The Promises
Kissing was gross.
Harry told Trent to think of something cool to say and Trent didn’t really get it at first. Harry didn’t like it when Trent tried, really nicely, to explain to him before about how tributes could get food if they said cool stuff. Trent understood after a minute of thinking about it that Harry was saying he needed to spy on him, watch his back.
Trent wasn’t being mean or anything, but Harry was the one who kind of didn’t seem to understand a lot of things. Like about how to get food so they weren’t hungry or how they should hide if they’re gonna cry.
It was lucky for Harry that Trent wanted to be his ally, cause Trent didn’t think he had been doing too great before they teamed up. And, yeah, Trent was kind of worried that one of his new friends were going to kill him so that they could go home together, but Trent had a plan for that.
Taylor was on the roof and Taylor would be Trent’s new teammate when they could meet up again. Taylor Anderson was awesome and he liked Trent, they were already friends and teammates at home, so Trent knew they would be in the arena too.
“Hey, you’re Trent, right?”
Trent had been curled up real small so be didn’t think anyone could see him. Even knowing that someone must see him, must know he was there, Trent didn’t care.
What were they gonna do? Kill him? Trent probably wouldn’t even fight them if so.
Trent’s throat felt clogged again, like he couldn’t breathe, like maybe he didn’t want to anyway. Everything hurt so much that Trent didn’t care anymore.
They could kill him, they could scoop his eyes from his head so he didn’t have to see Trace anymore. They could cut out his tongue so he couldn’t scream. They could take their biggest knife and cut the heart right out of Trent’s chest, cause he didn’t want it anymore anyway.
Since Trent was fine with dying, he didn’t even pick his head up to see who was talking to him. They didn’t sound like a peacekeeper, but maybe they were.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, just a bullet in the head. Trent didn’t want to die in the dirty gutter he had laid down in, but it didn’t matter.
People didn’t get to choose where they died at, the Capitol did. The Capitol chose everything. They got to choose if they ate or went hungry, if they were warm or cold, if they lived or died.
Trent didn’t know why anyone would choose to kill Trace, he didn’t. Trace was - he was…
Trace was the best person in the whole world. Trace was tall and strong, brave and funny. Trace was the brother in the world, Trent didn’t understand why he was killed.
The mayor said Trace had been ‘rebelling’ and Trent didn’t understand that at all. Trent was nine, not stupid, so he knew what rebelling was. Trent just didn’t understand how Trace could have been doing that.
Trace worked hard, all day long. Trace woke up before the sun was up and he would go outside to take care of the precious cow and the three chickens they had. Sometimes, if Trent heard him getting up, Trent would help him. But then Trace would have to go to work, Trent and his other brothers had to go to school, and Trent wouldn’t see Trace until night time.
That was when their mom pretended like they had enough food for them all to share and the Bailey boys all played along. Trace sometimes had bread or meat that they would divide up, but there wasn’t enough of it.
It wasn’t Trace’s fault though, Trace worked really hard for the food he brought home. If it wasn’t for Trace then - then they’d probably all die.
And Trace was gone and Trent wanted to die because Trace was gone and he wasn’t rebelling, he wasn’t. They made a mistake and Trace was gone.
Gone forever, not just until dinner time.
“Trent? Hey, buddy, why don’t we get you home?”
Trent thrashed when hands grabbed his shoulders. Trent didn’t care if they wanted to kill him, but they had to do it there. They couldn’t make him leave, they couldn’t.
Trace wasn’t at home anymore, he never would be again.
“Leave me alone,” Trent begged, sounding weird. Trent sounded like his throat was broken so none of his words were coming out just right. That made sense though, cause Trent felt broken.
The person didn’t leave Trent alone, they just sat down beside him and grappled with Trent until they had him sitting up. That was when Trent opened his eyes, even though he didn’t want to.
There could have been a gun in Trent’s face and it wouldn’t have mattered, he looked out in the square as soon as his eyes were open, like one of those magnets that they learned about.
Trent’s eyes were little pieces of metal and Trace was the big red magnet.
It was dark out, but there were lights pointed at where Trace hung. They had him all tied up with horrible chains and hooks, making sure everyone saw his face.
