A/N: Hey everyone, this is my first ever THG fanfic, and I wrote it about the redheaded Avox girl. I've always wondered about her past, and where she was going when she was caught. Enjoy and please review if you can!
I do not own The Hunger Games or anything relating to them, no matter how much I wish I did. This a work of fiction and I only own the writing. ;)
Chapter 1: Carrie
I am woken by the argument between my mother and my older sister Rheah in the early hours of light. From what I can tell, my mother is angry at Rheah for staying too late at a party last night and Rheah is simply countering her yells with short, witty replies.
This is normal for my sister. While I am at home sleeping peacefully, she is always out at some party going wild. It serves my mother right for giving birth to two daughters that are complete opposites.
I throw back my covers and shuffle myself through the steps of my morning routine: brush my unruly red locks, get dressed, and wash my face. By the time I am done, it is nearly eight am. I am going to be late.
As I walk into the kitchen to order breakfast from our live-in worker Waldo, my eyes linger on my father, who is currently sitting at the head of the dining table and reading The Capitol Times, our daily newspaper. My mother and Rheah are still going at it strongly. Waldo serves me a huge platter of meat and fruit, and I begin to dig in.
My name is Carrie Strikethrough, and I live in the shining Capitol in the country of Panem. I have no problems at all. My family is richer than you will ever dream of being. We live in a gigantic mansion with many people working under us. My father is a Gamemaker and makes thousands each year from killing filthy children from those stupid districts that surround my city. I am lucky.
I guess you could even say that I have a boyfriend. Sort of.
It is eight-fifteen now. I shovel the last of my chicken into my mouth and throw the plate into Waldo's waiting hands. I also take the limited time I have to quickly say goodbye to my family.
"Bye, Mother," I say, kissing her left cheek lightly.
My mother turns away from Rheah for a minute to hug me. She is a stunning sight. Rumor has it that many men wanted to marry her, but she chose my father over them all. My father is terrible. I can't believe what's wrong with her. What makes him so special?
"Goodbye, sweetie. Have fun at school today." Her shining hazel eyes almost seem to glow at me. Rheah did not inherit those eyes like I did.
"Thanks," I call over my shoulder as I fly out the door.
The hustle and rush of the Capitol fills my ears as I walk towards my school. It is a beautiful place, no doubt about it. Tall, winding skyscrapers tower mightily over me as I walk briskly on my way. I decide to stop briefly at a vendor's stand to buy a freshly baked pretzel. I can split it with Andrew later.
"Hey, Carrie." A tall brunet boy with dark green eyes (obviously surgically colored) stops me near Sixth Street. I don't recognize him, but I'll bet you anything he's in my year at school. He's holding a leather wallet and staring at me like I'm a triple-layer chocolate cake.
I shift my feet uncomfortably. This is normal. I don't understand why I'm stopped so often on the street. Rheah says it's because I'm pretty, but I know the truth. I'm uglier than a racked-up tribute from District Twelve.
"Hey," I give the mystery boy a slight wave, trying to give him total eye contact. Rheah says that it's the best way to get someone to ignore you.
"So, um, Carrie, I was, uh, wondering if you'd like to, uh, go with me to that new restaurant down on Glow Street, um, next Friday." The boy is turning pinker by the second.
I roll my eyes. I am also used to boys hitting on me. Even strange ones that I'm not quite sure about like this one.
"No, sorry, I think I'm busy Friday. Maybe another time . . . ?" I trail off in what I hope is a rueful tone.
"Oh, uh, that's alright." The boy sheepishly turns away and starts walking quickly across the street to Rusty Rendezvous, the Capitol's ultimate dance club. He's obviously trying to cover for getting rejected. By me.
I snort. I wouldn't want to go out with that boy anyway. He's a skipper. I would never, ever, skip school like that. I actually like school. I try hard to be a good girl. I don't like disappointing people.
I continue walking, clutching my soft, buttery pretzel to my chest. Only two more blocks, I tell myself. Only two more.
