For Starvation. Prompt: Reality is wrong. Dreams are for real.
You just need to know Hunger Games to enjoy.
Notes: I made "Clove" a nickname for "Clovis". Novaya is the girl from Four.
"We made a pact. A pact is a pact."
With a silent curse, I ask the trainer to let me take his place for a while. We are equally reluctant, but I mouth, It's a promise.
"I'm somewhat good at that," Glimmer had said at the bow and arrow station. "I can help you, if you help me with knife throwing."
Thirty minutes burn out my patience so I call a break. Maybe I would tell Glimmer to shut up but I feel Enobaria's eyes glaring at me when she says: Be polite.
"How's school?"
"It's well. Though if the world ends, the Finnick Odair fan club will be responsible," says Glimmer.
"The what?"
"Finnick Odair fan club."
"Is there a Glimmer fan club?"
"It's extremely hard to get membership." After a laugh, Glimmer adds, "Because it doesn't exist."
I laugh and the rest stare, and we laugh harder.
"Clove?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I pinch you?"
~U~
When I pinch myself, my fingers can't go through. When I walk, I know that each step is true and clear.
My dress is woven of tulle and all-rights and you'll-regret-its. The train trails across the stage, but I can't feel it when I sit down. It is dark with 24 spots of light, each growing dimmer as you descend until the end.
The last prick is dim, quite dim, but he is laughing and laughing and laughing to cover up the growing pain that makes up his heart and to quench the hole that is his mouth. A rose spreads its petals over us and I recoil.
"Out with your love," the man with the microphone demands.
"I love the girl who I must kill," says the prick. It is a boy, and glows with unearthly light. I throw my knife. Nothing flies.
Flames of feigned shallowness and anger in the shape of a girl rise and burn him. You have no right to say those things about me.
"Kat-"
"You will play no more games with me, boy with the bread!" The girl pushes the boy. Beautiful purple flowers spread over him, watered by clear, salty drops.
It's just me and Cato now. There is a door in front of us and the sun is just beyond it. We close the door with a hug and flowers grow all around us, coiling their sniveling green tendrils and grimacing sneering dark smiles. As I see fiery red, I know what I must do.
"Stealing is punishable by death," Cato tells me.
"Yes it is." With a hand he opens the door and shuts it later with the force of an earthquake.
"Our ancestors were Peacekeepers," I say.
Cato smiles. "But we'll be tributes."
I don't tell him that neither has he understood nor shut the door completely. Through the crack I see training and friends.
Let the Capitol witness that I have tried to quell the flames. But they dodge me like the elusive criminal. My uncle Peacekeeper clears his throat and tells me, "You have failed."
Forward: Glimmer and Novaya scream for help and try to bat away horrible syringes. I think maybe there's enough time to drag them back here. But you and I know, there isn't and I might just as well lie down and die.
Before it's done and their lives are things that cannot be, I do look back and can't see the grass and the trees and the lake anymore. A lady all in white smiles in what seems to be a soundproof room. She says, "I wanted a beautiful fool," to a man who walks in. Someone plays with a toy boat and oh, no-
I am seasick and make a mess over the boards. They aren't wooden, but plastic and red and blue. The fish don't smell at all; they have x's for eyes and the same stupid smiles that start to appear all over the sails and masts that sparkle angrily. They're made of diamonds
"And buckminsterfullerene!" A too-preppy teacher laughs happily and takes out a sample of Carbon. "Glimmer is a faint ray-Kids, don't look at Miss Glimmer! She didn't name herself!"
Thank you mother. Thank you. I don't want to be only ray of hope-
"Let's go!" A woman smiles. "The fish are waiting, children!"
Suddenly the ship comes back at shore. I don't want to get off now. But the lamp sputters out its last energy and its grass and lake and trees again
The arena. I smell smoke, not strong smoke, but faint wisps. I look around for Glimmer, but then she isn't here, oh, yeah. So I find Cato and then Marvel and is girl on fire here too-? No, Marvel's on fire. Wherever he stomps, the grasses die. I stare at Cato and he shakes his head no at what? I can't tell.