Mom had cried worse when she saw him than she ever had in Trent’s life. The mayor made them all stand there, even little Tripp who was only four and had a bad sickness, while he explained how Trace had rebelled and was killed for it.
Trace didn’t though, Trent was sure of it. Rebelling was against the rules and Trace loved rules. When they had a good day and the Bailey boys went out to play a game, Trace made them all follow the rules.
So how come Trace was bloodied and dead, hung up in front of Town Hall like a criminal?
Trent’s breath was starting to hitch again and it hurt so much. It felt like there was something hot and sharp was ripping him open from the inside out.
“Don’t look, okay, buddy?” The person beside Trent was rubbing his back, saying nice things real quiet. “That’s not how you want to remember him, Trent. That’s not what T-Trace would want, is it? Just don’t look.”
Trent could only look away from his big brother because the stranger said his name. When Trent looked over at the boy - because it was a boy, not a peacekeeper - he felt something other than the pain in his chest for a second… confused.
Cause the boy was telling Trent to not look at Trace, but there he was - staring directly across the square, right at Trace.
And he was crying. It was a real quiet kind of crying, just tears sliding down his tan face, but he was crying.
“Are you and Trace friends?” Trent asked, feeling as bad for the boy as he did all his family.
The Bailey boys didn’t have much. They had their mom, who was pretty and perfect and tried so hard to raise them all on her own after their dad died. They had each other. That was pretty much it, for important stuff anyway.
They were the Bailey boys, that’s what people called them. They were Trace and Trent and Tyler and Tommy and Tripp. They used to have Thane too, but he died when Trent was little, before Tripp was born.
The Bailey boys.
But they couldn’t be the Bailey boys without Trace and the boy with Trent didn’t look like he wanted to be whoever he was without Trace either.
“Friends?” The boy smiled, the saddest smile that Trent ever saw. It was still a nice smile, he had pretty teeth.
Trace liked pretty teeth, that was what he told Trent.
“Your smile is what people notice first,” Trace said when he nagged Trent and their brothers about brushing his teeth with the nasty tooth soap they had. “You gotta have clean teeth, Trent. A pretty smile is - it’s… it’s - just go brush your teeth, you little rascals!”
“Yeah.” The boy wiped his face off and he couldn’t stop looking at Trace even while they talked. “Trace was my best friend.”
That was nice to hear, actually. Trent didn’t know many of Trace’s friends. There was their neighbor, Matthew, but that was the only friend Trent met.
Trace talked about his friends from the fields he worked in, the girlfriend he met there. Trace didn’t call her his girlfriend, but Mom said Trace looked like he was in love when he talked about her.
There were a bunch of girls crying in the square when the sheet had been ripped off and everyone saw Trace’s body, but Trent didn’t know which one was Trace’s girlfriend.
Trent didn’t really care, but he would have given her the gift Trace worked hard to make her if he could find her. Maybe the boy would know who she was, he could give her the bracelet Trace made.
It was at home, hidden in an old box in the closet they all shared. Nobody would mess with it, but Trace had worked hard to get the strings he needed, dye them with old fruit peelings they found in dumpsters, then tie them together to make the bracelet.
It was really pretty, all dark reds, oranges, and browns. When Trace made his knots and complicated loops, it turned out real nice.
His girlfriend should have it, just cause Trace wanted her to. He talked about her to Trent, cause they were the closest. Trace loved her and she was ‘so smart’ and ‘so brave’. All the things Trent thought Trace was, Trace said his girlfriend was. And that had been good, cause Trace needed someone smart and strong, brace and funny, kind and a hard worker.
It was all Trent’s job then, all the hard work Trace did. Trent would have to make the boys brush their teeth and walk to church on Sundays. Trent would need to milk the cow and collect the eggs from the chickens.
Trent could do the jobs Trace had done, but Trent could never be Trace.
“I’m sorry you’re sad,” Trent told the boy that was Trace’s best friend. Trent grabbed the boy’s hand and squeezed, just trying to be nice.
Saying sorry and squeezing someone’s hand was okay when you accidentally broke their toy or hurt their feelings. It didn’t do anything to help when everything hurt because they were broken though.
It was just something people did and it didn’t mean anything because Trace was dead.
