2:46 AM: They're choosing the girl. Angelica Windsman's hand, manicured with an unnatural chemical pink polish, reaches into the glass bowl. She feels around and pulls out a slip of paper. She lifts her pale face, powdered white with the makeup from The Capitol and rubs her lips together, and I notice that their shiny hue matches the color of her nails perfectly. Her Capitol accent sounds thick as ever as she says my name.
I wake up drenched in sweat, panting and cold. I stare at the worn wooden planks that made up my ceiling, trying to not think about tomorrow. I start counting the nails. This was a habit that I have taken up for when I can't sleep. I know that this will be another sleepless night. How will I ever sleep when I know that in less than 4 hours, I will be waiting along with thousands of other kids just like me, afraid that my name might be called to be reaped for the 74th annual Hunger Games?
My family is pretty poor, since we live in District 11, but we scrape by. Since the main profession here in my district is agriculture, it would be so easy to just steal a bit of grain for our thick, crusty bread that we make at home. But it's not. We're kept under careful watch by the peacekeepers, hundreds of them with big, deadly guns that could put a hole through a grown man with a single bullet. That's why I have to sign up for tesserae and take the bit of grain and oil provided by the Capitol. It seems like a pretty sweet deal, right? Well it would be except for the fact that the exchange is putting my name in extra times to be entered in the bowl for The Hunger Games. It's horrible every year when people crowd around the stage waiting for Angelica to announce the girl and boy who will be selected to participate in The Games. This is the first year that I am eligible to go to The Games and I am scared out of my mind. Every time I think about the possibility of me going into that arena, my breathing grows rapid. Calm down, Rue. I think about how many other people that live in my district. I think about what will happen after the announcement. I will sit down at home and my family and I will each have half a roll and a bit of withered vegetables, in celebration that I will stay in District 11 for another year. I hope I will stay in District 11 for another year.
4:32 AM: I spring out of bed. Since the nightmare, I have been lying stiff and still in bed, waiting for it to be time. Finally, I can't take the torture anymore. I swing my feet over the side of the bed and get dressed pulling on some navy blue pants and a soft button down shirt. My reaping clothes can wait. I slip through the front door, careful not to wake up my mom, and start the brisk walk to the fields. It's still dark, and all I can hear is the rustle of the trees and the occasional buzz of a nest of tracker jackers. I almost wish I had brought a jacket because the wind is starting to howl around me, making my skin prickle with the cold.
When I get to an old oak tree, I scale it easily and sit on the highest branch, looking over the fields of crops. A couple peacekeepers stand on the outskirts of the field, their stances alert but their eyes drooping with exhaustion. The corn sways in the breeze, and the night workers start heading out. Before they go, I sing the five o'clock tune in a clear voice. It's three of the same notes strung together, and the fourth note drops down to a low growl. The mockingjays start to repeat it, a replica of the tune, their pitches imitating mine perfectly. The song swells as the mockingjays sing. This feels like it goes on forever with every mockingjay feeling the need to repeat my simple, four note tune. The workers smile with recognition and all wave to me up in the tree. Even the peacekeepers give a half-smile that may or may not be associated with the fact that it's the end of their shift. Finally, the song finishes and I lie happily in the tree, its leaves sheltering me from the harsh winds. Dawn begins to peep over the mountain in the distance, and the workers begin filing into the fields, their skin almost blackened by the sun's rays. The peacekeepers make sure that everyone arrives on time.
I know my mother will be expecting me back home soon, so I leap from tree to tree, feeling the rough bark against my fingertips. Finally, I arrive at the large clearing that contains my house, along with 50 others. They are all identical, made entirely of wood, each with a dull brass knob on the door. I pull mine, and find my mother and brother in the kitchen. I am handed a piece of bread, half the size of my fist, and told to eat fast and wash up. I sit in the small metal basin and splash cold water all over myself until I know that I must be as clean as I'll ever get. I pull on a yellow dress that's a little too frilly for comfort. I must look like a lemon meringue pie. That's a food that I heard about that they eat in The Capitol. It sounds delicious, but I would never want to go to The Capitol, not even I could get free food for life. Because to go there, you have to fight in The Games. And kill people. Thinking about this, my breathing grows rapid again, but I force myself to calm down because my mother knocks on the door and tells me in her soft voice that it's time. I walk out in my only pair of fancy shoes, the ones that pinch my toes. Please, please, let this reaping go quickly.
5:58 AM: I make to the town square, just barely on time. I stand in line with the long line of other girls, waiting to get my finger pricked and verified.
"Next," says a male peacekeeper with a square face and slicked-back brown hair.
I feel a sharp zap of pain as it pricks my finger, and he unsympathetically rubs my open cut onto his notebook, next to my name. After it is scanned and verified, I am pushed along and hustled into a crowd of other girls my age. They look about the same as me with dark skin and large, wide-set brown eyes filled with fear. I know that they were hoping with all of their hearts that anybody else would be picked besides them. I also know that they would shove me onto that stage in a minute if it meant them not going into that arena. I almost hate them for that.
6:00 AM on the dot: Miss Angelica Windsman makes her way onto the stage, her makeup even thicker and more uninviting than in my dreams.
She breaks into a smile that shows off her cosmetically engineered teeth and starts, "Good morning, everybody! I see that District Eleven is even cuter than I remember!"
