Hello all! I am back! To celebrate, I've decided to start clean and make a new story (big surprise). All of the other stories I currently have not completed will eventually get finished/revamped/edited, mainly because I have a very hard time reading them without cringing. I hope that a year off honing in on my writing skills will help (I probably still suck). Without further ado, enjoy this ridiculously long first chapter. I'm not sure if I'll be able to make all of the chapters this long, but I'll try my hardest.
Note: This is the 70th Hunger Games.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that are not mine.
O, how I long to manifest to what I was made for. Much like the songbird in the cage, I crave the freedom that was so harshly robbed from me. To take flight and spread my cheerful songs over the fields of death.
I wrote the entry into my private journal, leaning back in my chair as a satisfied sigh escapes my lips. With an idle hand, I splay my fingers on the pale ivory skin of my neck, looking out at the window of my bedroom to the place I called home; District 1.
Today was a day everyone in the 12 districts of Panem knew well; it was Reaping Day. A heavy cloak of darkness seemed to hang over everyone's heads today, as it does every year. I take a deep breath, trying not to let the panic that had built up in my chest blossom anymore. Panic and anxiety attacks were a regular occurrence for me, and the best thing I had learned to do was to just ride them out. I close my eyes for a moment, allowing nothing but darkness and silence to encompass me as I try my best to think optimistically.
This year marked the fifth year that I was forced to enter the Hunger Games. My odds weren't terrible, as I hadn't taken tesserae. My family didn't really need the extra help, I was the only child, and my father was the mayor, so money wasn't too tight in my household. We still struggled, but not like some of the other families.
Suddenly, the metallic tones of bells rang across the district. It was signaling the arrival of the Capitol entourage. I open my eyes and stand from my beloved wooden chair, pushing it to where it belongs under my desk. I hurriedly close my journal, storing it in one of the drawers of the desk.
I was already dressed, as being ready and being on time was something I obsessed over. I look in the full length mirror I had in my room, raking my fingers through the long black tresses of my hair. I inspect my appearance carefully before nodding at myself in the mirror, accepting it. I slide on my shoes then head downstairs, to where my parents are.
It was tradition that my mother put on the pearl necklace that was passed on throughout the generations as my father would tell me something to keep me calm. His wizened eyes twinkled as he smiled at me. "It'll just be like every other year, Jet. Your name won't be called and you'll come right back here. We'll have dinner ready and we can pray for the families who are chosen, but it won't be us," he said evenly, placing his hand on my shoulder as he nods, affirming his words.
I nod in response, taking more deep breaths. My father always seemed to calm me down, with his charisma and diplomatic skills. After my mother had clasped the necklace, she walked in front of me, standing next to my father as she smiles, one full of love and compassion. "It'll be alright," she says quietly, more to herself than anyone, really. My mother always takes Reaping Day very hard. She detests the Hunger Games and the brutal slaughter of children that it promotes.
As a family, we leave the house, my father striding slightly in front of my mother and me. I inherited a lot of my looks from him. We were both of tall, slender build with thick, dark hair, while my mother was shorter with sandy hair. The only thing we differed on was taste in food and our eye color, really. I obtained my light blue orbs from my mother and the taste in food from my maternal grandmother, apparently, but what can I say? I love comfort food.
I break off from my parents as I go over to the station for 16-year-old-girls. They pluck my finger and harvest the blood from the wound, then whisk me away. I stand with the other girls, quietly, as per usual. Most people would step on me if I wasn't so tall, because my presence was easily ignored. Even though I was the mayor's daughter, not many paid attention to me, and if they did, they would probably be hostile with assumed jealously that my family and I were treated like citizens of the Capitol. That was far from the truth, of course. I was content with that, though. I would be quiet and no one would notice me. That was how I played my life.
As the ceremony began my father walked up to the microphone, his presence immediately demanding everyone's attention. All chatter ceased as he made the speech he'd been reciting at the dinner table for weeks now. I zoned out, looking at everyone else around me. I was a very observant person, noting that everyone dressed in either purple or pink this year, seemingly. Interesting.