“I’ll be okay,” the boy said. He finally looked at Trent instead of Trace and his smile was still sad, like his brown eyes. “Why don’t I get you home, okay? You can’t stay out here. I bet your brothers need you.”
Trent’s heart started fluttering and he shook his head. Trent couldn’t go - he couldn’t leave. Cause Trace… Trace couldn’t be alone.
Trace was really brave, but he didn’t like it when it was dark. And even with the lights on him, it was dark and Trace couldn’t be alone.
“I can’t - I can’t leave him here,” Trent said. “Trace doesn’t… he doesn’t like it when it’s dark out.”
The boy nodded, like he already knew that.
“Can I tell you a secret?” the boy asked, leaning closer to Trent. When Trent nodded, the boy whispered right in his ear. “I’m not going to leave him here, okay? I need you to go home and in the morning, I need you and your family to meet me out by Trace’s tree.”
Trent didn’t know how the boy knew about Trace’s tree, it was kind of a secret. The tree wasn’t really special, but it was Trace’s favorite tree in the whole district.
Trace had made a swing to hang from the branches and he taught Trent how to climb branches, climb a rope. Trace carved his initials in the tree and when he started dating his girlfriend, he carved her initials in the tree beside his.
Trent thought he knew what the boy was going to do, he wasn’t stupid.
“I’ll help you,” Trent said, feeling kind of sick even when he said it. Trent nodded to himself, pretending like he was brave like Trace. “I want to help.”
The boy stared hard at Trent and Trent didn’t let up even once. It was against the rules, what they were gonna do. Trace always followed the rules but Trace was gone and Trent didn’t have anyone telling him he had to follow the rules anymore.
The peacekeepers didn’t follow the rules when they killed Trace and the mayor didn’t follow the rules when he hung Trace up in the square and made their mom see him like that.
So Trent didn’t have to follow the rules either, even if it was real scary.
“Okay, Trent,” the boy said. He stood up and offered Trent his hand, easily pulling him to his feet. The boy was tall and strong, but he wasn’t smiling anymore when he ducked down to put his hands on Trent’s shoulders and turn him around.
“This is really important, so you have to listen,” the boy whispered real seriously. “You have to watch the street, okay? You cannot turn around because we’re a team and right now I need you to watch for anyone coming. Can you whistle? Yeah? Let me hear.”
It took Trent a couple of tries to make his lips work, they were dry and cracked, but he did eventually get a whistle out.
“Good job,” the boy said. “Okay, you watch this street and if anyone shows up, you have to whistle and then hide, okay? Promise me, Trent, promise you’ll watch the street.”
“I promise,” Trent said, very bravely. Promises were serious business, Trent knew that. So when Trent promised he’d watch the street for the boy, he meant it.
It took the boy a long time to get Trace. There were a few times where Trent wanted to turn and look, but he promised he’d watch the street. The boy said they were a team, like Trent had been with Trace when they played ball with the other kids who lived around them.
When the boy finished, he whistled so Trent could turn back around.
Trace was gone and that scared Trent for a second, until he saw him in the boy’s arms. The boy had taken his checkered shirt off and had Trace wrapped up in it.
The boy was crying, Trent didn’t think he ever stopped crying. There was something so sad about the boy’s face that Trent felt just as bad for him as he did himself and his family.
They walked to Trent’s house together then, neither of them talking. The boy carried Trace and cried silently the whole time. Trent held Trace’s hand and cried kind of loud the whole time.
They really were a team, because they were just two people who had hearts so broken that they would never heal right.
When they reached Trent’s house, the boy nodded for him to go inside.
“You’re the man now, Trent,” the boy said, holding Trace close, his arms never shaking even though it had been a long walk and Trace wasn’t little. “You have to get the others up in the morning and meet me at Trace’s tree, okay? Promise?”
“Do you promise to not leave him alone?” Trent asked.
The boy’s smile was sad again, but he nodded.
“I swear to God, I won’t leave him for a second, Trent.”
Promises were important, swears to God were even more important.
Trent did get his brothers and his mom to the tree the next morning. Trent had grabbed the bracelet Tracey made for his girlfriend too, he thought the boy might be able to find her for him.