Cute? That's what you think this is? Cute? Hundreds of people are starving here every day. They work from 5 until midnight, even then getting barely enough food to scrape by. I don't dare voice these thoughts, of course. I just stand on the gravel, shifting from foot to foot. I shut out her speech. I shut out the video. I feel like I am going to pass out. The girl next to me actually does faint, but nobody comes and helps her. I am forced to watch her crumple on the ground out of the corner of my eye, my vision not daring to leave the stage. I've almost managed to forget about where I am altogether when I see her feeling around in the shiny, round bowl and I realize that she's picking the girl. I hold my breath as she moves her silly pink fingernails around, closing them around a slip of paper. I am about to fall over from not breathing when she removes the paper from the bowl and unfolds it carefully. In this unfolding, I see the tip on an R and I already know that it's me. When she reads the name in a steady but clearly excited voice, hundreds of eyes are trained on me. I walk to the stage. There's a deafening silence and I can hear all of the girls breathe almost inaudible sighs of relief.
I am chosen. A million emotions flood me at once. What will I say to my family? How will I try to win? Who will the boy be? I feel hot, wet tears starting to fall down my face as I make my way over to the stage.
Angelica ignores me and says, "Now for the boys."
Thresh is chosen. He lives a couple houses down from me and I know that he's been signing up for tesserae since he was my age. It's a miracle that he hasn't been picked already. This is the last year that he can participate in The Games because next year is his 19th birthday. His eyes never show even a hint of fear as he shakes my hand with a firm grip and that alone lets me know that I will never be able to win against this boy. I will try though.
I can barely make out Angelica's last words as she says, "May the odds be ever in your favor."
7:30 AM: It's been less than an hour since I was picked and I am already on the train. The final goodbyes with my family were the worst. I have never seen my brothers cry before but I suppose there's a first time for everything.
My father wasn't allowed to leave the fields today, and I am looking out the window of the train, watching District 11 grow smaller and smaller when I see a man on the train platform: it's my dad. He's holding a bright red peony that I know is from a little bush that grows around the cornfields. His gaze is strong and steady but when the sun catches his face I see a shiny tear streaming down his cheek. Our eyes meet and he waves and I wave back. I almost turn away because he's getting so far away but not before I see an armed peacekeeper stick a gun to his head and usher him back down the road to the fields. There's absolutely nothing I can do about it. I slump down in my seat and cry silently. Thresh looks at me from across the room, his eyes flashing concern. I hear him go out and tell Chaff, our mentor, that I am not ready to talk yet. I drift into a place that is somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. I feel a blanket being put on me by strong, dark hands and I sleep, not ready to bear the weight of what is going to happen to me in a few days. My last thought is of my father standing next to the train tracks holding the peony, his lips barely moving to form the words, "I love you."
2:07 PM: When I awake, I see an unfamiliar linoleum ceiling and I panic, sitting bolt upright in my chair. Where am I? Oh right. I am on a fancy, Capitol-bound train on my way to a certain death. I go into the next car where a meal has been set out. It's unlike anything I've ever seen: creamy yellow soups, rolls that are fresh out of the oven, and meat- meat everywhere, cooked perfectly, just sitting there waiting to be eaten. The table is set for four.
I look at Angelica sitting on the leather armchair and ask her, "Are we expecting more people?"
She looks up, a concerned expression on her face, "Goodness no, my dear! Why would you think that?"
"There's so much food. I just assumed…" I trail off.
Angelica laughs a controlled, tinkly laugh and instructs everyone to dig in. Thresh gets up a little too fast and I realize people were probably waiting for me to wake up before they ate lunch. Knowing that Thresh's family is even poorer than mine, something stirs in me to know that he would wait for me, even with all this great Capitol Food under his nose.
We fill our plates high with chicken brushed with olive oil and mashed potatoes thick with butter. There are even tiny vegetables swimming in butter and more different types of soup than my family has eaten in their entire lives. Everything is so delicious that it almost distracts me from why I am on this train. Almost.
7:00 PM: Thresh and I decide to watch the reapings, just to see what we're up against. Chaff joins us holding a bottle of whisky. He takes my hand and gives it a wet kiss. I smile politely at him just as Caesar Flickerman comes onscreen. His hair color is now a powder blue. It makes me think of the robins back home, with their heads the same color as his hair, and their chests a rusty orange. He doesn't say much before the large city of District 1 comes onscreen. At least five people volunteer but finally they settle on a boy named Marvel and a girl named Glimmer. Something about the hungry look in the boy's eyes sends a shiver down my spine. I vow to steer clear of him. The rest of the reapings go by but I only register a few faces, the scary looking girl with the dark hair from District 2, the red haired girl with the angular face from 5, and both tributes from 12. The girl, Katniss, who volunteers to go into the games in place of her sister stares into the distance, her gray eyes full of conflict. The boy is blond, with broad shoulders. I think his name was Peeta. He keeps sneaking glances at Katniss out of the corner of his eye, and you can tell that there's something going on between them. Their handshake lasts a second longer than it should, and then I watch their backs go into the building behind the stage. The screen goes black. I excuse myself to lie down in my cabin and then I sit on my bed, still thinking about the girl from 12. It was so sweet and self-sacrificing, what she did for her sister. I find myself comparing her to my sisters back home. I momentarily wonder why they didn't volunteer for me, and then dismiss the thought, scolding myself for thinking that way. I cannot compare my sisters to Katniss. Then I pause, because something about the selfless look that was in her eyes when she volunteered makes me want to know her personally. I realize what I want. I want Katniss Everdeen as an ally.