I follow Marvel because I want to see who he kills, but not girl on fire because he's not a Peacekeeper. Maybe the boy who laughs to cover up. The crickets begin to sing, because the Gamemakers told them to mess up everything. The mockingjays shut up now because their songs are lame little whimpers.
It's not fair. Why does she get to keep her Rue?
Something holds me and shakes its hands. Is the song appropriate? It asks it with a sarcasm.
Let me listen, I snap.
It's not fair. Why does she get to keep her Rue? It's not fair. Why does she get to keep her Rue? It's not fair. Why does she get to keep her Rue? It's not fair. Why does she get to keep her Rue? It's not fair. Why does she get to keep her Rue? It's not fair. Why d-
"Shut up!" I actually say out loud. And one of the crickets actually stops to laugh, oh how rude but I don't have a knife, it's your lucky day
Marvel doesn't even look at me or the crickets but readjusts the spear. He goes somewhere and stabs a flower of sorrow or is it a girl? Whatever it is, he stabs it and it just dies. No "you'll be all right" or "have some medicine". Just "die".
For a few moments, I think Marvel is calm but his eyes are glazed and sad not when he looks at the dead but thinks of a glimmer of hope. When he looks at the little flower he is on fire again.
Fires can outshine each other so he is burned I didn't know fires could be burned did you my friend It was the girl on fire
Laughs from a mouth that hated its responsibility echo throughout the lonely arena.
"Do I have to kill Cato?" I ask Enobaria.
"No, you don't," she says. "You can both live. I'll put a room on rent."
Cato has a sword ready and in hand. Do I throw my knife? No. We laugh about the other tributes.
Dark fingers wrap around me. They aren't deadly with force, but there is the raw charisma that is gentle. I wish for erosion
"What is erosion?" asks Lyme. My teacher is sick and a victor is the sub…
I raise my hand. "It is the wearing down of rocks by wind or water."
"Is that all?"
"Ye-"
The limestone rock isn't hard but soft and sweet. I see the face and it is a pure face that is simply angry like Marvel. Those eyes are a marvel, yes.
Marvels…Glimmers of hope…Cloves in my soup…Now I'm having flashes…"My son has good tastes...Oh, dear, can you hear me?"
I jerk so fast that a comb goes askew. I don't move on
My hairdresser is a woman. I notice that her blue-black eyes are the same as the pair that told me not to go away at that damned golden cone. Oh, yes. Cato's eyes are from another district. He told me so.
I am at Beauty Base Zero, a prep team would say with a fresh cheek instead of a raw one. "What's the occasion?" I ask.
"Your wedding, Clovis. Do you want to look at the dress designs later or do you want to design a dress by yourself?"
"I'll look at them. Where's the groom?"
"Cato'll come soon. He's a bit late, but he won't be too late."
As I pick a sleeved tulle dress and net veil and moonstones, I hope that Cato will be late. I'm all right with just being friends except that love and friends walk a narrow line. After he does come, as fresh as he can be, we hold the wedding or rather, a blur of new life and smiles.
"Who won the Games?" I ask.
"Girl on Fire and Bread Boy."
"Two victors."
"Yes. But they'll both die."
Novaya laughs with her pen. She sits on a tube in the moat. "I'm getting experiences!" Glimmer sits in a glass shield, and Marvel paces. In the center of Novaya's moat, there is a little island. Sitting there are-Are they old? Or are they young? Less than two days ago, they
They are old and rotting, wasted and weak, but most of all unhappy. Even Brutus and Enobaria, who are in the bunch, seem faded. It's the fate of the victors who are made young by a gong, not the surgery knife.
There are six of the victors on that little island that has the Cornucopia. One stunted black haired girl sings with a happiness mask. A young boy with his arm around her sighs and studies all. An undeveloped handsome beauty fingers a trident, and wide-set eyes eye axes. I shudder at the girl on fire and bread boy; Cato's hand is not there. He has gone somewhere.
I'm shaken as Gloss and Cashmere of One take the happy one in one sweep, only to be killed. Brutus and Enobaria run. In a split second, I'm after them and with them. They stop when Enobaria stops, panting and crying. I wish for a camera.