For Trace.
There were a lot of people at the tree when Trent and his family arrived. Trent didn’t know almost any of them, except for Mister Lupin, who had been in the Hunger Games and won.
Trent didn’t know how Mister Lupin knew Trace, or what made him so sad about him being gone, but it made Trent feel better, a little bit, to see that so many other people were sad too.
The boy from last night had been working all night, Trent could tell. There was a really big hole dug in the ground, but only one shovel. Inside the hole was a big box, like a crate, but long enough to fit Trent’s favorite person in the world in it.
Mister Lupin talked about Trace to everyone. He said that Trace was a good person, a good man. Other people talked too, but Trent barely heard them.
They weren’t saying anything that Trent didn’t already know anyway.
When they finished talking about Trace, a woman from the church sang. Mom couldn’t stay standing while she sang the same song they sang at Thane’s funeral, the one that Trace sang quietly when it was dark and he wanted the sunshine back.
After the song ended, Mister Lupin nodded at the boy who was Trace’s best friend.
“I’ll do this part, Taylor,” he said, kind of quiet. “You go home.”
Oh.
Trent was nine, not stupid, but maybe he was a little bit stupid because he didn’t know that Taylor was a boy’s name. There was a girl in Trent’s class named Taylor, and she had pigtails and wore skirts, so Trent just thought… he thought Taylor was a girl’s name.
Taylor, who was definitely a boy, nodded at Mister Lupin and started walking off, looking so miserable that Trent was sad for him.
“Taylor!” Trent made Tyler take Tripp’s hand and he walked away real quick so he could catch Taylor before he left.
Taylor waited and he wasn’t crying anymore, but Trent thought maybe he was just out of tears.
They were right beside Trace’s tree and if Trent looked over, he’d know just where Trace’s initials were: T.B. + T.A.
“This is yours,” Trent said, taking the bracelet from his pocket and holding it out for Taylor. “Trace told me, he told me it was for you.”
Taylor took the bracelet from Trent, the pretty thing with the different colors and complicated knots that only Trace could make, and Trent watched him shudder as he closed it in his fist.
“Thank you,” Taylor told him quietly. “I’ll come by this evening, okay? If you or your family need anything, just let me know.”
Trent nodded, pretending that he was just as much a man as Trace had been.
“Well, we’re a team,” Trent said. “So if you need anything, you tell me.”
“Alright, Trent.” Taylor’s smile was maybe a little less sad, a little less broken. “We’re a team.”
And they were a team, really.
Trent’s first time breaking the rules was when he stood watch so Taylor could get Trace down, but it hadn’t been his last. Trent wasn’t ’rebellious’, not really… but he did help Mister Lupin and Taylor and the people who were rebellious.
It made Trent feel kind of sick, being rebellious. Cause maybe that was why Trace had died, why they killed him… but the Capitol killed Trace and the rebels wanted to destroy the Capitol.
So even if it made Trent feel a little sick when he kept watch during meetings, ran errands for the rebels, collected information (because Mister Lupin said knowledge was power) it was worth it. If there were two teams, the people who killed Trace and the people who cared about him, it was easy to pick a team and stick with it.
When Trent met Harry, he reminded him a little bit of Trace. They had that same look, like maybe they were thinking lots of different things and nobody really knew.
Trace would tell Trent, Harry screamed his from a stage.
Harry was rebellious, like Trent. Like… like Trace must have been.
It meant Trent could trust him a little more, trust that he wasn’t on the side of the Capitol. But the boy he was kissing? That boy was all Capitol.
So Trent watched Harry’s back until they started kissing and then he decided he had seen enough. The boy wasn’t killing Harry, Harry wasn’t killing him, and Trent was tired.
Trent hummed to himself while he crawled through the tunnels. He figured that maybe he was being shown since nobody was killing anyone yet and nobody wanted to watch two people kiss.
Trent kept up his humming, just a quiet song so his brothers wouldn’t be scared. They had all cried when Trent volunteered for Tyler and Trent couldn’t stand thinking about them being scared.
Mom wasn’t scared, she was sad though, and that was just as bad. Trent promised her he’d win, he did. Trent would do anything to win and he thought that it was really lucky that Taylor was going to be his partner while Mister Lupin watched their backs outside of the arena.
