Hey, so I'm having a short break from the story "A Fox's Way of Thinking" to co-write this story with TrackerJackson, who is an AMAZING writer! Go check her out! Like now.
A shiver runs up my spine when my bare feet hit the ice cold floor in front if the door. I have taken off my slippers and now I am replacing them with my new sneakers. The door creaks when I open it and I flinch, waiting for one of the servants to retrieve me. No one comes, however, so I scurry out of the house before I can make any other noises. When I get to the cement driveway I consider taking the car to meet Lace, but then realize it'd make too much noise and maybe alert someone with the bright headlights in the morning darkness. I start to jog, using only the slight rays of the sun to illuminate my path. Perhaps I should have left a bit earlier; I want to get to our meeting spot before sunrise. I start to jog and luckily I make it there before the bright ball of light rises higher into the sky.
Lace is waiting for me behind her house, leaning against a white Ferrari that seems to glow in the dawn's dim haze.
I beam at it. "Got your new car, did you?"
Lace sighs, her breath rising up into the sky as a faint white cloud. "Yeah, but it's a really old model. I was hoping for at least a Lamborghini, but my parents get me this wreck? Still, I guess it's fast. Now you, Topaz, are lucky. I mean seriously? That Capital car you have? So awesome."
I laugh at her whining tone and she allows a small smile. We both know that, while money is important, if I offered her a car she'd turn it down. Still I've got to admit, her parents have been strangely cheap lately. I think Lace's mom lost her job, but I decide not to ask.
"Happy birthday!" I say holding out a small blue box.
Inside is a ring encrusted with diamonds. A small pearl lies in the center of what looks to be a golden reaping bowl. She squeals in joy when she sees it.
"See this is what I mean! Your family can even afford to get a pearl shipped from District 4! Did you make this?"
I nod, sheepishly, while she slips on the ring. "But you know, todays your big day too." I look at her quizzically.
"Um, Hunger Games? You're supposed to volunteer. Some people just get all the luck! Like you."
My stomach drops at the thought of the Games and I pale considerably.
"Oh yeah," I mumble, "The Games."
Lace tilts her head. "You don't sound exactly excited. You should perk up. I mean someone might think you don't want to compete in the Games."
I try to convincingly roll my eyes. "Of course I want to. Why else would I train for it in the first place?" I peer at the glowing clock installed in the dash board. "We better get going. The recaps are going to start soon."
We both slide into the back seat of the car, locking the doors. The lights of the Ferrari dim and a screen slides down from the ceiling, clicking on.
"…and now for last year's annual Hunger Games!"
The screen smash cuts to all the tributes standing around the Cornucopia. The arena was a desert last year. All the water was underground. Lace and I lean in, staring at the screen intently as it plays through all the highlights. My favorite tribute is a young fourteen year old boy, Kelets from District 3, but I already know he will die from a wild cat attack. Sure enough, halfway through the mini show, he dies spectacularly while I shake my head. The winner was, not surprisingly, a young man from District 1. The screen shuts off and we lean back, smiling. Last year was a very exciting Games. Hopefully it'll be a little more toned down this year, because I'm not looking forward to being killed.
A few hours have passed by now, which is remarkable seeing as they had to fit all of three weeks into three hours. For a moment we sit in silence, thinking about the annual event coming up.
Finally I speak, shattering the quiet, "I better get back home, before anyone knows I'm gone. It's already ten, plus I'm starving."
We both step out of the car, stretching before getting back in, this time in the front. While the walk seemed long the ride is quick and short. I bid Lace farewell and get out of the car, this time not bothering to be sneaky. Everyone should be awake by now and if I get chastised? Well there's nothing my parents can do, since the deed of sneaking out has already been performed. But only a minor servant sees me entering the mansion and, really, what can she do? She won't be able to tell anyone with her tongue cut off and all, so that's no matter.
A small breakfast is laid out on the table in front of me. Bread, eggs, bacon, orange juice and hot chocolate. I plop down onto the mahogany chair and start my meal, trying to make as much noise as possible. I hate the echoing quiet in the house. My mom and dad are probably out working right now, even though they don't have to. They'll be back for the reaping, I know they will. They love watching the Games even more then Lace and I. But until then I'm all alone in the house, excluding the Avoxs.
I stand up. I am done with breakfast. I don't eat that much, even when I am hungry, because of how small I am. I only weigh about 85 or 90 pounds, which could be an advantage in speed, but a disadvantage in strength. Speaking of which, I should get in some last minute training. I head to our private gym, which contains all kinds of weapons and training targets. I pick my favorite weapon, a thin sharp sword that's perfect for my size. I hold it in both hands and slice through the air. This is what I love about fighting. The swift, fluid motions. The graceful steps. It's almost like dancing, just with a sword. I slip lightly towards a training dummy and strike, hitting the mid neck. A fatal blow.
