This is my FIRST EVER fanfic so please review and tell me what you think! Thanks!
Four years later: so I've returned to FFN after a long time apart. Whilst getting excited reading the writing of others, I felt like I should try my hand again at writing my own pieces. Here we are, back with Shalimar and the rest of the crew that I've nearly forgotten about. I've decided against 1) performing a massive overhaul of the entire story or 2) giving it up altogether and relinquishing it to the black hole of dark childhood memories you cringe at. Instead, I'm going to stick with going through each chapter I uploaded four years ago and…refurbishing them. Enjoy!
Chapter One
"Come back! Shalimar! Shali, come back, please, you have to come back, you can't go!"
Shalimar turned around and watched as Amethyst tried to run to her, stopped from doing so by the best efforts of Jemmalyn and Garnet, their parents. Shalimar smiled sadly and waved but she didn't stop walking. On her left, she could feel Lumen observing her, already starting to judge her potential before the ink had even dried on their mentor/mentee contract.
"Shalimar!" a calmer voice called. She turned again and saw her gentle father take a few steps towards her, then think better of it and stop. "Remember that we will always love you. We'll be with you no matter where you are and you'll always be in our hearts. Good luck." Garnet gave her a stern look, one that told her to turn back around now and walk forward without hesitation. She looked for a while longer, memorizing every face; her eyes drank in the way Amethyst's dress was too small and tight for her growing frame, the stiff posturing of her mother's shoulders that gave away her anxiety, and the new wrinkles that had come to dominate small corners of her father's face. Shalimar turned her head back around, ran to catch up to Lumen, and resumed walking briskly towards the Capitol train.
As she strode, she could feel tiny tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and she bit down on her inner cheeks, trying to hide her moment of weakness from Lumen. This was it. Her chance to get away from it all—the poverty of the districts, the constant threat of the annual reaping, this was her big break. Her heart hammered in time to the steps she took and her mouth dried up the closer she got to the train.
Shalimar turned onto her back in her bed and whimpered in her sleep. Then she fell silent again and went back to dreaming.
As she rode the Capitol train away from District One, she sensed Lumen come up and pick a seat across from her. "Good. You are showing no sign of weakness or hesitation. That is a sign that you may flourish and thrive in the Capital once you have earned the status of stylist." Shalimar didn't answer, choosing instead to catch the last few glimpses of her home blur by. Lumen seemed to recognize that she didn't want to talk and accommodated her by taking a sip of the saffron tea she so loved. She carried on the one-sided conversation.
"Did you know, I came from the districts myself. Eight, for textiles, in fact. Two years in the factories and I knew everything there was to know about cloth. As you come into your role as my mentee, be grateful that you didn't end up with one of the other idiots who call themselves brilliant stylists. This is your first lesson from me, girl, and remember it well: being a stylist doesn't mean just bending fabric to your will; it also means bending others to your needs for survival in the Capitol." Lumen paused and took another sip of tea.
Shalimar turned her head towards Lumen, taking in the wild raven hair and dramatic sapphire eyes that had fascinated her when she had first met the acclaimed stylist. Lumen had offered her the chance to study fashion under her during their first meeting, in the market where Shalimar set up her makeshift stall once every week. Business had been bad that day, and no one was even glancing her way as they walked past. Lumen had been the only one to stride up and run her critical eyes over Shalimar's offerings: little outfits for the dolls that District One's wealthiest children played with, patterned ribbons and bracelets, little trinkets that mimicked jewelry seen on Capitol TV.
"I wish you'd never seen me," Shalimar whispered under her breath.
"Don't be ridiculous, child. If you are able to fashion those little creations at ten years old, you will flourish and thrive with the skills I can teach you. Would you like me to go over our agreement again? In exchange for the opportunity of becoming my mentee, your family has paid me 500 dollars for your room and board. After five years, if you are ready, you shall become a stylist and your family will pay me 300 dollars more. If you fail, your family shall pay me 150 dollars. You should be plenty motivated to succeed as a stylist. Your family will no longer have to submit names for the reaping as long you may live."
"Don't forget that my family also gets a house in the Victor's Village when I become a stylist," Shalimar quickly added.
Lumen smiled. "Yes, of course. I see now that we are very much alike, Shalimar. We have both done this for our families."
Shalimar turned her head away, knotting her fingers in her lap.
Lumen abruptly stood up. "Come. It is time for us to go to bed. While you are under my care, I shall treat you like my own daughter. And as I would give my own daughter—though I do not have one—the same advice, so shall I give it to you: tomorrow morning, we will arrive at the Capitol. You will find that the people there are very different. Do not laugh at what you may perceive as stupidity. What they project as stupidity may be just that, and they may get offended. Or, and much worse, they mean to hide a calculating mind behind a silly exterior. In either case, that will be one less connection you may reach to in the future. For now, stay silent until spoken to you, and try to be charming. Starting tomorrow morning, I do not expect to have to tolerate your sullen face any longer." So saying, she led Shalimar into the grandest bedroom she had ever seen and tucked her in to bed rather tenderly.
Shalimar's eyes flashed open, jolted suddenly from her dream by the feeling that today was a very important day. She sat up in her bed in her plush condo in the Capitol and luxuriously stretched her limbs, and scratched her head for a minute while she tried to remember why today was so important. She plodded to her marble bathroom, running through the tangles in her long auburn hair. She looked in the mirror, sleepily blinked her green eyes, and then suddenly stood straight.
Today was the reaping. She was going to be late for it on national television if she waited a moment longer! Dashing to her huge plasma screen and turning it on, she methodically shredded a few paper napkins as the Panem anthem blared out from the speakers.
She wasn't worried about her family; her family had been excluded from the reaping since she had become a stylist when she was 15, three years ago. She was anxious for her two best friends, Hudson and Topaz. This year was Hudson's last, his eighteenth birthday had passed a month ago, but Topaz still had two more years to go. Shalimar waited for the escort of District One to re-announce the reaping results, seeing that she had missed the actual reaping. Her heart felt like it was about to come crawling out her throat while her lungs no longer seemed to be working. The next words that came out of the escort's mouth rooted her to the spot.
"Once again, ladies and gentlemen, I am overjoyed to announce that this year's Hunger Games tributes for District One are Hudson Grant and Topaz Belle! Welcome to the glorious 68th Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!"
The national anthem rang out again as Shalimar's thoughts raced to catch up with her hearing. Both of them. How could both of them have been picked? Both?
Her fingers fumbled their way to the glass phone on the coffee table and she heard her voice reserve a private hovercraft for an immediate flight to District One. It was on the way there, the land skimming past through the hover's windows, that she fully realized what she meant to do, what she had meant to do even before she had picked up the phone.
So that was chapter #1. Going forward, three stars (***) at the top of a chapter means it's been scrubbed by a more mature (haha) pair of eyes than eighth grade me had.