12:00 AM: After another sleepless night on the train, we pull into the station and Thresh and I stare out the window in silence as we look into the faces of thousands of Capitol citizens. I give them a little smile and the crowd smiles back. I wave and they go wild. A little girl catches my eye. She looks about five years old and she's holding a teddy bear with big eyes and a blank expression on his face. I give her a little wave and she stares at me, her face unmoving as she takes in my skin, my clothes, and my hair. It's almost as if she's never seen someone from the districts before.
We are ushered out of the train and into a tall building made of glass. We're given the 11th floor and as we get into the elevator, I sneak a peek over at Thresh. He's tall, easily 6 feet, and his arms have huge muscles-from work in the fields-that could easily snap me in two. How will I ever expect to beat this guy? Hopefully the others will be strong this year because if it came down to the two of us I won't stand a chance. Breakfast is a blur and soon I am in the prep room, being poked and waxed and dyed by two men and a woman. The lady looks down at me as she plucks my eyebrows, each prick giving me a stab of pain. Her eyelashes are made of lace and her lipstick is the color of the ivy that grows up my favorite tree back at home. Home. The word sends a fresh wave of pain over me as I think of my dad, my mom, all five of my brothers and sisters. There's a one in twenty-four chance that I will ever get to see them again. I suppose the odds aren't really in my favor.
6:00 PM: My stylist, a woman in a red tutu with the green eyes of a cat, informs me that my district will once again be portraying farmers. I am outfitted in a scratchy, blue shirt with puffy sleeves and some overalls. They add some boots and I could very well be back at home again, helping my father out in the fields. Thresh is wearing an almost identical outfit to mine except that his shirt doesn't have the puffy sleeves that mine does. I am jealous. We stand awkwardly in the chariot, waiting for the signal to go. Finally District Ten's chariot is waved out. It holds two tributes, one dressed as a horse and one dressed as a cow.
Ha ha, I think nervously, because their occupation is raising livestock.
Finally we are given the signal and our horses pull forward. As the gates open, I am blown away by the amount of people. There are literally tens of thousands of people cheering. For us. There is a little swell in the applause as we make our way through the gates and my heart is pounding at a hundred beats a minute. I try to slow my breathing and wave at the crowd.
I look up at Thresh, expecting him to ignore me but instead he looks down at me and the tips of his mouth curve up in a reassuring smile. I turn back to the crowd and start waving and blowing kisses. Who knows, it could just get me sponsors. Just as I'm blowing someone a kiss, there's a roar from the crowd and I crane my head back to see. My breath stops when I see Katniss and Peeta, the tributes from 12, making their way down the carpet, on fire. Yes, my eyes are not playing tricks, they are literally on fire. The crowd goes wild, screaming at the top of their lungs. Katniss and Peeta's hands are locked together tightly, and they are looking off at the crowd, waving and catching their kisses. The rest of the districts are forgotten as the tributes on fire make their way down the carpet, their flaming capes trailing behind them. Finally, we pull into the open area at the end of the aisle, the City Circle, and President Snow welcomes us all. I notice the cameras have made camp right next to the District 12 tributes, despite the fact that they have already been extinguished. We make our way out, looping around the City Circle one last time before the chariots disappear into the Training Center. We are congratulated by Chaff, who tells us that we did fine and to keep it up. Angelica beams a condescending smile at me. I am starting to think that she views me as some sort of cute little lapdog like the ones that the people own here in the Capitol. We are ushered up to our rooms on the eleventh floor and I am so exhausted that I don't even bother eating dinner or washing the makeup off. I just lie down and fall asleep immediately, resulting in the first real sleep I've gotten in a very long time.
1:24 AM: My hunger pangs force me awake. I realize that I'd better take advantage of the Capitol Food while I can, considering I'll probably be starving in the arena in a couple of days. I order some toast and warm milk, and it materializes in seconds. As I eat, I think about home and wonder if Thresh is asleep. I tiptoe out of my room and find him sitting on the couch, his knees scrunched up to his chest.
I quietly enter and he doesn't notice me until I say, "Hi."
He looks up in surprise, "Oh. Hi, Rue. Can't sleep?"
"Nope," I say.
We can't think of anything else to say to each other so we just sit there on the couch. I occasionally sneak glances at him and find him staring at the same spot on the carpet. I don't know how long this goes on but finally he gets up and looks me straight in the eyes, "Try and get some sleep, okay? We have our first day of training tomorrow and you need to be able to show them how smart you are."
Does he really think I'm smart? How does he know? I don't think I've done anything recently except cry and let people dress me in silly outfits.
But anyway, he genuinely seems to want me to get some sleep so I give him a little smile and nod and say, "Okay."
Thresh walks back to his room tiredly, and a minute later I do the same, falling asleep the moment my head hits the pillow. Tomorrow will be another day for thinking about The Games…
8:07 AM: I slowly open my eyes, taking in my room. The ceiling is a shiny mirror with a girl reflected in it. She has dark skin, big brown eyes, and she's lying in her bed, looking around groggily. She gets up and pulls on some tight black pants and shirt with "11" pinned on it that have been laid out for her.
