FixALiCe

To you, it was a game. It was a theoretical discussion. It was fun.

“Okay, if I entered - which I wouldn’t,” He said, specifically mincing his words. “If I entered, and if somehow I won, I would probably wish for… I dunno, I’d wish for a million popsicles,” 

He shrugged. At the moment, he could think of nothing so big and tangible that would largely improve his life. His family was poor, but the winner also got a lot of money without having to wish for it. His father warned him that the money wasn’t worth potentially dying over - so he should never enter. He should just try to work hard to earn his own money, even if that seemed difficult or impossible. 

“If you won, you’d be rich.” You reminded him. “The winner gets like - a gazillion dollars. You could just buy a million popsicles. That’s a dumb wish.” 

In the back of his mind, he considered wishing that you would have to stay with him forever. That you would have to marry him and you would never get to leave. But he figured you wouldn’t like that, so he didn't say it out loud. Maybe that’s why he wanted to wish for you. Because you thought he was dumb, and the second you got the chance - you would leave him.

He shrugged. “Well, I guess I’m dumb.” 

“I would enter but - they don’t let girls in.” You sighed, sounding mournful over it.

Ray did feel a sense of relief at this. You loved The Long Walk, and he knew that if you could have, you would have entered as soon as you turned eighteen. And you would have entered as many times as it took for you to be chosen. You would have been their proud, enthusiastic poster child if you were a boy. 

So, knowing that it was all purely theoretical, he decided to play into your game. 

“What would you wish for if you won?” He asked you. 

“Two million popsicles.” You grinned. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head, and then you said: “Maybe I’d wish for The Long Walk to include girls too.” 

“Okay, now that’s dumb.” Ray scolded you. “Cause if they included girls, then you would already be there. Your wish would be useless.” 

“Maybe I’ll dress up as a boy and sneak in.” You shrugged, sounding entirely too pleased with yourself. 

Ray felt a sharp pain through his stomach, like he had been punched. 

“You’re way too pretty to ever pass as a boy. Nobody would believe you.”

...

Many years later, you and Ray were sitting on the porch, sharing a stale old cigarette, trying to forget about the world.

Eventually, when it was nothing but a small nub, he stomped it under the heel of his old, worn-out boot. As the silence lulled between the two of you, and as he suspected that you would likely get up and leave any moment - he knew that he couldn’t wait much longer. 

He had to tell you. 

“I’m doing The Walk.” 

He announced it suddenly, hoping to rip off the metaphorical band-aid, and in a moment, the air changed around the two of you.

“I was selected for The Long Walk. I’m the home state walker. I-” 

Anything further he had to say was disrupted by a harsh slap across the face. He shouldn’t have been surprised, and though you had clearly intended to hurt him, the stinging pain wasn’t nearly as bad as the shock - the shock that you would hit him. 

“Ow!” 

“How could you do this?” You screeched. “How could you do this to us?! How the fuck could you be such an idiot, Raymond Garraty? How could you be so selfish?!” 

He barely had the capacity to take in the way you used ‘us’ - as though the two of you were a couple, as though you were married, as though you were undoubtedly an item that he was selfishly trying to break apart without consulting you first. Perhaps in your mind, you were looping in his mother as well - that ‘us’ being the two of you, the women who would have to mourn him when he (in your mind) inevitably didn’t come home.

“Selfish? How the fuck can you call me selfish when I’m doing this for the betterment of-?” 

“Don’t feed me that bullshit!” You screamed back, and he immediately shushed you. “You fuckin’ hypocrite. You hate everything they stand for and you’re gonna turn into some fucking toy for their amusement? Don’t tell me that you of all people have fallen for the bullshit in those pamphlets - not after everything your dad taught you.” 

“It’s not about the goddamn pamphlets.” He shook his head. “Or the posters, or the commercials. I’m doing this for me.” He knew he couldn’t tell you his real reasoning, or surely - you would slap him again. God forbid you would want to try and help. “We need the money-” 

“No!” You shouted again. “Don’t loop me into your stupid, nut job idea!”

You were never going to forgive him for this.

