I'm back and I'm a bit more organised now ;) Thank you to those of you who reviewed the first chapter (Stacy, if you're reading then I'm really pleased you liked it and I hope you feel better :)). I'm sorry if I didn't manage to reply to all of you - something went wrong with this site about half an hour after I posted and I couldn't log on for days. Then I forgot who I'd replied to and who I hadn't. Anyway, enough of the excuses, if you review this time then I'll reply (website permitting!)...
Chapter Two
There are four other people with me on the tribute train as it speeds towards the Capitol but I might as well be alone as nobody has spoken a word for the past hour. The noise from the television fills the room, struggling to compete with the almost overwhelming tension that surrounds us. The reaping review programme is finally about to begin and for once I can't wait. I need something to force a break in the silence, something to distract everyone from their thoughts and bring them back to a present they seem to have left behind.
"Please excuse me," says Glimmer in her soft and even voice. "I have a terrible headache. I need to go and lie down."
"What about the reaping review?" I ask, wishing she wouldn't leave even though I have no idea what to say to her when she's here. She doesn't respond. "Will you not wait to see the opposition?" I add with a sly smile, deciding to try a different approach. I can tell I've failed even before she replies.
"I will see them in person soon enough," she says, her eyes fixed on the door like she can't bear to stay here for another second.
She looks at me briefly and then turns away. I follow the direction of her gaze to my brother and find myself staring at him as well. He looks steadily back at her with an open expression very few people get to see, but she narrows her eyes sharply at him before swiftly leaving the room. Falco sighs audibly and when I look at him he shakes his head sadly. He's been quiet since the reaping and I wish I could work out why.
The boy named Marvel stares unblinkingly at the television screen, a smug smile appearing on his face when he sees himself on the stage. He reminds me of my district partner, or at least of the boy I thought he was before we reached the arena. He and Sheen might be polar opposites in colouring but the arrogance is the same.
"How much longer?" he asks impatiently as he looks across at Gloss and I. "I want to be in the Capitol already."
"It will take as long as it takes," replies Falco sternly with a deliberately exaggerated Capitol accent, obviously as tired of the boy's insolence as I am.
Marvel pales slightly and doesn't speak again after that, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. I look across at Falco but he is entirely focussed on the television screen. His worried frown hasn't faded and it's a struggle to force myself to wait until we're alone before I say anything. I keep my attention fixed on him until Gloss abruptly gets up and walks towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"For a walk," he replies, shaking his head when I open my mouth to question him.
We're on a train. Where could he possibly be walking to? But perhaps he just wants some time to himself. I can't imagine he's dealing with the prospect of being a mentor for the second time any better than I am and watching the reaping review is never going to help. But that doesn't make sense. Gloss doesn't walk away from me unless he has a reason. He's going to see Glimmer, I know he is. It's the only explanation that makes sense. I get up to follow him.
"Leave it, Cashmere," says Falco before I can take a single step. I fall back down onto the chair more because of the shock of hearing him call me by my real name than for any other reason. I forgot I'd have to get used to that again. "Let him go."
I nod, silently telling him that this isn't over, and then turn back to the screen. For the next hour or so I watch as the other twenty-two tributes are revealed, soon realising that there's every chance the Gamemakers will get their wish this year. From the look of what I'm seeing on screen, this year's Games isn't going to be boring.
The man from District Two looks strangely familiar although I can't quite decide why. At first I think it's because he reminds me of Corvinus, whose face I've never forgotten, but when the camera zooms in on him and I find myself staring into bright blue eyes instead of dark brown, I know that's not the reason.
His district partner is the first shock of the reapings, for though she walks proudly to the stage with all the swagger of their very toughest tributes, she is no volunteer. Her name was drawn from the reaping ball as surely as that of the vast majority of those from the other districts who follow her. I know more about District Two than most who don't live there because of my friendship with Ursala, and what just happened makes no sense.
District Three look as sorry for themselves as ever and I smile sadly when I see Beetee and Wiress standing together on the stage with the same resigned looks on their faces that I remember from the last time I was in the Control Room. I'll be very surprised if either of their tributes make it past their first day in the arena.
I visibly shudder at the sight of Finnick Odair, seeing the boy who killed Sapphire in the man on the screen before me. He might be older but those sea-green eyes never change and he's so famous in the Capitol that there's no getting away from him, especially not on Reaping Day. Marvel stares at me with unconcealed curiosity until Falco pointedly clears his throat. Then he immediately returns his gaze to the screen without saying a word.