The pants are a bit itchy, but I decide that they will be good for climbing around because of their stretchiness. I open my door and see that Thresh, Chaff, and Angelica already have their plates filled with tons of delicious looking breakfast food. I fill mine with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a pastry that looks like two of the infamous cornucopias of The Games stuck together.
"That's a croissant," Angelica informs me.
I nod and smile, taking a bite out of it. Whatever it is, it's delicious and the flaky, buttery taste fills my mouth.
Once we finish breakfast, Chaff escorts us to the elevator that leads to the training center.
"Good luck," He says
"I'll need it," I reply, making a face. Thresh gives me a half-smile.
9:01 AM: We walk into the training room and I am blown away by the equipment. There are weapons everywhere, and huge obstacle courses.
Thresh and I stand among the other tributes and listen to the lady, Atala, talk to us about our training. I listen as she makes sure we know the rules. Glancing to my side confirms that Katniss and Peeta are already here. They are standing closely by each other's sides with their arms brushing and wearing matching burgundy tunics. Finally, the speech is over.
Thresh goes over to the hand-to-hand combat station and I decide that if I have any chance of being Katniss Everdeen's ally then I should see what stations she goes to. I begin to follow her.
She starts at the knot-tying station and then moves on to the camouflage station. Peeta seems to stay by her side no matter what, and as I mindlessly paint my arm brown, I notice that he has a real knack for camouflage. I listen to his and Katniss's conversation:
"I do the cakes," he says
Katniss looks at him, confused, "The cakes? What cakes?" She's been watching the District 2 boy, Cato, stab a dummy with a spear.
He looks up, "At home. The iced ones, for the bakery."
Ah, so he's a baker. As I watch them talking, I wonder if Peeta will be accepting of me, should we be allies. I mean, I know Katniss has her sister at home but if they're going to be sticking by each other's sides like this I'll need his consent as well. This might be harder than I thought, especially considering I can't think of one word to say to them.
12:00 PM, the next day: Training has been going well. I stick with my plan of following around the tributes from District 12. I notice that Peeta is amazing at hand-to-hand combat and that Katniss can identify hundreds of plants as edible and inedible. I can too, it turns out.
We stand at the spear throwing station, and as I watch Katniss throw one, Peeta says something that makes my face grow hot, "I think we have a shadow."
Katniss turns and takes me in. I try to stand tall and look confident, looking at her in the eyes. However, instead of talking to me, she turns back to Peeta and asks him, in a harsh tone that makes me wince, "What can we do about it?"
I don't know why I didn't just stop following them after that. Maybe it was the fact that a small part of me knew that if I gave up on having her as an ally now then all hope of winning would be lost. Also, after the past few days I have seen what she can do. She's great at starting fires, at least with matches, and her spear throwing is pretty good as well if she's standing close enough to the target. Mostly I just wish I could have a conversation with her. She reminds me so much of my mom, or at least one of my older sisters, the way she looked at her own sister on the reaping day broke my heart. So I don't stop following them.
I find skills that I didn't even know I had, like using a slingshot. I climb things pretty fast and I can identify almost all of the edible plants. Peeta doesn't seem to mind my following him around but Katniss seems a little tense. Oh well, at least today is the last day of training before the private sessions with the Gamemakers. Hopefully I'll do well.
11:35 AM, the next day: It's finally time for me to show the Gamemakers what I can do. We all sit in the room together, us the tributes of districts 1 through 12. As the people file out, I can't help but feel nervous. I am not really sure what I am going to do. Before I know it, Katniss, Peeta, and I are the last three people in the room. I still kind of wish they would talk to me, but I am sure they have got their private sessions perfectly planned out, and are going over them in their heads. I can sense a little tension between them, and I wonder if they've gotten into a fight. As I wonder what kind of fight they could've had, I hear my name being called in a clear, robotic voice. I get up, sneaking a peek at the two tributes from District 12 as I go. Katniss is leaning away from him looking down at her knees and Peeta has his leg crossed over one knee towards her. I stop in front of the door. It's time.
I walk into the training center. Looking around the room, I see that all the usual stations are still there. I hesitantly walk up to the stage, and notice that the Gamemakers are drunk and tired from all the sessions. They're conversing among themselves, and devouring all of the rich food. I can't really say anything to get their attention because that would be rude.
I think for a minute, what can I do? I am certainly not strong, so I can't throw anything and I am awful at camouflage. Then, I have an idea. If I can't show them that I can fight, why not show them what I can do to people who can.
I take one of the knife-throwing dummies and set it up standing in the center of the room. I take a knife and place it in the dummy's hand. I look up, and seeing that some of the Gamemakers are mildly interested, I force a smile up at them, and then overdramatically put my finger to my lips. I am behind the dummy now and I creep, ever so silently, towards him. When I am right behind him, I quickly grab the knife and run, as if he's going to chase me. I scale one of the fake trees, really fast, and jump from it onto the netting that covers the top of the training center. Now all eyes are locked on me as I climb around in the netting, finally safe from the dummy, knife in hand. They begin to clap drunkenly, but then the hook that supports the net gets dislodged, and I am tumbling back down to the ground, landing painfully on my right shoulder. I run out of there before I can see their reaction, but I am guessing they're laughing. I would be too.
