This is going to be a three-shot about Glimmer. I loved the interview quote so much that I had to write about it. I'm thinking a chapter for the Reaping, one for the Interviews, and one for the Games, which will be really long. Read and tell me what you think?
"Are you ready, Glimmer?" Opal's eyes are staring into mine.
I nod. Of course I'm ready. This is what I've been waiting for my whole life. Nobody to take my spotlight, no siblings to wail and scream as if they don't know how much of an honor this will be.
My trainer looks pleased. "Then go on home and get ready. They have to be able to see that you're the tribute before you become one."
I wave goodbye to Opal with a smile, then slide across the smooth seats of Dad's new car. He's not driving it; he'll be testing massage chairs for another week, but the chauffeur is a nice guy named Muse. Muse hands me my favorite sparkling water and I drink it in silence, planning my reaping outfit. If I wear the pink dress, I have to order some new shoes because there's no way my black ones match. Do I need makeup? Not too much, I need to look deadly and beautiful. Like a stiletto.
Nobody's home when Muse drops me off, so I press my fingers to the door and wait for the cheerful melody of its unlocking. "Welcome!" chimes the door, bringing a smile to my face. Everything sounds even happier on reaping day.
I spend an hour picking out a dress, but eventually I decide none of them are good enough. On the big screen that Daddy just had installed in my closet, I design my new dress, adding sparkles and ruffles exactly where they need to be, and wait while it's brought to life and dropped gently into my hands. Perfect.
The reaping starts very early in One, which I've never understood. We should be able to get our sleep while the districts that are up at dawn to work anyway are reaped at eight in the morning. Plus, my training session had to start at five! Now it's about seven, and I'm thinking I should still be asleep.
Where is the reaping going to be? I pull out my CapiNet, which is short for Capitol Internet. I don't know what Internet is, just that's it's something from before the Dark Days and it did things sort of like the CapiNet. A small green star lights up the north part of the square. It's the side farthest from here, so I should start walking now if I want to be in the roped area. Some idiots can't even be bothered to volunteer, so they stand to the sides to give the cameras a better view of the real competitors.
My finger pricked, I stand in the roped-off area for my age. I'm not even eighteen, but I get to volunteer, because the girl who was supposed to ended up having a son. Opal will be so proud to watch me fight. Maybe I'll try out a bow and arrow.
I watch, bored, while they play a video and the escort, in a very fashionable orange dress, goes on for a while about something I don't care about. And then it's time. My turn.
"Ladies first!" The escort introduces herself as Emer Spring—she's new this year—and then she crosses to the girls' names and pulls one. Of course, only the girls who have been training are even included, with the exception of a few younger ones to make it seem fair and those who actually have to take tesserae, which are not many.
She calls out the name of some fourteen-year-old I've never met nor heard of, some tiny little thing with straight brown hair and a shy appearance. She must be one of the random names placed in the bowl. There's a lapse in excitement as the girl is introduced, because everyone knows she will not be going into the Games. I will.
"Any volunteers?" Most of the girls know better than to raise their hands, because I've been selected and presented to them all already. But some are daring, or just want to be on camera like me, and try to volunteer. Yeah, right.
I set my green eyes on anyone who tries to put their hand up and walk confidently to the aisle. "I volunteer."
"Well, well! Come on up, dear!" calls Emer. I follow her to the stage, trying to keep a winning smile and smoothing my fishtailed hair so it falls neatly around my shoulders.
"What's your name?" Emer asks, and there's a long process of finding out my information and even a few clips of my training to demonstrate my talent. Then a series of headshots that a prestigious photographer did for a very low price when it was announced that I would be tribute. I look amazing in every one.
The whole thing repeats itself as a boy's name is drawn, this time a very attractive 18-year-old. Is he the one who's supposed to participate? No, he can't be. It's Marvel's year. I remember his proud grin as they presented him as tribute last week.
Sure enough, Marvel quickly replaces the boy. I only know him because he's in my year of training, and as the two best of our age, we were paired up often. He's an idiot, but strong and confident. Good for making alliances with others, because he's less intimidating. I quickly assess the boy who I am to spend the next few weeks with. He's not extraordinarily good-looking, not enough for sponsors to immediately bet on him. Not too muscled, but not weak. He seems friendly enough, even if I know he's not the brightest by far. I can make this work.
We shake hands. In the Career districts, where the tributes are honored and not pitied, there's a short presentation in addition to the abridged Treaty of Treason, which the outcast districts are required to hear in full.
Marvel and I stand side by side with our mentors, Cashmere and Gloss, two siblings who won the 69th and 70th Games. It consists of pictures, some training clips, advice to younger future tributes, and a pleasant voice telling what an honor this is for us. Then the screen fades and they call our names out once again.
"This year's District One tributes, Glimmer Alexandrite and Marvel Thomson!"