...

It was a week before the Reaping.

You were trying not to count the days, but it was going to be your final reaping, and you were looking forward to getting the day over with. Once the dread of being reaped was finally gone, you felt like you could properly look forward to the rest of your life.

But until then, it was business as usual.

You were the only one inside the Thorne house that morning. You were standing over the stove, toasting some bread for your breakfast. Your father was already at work for the day, and your mother was outside tending to the garden. Your older sister, who everyone called Sissy (you were shocked as a child to learn that wasn’t her real name), was probably out in the woods, hunting game or foraging.

You flipped your toast, wrinkling your nose a little as you realized you burned it a little, but oh well. It was toast all the same.

You heard the back door open just as you were taking the toast off the stove, and looked up to see Ma dusting the dirt off her hands.

“Honey, do you think you could get some more firewood for us today?” She asked.

You had just taken a bite of toast, so you nodded instead of answering verbally.

“How about you ask the Stebbins boy for help?” She continued. You made a face at her, swallowing your bite before answering.

“I can get firewood by myself just fine, Ma.”

“Yes, but two people can carry more firewood than one,” She countered, giving you a pointed look that told you not to argue with her.

“Okay, okay,” You relented, shoving more toast into your mouth. Your family had enough firewood as-is, but your parents always liked to be over-prepared. You sometimes joked that ‘Better to have it and not need it’ was the Thorne family motto.

As you were finishing your breakfast (which didn’t take long), the back door opened again, and in walked Sissy, who set down a ruck sack full of foraged plants onto the table.

“Back already?” You asked, reaching over and opening the sack a little to peek at what she’d gathered.

“I’ve been gone for hours, Bug,” Sissy said, using your family nickname. “Some of us get up at reasonable times.”

You scrunched your nose at her, “Getting up before the sun is up is not reasonable.”

“Pa does it,” She pointed out.

“I stand by my statement,” You took your last bite of toast.

“That’s enough from both of you,” Ma scolded, before turning to you, “Go get the firewood, before it gets even hotter out.”

“Okay, okay!” You replied, getting up and heading for the door.

—

The Stebbins house was only a few houses down from yours, so it didn’t take very long for you to get there. You knocked on the front door and waited. After a moment, a thin woman with sunny blonde hair opened the door.

“Hi Miss Stebbins,” You greeted, “Can I borrow your son for a little bit?”

Miss Stebbins looked back into the house and called, “Billy, it’s a friend of yours.”

You and Billy Stebbins were not friends. Billy Stebbins didn’t have friends, as far as you knew. You were pretty sure he didn’t even know your name. But you weren’t going to be the one to tell his mother this.

Miss Stebbins stepped back inside, just as a tall, blonde, well-built boy stepped into the doorway. Billy Stebbins himself.

To be perfectly clear, Stebbins was very attractive. You’d have to be stupid not to know that. All the girls and some of the boys in school whispered about how cute he was, and even you occasionally caught yourself staring at him. He could easily date anyone he wanted, but he seemed to have no interest in that.

Stebbins didn’t say anything to you when he got to the door, he just raised his eyebrows a little when he saw you.

“My Ma wants to know if you’ll help me get firewood today,” You had to make it abundantly clear this was your mother’s idea, not yours. Your family tended to baby you, so you did your best to make clear that you could take care of yourself and be independent, even if they seemed to think otherwise. Most of you hoped Stebbins would say no to helping you, but you knew he always helped when asked. There was a small part of you that liked that.

Stebbins looked back into the house and said, “Mom, I’ll be back in a bit,” before stepping outside and shutting the door behind him.

The two of you walked in silence as you headed to the lumberyard. You personally were never good at small talk, and either Stebbins was also bad at it or didn’t care for it, maybe both.

Your mind wandered to the first time you ever interacted with Stebbins…

—

You were at the market with your father, helping him set up his booth. On the first Saturday of every month, a market would pop up in District 7’s town square, and people who couldn’t afford a store front would sell their wares.