7:30 PM: It's time to watch the televised scores of all of the tributes. The suspense is killing me. I wonder if they've ever given someone a zero. I suppose we'll find out tonight.
Marvel, the tribute from 1 shows up first. He scores a nine. Next comes Glimmer, who scores a ten. It goes on like that until it gets to our district. Thresh's face flashes on the screen and under his name is a ten! Everybody cheers, and I congratulate him as well, saying, "Wow, good job! I mean, they were really drunk, so I bet it was pretty hard to get their attention." Thresh nods.
Then it's time for my score. I see my face, blinking nervously at the screen, and then my score... seven! I got a seven! All of a sudden, everybody's patting me on the back, and telling me how great I must've been. I look over at Thresh, who is smiling at me.
"That's an amazing score for someone as small as you are," he says, and I know he meant it as a compliment.
Now, I really don't want to miss the scores of the District 12 tributes. Peeta gets an eight. He probably threw something, seeing as he's pretty strong. Then Katniss comes on screen, looking at the camera blankly and she scores... An eleven? Wow, an eleven! I don't think that there was even one eleven last year, even among the careers. Maybe I'll never be able to be allies with her. She's just too good for me. I mean, I thought that since she came from District 12, we would be about equal in skill-level. I guess I was wrong. I stumble off to bed and let exaustion envelop me.
6:55 AM: I wake up, staring blankly at the clear sky... Wait, the sky? Where am I? I take in my surroundings, which are unmistakably District 11. I am leaning against my favorite tree, looking up at the fluffy, white clouds and the bright blue sky. I break into a smile as I take in the smell of the grass and the cool bark of the tree against my back. Somewhere, a mockingjay sings my morning tune. I feel someone approaching me. Is it my brother or sister? My father? I think hopefully. No, it's Katniss Everdeen and she has a spear in her hand and a determined expression on her face.
"Um... Katniss?" I feel myself say.
She does nothing but stare at me with cold eyes. Then, her mouth opens and she says, "Well, what are we going to do about it?"
"About what?" I ask. Though I already know the answer before her mouth forms the words.
"You."
Suddenly, the setting morphs into the arena of the 73rd Hunger Games, there is rubble everywhere, and somehow I sense that she and I are the last two standing. I scramble up, but she's quick with her spear. Too quick. Before I can let out a sound of protest it sent it clean through my body. As I look down, the blood starts to drip everywhere. I close my eyes and fall to the ground, waiting to die when I hear, "Rue! Rue, wake up, honey! You have your private sessions today."
I look around, and find myself in a room with a mirror as the ceiling and high-tech devices everywhere. The Capitol. Oh right. Angelica is rapping on my door with the determination of a tracker jacker who's had his nest shaken.
I manage to say, "Coming!" but I sound really groggy so I say it again, a little clearer this time, "I'm coming."
Thresh and Chaff are already at breakfast, scarfing down food. I manage to spoon myself a couple of eggs, but it's all I can do not to openly gag at the sight of the red berry pudding after my bloody dream last night.
"So what do we do in the private sessions?"
Angelica smiles, "You two will first have four hours of manners training with me, and then Chaff will help with the interviews."
Once I finish my boiled eggs, Angelica escorts us into another room. She throws me a pair of heels and instructs me to stand up straighter. The heels add almost six inches of height to me, and I stumble around like... well, like the mentor from District 12, Haymitch, who is always drunk.
"Why doesn't Thresh have to do this?" I ask, looking at him sitting in the corner, reading one of Angelica's numerous books about table manners.
"Get used to it. Knowing your crazy stylist, you'll probably be wearing even more uncomfortable shoes," Angelica grimaces, "I went to high school with that lady, she's a little messed up."
I sigh. Only three more hours of this torture.
11:30 AM: Finally, it's time for Thresh and my private session with Chaff. We sit together, Thresh and I in armchairs and Chaff across from us sitting on the couch, surveying us.
"I'm trying to figure out what you two should act like" he says, "Rue, let's start with you. Tell me about your life back home."
Home. There was that word again. It's so far away now that it only feels like a hazy memory, but I start trying to remember.
"Um, okay," I say, "I have five brothers and sisters. Our district is agriculture so I farm a lot. My job is to let the workers know what time it is. I'll sing them a little four-note tune, one for every hour of the day. I love music, and I love to sing. I love mockingjays and trees and working in the fields with my father. I love nature and clouds and being outside on warm afternoons. And I just love my district."
I feel a tear roll down my cheek as I say this. I am not really sure why exactly except knowing that I'll probably never see District Eleven again. I swipe the tear away fiercely and I feel Thresh take my hand in his.
"Rue," says Chaff, "You are the most adorable little girl I have ever met. I think that you just need to be yourself."
I sniff, "Then can you tell my stylist not to go too crazy with my costume? I just really hate high heels."
He laughs, "Of course."
So we decide to play up the "cute" angle. Whatever that means. He keeps telling me to just be myself, so I guess that's what I'll be. Thresh is going to be sort of strong and silent, meaning he only speaks in one-word answers. As they were discussing his angle, Chaff let something slip.
He says, "They already know you're dangerous. Heck, even Districts 1 and 2 want you as an ally."
And I say, "Wait, what?"
Chaff nods, "Yup, Enobaria and Gloss sent in the ally requests just yesterday."
