Note:

This story was crafted as part of the FandomTr*mpsHate auction. The amazing and wonderful human being, SoThere, donated a generous amount to one of the recommended charities to have this story commissioned and it was an absolute joy to write for her. Many thanks to my incredible beta, JennaGill.

It should be noted that this story was heavily researched during the writing process. While some details may be a bit grey (I'm not an immigration expert, a Muslim, or an American for that matter), 95% of the story is based around real events that actually happened and blogs/first-person accounts of women's experiences in the States. I have done my absolute best to try to convey the possible experiences of the characters, but this is not to say it is perfect - please do let me know if something I've written is not okay and I will gladly address it as soon as I can. While it is fictitious, the story could be true.


"It came!" Prim shouts from the front room, her small footsteps gaining speed as she rounds around the living room corner. I can practically feel her excitement through the door as each step counts down – 3… 2… "It's here Katniss!" Bursting into our tiny room, her body flings itself onto the mattress while brandishing a white envelope at me.

"It's small," I whisper, mostly to myself, as I take it from her.

"That doesn't mean anything and you know it. Postage can get expensive here." And she was right. Damascus could be tricky to get to for couriers, especially with the fragility of our government and the ongoing protests that were happening daily.

Turning the envelope over in my hands, I blow out a swift breath and slide my nail under the edge of the flap. This was it. The letter from the University of California, Berkeley.

"Just do it!" Prim shouts, her frame practically bouncing.

Okay, Katniss. Breathe.

Ripping the letter free, I scan the first few sentences quickly. And then again. And again, just to be sure my reading of the foreign English was correct.

"Dear Ms. Everdeen, we are pleased to issue this offer of admission to the Earth and Planetary Sciences PhD program at the University of California, Berkeley, for the upcoming 2012 year. Please find included your educational package instructions and next steps…" I read aloud, my voice falling off at the end as I look up to see my sister standing before me, her eyes filled with tears.

"You got in," she whispers, hands reaching out to grip my forearms. I nod and blink, my own tears slipping down my cheeks.

"I got in."

I got in.

Crap.


"I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow," Gale sighs heavily, his body shifting as though defeated. I nod and try not to make eye contact, afraid of the feelings that will encompass me as I say goodbye to my best friend.

The past six months had flown by in a flurry of government letters, passport problems and failed connection attempts as I tried to arrange my student visa into the United States. It wasn't easy and more than once I was ready to throw in the towel but time and again Prim and Gale were there, stoking the fire and pushing me to keep going. It was because of them that I was leaving to pursue a graduate program in seismology at UC Berkeley.

But it was also because of them that I was starting to reconsider.

The past year had been full of confusion and fear as my people slowly moved closer towards a battle that held nothing good. Protests from the Arab Spring had spawned tenfold and neighbourhoods were collapsing into unrest as the people fought a slowly more suffocating government. It was a difficult time for Syria and with every passing day, the outlook looked more bleak.

I hated the thought of leaving my family in such uncertainty, but they refused to let me stay.

"You will call me when you arrive, won't you Katniss?" Gale asked lowly, bringing me back to the present. My fingers fiddled with the cup of tea before me, focusing on it instead of what surrounded me.

I didn't want to think about leaving my home. The thought pained me – a new place, full of new people. None of my family would be there – not Mother or Prim, nor Gale's family with his westernized take on our culture with their funny clothing and their questionable social mores.

"Katniss?" Gale's hand brushed against mine, though did not take it in his own. He knew he couldn't, we both knew it, but I could still feel the longingness rolling off him in thick waves. I was sure in that moment that if I wasn't leaving, Gale and I would have been married before the year was out.

Looking up then I meet his eyes, dark like mine, and smile.

"Yes. Of course I will. I'm not leaving forever Gale, just for a short while," I say. But we both knew it could be a lie.

America was a goal for many – get there and you will be successful, living the American dream that so many people want. Money, freedom, safety – all were things that Gale and I had spoken of in secret as we had grown up together. It had been in these conversations that we had figured out that the best way to get there was through education – become the asset that they need and make a difference for not only our families, but the world.

The plan had been that we both pursue our passions – Gale with his mechanical engineering degree and myself studying geographic sciences – and then seek graduate programs at the same university so that we could settle and bring our families to join us.

It hadn't worked out. Gale's family had struggled and he had been forced to drop out of his program, entering the working world to help make ends meet. In the years that had passed since, he had not only helped sustain his family, but had helped ours as well, even helping establish funding for my education so that I could study abroad.

He had sacrificed everything for his family and now I had to do the same for mine.

"Do you need a ride to the airport tomorrow?" I shake my head no – Mother, who was as distant as a mother could be after my father passed, had already arranged transportation for me at dawn having expected Gale to be at work by the time I needed to leave. I smiled weakly at him, belying the sadness I felt.

"I think we best say our goodbyes tonight," I counter and get to my feet, chair scraping on the tile below me. Scanning the room, I see only happy faces as our families together celebrate my adventure. We all knew that this likely meant goodbye for a long while, but the prospect of our reunion in better times and circumstances held smiles like cement to our lips.


