Note: The 74th Hunger Games are about to begin, and Serena Ross has a guaranteed win. One step farther than a career, Sydney was born, bred, and genetically designed to win the games, a sign of the Capitol's control over all of Panem. Nothing can stand in her way, until she makes a new friend, the girl on fire. Serena's beliefs are turned on end, and she finds the courage to fight the people who have controlled her for far too long. Dual perspectives to come, with plenty of Peeta and Katniss love as always. Rate and review.
It was odd that the ocean chose today to be calm. Usually I would walk into the surf and be knocked back, unable to make it to where I couldn't stand. The water pushed against me, pulled me back and forth, unsure of whether or not it wanted me in or out. I reveled in it, enjoying a force that could push me past my breaking point. Today, however, there were no waves, no pull, barely a current. Today the ocean had taken a break when I most wanted it to put me out of my misery.
Plunging my head beneath the water, I put one arm in front of the other, taking slow, rhythmic breaths. I hadn't slept much the night before, so I swam until the sun came up and my muscles burned. I used to think that if I swam for long enough, ran hard enough, or sparred until I wanted to faint that my body would fail. It became a game; testing the limits of the power they had given me. I had yet to find something to crack the Capitol's genetic engineering, and even I was impressed.
Finally, I saw the sun peak above the horizon and knew I had to get out and shower. Today was about me, after all. I waded to the shore and collapsed on the sand, letting my breath come in slow, even gulps. To most people, a twelve-mile swim would mean a day of naps and ice. To me, it was a warm-up to prepare me for the two-week extravaganza I was about to enter. In a matter of days, I wouldn't just be fighting the water; I would be fighting other people. Killing other people. No, not people. Children. Children just like me.
The thought made me shudder, and I pulled my knees to my chest, letting the water lap against my feet. I heard feet shuffling across the sand, and smiled a little without turning around.
"You're about to miss you're coming out party." Jake plopped down on the sand next to me. He was wearing board shorts and his hair was wet.
"So are you, apparently. Not even coming to say goodbye?"
"I just got off work! Our parents wanted me to make sure you came back to the house with enough time to shower."
"Got to start impressing the sponsors right away, don't I?" I said, trying to laugh. Instead, my voice cracked, and Jake put his arm around me.
"Hey, it's going to be alright."
"What if I can't do this? They want me to go out there and murder other kids, to prove that they can create the perfect human being. I'm supposed to be the winner, and I know that none of those other kids have a chance, but what if I can't kill someone? I've heard it gets easier once you get in there, but right now I just…I don't feel it."
Jake turned me to face him. "Serena, you control these games. No matter what anyone says, this is your show. From the moment you raise your hand to volunteer to the second that crown is placed on your head, you control your own destiny." He looked back out towards the ocean. "And it's sick. The Capitol is sending twenty-three other kids to their deaths, and they expect you to just be fine with it. It's sick."
"But I guess it doesn't matter what we think. Not really."
"Of course it matters." Jake said. "You have a chance to make these games mean something. To make this year different."
"What do you mean?"
He stood up and held a hand out for me. "Whatever happens in there, Serena, never forget yourself. You have a heart and a soul and a brain. You're not one of their mindless slaves."
"Noted." I said.
"Just…" He looked at the sand and shook his head. My older brother, who always knew what to say, was speechless. "Just remember who the real enemy is." Jake said. Then he started walking back towards our house. Sighing, I followed after him, unsure of what to make of his words.
Three hours later, I was standing in the fourth row of a crowd of kids, aged twelve to eighteen. Girls on the left, boys on the right. Normally, there was an air of fear, or pride, or anticipation. I would hear the girls around me whisper while I waited to go home, knowing it wasn't my time yet. For them, the reaping was a game of chance. For me, every year was a ticking time bomb, and in a few minutes, it was set to go off.
The anthem of Panem played in the background, and an odd looking man with an overly flamboyant voice appeared in front of the microphone. "Well isn't that wonderful." He said, his sly smile piercing his face and curling up to his cheeks. He looked exactly like I imagined someone from the Capitol would, though I knew soon enough I'd find out for sure.
"Ladies first." He said, a little too excited for the grim nature of the reaping.
I wasn't sure how these ceremonies progressed in other districts, but in four people were buzzing. The kids were nervous, but the adults were sipping bubbly drinks from rose-colored glasses and clutching each other's elbows. Part of me thought those who had children wished they would get called up, a chance for glory and honor in their name, not to mention enough money to wipe their ass with a hundred dollar bill.
Money had never been an issue in my life. As a payment, I assumed, for my services to the Capitol and my parents offering me up as a science experiment, the fifth in a long line of plant tributes, we never wanted for anything. My brother and I had both gone to a career academy, though he, five years my senior, had never worried about being reaped. Another perk of having me as a child. These things were promised to my parents in exchange for my life, or at least that was how it looked to me. There was a chance, a small chance, but a chance nonetheless, that I would die in the arena. It had never happened before, but the thought still ate away at me.