My heart starts beating faster. Will Thresh really team up with the dark haired girl with the murderous look in her eyes and the boy, Marvel, that sent chills through my spine as I watched his reaping? That would be awful! And what if-
"I turned them down," Thresh pulls me out of my nightmare.
I am shocked, "Why?"
"I'm not sure," he says, "I just really don't want to become one of them, you know? I don't want to kill if I have a choice. These people are trained murderers, do you really think I'm going to team up with them, only to have them kill me when it gets down to the final five? I'd rather stay with you."
I notice that this is the longest sentence that I've ever heard him say.
"Thank you," I whisper, squeezing his hand and smiling a huge smile that is only reserved for true friends.
7:12 PM: I am so, so nervous. I can feel my breathing growing shallow and my palms sweating. Chaff had convinced my stylist to let me wear flat shoes, telling her that it helped play up the "cute" vibe. I am now in my dressing room, slipping on my dress. It's a minty green color with little strips of fabric attached to the back of it. These crazy Capitol people with their crazy fashions.
I slip the dress on and it fits perfectly. As I turn around to face the mirror, I realize what the strips of fabric on the back are. They are my wings.
The dress is made of a thin, filmy substance and it has floaty sleeves. There are little green jewels that twinkle when I walk as well but the most impressive thing is my wings. They really do flutter, as if I am a fairy, and I twirl in front of the mirror.
"So? Does it fit?" My stylist calls from the outside of my dressing room.
"Yes, it's perfect," I call back, "Thank you."
I open the door and give her a hug. She's a little taken aback but she gives me a little squeeze and when I pull back I see her berry colored lips curved up in a smile. I decide I like her, despite what Angelica said earlier.
Now it's finally time for the interviews. I walk into the room behind the stage. Everyone looks so great, especially Katniss. I shiver a little when I see her, remembering my nightmare from last night. However, she doesn't seem like a murderer now in her floor-length gown, made entirely of yellow and blue and red jewels. She shimmers as she walks, as if she is on fire, and Peeta is looking at her as if she is a goddess. I am sensing a tiny crush here, at least on his part.
The interviews begin with Glimmer from District 1 in a translucent gold gown. She hardly looks like someone who could kill someone with her bare hands, though I know that she's more than capable. I am nervous and spaced out for the rest of the interviews. I register a couple, like the boy from 2 scaring me half to death with his speech about his endless ways of killing people. The girl from 5 sneaking up behind Caesar, giving the impression that she's evasive and cunning. Before I know it, it's time for my interview. My breathing is shallow and I force myself to stand up and make my way over to the stage. Remembering my wings, I do a sort of dainty fairy walk over to Caesar. The crowd grows hushed as if I really am some sort of supernatural being. I sit down next to Caesar and he gives my hand a dainty kiss. I smile up at him and pretend I am not nervous.
He begins by saying, "Hello, Rue" with his eyes crinkled in a smile.
"Hi Caesar," I respond with, hoping I sound cute enough. My eyes search the crowd for Chaff. When our eyes meet, he gives me a tiny wink.
"Congratulations on the seven in training. Quite a high score for- if you don't mind me saying so- someone so small," he says.
Now I know that he meant it in the sweetest way possible, but it kind of got me annoyed. I am sick of people underestimating me. They saw what I can do in training, I know hundreds of edible plants, I am pretty quick, I can climb trees, I can disarm the bigger players, why are people still underestimating me?
I respond with an overly polite, "Thank you."
Sensing my tension, he asks me an easy question, "How are you liking the Capitol?"
"Well," I say carefully, "It's certainly different from District 11..."
"How so?"
"Um," think, Rue, think.
I decide on, "The people here dress pretty strangely."
The crowd laughs and even I laugh too, thinking of my crazy stylist and prep team with their tutus and green lips and cat eyes and gold tattoos.
Caesar puts on a mock-worried expression, "Rue, you like my hair don't you? I just got it dyed and I don't want people to think I dress too strangely."
I smile, "You look great."
"As do you," he says, "That dress is stunning."
I thank him again, and then he looks me in the eyes, a serious expression on his face. I can tell he wants to change the subject.
"What do you think will be your greatest strength in the arena?"
This is it. This is my time to prove to people that I am more than what they see. I am powerful and maybe I can even win The Games if I try my hardest.
So my voice is shaking when I say, "I'm very hard to catch."
The crowd is all looking at me, curious expressions on their faces. It seems to require a little more explanation so I continue with, "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."
Caesar's expression is understanding. He responds with, "I wouldn't in a million years. Rue, everybody!"
I stand up and the crowd cheers until I exit the stage. Now it's Thresh's turn. He's wearing a gray tuxedo and seems to be extremely uncomfortable.
Caesar starts out with the classic, "How are you doing, Thresh?"
"Fine," he says. Caesar seems to be waiting for more of an answer but I know that he is not going to get any.
"How great is the Capitol?" He asks, "How are you liking the food here?"
Thresh stares at Caesar with accusing black eyes.
"Come on, you must have eaten something you liked!"
"Yes," says Thresh.
"What was it?"
Thresh sighs and looks at the crowd, clearly wanting to go back to his seat.
Caesar tries again, "You're pretty strong. I mean, c'mon, this guy got a ten in training! How are you planning to outshine the other tributes, in the arena?"
No response.