After the fishing district they all begin to blend into one. The girl from District Five stands out because she has the brightest red hair I've ever seen. It's the colour of a fox's pelt and blows in the wind as she walks slowly to the stage. All of the others are unremarkable and I forget them before I've really seen them. That is until the boy from District Ten hobbles onto the stage. I look away in disgust, not at the boy's obvious disability but at the Capitol that is remorselessly sending him to certain death as surely as if someone had put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
The man from District Eleven is as tall and strong as almost any tribute from One, Two or Four, and I stop breathing as I watch him take to the stage. It happens sometimes but it's still a shock to see a grown man who dwarfs their Capitol escort rather than a shivering and terrified little boy. Falco told me they send the boys to work in the fields from an early age in the agricultural district and this man proves it's as effective as any formal training regime, for physical strength at least. He's a total contrast to their female tribute, who doesn't look even close to reaping age, and I quickly turn away because I can't bear to look at her.
Then I lean back in my chair, thinking about having another attempt at getting up and going to look for Gloss, but I temporarily change my mind when I hear the girl from District Twelve scream. She shouts one word as she races to the front of the crowd. Prim.
If the girl from District Two was unusual for not being a volunteer then this girl from Twelve is even more unusual for being one. In the entire seventy-four year history of the Hunger Games, never once has the coal district had a volunteer, and now a girl, this Katniss Everdeen, has volunteered to be sent to her death because it's the only way to save her sister's life. I watch as she waits for her district partner to be chosen, unable to prevent myself from admiring her because I know she feels for her sister what I feel for Gloss. I'd have gone into the arena for him if they'd let me but I couldn't. But this girl can save her sister and she has. For that reason alone I wish she didn't have to die.
I quickly glance at my watch and realise it won't be long now. In about an hour we will arrive in the Capitol and the build up to the Games will really begin. I think of Glimmer and wonder how she'll cope at the Remake Centre, if the inevitable flapping of her prep team will succeed where I have failed and cause her ice-cold façade to crack. As I walk past the door to her room I consider trying again, but then I change my mind. Gloss went after her when she left the television room, I'm sure he did. Perhaps he'll prove to be better with her than I am.
The door to the dining carriage is half open and I can just about squeeze through the gap without having to slide it across any more. I know Falco will be there. They use this train to transport people back and forth from District One to the Capitol when it isn't time for the Games so we've travelled on it often enough. I know where he chooses to lurk if something's wrong and he doesn't want company.
"You proved your point eight years ago, Butterfly," he says quietly from one of the armchairs by the window. He doesn't look at me when he speaks. "I already know you can creep up on me so you don't have to keep doing it."
"I didn't do a very good job if you knew I was here, did I?" I retort, still trying to work out why he's upset.
"I saw your reflection in the window," he replies, finally turning to face me.
"What's wrong?"
"Wrong? Why do you think something's wrong?"
I raise my eyebrows incredulously but say nothing, waiting to see if he'll continue. He doesn't.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask, trying again as I walk over and sit on the adjacent chair.
"The reapings," he says. "Some of the tributes look like fighters this year."
"Have you heard who's mentoring District Two?" I ask, remembering the blue-eyed man and his stereotype-breaking district partner. There's something about that man. He still seems so familiar to me and I still wish I could work out why.
"Vikus Cortez and that boy who won a couple of years ago."
"Augustus," I reply, shuddering at the memory of the slow and painful death he gave my district's boy when they faced each other in the arena. "They're good then. Vikus wouldn't be bothering if they weren't."
Falco nods like I knew he would. In District One the Victors usually take turns to mentor, but things are very different in Two. Ursala explained it once, saying that whoever trains the tribute who wins what they call the Reaping Trials is the one who goes to the Capitol with them as their mentor. Vikus Cortez only bothers to train the very best so his presence tells me a lot about the quality of Two's tributes this year.
"Four didn't seem to stand out," he says, making me nod in agreement. "But it's still the luck of the draw with them."
"They'll get more attention than they could wish for if Odair's mentoring them," I snarl, closing my eyes and trying to get rid of the image I've never quite forgotten of Sapphire dying as Finnick Odair stands victoriously over her.
"That's not going to change any time soon."
"Falco, please. Tell me what's wrong."