My father finished his speech, retreating to his seat at the back of the stage. From there, the District 1 escort, Teris Wellshell made his way to the microphone, looking like a stick of blue cotton candy this year, with voluminous light blue hair and clothes, lips, and eyes to match. He delivered the same speech I had heard for the majority of my life. His words made goose bumps appear on my skin as I started to get anxious. What if I was picked this year? The thought ran rampant through my skull as my breathing started to increase and my heart rate revved up. Oh, great.
After the speech, Teris cleared his throat dramatically as he made his way over to the giant fishbowl that held my name. Not that many times, but enough that there would always be a chance. Hell, this was the Hunger Games. The odds were never in our favor.
"Ladies first," he announced pretentiously as he descended his hand into the bowl, fishing over slips of paper until he settled on one. He neatly plucked it from the mass of paper as he walked back over to the microphone, pausing as he let the audience build up even more anxiety. Could you just get on with it, please? I thought bitterly as I self-consciously tapped my foot.
With one more clearing of the throat, he projected the name displayed on the piece of paper. "Jet Maisivitch!" The crowd was dead silent. I couldn't believe I had just heard my name. I shook my head, looking around at the people who were also looking around for this "Jet Maisivitch". I was desperately hoping that it was just my hysteria that had tricked me into believing he'd said my name, but as I watched two peace keepers making their ways over to me, I knew that it was indeed my name that he had said on that damnable piece of paper, so small and insignificant, yet it could ruin a family's life.
Pulling off the most composure I can muster, I allow the peace keepers to escort me to the stage. My legs are wobbling as I make my way up the stairs to the stage. I desperately hope I'm not shaking as bad as it feels as I uneasily make my way over to Teris. With a fake smile plastered to his face, he welcomes me to stand next to him. I comply and stand stoic, looking out at the crowd. No one volunteers for me, of course. Why would they? I'm the quiet girl who barely even knows her own name.
I'm going to die.
Teris makes his way over to the other fishbowl, housing the names of the males aged 12 through 18 in District 1. He performs the same methodical rituals taken when he announced the female tribute. Making his way back to the microphone, he wastes no dramatics as he taps the microphone with a finger, gathering the already quiet crowd to pay even more attention. This man certainly had a flare for the performing arts.
As clearly he could make it, he announced the male tribute. "Sheen Comman!" The crowd is silent once again as they wait for Sheen to make his appearance. I hazily recognize him as he emerges from the crowd. I believe I've seen him at school before, or perhaps from training. He was a year older than me, I think. He was a little on the short side with earthy brown hair styled similar to a pompadour. He looked confident and calm, at least calmer than I looked, I reckon.
As he ascended the stairs, Teris greeted him with the same fake politeness he had greeted me with, then stepped aside so Sheen and I could shake hands, something all of the tributes were supposed to do in every district. My icy eyes met his hazel ones as we shook hands. He arched a dark brow, challenging me. I took a deep breath, not reacting as Teris bid the audience farewell, ushering my district partner and me inside the Justice Building to say our final goodbyes to our families.
It had all been so surreal that I had been chosen that I really didn't even notice my parents. Apparently, my mother had let out a wail when my name had been called, but I was so intent that I didn't even notice. My father had sat in solemn silence, not meeting anyone's gaze for the rest of the ceremony.
As I entered the room designated for my family, I was immediately enveloped in a hug from my mother. She was still crying hysterically, violent sobs racking her body as she burrowed her face in my neck, brushing my hair away. I awkwardly wrapped my arms around her, doing my best to comfort her, but it was difficult for me to do any comforting to anyone, even family. Being socially awkward can be a major handicap sometimes.
Finally, my mother pulled away, eyes puffy and red. She stepped to the side, allowing my father to get his turn with me. He was hesitant a moment before he suddenly flew his arms around my thin frame. I almost stumbled backwards as his weight crashed against me. Strange sounds came from him that I eventually recognized to hear upset sobs and cries. I've never heard my father cry. We were also similar in that regard, being able to hold in emotions for a long time. He was always the family's rock that provided stability, even during the worst times, but this surpassed the worst of times, for sure.
It didn't seem like enough time before peace keepers were already ushering my parents away. It took a lot of willpower to rip myself away from them. I bit my bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. I couldn't be seen as weak now, not now, not ever. I had to be strong for my parents, even though I know my eminent death is looming over my head like a dark cloud.