This goes on for a while where Thresh only responds with one-word answers. Anything that requires more than that makes him go quiet and stare blankly into the crowd. After a while Caesar gives up and starts to just sort of talk at Thresh.
When the timer goes off, Caesar couldn't look more relieved, "Thresh! The man of very few words!" That gets a laugh out of the audience.
Now it's Katniss's turn. She look so nervous and she keeps wiping her palms off on her jewel-covered dress. Caesar calls her to the stage and holds out his hand for her to shake, then sits down. He begins by making some comment about the Capitol being different from District 12. Katniss remains silent, and for a second I think that she's playing the same angle as Thresh. Then I realize that she genuinely didn't hear him.
He repeats, "What's impressed you most since you arrived here?"
She pauses for a couple of seconds before saying, "The lamb stew."
Caesar and the crowd laughs and Katniss manages a weak smile.
Then, Caesar makes a joke about him eating it by the bucketful and that gets a laugh out of the crowd as well. These people will laugh at anything, won't they?
"Now Katniss," he says in a hushed voice, "When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"
"You mean after I got over the fear of being burned alive?"
There is another huge laugh from the audience at that one.
"Yes," chuckles Caesar, "Start then."
So Katniss gushes about her stylist and her dress, and then she gets up and starts to twirl. She really does look like she is on fire, with the jewels sparkling. The audience reacts immediately, oohing and ahing and cheering for more. Eventually, she gets dizzy and has to stop.
The interview goes on with a joke about her drunken mentor, Haymitch, a discussion of her training score, and then finally, her sister. The part that I've been waiting for.
Caesar drops his voice, "Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping and you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"
Katniss hesitates, then says sadly, "Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."
The room is dead silent.
"What did she say to you?" Caesar asks sympathetically, "After the reaping?"
The audience is on the edges of their seats now.
"She asked me to try really hard to win."
"And what did you say?"
Katniss tenses up, her voice getting lower and darker, "I swore I would."
"I bet you did," finishes Caesar, just as the timer goes off.
Now it's time for Peeta's interview and I am still thinking about what Katniss said. It breaks my heart to think about how much she cares about her sister. I saw the painful look in Katniss's eyes when Caesar mentioned her, and I can tell that she has never regretted volunteering for her sister, not even for a minute. I try to imagine that I am in her shoes. That my sister was reaped and I volunteered for her. As much as I love my sister, I don't think that I would ever have the courage to do something so brave. Then I realize that Peeta's interview has already started.
He and Caesar are actually really funny. He shares his thoughts about the tributes in comparison to the bread from their districts ("I thought that the District 4 tributes looked a little sick and green on their chariots, not unlike their seaweed bread.") and jokes about the Capitol showers in comparison to the basins in District 12 ("Tell me, do I still smell like roses?") I have to keep myself from laughing out loud.
Peeta keeps taking nervous glances to Katniss's edge of the stage until finally he focuses when Caesar asks him curiously, "So Peeta, do you have a special girl back home?"
Peeta hesitates for a moment before giving a small shake of his head.
"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"
Even I am on the edge of my seat when Peeta finally answers with a sigh, "Well there is this one girl," Caesar smiles as he continues, "I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."
The crowd erupts with aww's and sympathetic sounds.
"She have another fellow?" Caesar asks.
"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," Peeta replies.
"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar optimistically.
Peeta sighs, "I don't think it's going to work out. Winning . . . won't help in my case."
And then I realize it. The conversations they have, the way he looks at her, the glances off of the stage. When they're together, even his body language suggests a deep personal love. Peeta is in love with Katniss Everdeen.
"Why ever not?" asks Caesar, and I know the answer even before Peeta says it
A heavy flush creeps up his face, "Because . . . because . . . she came here with me."
9:00 PM: I lie in bed, the solid gold Capitol clock making a tick, tick, ticking noise. I think about Katniss, did she know of this boy's undying love? Is this a trick? Maybe it's just a trick to get sponsors. I wonder what they are doing right now. Are they asleep? Are they together? Questions flood my head until finally, I need to get out. I open the door to my room with a creak and find Thresh sitting in the same position as I found him the night before training started. This time, he notices me and pats the spot next to him. I sink into the soft Capitol leather and wonder if it's the Capitol's genetically modified leather or if it's actually from a cow. Then notice Thresh looking at me, his eyes shiny black holes.
"How are you doing, Rue?" he asks softly.
"I'm alright," I say, and then the silence devours us once more.
A long time goes by until I work up the courage to ask the question, "Do you think you're ready?"
"It's hard to tell. I don't think any of the tributes could ever be ready."
"Well, maybe Cato," I reply.
Thresh smiles and begins a perfect imitation of Cato's murderous speech in his interview, "'And if one of them sneaks up on me from behind, I'll do a sideways kick and then rip their lungs out! And if they try to choke me, I'll stab them in the gut! And if they try to get away, I'll throw a knife at them and then slice open their wrists until they bleed to death!'"
By this time we're both doubled over laughing at the ridiculousness of the boy from District Two. We laugh and laugh until we are done, and I slip my small hand into his large one. We sit there on the couch, thinking about The Games and what it's going to be like.
Then, Thresh turns back to me and begins speaking, "Rue..." He starts quietly, "When you're in the arena..."
I tip my head to the side, "Yeah?"
