Every time I returned home, my father would question me about everything I did with them, specifically with Redd. At the time, I think he knew something that I didn’t. He would call me by my nickname, Lucky. “You’re lucky to have a guy like him, Lucky. Truly.” And I was lucky. I was fortunate to have what even some people in the wealthier districts craved: a friendship, and potentially something more.

I was fourteen when Redd and I had a conversation atop his bed.

“You nervous, Grey?”

”About what?”

”If you’re ever gonna have your first kiss.”

I had to think about it for a second. Everyone in our classes began ‘growing up’, finding people to start relationships with, and creating milestones in their lives. In this department, I wasn’t Lucky Grey, but I didn’t mind much. When love comes, it crashes in like a motherfucking bullet.

”Not really? Why?”

“I’m just scared, I guess. I want it to be with someone I care about.”

After a moment of silence, Redd Wilson popped the question.

“Well, bestie? Wanna just get it out of the way?”

I said sure, and then it was there. My first kiss with Redd Wilson, on his unmade bed. The silence afterward was admittedly awkward, mostly because I didn’t quite know what to think of it. I mean, he’s my best friend, unconditionally. Of course I’m going to help him. Now, we both have it out of the way, milestone complete.

At the time, I just thought it was two best friends just fooling around, and the kiss meant nothing to him nor I. But it meant something to one of us, and it was a memory that he forever carried.

We kissed a few more times after that because Redd wanted ‘practice’ for the real time. I obliged, and each time it got more and more intense. Every time, he would look into my forest green eyes after we finished and waited. The response he wanted was never received, but Redd Wilson didn’t stop trying to get Lucky Grey.

Until now.

He stayed after to get some extra help in Chemistry one day, and so I went back to his house to wait for him. I thought of myself to be a family member of the Wilsons’ by age sixteen, to the point where I went to their house and didn’t knock before entering. Only Scarlet was home, sitting at her dining room chair, reading something on a small piece of paper.

We greeted each other before she asked me to read what she held in her hand.

Two words broke a tension of two years.

Kiss me.

And so I kissed her. And I liked it. She looked at me with satisfied eyes and I reflected her gesture. We took to her bedroom, where much more than a tiny kiss went on.

The Wilsons were an open family, very honest with each other. But Scarlet and I shut the door, and let the lie that Redd prayed away to be proven true. He walked in on us, with a handful of lavenders, my favorite flower, in his hand. I broke our one promise: us before the world.

For a moment, silence. For a minute, yelling and screaming between Redd and Scarlet. When he stormed out, I followed him. At this point, I was finally starting to get it, but I needed one more point of confirmation.

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d care..”

“Of course I care, Grey! I fucking love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His eyes were filled with a mixture of rage, jealousy, sadness, and anger, and I couldn’t stop it. Every single kiss we shared was him trying to send a message that I could never receive.

“I’m marking you for death, Grey. Get out,”

My heart fell to my chest. Speechless and stunned, I stood in front of him.

“I hate you, Lucien Grey! Get out, get out, get out!”

Practically pushing me out the door, he kicked me out of my home away from home. The one shoulder I had to lean on now threatened me with death.

The high that I once rode on that I thought people craved is now a figment of my imagination. The towers that I imagined with my father have fallen, and the lavenders in the forest faded to nothing.

District Six is the land of in-between, and I’m ready to accept that being in the middle is the worst position of all.