Night Five
Calliope Charm was laughing on the porch again, head tilted back, curls wild in the breeze, a bandana embroidered by Effie with little flowers wrapped around it. The sun caught the edges of her hair and made her look golden, unreal. Untouchable.
Effie stood inside the kitchen, the screen door between them humming faintly with every breeze. She was supposed to be slicing carrots for stew, but her hands had gone still on the counter. Her eyes were fixed on her daughter instead.
Seventeen.
That impossible, untamable age. Not quite grown, but not a child. All fire and secrets and longing.
She looked like Haymitch.
God, she acted like Haymitch.
Same crooked grin. Same sarcasm sharpened into defense. Same way of disappearing into her own head, curling words like smoke, always with a thousand thoughts Effie couldn’t quite reach.
It used to be easier.
Once, Callie had curled up in Effie’s lap in cotton dresses Effie had sewn herself, giggling about goose feathers and asking for more sugar in her tea. She used to braid her doll’s hair while Effie did hers. She used to run barefoot through the meadow and come home with flowers for her mama.
Now...
Now she stood on the porch with one booted foot up on the rail, laughing at something Finn said, one hand loosely resting on Dawn’s arm. Her eyes glinted like she knew exactly who she was and didn’t need anyone to explain it to her.
Effie loved her. Fiercely. Desperately.
And sometimes she didn’t know how to talk to her.
She didn’t know when it had changed. When she’d started feeling like a stranger in her daughter’s world. Maybe it was gradual, like the change in the seasons. Slow at first, then suddenly everywhere.
Callie had started shutting her door more often. Rolling her eyes more easily. Laughing with her friends in ways she didn’t laugh with her mother. Effie hadn’t done anything wrong, exactly. But she hadn’t done it right, either.
She tried. She tried so hard.
She still sewed dresses, though Callie rarely wore them. She made tea, even if Callie forgot to drink it. She asked questions that were met with shrugs. She offered advice her daughter didn’t want, didn’t need, didn’t ask for.
She tried to remember what seventeen had felt like... but her own seventeen was twisted and distant. Parties. Masks. Lies. It wasn’t the same.
She had no frame of reference for raising a child who'd never worn makeup before age ten. Who tangled her hair with wild flowers all natural and didn't have to ‘fix’ herself with surgery. Who kissed girls in barns instead of boys at galas and balls.
Haymitch understood her better.
Of course he did.
They shared this grounded stubbornness, this District 12 grit. They understood each other without words, even when they fought. Calliope Charm didn’t resent Effie, at least not out loud, but she didn’t seek her either.
And Effie couldn’t help but think… maybe she was something to endure.
An artifact from another world.
Sometimes she caught Callie watching her like she was trying to figure her out. Like Effie was a strange kind of animal in a pretty coat. Sometimes she caught herself watching Callie the same way.
Effie was proud of her. So proud she could barely speak of it.
But God, it hurt to feel so far away.
The door creaked as someone came in. Effie startled. She hadn’t realized the girls were gone.
Callie stepped into the kitchen, eyebrows raised.
“You okay?”
Effie nodded. “Of course.”
“You’re just… staring at carrots.”
Effie glanced down at the cutting board. “Lost in thought.”
“Dinner soon?”
“Yes.”
Callie Charm lingered for a second. Her hands were in her pockets. Her eyes searched Effie’s face, and something in her softened for a moment. Like she knew. Like maybe she saw something.
Effie’s throat tightened.
“You could come with us sometime,” Callie said, almost awkward. “To the market. Or the river. You don’t always have to stay home.”
Effie blinked. That was she was doing tonight. Going out with her friends and Haymitch, as he had promised he’d teach her how to fish. Just another father-daughter activity they wanted to share. Something else they would have in common.
Callie shrugged, cheeks faintly pink. “Just… if you wanted to.”
“I’d like that,” Effie said, quietly.
Callie nodded once. “Okay.”
She turned to go, then stopped. Looked back. “I know I’m a lot.”
Effie’s breath caught.
“You’re not,” she said.
“I am,” Callie said. “Dad says so all the time.”
Effie smiled, a soft, worn thing. “Your dad is an idiot.”
Callie grinned. “No, he’s right... And it’s not a bad thing.”
“No,” Effie said. “Not a bad thing at all.”
And just like that, the distance closed by an inch.
Not a leap. Not a mile. Just a moment of quiet understanding.
Callie left the house, backpack in hand. Effie picked up the knife again and began slicing carrots. The window hummed with wind, and outside the geese stirred in the grass.
She watched Haymitch greet the kids, talking to them, probably explaining something — maybe even ‘threatening’ them into behaving.
Seventeen.
There was still time.