"Just... Try to think about yourself, okay? What would be best for keeping you alive, you know? Figure something out. I've seen you following around that girl from District 12. Maybe you could form some kind of... alliance?"
"I don't know, Thresh. She and the boy from her district are pretty close. I doubt they would ever let me into their group."
"Well just try, okay?" He says, and I realize why his eyes are so shiny as a tear creeps down his cheek.
"Okay," I whisper.
He wraps his arm around me and holds on so tightly that I don't know how I will ever break free. We stay like this for what seems like forever, until he gets up murmering, "I'll see you in the arena."
I leave too, resigning to a sleepless night.
5:00 AM: When I wake up, I realize that this may be the last time that I know what time it is- clocks aren't allowed in the arena. I feel kind of disappointed but I guess I'll just have to deal with not knowing. Still, it upsets me that I won't have the comfort of being able to see what time it is and singing the tunes. I think back to reaping day when all I got to sing was the five o'clock tune before I was rushed to the Capitol. I sing it for one last time in a trembling voice, knowing that there won't be any time for singing in the arena. I push this thought to the back of my mind because I know that I should be preparing for The Games. This is not the time to whine about luxuries like music.
I hear a hesitant knock on my door and my stylist walks in, carrying a dress with her. It's a plain linen shift which I slip on.
Just as I am getting ready to leave, Thresh pokes a head into my room.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," I reply, looking up at him. All traces of the crying yesterday are gone and his face is hard.
"Hold out your hand," he says gruffly.
I do, and feel something scratchy in my hand. It's a necklace, braided from the woven grass that grows around the fields. On it hangs a simple wooden charm, the perfect replication of some flower that I've seen before. I peer at it curiously until I realize what flower it is.
"Rue..." I whisper, "This is rue, isn't it?"
"I made it before I left District Eleven. For you," he says, almost shyly, "Will you use it as your token?"
I respond with a huge hug. He has to kneel down because otherwise my head only goes up to his abdomen. We stay like this for a long time, until Angelica raps on my door and tells me that we have to go.
He pulls away and looks at me intensely, "See you in the arena."
"Bye," I say quietly. Angelica takes my hand and escorts me up the elevator, onto the roof, and into the waiting hovercraft.
The sensation of flying is entirely new to me, and my stomach feels as if it's doing somersaults.
A lady with black hair in a long, white coat approaches me, "This is your tracker," she says matter-of-factly and proceeds to stick a needle into my arm. I give a tiny yelp at the pain, but it quickly subsides and my skin turns from red, to white, to beige, and back to brown again. The lady gives a curt nod and disappears to inject another tribute.
And I am alone.
The trip can't have lasted more than a half hour, but I wouldn't know because I am not allowed to know the time. I know that we have arrived because all of the windows suddenly go dark. I suppose if we saw the arena that we are being dropped into, it would be unfair, but I still am kind of mad about it. It almost seems like a metaphor for all of the times that the Capitol has kept us in the dark. Uninformed, starving, wondering how many more days will go by until we can eat again while we are surrounded by fields and fields of good things to eat.
My heart is beating with anger by the time the plane lands. My stylist and I walk back to the ladder where we first got on the hovercraft and hold on, as we are pulled through a dark tube and into the room where we will wait until it is time to go into the arena. The Stockyard, as we call it back in District 11. We will wait here until the time of the slaughter. I am shown to a tiny room where I shower. I climb out of the shower and pull on pants, a shirt, and a jacket with a little 11 on the sleeve.
I find my stylist sitting on a chair in the corner of the room with her ankles crossed, her silly turquoise tutu puffed out around her in a perfect circle.
Her lips, today a tangerine shade, purse when I hear a metallic, female voice say, "Prepare for launch."
My stylist looks at me, her cat-eyes shiny with tears. She wraps me in a hug and whispers into my ear, "Good luck, Rue."
I am about to go into the tube when I realize that I never even got her name.
"What's your name?" I ask her, turning around.
She looks surprised that I would care when she answers, "Petunia."
I force myself to smile at her even though my hands are trembling "We both have flower names."
"Yes, I suppose we do."
I stand in the tube until it lifts. It seems like I stand in it forever, shaking and forcing myself to breathe normally. Then I realize that I never said goodbye to Chaff. I sigh and try to imagine what he would have said. I conjure up an image in my mind.
"You can't fight, Rue," he would say bluntly, "Don't get driven into the bloodbath."
When the tube lifts, I take in the arena. It's nothing memorable, just a huge forest, not unlike the one on the outskirts back in District 11. District 11. Home. Home, home, home. No, this isn't the time to be thinking about that. Focus. I only have one minute. The tributes seem to be in a line. The boy from District 1 is to my left, and seeing him up close makes the shivering start all over again. To my right is the girl from District 5, her red hair shining in the hot, unnatural sun. Thirty seconds. Focus. The cornucopia is gold this year, and there is a huge pile of weapons and food. I even see a little slingshot resting on a suitcase of food. I want that. What I need is a plan. Do I have a plan? I decide to risk the bloodbath. I am so fast that I could be in and out of there really fast. The slingshot is smack in the middle so I decide that it would be better to go for the backpack closest to me and get out of here.
Then I notice Katniss a couple tubes down from me. She is staring intensely at a bow and arrow.
5... she looks at Peeta
4... he shakes his head
3... why did he shake his head?
2... focus on the backpack
1...
The gong rings out.
Go.