The other tributes didn't scare me. They weren't nearly good enough to get one shot in on me, let alone to kill me. But I had seen ice arenas and desert storms and even a case where a man electrified six careers at once. Not everything out there was under my control, and it was the intangibles that made my heart pound.
I stood very still as our wonderful Capitol guide stepped up to an enormous bowl with hundreds of slips of paper inside it. Supposedly some people had their name in there more than once, a way to get more food or something. Four was mostly a wealthy district, and the people I hung around with had no idea what the history books meant by tesserae. Once I had thought about looking it up, had even asked my father, but he had laughed and said that no one who signed up for tesserae had a chance of winning anyway, so I shouldn't concern myself with the topic.
"And our female tribute is…" He held out for the suspense, but everyone in the district knew who the tribute would be. They had been waiting for this year, the year their daughter would be safe because it was Serena Ross's turn to win the games. "Melanie Crip!"
The girl was standing behind me, and started her slow walk up the path. When she passed, she didn't even meet my eye, just had a slow smile on her face, not worried for a second when she shook Finnick Odair's hand. Finally, she looked right at me, and the whole district paused.
It angered me that she didn't even worry. She just assumed I would step up, just knew she was safe while I would have to step up and murder twenty three people just to see my home again. I thought again about what Jake had said this morning. I controlled these games. They couldn't make me volunteer, couldn't force me into this. If I just let Melanie, whose snarky glances tortured the uglier girls in school but who had always looked at me in awe, go into that arena and die, I could hold out for next year.
Then I saw my family. My mother and father and brother were standing on the edge of the crowd staring at me. If I didn't fulfill my duty, didn't step up at the ripe age of seventeen and take the crown for district four, something horrible would happen to them, to all of us. I didn't particularly love my parents, with their fake smiles and they icy stares and unloving nature, but I did love my brother. He had protected me for as long as I could remember, and I couldn't let anything happen to him.
Yet I still couldn't help but laugh at how Melanie began to squirm in place, her eyes growing wide and glaring at me. So I stepped forward and grinned. "I volunteer as tribute." I said, and started my walk towards the podium.
The crowd erupted in cheers and the anthem of Panem started to play. This year would be a victory for district four. I would bring honor to everyone, and they would never deal with the guilt. But I would, and the thought made my stomach churn; yet I grasped Melanie's hand.
"Nervous?" I said, feeling her sweaty palms in mine.
She giggled. "I knew you would volunteer. Good luck." She said over her shoulder, then made her way back to her friends. She set that fake smile on her face again, but I saw the fear there. Fear and relief. With me gone, Melanie was free to rein queen over the academy, to be the most beautiful girl in four again.
"Now for the men." The Capitol man said as Finnick Odair stepped up and shook my hand.
"Nice to meet you." He said, though we had met before. "Are you ready?"
Finnick had an easy smile, but it was too slick, like he wanted me to divulge my deepest personal secrets to him. He had won ten years ago at the tender age of fourteen, the youngest to ever do so. I heard he was great with a trident, but I was almost sure I could kill him in a matter of minutes.
"Born ready." I smiled at him. "Or made ready. Maybe that's more accurate."
The crowd cheered again as a small boy I didn't recognize walked towards the podium, his face green. The claps were common curtsey, nowhere near the volume my applause had been. We shook hands, but he knew he was a goner. He stood next to his own mentor, trying to hold back tears.
My stomach turned again. The kid was reasonably well built, but clearly from a poorer neighborhood in four. Probably the son of a fisherman or a welder. He didn't go to the academy, which meant he had no experience fighting. I took solace in the fact that even if it hadn't been my year, he would never have survived.
They ushered us through a set of double doors and into a long, narrow hallway. Finnick opened a door to my right.
"Time to say goodbye." He said. "I'll see you on the train."
I didn't like how he looked at me, with contempt and a little anger. I was sure he was thinking about how he had won his games honestly, about how terrified he had been during the reaping, and how I didn't seem afraid at all. Because I wasn't afraid. I was angry and bitter and sad, but not afraid. There was nothing for me to be afraid of.
My parents burst through the room, Jake trailing behind them. My father clapped his arm on my shoulder, and my mother kissed my cheeks like she would one of her rich girlfriends.
"Make us proud." He said, crossing his arms, a cocky smile on his cheeks. His dark blue eyes didn't even meet mine as he checked his phone for missed business calls, like he couldn't take six seconds to send his daughter off to war.
"We'll see you in two weeks sweetie." My mother pursed her lips. "Of course."
Her blonde girls bounced on her head, falling over her shoulders in waves. All I wanted was to get away from them and their smiles, which seemed to infect me and every surface in this damp government room. Sometimes I wasn't even sure I was related to them.
Jake shared my parents' dark blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. My own locks were light, light brown, with streaks of gold, not close to the bright blonde of my parents and brother, and my eyes were shimmering amber, the gold matching my hair. They always told me it was a result of the experiments, but sometimes I swore I was adopted.