From the Justice Building, we were escorted to the train that would carry us into the Capitol. The train was ostentatious in its decorations and design. All of the things on this train are from District 1, I thought bitterly as I walked through the main cabin before being sat down at a table. Two chairs were on either side of the table, and Sheen and I sat next to each other as we were told to wait for our mentors. Teris sat at the head of the table, where a lone chair was set up that I hadn't noticed before.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Sheen speaks up. "So, you're Jet?"
I clear my throat awkwardly, speaking for the first time that day. "Yep," was all I had to contribute to the conversation. I avoided looking at him even though I could feel his eyes staring at the side of my face.
That was the last thing said until a glass door whooshed open, two very attractive people walking in, who I immediately recognized to be Gloss and Cashmere, the infamous brother and sister duo. Gloss took his seat opposite of me and I felt myself flush a little as he shot me a pristine, charming smile. He was even more beautiful up close, I realized, than when I had seen him helping some of the older kids during training. Cashmere took her seat next to him, opposite Sheen.
It was Teris who spoke this time. "Cashmere and Gloss, this is Jet and Sheen."
They simply gave us smiles and inclined their heads. Then, Cashmere spoke. "Well, Jet and Sheen, it's very nice to meet you both. My brother and I have decided that I will be helping Sheen and he will be helping you, Jet," she said, smile adorning her lips. I couldn't decide if it was fake or not.
I was surprised that they had already chosen their assignments. They'd just learned our names and hadn't even seen us in person until just now. Sheen voiced the same opinion. "You guys already sorted through us?"
Gloss gave a small laugh, shaking his head. "Cash and I have been alternating each year. I get the girl this year, and she gets the male."
Sheen nodded in understanding, a small blush creeping on his cheeks from the embarrassment of Gloss correcting him. In that moment, I decided that Sheen had issues with pride. Who knows, maybe this information could help me win the Games.
I stopped dead in my thought process as I realized just what I had been thinking. I wasn't going to win the Games, and I definitely wasn't going to kill other children for glory or fame. I thought the Games were deplorable, even though I'd had training for all my life. I just didn't see the good in it at all. Sure, you may win the Hunger Games, but you lose yourself in the process. I'd seen it happen to a lot of people. It's better to die with compassion and honor still intact rather than win a monster.
I was shaken out of my thoughts as I noticed Gloss was looking at me expectantly, as was everyone else at the table. My ears and face turned hot as I realized that I hadn't been paying attention, and he'd probably asked me a question and I'd totally zoned out.
Timidly and sheepishly, I ask, "Sorry, what?"
Gloss shakes his head good naturedly, but I'm sure it was just an act. I'm annoying and he knows it already. He's probably regretting his decision in picking to mentor the female tribute this year. "I asked if you were fine with arrangement," he said politely, but I just had this tingle on my spine knowing that it was fake. It had to be fake. God, I was cynical. And why was he so damned attractive and giving me a look? No, he's just looking at you, which is the polite thing to do when you talk to someone, I chide myself internally.
I nod perhaps a little too enthusiastically, trying to compensate for my ignorance. "Oh, yeah, that's fine."
"Great. Then it's decided. Now, we just wait for the Capitol," Cashmere announced, clapping her hands as if she was affirming her own words. I bob my head as I cross my arms, sinking a little in my chair. I wanted nothing more than to hide right now. I hated social situations, and it really didn't help that the most attractive man I had ever seen was now staring at me. I could feel his eyes roving over every facet of me, but it wasn't in a perverted way. He was simply studying me. I wasn't used to attention from anyone, especially not someone like him. I was me, and he was him. We may be from the same district, but there's a huge difference; he's a winner, and I'm destined to be a loser.
My heartbeat quickened as I noticed he was still staring at me.I was trapped between catching Gloss staring at me, the threat of Cashmere, Sheen, and Teris trying to include me in whatever they were talking about, and staring at the floor like an idiot. So, naturally, I stare at the floor.
After some time, a plate magically appears in front of me. I blink a few times as I sit up straight, Avoxes coming into the room. Avoxes were servants of the Capitol that had their tongues cut off for some form of violation of the law. They neatly served us dinner, then retreated to a corner.
