Page 20 of Beyond The Maples
Deacon is standing there, within earshot. I wonder briefly how long he's been standing there, but the look of absolute devastation on his face proves he was there long enough.
"Dea, please let me explain." I reach for him, but in a breath, he's already gone. The loud slam of the door the only evidence he had ever been there.
I'm standing in my bedroom staring at all my belongings, wondering what to take with me. I'm not an overly sentimental person, but I'm also not sure when I'll be back, so I want to make sure I have everything I need.
I pack a few clothes, knowing I'll get whatever custom cadet uniforms they have once I arrive. I pack a few of my favorite books.
Willow comes into the room holding one of the only picture that we own and shoves it in with my belongings.
"Will, I can't take that. We don't have another one."
Willow shakes her hand at me, not even bothering to look up, and flops down on her bed.
"We'll get another one done when you're out. For now, I want you to have something to remind you of us."
She shrugs like this isn't a big deal, but pictures cost a fortune and the likelihood of being able to afford another is zero. I don't want to take it in case I don't come back and it gets lost in the shuffle, but I also know my stubborn sister has made up her mind. Picking my battles right now will get me further than arguing over everything before I leave.
"Have you talked to Deacon yet?" Willow asks without making eye contact, face scrunching up at the uncomfortable topic.
I stiffen. I had tried to catch up with him after he'd stormed out of the diner, but I was no match for his long legs, the dust clouds ramping up made it impossible to see, and a girl can only be blasted in the face so many times before she gives up. If he doesn't want to say goodbye to me and let me explain, that's his choice.
"I have not. Although he knows I'm leaving."
Willow taps her lips with her pen thoughtfully.
"I'm sure he'll come by before you leave."
I shrug.
I had already decided to write him a letter and leave it with Linden, explaining everything. It would be easier than trying to track him down. I don't want to spend my last night fighting with everyone. Instead, I would spend the evening writing lists.
Lists for bills to pay, how to fix certain things should they break on the house, lists for people to contact if either of them gets into trouble. I'll write down everything I can think of in case I don't come back. I fight tears at the thought, but I don't have the luxury of being anything but practical right now. I think bitterly how lovely these types of instructions would've been from my parents. Maybe then I'd have known who to pay for what instead of running out of everything the first couple months our dad was gone. But I'd give Linden and Willow a leg up wherever I could.
Later that evening, with everyone else in bed, I sit staring at the fire, my eyes tired. The wood pops and crackles, and I take a slow steady breath to try and ebb the worry filling me up. Worry they won't be able to get enough firewood. Right now it's accessible, with all the dead trees, but what about later? Months from now? Things change fast here.
A soft knock at the door wakes me up, and I know exactly who it is before it even opens.
Deacon steps in, shaking off the dust, and shucks his coat and boots at the door. He stands there awkwardly, emotion fleeting across his handsome face.
I stay on the couch, unwilling to leave my cocoon of warmth, the fire barely embers now and leaving the room in shadows. A few moments pass in silence before Deacon breaks it with a simple, "Why?"
I give him a soft smile.
"The Council is making cutbacks. They are tripling the cost of Willow's medication along with a bunch of other things." I sit up now, the wool blankets falling around me as I whisper. "We are barely surviving, Deacon."
He looks panicked, and he goes to say something. I know he's about to offer me a bunch of half-baked solutions. I lift my hand to silence him.
"Do you not think I have thought of every alternative?You know me.I have worked through every possibility already. This idea was already in place long ago when I realized I'd have to work the Games in the beginning." I try to say it softly, but it comes out strained.
"You could have come to me. I would have helped you figure out another way. We could have asked my family or seen if there was someone in The Centre we could talk to. You didn't even bother," his voice choppy and his eyebrows pinching as he speaks.
I cock my head slightly.
"Why? Because your family gets a few extra privileges, you think you can persuade the Council to break protocol and pay for your friend's medication? The world doesn't work like that, not even for you––anddefinitelynot for us. You have issues when I ask for anything extra from the yard because of how dangerous it is. You think I'd let you do this?"
I can't help the irritation dripping from my words.
"We could have at leasttriedsomething, Maple. You could have asked for help."