Of course we had all been graced with good looks. Girls flocked to Jacob, even if he didn't want the attention, and I had been hit on more times than I could remember. After all, I couldn't just act like a victor. I had to look like one, like Finnick Odair and his perfect teeth. I was tall and lean and gorgeous, everything the Capitol ever wanted.
Jake walked up and wrapped his arms around me, and I buried my face in his chest. "Just remember what I said. I love you so much, Serena. No matter what happens in there, I'll be proud of you." He whispered.
"I love you too, J." I said. For the first time, I wanted to cry, but I held back. It wasn't for the right reasons. Bobby in the next room was probably crying. Twenty-three other tributes could cry, but I didn't have the right to.
"You act like she won't return, son. Step back and let her go. Serena has to make us proud." There that saying was again, hanging in the air.
"Will do." I stepped around them, squeezing Jake's hand one more time. "See you." I shrugged, wondering how those other tributes could possibly be sad to see their families go.
Finnick accompanied me to the train, and Bobby got on after me, hiccupping and trying to hide his tears. We all sat down together. Bobby's mentors, an elderly woman named Mags and a sharp middle aged man named Clark, spoke with Finnick near a large television screen. Our Capitol guide, whose name was Magnus, took a sip of brightly colored liquid and clapped his hands again.
"Well, lets get started then." He said, and went off to tell the driver to leave.
As I felt the train shift under me, I looked out the window as district four disappeared before my eyes. Soon we were rolling through green hills, and the ocean was turning into a small slit before my eyes. I kept reminding myself that I would see it again, and then almost throwing up when I realized Bobby wouldn't.
"So where are you from?" I turned to ask him. "North side?"
"West. Past seventy fourth and through the bayou." He had a slight accent that some of the fisherman wore. He flinched away from my words like he was afraid I would kill him right there with one of the dull butter knives on our table. I resolved not to harm him. There would be plenty of other people who could do that, and I didn't want to have to go home and look those people in the eye every day.
"I used to run out there." I said, trying to lighten the conversation. "It kind of smells—"
"Like oysters and old clams." He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "That's my home."
"I was going to say like fresh air, like seafood and summer and hard work. But I guess oysters and old clams work." That made him laugh, and I almost wanted to shrink away from him. Thinking about my competitors as real people would make this so much harder. The trainers had always told us to just give them a number. Name them based on their district. That way they're easier to kill.
"Alright." Finnick called our attention to him and clicked the screen on. "All of the reapings are completed, so we can start evaluating your competition. For this initial part of your induction, the two of you will work mostly in tandem. Once we reach the Capitol, we'll separate."
Images of the other reapings started to play on the screen. A large blonde boy from one volunteered, while I strong candidate from two fought for his right to compete when someone tried to take his place. Those were the only two districts I cared about, the only ones who could offer real competition to me, and even then I was too confident to be shaken. The careers looked like idiots this year. It wasn't the strength you had to worry about, but the intelligence.
As predicted, districts three through seven held no one significant. Eight had a girl who looked sharp, like she was sneaky, and I reminded myself to keep an eye on her. Eleven had a rather large kid who could be a career if he were born a thousand miles from where he lived. Then there was a little girl, only twelve years old, who didn't shed a single tear.
I almost told Finnick to turn off the screen before it got to twelve. No one interesting had ever come from twelve. They had two Victors in the entire history of the Hunger Games. One was a drunk and one was dead. Their reaping called forth another twelve year old, this one with twin braids and enormous eyes. I felt pity in the pit of my stomach as she began to walk towards the stage. Once again, I would let someone else kill her.
Then something shifted in the crowd. An older girl stepped forward and volunteered for her. Everyone in our car shifted. Even Bobby finally took interest. No one ever volunteered from an outlying district. This girl embraced her savior, then walked forward and took her place on stage.
"Pause it." I said when the camera panned to her face.
The look on it chilled me. She had sharp grey eyes, and her hair was pulled back into a braid. There was no hint of fear or hesitation in her eyes. She looked determined. To do what, I wasn't sure, but there was something about her that made me stop.
"What's her name?"
Finnick looked at me, then at the tablet in his hands. "You're not very good at following advice, are you?" He said. "What's our first strategy?"
"Well, I'm not talking to her, am I? So I asked you, what is her name?"
Finnick rolled his eyes. "Katniss." He said. "Katniss Everdeen."
The name sounded so familiar, but I didn't know anyone from twelve. It was the kind of memory you have when you read a book when you were little. But I couldn't remember anything from before my transformation. A side effect that I didn't totally understand, but didn't care about as much as the incredible pain I had gone through.
"Twelve." I laughed. "Who would've thought?"
"Does it really matter?" Bobby muttered as Finnick continued the tape, his eyes trained on Katniss Everdeen.
Another boy was called forward, and he looked afraid, but that wasn't what threw me. It was how he looked at her, the girl standing on stage in front of him. It was almost like he was more afraid of her, or perhaps for her. He looked at her like he would never want to or be able to kill her. I didn't know how I knew, but I had gotten good at sizing people up.
"No." I answered Bobby. "No it doesn't."
