Chapter 12

                                    

                                          
Carson never said no to Charlie, even when she should. It was bad, and she knew it. Luckily, Charlie never asked for much. She was always the kid who was happy with what she had. The young girl understood what Carson had sacrificed to raise her and never complained. Life wasn't easy,  but they always managed. 
Today, Charlie had asked to paint her nails. Effie had given her green nail polish. It was a nice contradiction to the grey that surrounded them. Carson didn't mind getting her nails painted by her sister. It was nice to spend quality time together. "Look at you," Carson whispered. "Not a single drop off the nails. You're getting good."
Charlie smiled slightly. "Thanks, I've been working on it."
That caught her attention. "Working on painting nails?"
"Working on my shaky hands," she whispered. "So, yeah, in a sense."
Carson wasn't sure why Charlie was bothered by her hands. "Why does it matter if your hands are shaky?" 
There's a moment where she doesn't answer. Charlie packs up the nail polish and sets it on the counter. "Carson." Whenever she started a conversation like that, it wasn't good. "I've been spending a lot of time with Prim recently." 
"Good." Carson wanted her sister to have friends close to her age. Prim was a few years older, but that didn't matter. "I like Prim."
"Me too, a lot. We're both super alike, and we enjoy a lot of the same things." Carson knew there was more to the story and waited patiently for the rest. "And recently, with everything going on, I've felt useless." She doesn't know where this is going. "Prim's a healer here, a medic. Watching her train made me want to train." Carson stared at her, a perplexed expression on her face. "So, she talked to a few people, and I've started learning-"
"No." Carson stops her. "No way. Have you lost your mind?"
"Carson-"
"You're eleven years old. You don't need to learn to be a medic or a healer or whatever the hell they call it here. You're a kid. You should act like a kid." 
Charlie stands up, growing angry. "Well, I can't be a kid if there's no future for me!" Her tone shocks Carson. "I have watched you fight for your life. I've seen you leave in jets, not knowing if you'll come back. I have watched you help this rebellion and try to better Panem. You risk your life time and time again. I want to be able to help, even if it's something as simple as stitching someone's cut. I want to help." 
It's a lot to take in. Of course, Carson doesn't want Charlie to do anything dangerous. Everything she did was to better the world for her, but she couldn't pretend not to understand. Feeling useless was not a good feeling. "Charlie," Carson grabbed her hand. "I fight to better a future for you. I don't want you to have to face the same things I did, okay? You don't need to do this-"
"I want to," Charlie whispers. "I actually really like it. I like learning the steps and helping others. It makes me feel good. Plus, I can't just be your baby sister forever."
That should be what matters most, but Carson isn't convinced. Charlie is still only eleven years old. Too young to become a medic. "As long as you are only stitching wounds and never go anywhere without me."
That causes the young girl to laugh. "I'm just learning, Carson."
Carson smiled sadly at her. Silently, she places a hand on her cheek. "Why can't you stay young forever?" Before Charlie can answer, there's a knock on the door. It's heavy, almost rushed. Carson pulls away from Charlie and walks towards the door. Swinging it open, she's met by Finnick. "Hey." She can read him like a book. His lips are pulled in a thin line, and his brows are furrowed. He's stressed, slightly anxious. There's a hint of uneasiness in his eyes. "Finnick?"