My mentors are more beautiful in their youth, yes, but more naïve too. Brutus looks a bit troubled, but sure, seeing the world in black and white, while Enobaria's mouth tugs at a smile that makes no sense whatsoever with her unhappiness. I remember with a pang of her relations with Cashmere and Gloss who now appear through the bushes next to me.
Cashmere shakes her hair. "Marvel died. And you're…"
Gloss sighs. "Cash, don't tell someone they're dead."
"I'm not dead." My voice rises. The siblings are also more lovely in their youth, and like angels on earth. Cashmere's lovely blond hair curls in large, but still dainty rolls, and Gloss' face seems to be sculpted with the perfection of the Capitol and the nature of the districts.
"I know, I know," says Cashmere sarcastically. "Just that I'm mad. There?"
I acce
"'Cashmere' and 'Gloss' never existed," interrupts Brutus, making quotations at "cashmere" and "gloss". "They're just configurations of your imagination. It's always been vivid"
"Cashmere? Gloss? Someone says you don't exi-" But there was no Cashmere, and no Gloss. Someone's hand links with mine. It is Cato who has finally caught up.
"She's forgotten about them for now," he tells me.
"What, does Brutus hate Gloss' guts or something?"
"No. He's just trying to keep Enobaria."
My female mentor pierces me with her glance. "I don't want to end up like Clovis," she says to Brutus.
"If Chaff lays so much as a finger on you, I'll make sure he regrets it." Brutus says it with a sort of delicate threat.
"And you'll be ripped by the mutts?"
"That was based on luck. Bad luck. A rig, you too." Someone shoves me away from Cato. "You see, my pesky assistant went ahead and suggested that we put lovers from Two in here-"
Cato falls into the water. I reach for him but I can't.
"Then your mentors-You will suffer for three years. They'll suffer for three times fifteen-You are actually lucky you were prepared but Enobaria and Brutus weren't-"
"I'd like an explanation."
"Do you love Cato, Miss Clovis?"
"In a way yes or I wouldn't want to marry him."
"You wouldn't want to see him die or kill him. Would you?"
"No."
"It's that man Seneca Crane who did this. You can take up your knife and make your first kill in these Games. He's the Head Gamemaker, Clovis. He paces the halls at night. His favorite food is carrot pie and he is addicted to coffee. You know, spied at the trainees forever to see who had a love and he's the one who gave you 8000 slips instead of four. It's thanks to this man that you will be killed by a rustic from 11 and Cato will haunt your mentors until their end by friends and old age-"
Now I have already tuned the voice out because its droning into my very soul. Snow isn't white. It's black with dark intentions and red with blood and diamond clear with tears. Then Lyme asks me what is the units digit of the product of the first 15 prime numbers and I say cannot be determined without a calculator. She raises my chin and says, "Shame on you. You don't even know that your own district's prime."
"What does that have to do with anything?" I gasp.
"Clovis, you should know. You and I will meet in death after the Capitol kills me in a binge…"
Lyme spins me in a huge circle that makes me dizzy. "And one last thing," she muses, "you kill old Seneca Crane, I'll kill you. Get that?"
~U~
"It's two in the morning," growls Enobaria, who looks like she is ready to rip out my throat.
"Two's a prime number," I say instinctively.
"Is this the Number Theory Games, or the Hunger Games?"
"What's the units digit of the product of the first 15 prime numbers?" I blab.
"Zero! Now, do you want me to give you a lesson on units digits or something?"
"And Seneca Crane-"
"He's an old man, not a number, Clove!"
"You're going back into the arena next year and I don't have to kill Cato! You told me. And it's rigg-"
Enobaria slaps her hand on my mouth and actually places her mouth near my throat. "You want to know what treason is? You want to be killed by it in the shape of Cato?"
~U~
Glimmer is alive. Novaya's gravestone isn't made yet. Marvel sleeps with a peaceful and haunting smile. Cato and Brutus are both in one whole piece.
I run into a man in the hall way, my mind echoing with two is prime and one is neither prime nor composite. We collide and I knock a brown carrot to the floor.
"I'm sorry," he says.
I frown and mirror Seneca's mouth. "What are you sorry about? It's just a dream."
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