I practice more moves. I stab the dummy in the stomach, in the heart, in the head. Then I pretend to parry an oncoming attack, though this would hardly help me against any of the giant Careers. I dislike the heavy swings that most Careers use. It takes energy and power and it's harder to hit a quick opponent, while lighter swings are easier to handle. Plus they just make you look barbaric, not strong willed.
The hour passes quickly and soon I am covered in a thin sheen of sweat, my dirty blonde ringlets matted to my face in an unbecoming way. Still, I am not done. Panting slightly, I gingerly put my sword back onto a rack and grab a set of knives. I'm definitely better with a light sword than these curved daggers but chances are, there could be heavy swords in the arena instead of light ones and, in that case, throwing knives is my best bet. I have a certain strategy with these weapons when they come in sets. No matter what, I keep two of the longer daggers by my side. This way, I have a chance at protecting myself if someone attacks me in close range.
Next is archery, a skill that I'm not too good at. If worse comes to worst, I'll be able to handle a bow but I'm no hunter that can string the bow as quick as they hear the crunch of footsteps. This brings me to sneaking, which is one of my extremely bad qualities. It's a good thing I'm to be a Career because, unless the whole arena's ground is made of carpet, I'll be an elephant crashing through the forest. Although the arena floor could be made of sand, it's highly unlikely they'll recreate the desert from last year.
Eventually I end up exhausted but the faux enemies are pretty torn up and scratched. If I come back from the Hunger Games I'll have to ask to get them replaced. When, I mentally correct myself. I will be coming back.
I exit the gym and wearily climb up the stairs to my bedroom. I have a little over an hour to spare so I take my time. When I get to my bedroom I'm tempted to collapse onto the cool bed with satin throw pillows, and cashmere blankets, and a huge canopy from when I was five and obsessed with fancy things. But I don't. Instead I head over to another door. It opens to reveal a pristine bathroom with a shower and bathtub, a sink, and a toilet. There are also mirrors everywhere. I suppose whoever constructed the house obviously assumed we would enjoy looking at ourselves all day, and I suppose I am good looking. I just have better things to do then look in mirror all day. But I don't mind stares.
I climb into the tub and twist the faucet watching the crystal clear water fall out and pour into the tub. I've heard rumors of fancy buttons in the Capital that make soap pour out into the tub, but for now I have to deal with manually pouring in a bubble substance. I will experience the Capital on my own in a few hours anyway. I strip off my jean shorts, tee, and under clothes. I feel very vulnerable until I get into the tub and let the water close over me, suds and all submerging myself.
When I get out I dry my soaking body with a soft towel. My hair is almost completely straight with slight waves in it, until I blow-dry it, making it bounces back into its natural ringlets. I brush my hair and then walk to my wardrobe where my red dress is awaiting.
It's a pretty nice dress as far as plainer dresses go in District 1. A dark red with silver stitched sleeves that don't touch my shoulders, but instead hang tightly to my upper arms. Two thin straps hold it up, and of course the slightly brighter waste band is encrusted with rubies. It hangs at my knees, brushing them as I walk. My mother figured it would go with my honey eyes and brownish blonde hair. She was right. It looks spectacular on me. The red heels perfectly complete the look.
I part my curls into two pigtails, tying them up with bright red, silk ribbons. It's slightly annoying since they bounce around, lightly hitting my face, but I tell myself it will only be for a while.
For the final touch I add a hint of mascara and apply pink lipstick that makes my lips look full.
I turn to leave the room when suddenly I stumble. Quickly catching myself my eyes automatically dart towards the floor to see what has tripped me. From under my bed, a tin container is just visible, the corner sticking out. I kneel down curiously, prying open the box. It opens with a drawn out creak. I almost drop the box from what I see.
Inside are dusty cards, a black top hat, handkerchiefs all tied together, a stuffed rabbit, and many other things, all neatly stacked together. But most importantly, what brings back the most memories is a sliver chain with charms attached to it. I pick it up, blowing the dust off, and examine it in the artificial light.
The charms dangle, sparkling because of the small jewels imbedded in the metal. The bracelet contains a magic wand, a bunny sticking out of a top hat, three metal cards, a dove, and a detailed jewelry box. Each charm represents a magic show.
When I was younger I was obsessed with magic. It was supposed to be just a phase but even when it was time to go into training to be a Career. Then I started going public with my magic. The audience was delighted with my small slip of the hands. My parents? Not so much. They were embarrassed because of me. What had happened to their perfect little girl? My shows were cut short and my interest in magic abruptly cut off. Still I kept the box for the memories, but I have forgotten about it until now.
Returning from the past, I'm surprised to find a smile on my lips as I examine the box. The charm bracelet is on my wrist. Did I do that? I hide it under my flowing sleeve but don't bother to take it off. With a wistful sigh I close the box and tuck it back under the bed.
I get up and finish crossing the room. When I get to the doorway I glance back at my room, steeling my stomach. I am ready. I shut the door, closing off any sentimental memories with it.
My car is fast going to Lace's house to pick her up. But on the way to the Main Square I drive slow, relishing the last sights of District 1; at least for a few weeks.
