"What?!" I exclaim.
Pandemonium erupts, and no one keeps their opinions to themselves:
"Were you drunk when you decided this, Coin?"
"You're no better than the idiots in the Capitol!"
"I thought you cared about our kids!"
No kidding. My own mother just turned her back on me and Electra. Betrayal fits her like a glove.
"Let me finish!" Mom demands of the crowd. "There are some rules I need to discuss. Some things that are different from the Hunger Games. The participants in Thirteen's Battle are allowed their weapon of choice, excluding guns. Feel free to start training now. I won't hold that against you. I think it's also fitting that we refer to the selected people as tributes." Her voice is emotionless. I don't know why I'm so surprised at her apathy; it's what leaders must do sometimes.
You have to surrender your own heart in order to protect the hearts of your people.
"However," she continues, "this will be over much more quickly than the Hunger Games. The two tributes will keep going until one of them is dead. Plain and simple. I predict each battle won't even last half an hour. Each battle is scheduled for separate days, resulting in a two-day affair. Girls go first; then the guys. And lastly, we won't accept any volunteers."
"That's bull," I mutter.
"That's life," Xavier replies.
My mother holds firm to her announcement, raising her arms to command the district farther. "I'm gonna put the Games back on and go to my office. If you wanna talk with me, please do so calmly. Any attempts at hurting me will result in your execution. Long live District Thirteen."
"And long live the Coins," everyone replies, as is the custom. Drones obeying their master.
Yeah… I might as well say it: Electra and I are next in line to lead. Well, if you wanna get technical, Electra is next. She's older than me by three minutes. We have a government where the presidential position is passed on hereditarily. My grandfather was first, piecing together the remains of District 13 after their rebellion. He'd already been our mayor, so everyone agreed to make him the head honcho. When he died, my mother, his only child, took over. He was very adamant about this. Mom's been prepping us since birth.
People start leaving in droves once she's gone and the Games return. Electra, Xavier and I glance at one another warily.
"We have to submit our names," I say, twirling a piece of my crimson locks. "You know what that means? We could die because of Mom's stupid decision! How desperate do you have to be to register your children for death?"
Electra grabs my face. "Alma! Calm. Down." Our red hair, sea-green eyes and freckles are identical down to the last dot, allowing me the illusion that I'm looking at myself.
"Do not ask me to calm down!"
"Will you shut up and listen to her?" Xavier suddenly exclaims. "She's got the right idea. They're only picking four people. The odds of getting chosen are slim."
"That's what tributes tell themselves, just before they're reaped!"
"If it makes you feel better, I learned some hand-to-hand skills back in District Twelve. I can teach them to you. They're very basic, but useful."
"Thanks," I reply instantly.
"Can you teach me, too?" Electra asks.
"Yeah."
This alleviates my worry. For the moment, anyways.
I quickly discover that Xavier knows what he's doing. He kicks my butt in every single fight. Somebody taught him well- and illegally, I might add.
Can I blame him, though? He's spent most of his life thinking that he'll one day have to fight for it. If this Thirteen's Battle thing actually becomes an annual tradition, he only has this year to worry about.
Not me. With two years of possible slaughter in my future, I've got to choose a weapon. I think knives are versatile enough for me. You can use them long distance or short distance. And I seem to have a knack for it. I kinda… lost track of how many bulls-eyes I've scored. Xavier has taken up the axe-he used this a lot in District 12- while Electra selects the bow and arrow.
My District 12 friend seems nervous when we meet for today's practice. He's wringing his hands and scratching his head repeatedly.
"Um… What's up with you?" I ask him.
"I'm sick of lying about who I am," he admits. "I've been here for almost a year, but most people don't know my real story. It's gone on long enough. Tonight, I'm gonna tell Pres- I mean, your mother- I'm gonna tell her that I'm not really from District Thirteen."
I suck in a breath. "How do you know she won't shoot you on the spot?"
"I don't."
Okay. I'm gonna pretend he didn't say that- (My mother has to be reasonable! She knows I care about him!)- and get to work on beating him, for once. It's become my main mission in life. So I take up the fighting stance that he taught me: turned at an angle, right knee lunging, my arms crossed over my chest, and my fists clenched.
"If she does that, she'll have to answer to me," I reply.
"Oh man, Alma Coin is one angry woman!" Xavier says happily, adopting the same pose. "It's sexy."
Hold up. Let the records show that he called me sexy. I am mentally fanning myself. Unlike me, he's got a total boxer physique. I should be calling him sexy.
"Ready? Aaand… Let's go!" he declares.
I throw the first punch. Xavier drives his fist up to block me, as usual. I swing the other fist right at his jaw while he's distracted.
Yes! I got him!
Then, he slides his foot under my ankle, propelling me down. But I trip him in return. Xavier's weight lays entirely on my body.
So hard to breathe… not that I care.
"This is awkward."
"I don't know," he teases. "I kinda like being here."
So do I. Even if I'd never admit it. He's driving me crazy, with those beautifully mismatched eyes, and the long hair that I wanna run my fingers through. I could just…
Nah. Instead, I say, "You're such a boy."
Only Xavier and I would laugh off a moment such as this. And we do.