Finally, I am here. A huge, ancient building which Andrew Tassle's father owns. I grin like an idiot as I race up the steps to Andrew's house. His family rents most of the building to others, but they live on the first and second floors.
The Tassles' maid, Iya, answers the door and ushers me inside quickly. I nod a small hello to her before racing to the staircase by the center of the room. But before I can place a foot on the first stair, a warm hand touches my arm and causes me to spin around.
"Hello, Carrie." The light, swooping voice of Andrew Tassle's mother, Mrs. Tassle, greets me warmly.
"Oh, hi, Mrs. T," I grin as I hug her in greeting. "Where's Mr. T?"
"He already left for work," she says.
Mr. Tassle is also a Gamemaker like my father. Being a Gamemaker is one of the highest position of power in the Capitol, because the annual Hunger Games are one of the most anticipated events of the year.
Anyway, because of our parents' status, we're so filthy rich, we need a whole room in our house to put our money in. Not kidding.
Mrs. T runs her smooth, wrinkle-free fingers through my hair. Her skin shows that she's never had to work a day in her life. My mother's fingers look quite different. Growing up in one of the poorer sections of the Capitol, my mother was nearly starving until she met my father.
"Carrie, darling, I absolutely love your hair today!" she squeals like a little girl, instead of the grown woman she is. "How do you get it to be such a vibrant shade?"
I blush and look down at my strappy heels, the ones I had selfishly begged my father to spend half his paycheck on last month. "It's naturally like that," I whisper, embarrassed over the attention I was drawing from her.
Mrs. T simply shakes her head and gives me a sad smile. "I bet boys are lining up around your block to ask you out. You're so fortunate."
I think back to the unfamiliar brunet boy on Sixth and my frown grows deeper. You have no idea, Mrs. T, I think. So I've been told.
I decide to change the subject. "Where's Andrew?"
"Oh, he's upstairs in his room. I think he's --- " But I'm already dashing up the stairs, two at a time, my heels clacking against the wooded panels.
Okay, I admit it. I don't like talking about my beauty. I also don't know where all my phenotype genes came from. I'm too young to have body surgery done on me and Rheah isn't nearly as pretty as I am.
My father is handsome, as Capitol citizens go, but it's mostly all thanks to the genetic surgery that we perform here in the city. My mother, growing up in what's called the Seam of the Capitol, has limited natural beauty. But, sadly, that was all taken away when the surgery was done. She now looks normal, as we are here. She was prettier once. Or so I am told, by Rheah.
I reach the landing quickly and lightly tap on the second door on the right, which I know is Andrew's room. Tapping my foot impatiently, I wait an agonizing ten seconds until the door swings creakily open.
Andrew is standing there with open arms, waiting for me. The smile on his face is not fake, I can tell. He's genuinely glad to see me.
Andy and I met about four years ago, when we were both just twelve years old and starting school together. The minutes we met in the courtyard, we became close friends. I had been running around the campus looking for the math room, when Andrew ran into me. After all the apologies and whatnot, he had helped me find the classroom, because that was where he was headed that day as well. We've been best friends since.
But lately, I've been starting to feel something more for Andy. It is a feeling I cannot explain properly. All I know is that when ever I see his beautiful blue eyes and dirty blond hair, I want to cry. He makes me feel safe. Good and safe, forever.
Anyway, I'm glad to see him today too. The intoxicating smell of his signature peppermint cologne is making me woozy though, so I step back and peer up into his face. He has a good three or four inches on me, and I'm pretty tall for my age.
"Ready to go?" he smiles at me as he adjusts the strap on his school backpack.
"Yup." I spin around and run back down the stairs as quick as I can, like a bullet, daring him to catch up with me.
As we walk out of the building, a flash blinds my vision for a millisecond near the bushes. I blink several times and stare at the shrubbery again, but the flash is gone as fast as it came. Was it a hidden camera or what? I am confused. I'm not famous really, and neither is Andrew. Who would want our picture?
Whatever, I think as Andy and I walk arm in arm up the path to the main road, and continue on to our school. It doesn't matter what that flash was, because I am happy right now and that's all that really matters.
Yeah, that's right. Whatever.