"What did your car break down or something?" Lace complains, "I mean, really Topaz, can you drive any slower? It'll be hours before we get to the square.
I laugh, but only speed up a bit. When we get to the square and find a decent parking spot, we have our fingers pricked for blood which they wipe onto a card that has a citizen number on it. Lace and I push through the crowd earning many reproachful looks. We're just on time because when we finally get to the sixteen year old section our escort, Trixie Feather, is smiling at the crowd. Her bright yellow hair almost looks green under the sunlight. It contrasts horribly with the pink and red dress that wraps tightly around her chubby body. Her earrings are piled with the same jewels as the ones on her fake flower that is pinned to her clothes. Black stockings and pink heels help complete the look of a fat strawberry.
I fake a smile and keep it on stiffly while the mayor drones on about the Dark Ages and District 13 and "…so the Capital picks 24 kids each year to fight to the death in a big arena…" and so on and so forth. Finally Trixie is ready to pick out of the girl's reaping bowl.
"Our first contestant will be- oh this is so exciting!"
Her hand brushes aside a few strips of paper, digging deep into the sea of slips. "Erynn Crevis! Please come up to the stage as our new girl tribute." A broad shouldered girl with puffy, thick brown hair pushes herself roughly up to the stage.
"Any volunteers?" Her words are almost drowned out by a chorus of screaming girls. Of course they know they're not supposed to volunteer, but it is exciting to scream out the phrase. Unless you're the one who is actually going into the arena.
Lace nudges me and looks at me meaningfully. I take a deep breath and open my mouth.
"I volunteer as tribute to represent District 1 in the annual 43rd Hunger Games!"
The voice startles me when I realize it's not my own. No, this isn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to be tribute. Not this mystery girl.
Trixie beams in my general direction. "Do we have a volunteer?"
I can already see the girl making her way up to the stage. No, no, no. I'm closer. I step forward.
"Yes, we do." I say loudly. Trixie's eyes scan me and then her smile widens.
"Come up here, dear. It looks like we have our District 1 girl tribute! What's your name?"
I smirk into the cameras, hoping I look confident. "Topaz Birdd," I hesitate, racking my brain for something else to say before Trixie heads over to the boy's bowl.
"Damask Flown." Unlike the girls the boys are silent. Everyone knows Damask was supposed to volunteer. It's a coincidence he was reaped.
He is huge, lumbering up the stage. Yet if you look closely he moves with a confident grace, rolling his shoulders every now and then. His hair is a light brown and sticks out messily. He doesn't smile. He doesn't frown either. Instead there is a permanent scowl on his face. No one will volunteer for him. If you do, you know you'll be dead before you even reach the arena.
"Our male tribute from District 1! No volunteers? Very well then. I present our representatives for District 1 in the 43rd Hunger Games!" She pauses to hold up our hands. "May the odds be ever in your favor."
A thunderous applause as Trixie holds our hands together. Damask grasp is firm and suffocating and it takes all I can muster to not flinch. Instead I look straight into his grey eyes with an unspoken challenge; I will be the next shining jewel of the Hunger Games.
It seems that as soon as I am placed onto a leather couch my parents rush into the room. Their faces are still long and slender and strict as ever but their eyes sparkle with a childish excitement. My father's usual hardened face is soft with admiration.
"We're so proud of you honey!" My mom speaks first. I brighten at her encouraging words.
"That shout was simply amazing. I know you'll make a good daughter." My smile widens. There's no harm done if he doesn't know that the voice wasn't me.
"Make us even prouder!" My mom ends. A Peacekeeper enters.
"There is another visitor waiting outside."
"Well, don't want to let Lace wait. Although…" She leans in. "When you come home, I don't think you should hang out with her anymore. I heard her family is actually on the verge of becoming poor." She bites her lip. "Anyway, Good luck!" They are both gone.
Lace rushes in and for the first time I notice her white dress and lace shawl. Why was I examining District 1 when I should have been talking to her? I stand up and hug her.
"Oh. My. Gosh. Congrats! That was, like, the most awesome reaping ever! You are so gonna win! Did you see Damask's face? It was like so funny." She makes an exaggerated expression of a scowl and we both howl with laughter.
"Shut up," I say. "I know you have a crush on him!"
"Do not!" But her face flushes a bright pink. "Anyway even if I did, I'm still totally rooting for you! Besides, I've had my eye on Velvet for a while now!" She gushes. Then a Peacekeeper marches into the room. "Visiting time is over." He says, then holds the door open for Lace.
"Good luck! I know you'll win!" I watch her retreating back. The door closes and I sit back onto the couch, waiting for someone to come retrieve me. And I smile. Because for the first time, I actually believe I have a chance at winning. My grin widens as I think this.
Let the games begin.
So the next chapter will becoming out maybe next week, or sooner, and it will be awesome because TrackerJackson will have written it. SO review please! And if you haven't gone to check her out then let shame rain down upon you! Also review.
(Oh yeah, before you go, review!) *.*