I timidly picked up my fork as Sheen started digging into his food like a dog. I shoot him a look and he smiles sheepishly. "I haven't eaten in a day," he says, then continues to shovel food in his mouth. A pang of guilt shoots through me as I can't help but feel sympathy for my district partner. I didn't know it was that bad back home. We were technically the best off district. It comes as a shock that people are actually starving in my own district. The realization prickles the hair on the back of my neck as I start to eat the meal.
There was goose meat that had been marinated with cranberry sauce, meticulously cut slices from an apple, steamed broccoli with some strange type of seasoning, and a glass of water to accompany the whole meal. Well, for Sheen and me, anyways. Gloss and Cashmere had red wine in their glasses, and Teris had something bubbly in his, so I assumed it was either something carbonated or alcoholic.
After dinner, Gloss and Cashmere stood, beckoning us over as we went into another cabin. A couch sat opposite a television as everyone piled onto the large sofa. Of course, because the fates seem to be laughing at me today, I was awkwardly sandwiched between the tall and muscular (and ridiculously) attractive Gloss and the bulky, short Sheen. Cashmere sat on Gloss's left, by herself. I was very jealous of her.
As if the situation couldn't get any more awkward and uncomfortable, Teris then decides to sit next to Sheen, who, in turns, pushes me closer to Gloss. I feel a blush threaten to make a reappearance as I sit entirely too close to the older male, his warmth radiating off of him as the television turns on, the National Anthem sounding as Caesar Flickerman comes into view. A lime green wig sits atop his head, his eyebrows dyed to match, as well as his lips. He smiles to the camera and continues to announce the events of the day.
Suddenly, there's the footage of my name being called, and a close up of my face. I internally cringe at the stupidity displayed on my face, looking around like an idiot. My cheeks burn with shame, as I know that everyone in Panem is watching me make an idiot of myself. I didn't even know my own name, for God's sake.
Then I hear the pained scream coming from my mother. The hairs on my body stand on end as I hear it. It can easily be compared to nails on a chalkboard. I swallow the dry lump in my throat as I watch myselfwalk to the stage. Thankfully, I don't look stupid anymore, just a little unsure, but not stupid. Then, thankfully, the camera is taken off of me as it searches out for Sheen, making his presence known as he swaggers up to the stage. I inwardly roll me eyes.
As the program continues to run, there are three people who stand out to me; the huge, monster of a boy that volunteered in District 2, the sly, clever looking girl from District 3, and, strangely, a brave volunteer from District 11; an average looking boy, but with eyes that gleam dangerously. They all looked more than capable of killing someone. I think back to how I looked, and sigh softly. There's no way I can do this.
I'm going to die.
I'm never going to see my family again.
I'm going to bring shame to my district and I'm going to embarrass myself.
The National Anthem plays once more, then the television goes dark. Gloss clears his throat as he stands up from the couch. "Alright, kids. Bedtime. Big day tomorrow," he says, then walks out of the room, heading to, I assume, his quarters. An Avox leads me to my own quarters. I thank them, although I'm not sure if you're supposed to, then make sure the glass door whooshes shut before I strip down, padding over to the bathroom.
I stand in amazement at the shower. It had all sorts of options on it. I don't even know where to start. To test it, I try a regular shampoo, then start trying out all kinds of scents and types. I probably played with the shower for about 20 minutes before finally being done, stepping out on the mat. Suddenly, a gust of air blows and I almost die from being startled, then I realize it's just the dryer. In 20 seconds flat, I am completely dried, head to toe.
On the counter, there is a pair of simple night clothes; soft, white silk pants and a tank top. I pull the material over my skin, looking in the mirror and noticing that my hair had also been brushed from the drying device. I run a hand through a few strands, happy with the way it lays and how it feels. With a deep breath, I turn off the light in the bathroom, walking back into my sleeping quarters. I pull back the blanket, tucking myself in as I close my eyes.
What have I gotten into?
Yay first chapter funsies! And yes, if you haven't pieced it together, this will be a Gloss/OC fic, but as of right now, it's just a cute little innocent crush on Jet's part. Also, I'm basing Jet's appearance off of Lauren Jauregui, for the most part. As always, reviews, follows, and favorites are much appreciated and help motivate my lazy butt.