It wasn’t actually lucky at first that Trent and Taylor went in together, not until the new rule happened. But if they could both win? If they could both go back to Eleven and pick up where they left off with the others?
That would be perfect.
Trent grinned some when he pictured his brothers faces when they saw their big house they’d get. They could each pick a bedroom of their own and everyone would get shoes and blankets and they wouldn’t cry for food ever again.
It was worth the darkness of the arena, worth everything. If Trent never had to hear any of his brothers cry because they were too hungry to stop, then it would be worth anything.
Trent was still picturing little Tripp, who was only six and not really the same as the rest of them, getting a pair of shoes in bright red, his favorite color, when he dropped down from the ceiling in one of the rooms on the second floor.
Tripp would be so excited.
Also, Trent really had to use the bathroom and didn’t actually want his mom to see him going in the hallway like some sort of animal.
If anyone else was being interesting, Trent wouldn’t care but he didn’t think they were. It would make his mom embarrassed of him if they showed Trent going on a floor. Plus, Trent wanted to see what was happening with the twins from Five.
Trent kind of had a twin, people called him and Tyler ‘Irish twins’. It just meant that for a few months every year, they were the same age. They were both eleven and in December, Trent would be twelve.
Maybe they could have a cake. One of the fancy ones that nobody ever really bought, but Trent had always wanted.
Taylor could come to their house and Mister Lupin would too. Trent’s brothers would have to brush their teeth after they had cake because the icing had a lot of sugar in it. Mom would be happy, they would all be happy.
And, if Mister Lupin was right, none of the Bailey boys would ever be in the arena again. That was what he said, the last thing he told Trent.
“I swear to God, Trent, I will take your brothers and run if there’s a seventy-fifth Hunger Games.”
Trent wished whatever the rebels were doing, they would do it before the next reaping. Mister Lupin said revolution didn’t happen in a day, but maybe when Trent and Taylor won and they had lots of money then they could make it happen a little quicker.
People with money seemed to get things done quicker than people without money.
Trent creeped down the hallway to get to the bathroom, keeping his eyes very open for any other tributes or traps. Trent was smart, fast, and he had a weapon so he wasn’t too scared.
He was only humming still so his brothers wouldn’t be scared for him.
Trent was really close to the bathroom when he heard it, footsteps. They were loud, at least two people probably, and getting close.
There weren’t really any hiding places except for the ceiling and so Trent opened the closest door so he could shimmy up it and reach the ceiling to move a tile.
The footsteps were closer, really close, and Trent looked away for a second when he heard a cheer.
It was the kids from One, Draco and Pansy, and they were running right to him.
Trent went back to moving the ceiling tile and his arms were shaking and it was stuck - stuck, don’t be stuck - but then it broke and fell to the floor. Trent grabbed the sides of the hole and started to heave himself up when his ankle was snatched.
Draco had his ankle and he pulled hard, but Trent held on to the ceiling and kicked with his other leg. They struggled for a second until Pansy grabbed Trent’s other ankle and they pulled him straight down to the floor.
Trent smashed his head on the hard floor, which really hurt. He couldn’t think about that though, he had to fight.
Tyler and Tommy and Tripp had to see Trace and they didn’t have to see Trent, they didn’t. They couldn’t. It was too much.
Trent tried to flip over, to get away, but Draco laughed and Pansy sat down on Trent, dropping herself on his stomach so she could pin his shoulders with her hands.
“What’s wrong?” Pansy asked in a fake-nice voice with a not-nice smile. “Don’t you want to be friends?”
Her head was close to Trent’s and so he knocked his head forward to hit her. It hurt to do that, actually, but Trent felt a savage sense of joy when he saw that he hurt her too.
“I’ve got enough friends, thanks,” Trent said while Pansy snarled. Trent bit back a yell when Draco put his boot on his forehead, pushing down hard so Trent really couldn’t move.
They were going to kill him, that was what Trent realized all of a sudden. They were bigger, they had him pinned, and they were going to kill him.
Trent’s whole body went cold, not because he was scared of dying, but because of his brothers. They were going to have to watch Trent die, the one thing Trent didn’t want them to see.