Your father made wood carvings as a hobby, and would sell them at this market. He had just started teaching you how to wood carve yourself, at ten years old. You were atrocious, still being a beginner, but he let you bring your best piece to the market today.

You had just finished placing all the carvings, your own amateur work in the corner of the table next to your father’s more polished, intricate pieces. Your father did all the talking and bartering, while you sat and people-watched.

Across the way, you spotted Billy Stebbins. He seemed to be at the market alone, or at least his mother was nowhere in sight. You felt a pang of jealousy, you wish your parents trusted you to go shopping alone at ten years old, but at this age you had to go everywhere supervised. Stebbins had a stack of sticks tied to his back, most likely kindling he was collecting for the fireplace.

“You wanna know something about that boy?” You jumped in your seat, not realizing your father had just leaned over to talk to you. Pa let out a hearty laugh, and you looked at him with curiosity. He motioned back to Stebbins, before saying to you in a low voice so no one else could hear, “That boy’s daddy was a Peacekeeper.”

Your eyes widened and you looked back at Stebbins with apprehension. “That’s bad, right?” You whispered.

“Some would say so. Never trust a Peacekeeper, Bug,” Pa said, “But that being said, that don’t mean the Stebbins boy is bad. He can’t help who his daddy is. And from what I’ve seen, he’s a good kid. You think he’s a good kid, Bug?”

You looked back at Stebbins, but before you could think of your answer, Stebbins looked over at you and you locked eyes. You froze, and might’ve tried to duck underneath the table if not for your father’s hand on your shoulder. Stebbins walked over to your booth and silently looked at all the carvings on the table.

“See anything you like, kid?” Pa asked in a friendly voice. Stebbins didn’t answer right away, but instead picked up your piece. It was rabbit— Or at least, it was supposed to be a rabbit. It only vaguely resembled one, but it looked just enough like a rabbit that you were proud of it.

“What’s this one?” Stebbins asked, holding it up and looking at you instead of your father.

“It’s a rabbit,” You said, puffing your chest a little with pride, “I carved it myself.”

He looked back at the rabbit, turning it over in his hand and tilting his head a little as he looked at it. You silently dared him to say anything negative about your rabbit. He looked back at you, “How much?”

“…Huh?”

“How much for it?”

You looked at your father with shock, who simply motioned for you to go on. You stuttered out a price to Stebbins, and he dug around his pocket, pulling out and counting his money, before handing you the proper amount. Your hands brushed as you took the money from him.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you…!” You said. He nodded at you, sticking the rabbit in his pocket and walking back through the market.

“Good job, Bug. You made your first sale!” Pa patted your shoulder and you beamed at him.

“… He’s a good kid,” You declared.

“I agree with you there, Bug.”

—

The two of you made it to the lumberyard and took as many pieces of firewood that you could carry. You were hoping that your father would be there, so you could say hi to him, but when you asked one of the workers there he said your father was stationed in the woods that day.

When you got back to your house, you led Stebbins around to the backyard, where your family kept the pile of firewood. You slung your firewood off your back and into the pile, and Stebbins followed suit.

He looked over the pile of unchopped wood, and suddenly asked, “Do you need help chopping any of it?”

“I can handle chopping it myself, thanks,” You replied, looking over at him. He lingered for a moment, before shrugging.

“Okay. Have a good day.”

“You too,” You replied, as he turned and started heading back to his house. You watched him walk away until he was out of your sight, then turned and looked at the pile of wood you were going to have to chop. Damn, maybe you should’ve taken his offer of help.

You grabbed a few logs of wood and carried them over to a tree stump, where an axe was stuck in. You dumped the wood next to it and placed one on the stump, pulling the axe out of the stump and getting ready to start chopping.

You’d chopped a few pieces into more appropriate sizes, when Sissy came outside, seemingly to watch you work.

“Hey Bug, you wanna do some target practice after dinner today?”

You looked at your sister, then looked at some of the trees in your backyard, which were full of cuts and divots. Years ago, your sister taught you how to throw knives and axes, ‘just in case’. You practiced fairly frequently, keeping up with it as long as the Peacekeepers weren’t frequenting your neighborhood.