"It's going to be a big, big day!" Effie squeals, pawing through my closet as she tries to figure out what I'll wear. It's my second week in America and I've finally found a place to live, complete with a peppy blonde who has made me into her pet project to 'westernize'. I don't need to be 'westernized', but she insisted as she dragged me out of the apartment to the mall where we proceeded in purchasing a new wardrobe – mostly for her – but with a few nice pieces for me.

The clothing here was… different, to say the least. I wasn't opposed to it, but it was still an adjustment to make. The biggest battle was still trying to feel comfortable without my headscarf – a choice I made for myself when I boarded the connecting flight to California and one I'm not totally sold on yet. It hadn't been an easy one - I felt comfortable in it – but after reading blogs and stories about Muslim women who'd been harassed simply for their headdress in America, I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with that too on top of everything else.

"How about the green top?" Effie coos, swooping in front of me with a dark green blouse and a pair of grey slacks. I nod absently and take the clothes from her, trying to ignore her palpable excitement before she flits away to my desk. "Where is your makeup bag, dear?"

I almost snort. Even back home makeup was the farthest priority from my mind.

"I do not have any – " her resulting glare is almost comical. "It is not my style."

"Ah, okay. Well, next trip that's what we need focus on! Now, let's get you dressed – we can't be late!" I stare at her as she hovers near the door, watching me closely. Does she expect me to change while she's here? I flick my eyes towards the hallway and then back to her, praying she gets the subtle hint before I shift on my feet awkwardly.

It's another minute before she understands she's getting nowhere and leaves me to change in peace and I can't stop myself from rubbing my eyes in exasperation before starting to change.

Today is a big day, I won't deny that. It's probably why I'm so nervous – I've never been one for crowds and today's graduate program orientation is for all new grad students – Effie included. The thought is daunting but I have to do it.

"Ready?" Effie's voice travels through the door as I tuck the tails of my blouse in. I look at myself quickly in the mirror, my dark hair pulled back in a braid and tucked around my shoulder. There's shadows around my eyes and a nervous look to me, but I'm as ready as I think I'll ever be. Pulling open the door, I step outside and shift my backpack onto my shoulders.

"Yes."


"I can't believe you think Wrong Way Riegels did it on purpose!" Rue scoffs, shaking her head as she sips from her beer. Her slight frame is buzzing, I can tell, as she claps her empty glass on the stained table. "It's just, you would never – "

"Would you like another soda water, Katniss?" A warm voice breaks through the cluster of sound around me and I turn to see Peeta, my study partner from class. The straw between my lips twitches and I grin sheepishly, dropping it back in my glass.

"Yes. Can I come with you?" I propose, desperate to get away from this endless football talk and secretly hopeful to talk about something more enjoyable with Peeta.

We've known each other for a few months now, having been paired off early in the semester by Professor Abernathy, a crude alcoholic who managed to dislike us both enough to assign the biggest analytical project for first year PhD students. The project had just wrapped up and I'd hoped we'd keep in touch – Peeta was kind and thoughtful and a stable friend in the constantly fluctuating culture shock I was experiencing and I didn't want to lose that.

"Of course you can," he replies and reaches out for my hand. Gripping his fingers loosely, I slip from my bar stool and leave Rue to her ever-ongoing discussion with Thresh about the Cal Bears.

We make our way down to the bar, looping through the refurbished old home's staircases and weaving hallways until we enter a cramped bar tucked away in a corner near some empty tables. Peeta makes quick work of our order before turning towards me, hip against the aging wood and bright smile on his lips. Before him I stand awkwardly, arms crossed over my belly with my fingers on my hips and my weight moving from leg to leg. There is a silence between us, despite the fact that the building is brimming with the noise of its regular weekly trivia night.

"Did Professor Abernathy tell you about our grades?" I question. Peeta laughs softly and shakes his head.

"Let's not talk about that monster. If I never see another Excel spreadsheet it'll be too soon," he says in a lazy drawl. It has me laughing to myself and stepping closer until I'm leaning with my forearms on the bar. "How about you? What are you going to do now that that's over?"

"I was thinking of taking a nap, honestly," he jokes. His resounding laughter echoes through the wood as he shifts until his arm is resting against mine. Another stretch of silence falls between us, broken only by the bartender placing our drinks down before us. I grab mine eagerly, enjoying the fizz of the soda before it settles in my glass. When I look down, Peeta is still leaning over, staring at his pint of beer.

"Would you like to get dinner sometime? I mean, now that our project is over, I'd still like to hangout sometime…" He asks the wood, not turning to meet my gaze. I turn the question over in my head, thoughts of Gale fighting their way in and haunting me.

Though I'm not well versed on American customs yet, I have watched plenty of Netflix love stories with Effie in the last four months and I'm quite sure she would be making her heart fluttering motions right now if she were here. Despite this, I hesitate, the words getting stuck in my throat.

I must take too long to answer because Peeta shifts and looks at me directly, beer abandoned on the bar and blue eyes determined.

"Please?"

"Okay."