They would remember it forever, like Trent did Trace.
Trent clenched his jaw and kept his eyes open. If they had to watch him die, he wasn’t gonna show them he was scared. And he wasn’t, not really.
Trace would be there, Trent believed that.
Pansy shifted her weight so she could pull a knife from the inside of her jacket and Trent started hard at her the whole time.
“Are you going to beg me to spare you?” Pansy asked Trent, dangling the knife above him. “I might do it, if you beg.”
Trent flushed with anger and that cold feeling that made him feel a little sick. No, Trent wouldn’t beg. Begging was shameful and when Trent saw Trace, he’d be a man like Trace had been.
Brave.
“I will never beg you,” Trent said slowly, clearly. His mom had to know that, she had to know that Trent was being really brave. The boys would see it too, they would see that Trent wasn’t scared so they didn’t need to be scared.
“Never?” Pansy brought the knife down quick and drew a line down one side of Trent’s face. And that hurt, it hurt really badly, but Trent wasn’t going to beg.
Trent would rather see Trace with his face all carved up than see him after begging.
Pansy did it again to the other side of Trent’s face and he screamed when she cut the knife so deep that it broke through his cheek and spilled blood in his mouth.
Screaming wasn’t begging though, it wasn’t.
“Cry,” Pansy taunted him, her eyes shining right in Trent’s face. Some of the blood from the cuts had poured backward, getting in his eyes, and Trent struggled to even keep his eyes open enough to see.
“I won’t,” Trent said, choking on the words from the blood in his mouth. Trent could bleed and scream and die. He wasn’t going to cry and make his brothers cry worse at home.
Pansy snarled, like an angry cat or something vicious and mean, and pulled the knife back. Trent only saw it for a second - just a flash of silver - before she drove it forward and dug it deep in the side of his neck.
Trent screamed then as his back arched and he tried to get away from it, get away from the pain. Trent screamed until his ears popped and all he could think of was the pain in his neck, the blood that was going to cover his face and Trace had been bloodied and the boys were watching.
Draco said something to Pansy, something Trent couldn’t hear because of the blood pumping in his ears, drowning out even his own screams. How was there so much blood in his ears when he could feel it spilling around him on the floor?
Pansy grabbed the handle of the knife and dragged it hard, deep, from one side of Trent’s neck to the other. It cut Trent’s scream off immediately and all the panic, the fear, the pain he didn’t want to show was leaking out as quickly as the blood poured from the cut.
Trent didn’t even feel it when Pansy stood up, he only knew that he could curl on his side, hide his face. If the cameras couldn’t see his face, his brothers didn’t have to see all the blood.
The blood.
Trace had been bloodied, when they saw him. Trent was going to be bloodied, when he saw him.
What was it that Harry said? Something about a circle.
Everything started to feel less real while Trent laid very still with his eyes closed, waiting for the pain to go away - for the pain to take him away completely.
It wasn’t scary, dying. It hurt really bad, and Trent wanted his mom. What he got instead was his brother.
Someone screamed Trent’s name and that was good - someone was there and they cared. It wasn’t a Bailey boy, they couldn’t go in the arena, Mister Lupin promised.
Trent was turned on his back and he tried, he tried so hard, to ask them to not move him, don’t show his face. But it was okay, because it was Trace. Trace was there and Trent was safe with him and he could cry and say he was scared because Trace had been scared of the dark and maybe Trent was scared of dying.
“Tr—” Trent couldn’t get any words out, only a gurgling sound, but he knew what Trent wanted.
Trace dropped down beside him and pulled him up in his lap, letting Trent rest his head there while he stroked his hair slowly. Trent wished he would sing, Trace would always sing when he was scared or one of the boys had a nightmare.
It was the same song as always, the only one any of them knew.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”
Trent smiled because Trace knew, he always knew. Trent was safe and nothing hurt so much and his brother had him, he had him.
When Trent wasn’t able to breathe in air so good anymore, when everything slowed down until it was a complete halt, he wasn’t scared anymore.
Someone screamed and that was okay, it was a sad scream. Someone was sad for Trent.
Trent wasn’t sad, not when the pain stopped and he was free from it all.