"They'll have to watch District Eleven as well," he says, talking like he didn't hear me. "He's strong enough to fight with the Alliance if he wants to."
"Falco…"
He sighs and momentarily puts his head in his hands before looking back up at me. "She didn't get to the stage first. I saw it on the replay. She didn't get to the stage first."
I struggle to swallow because of the lump in my throat and wring my hands together awkwardly on my lap. I try to resist the urge to go to him because of where we are but I soon give up and perch awkwardly on the arm of his chair. This is all about the reaping. This is all about Glimmer not winning the race to the stage. He's seen the look in her eyes and he's guessed she didn't mean to win.
"It all happened so quickly," I say firmly, determined not to let him blame himself. "There was barely any distance between them."
"You knew," he replies. "I saw the look in your eyes when I raised Glimmer's arm to the crowd. You knew."
"I could see better than you could. It was you they were running to."
"I didn't even see the other girl, Cashmere," he says sadly, reaching up and cupping my face with his hand before letting go and running his fingers through my hair. "It's the same. That's why I saw her first. That's why I thought she'd won."
"What's the same?" I whisper, already suspecting I know where he's going with this because of the way his eyes haven't left the lock of my hair he still holds loosely in his hand.
"Her hair is the same colour as yours. I saw her first because she made me think of you."
I shake my head and push myself off the arm of the chair onto his lap. "It's not your fault, Falco. Satin went through seven years of reapings and never once did she get near the stage. If Glimmer honestly didn't want this then she shouldn't have raced so hard. She shouldn't have been anywhere close to the front of the group. If anyone but fate is to blame for this then it's Glimmer Goldsmith, not you."
"Then why do I feel so guilty?"
"Because you care. Because you know this is more than just a game," I reply, tucking my head under his chin and holding him tightly as if I hope to squeeze the guilt out of him. Perhaps I do.
"I'm not sure how much longer I can keep doing this for. It hurts too much."
I pull away so I can look up at him, trying desperately to think of something unselfish when my mind is full of thoughts about how I'll see him even less if he stops being District One's Capitol escort. In the end I can think of nothing better than the question I used to ask myself when I was mentoring Gloss.
"Would you trust anyone else?"
He shakes his head slowly and pulls me back against him. I stare at our reflection in the glass of the window until I fall asleep.
It's already dark when we arrive in the Capitol but that doesn't seem to put off the reporters as they gather to see us. Marvel strides out ahead with his usual arrogance, but though he attracts his fair share of the attention, it soon becomes obvious that the majority of them are here for Glimmer. She walks by my side as they shout our names, her face somehow an expressionless mask even when she smiles for the cameras. Every so often she turns to look at me just like I turn to look at her. I can't begin to imagine what she's thinking and I find myself wondering if she's thinking the same about me.
"Cashmere! Cashmere, how do you feel about being a mentor again? District One hasn't had a Victor for a few years now so do you think you'll be able to change that?"
"It won't be me in the arena, will it?" I retort with what feels to me to be a very obviously fake smile. The reporters don't seem to notice. They never do. "But I'm confident we'll have another house occupied in our Victor's Village in a few weeks."
I knew it would happen so it doesn't surprise me when a mass of people all suddenly speak at once, thinking that because I've answered one question then I'm sure to respond to a few more. I shake my head and follow Falco into the Remake Centre. I'm not the only person who sighs with relief when the massive glass doors slide shut and the noise abruptly disappears.
"Now what?" asks Marvel. "Remake doesn't begin until tomorrow."
"You'll be found somewhere to sleep tonight and your prep team will meet you in the morning," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady in an attempt to hide how much I can't stand the boy's attitude.
One of the Remake Centre's permanent residents appears just as I finish speaking, waving his arms in a way that makes the excess material worked into the sleeves of his bright yellow jacket flap madly around him like highly ineffective wings. My eyes meet Gloss's as the orange-haired man instructs us to follow him and I can see how he's struggling not to laugh at what he calls the eccentricities of the People from the Other World. He tucks my arm through his and offers his other to Glimmer, who looks at him for a few seconds before accepting.
The Remake Centre man eventually opens the door to a room I immediately recognise as the one I slept in when I first arrived in the Capitol before my Games and tells Glimmer to stay here. She smiles slightly at Gloss, tells me politely that she'll see me tomorrow and then disappears, closing the door behind her with a loud bang when Marvel offers to keep her company.
"Move. Now," snarls Gloss to our male tribute, nodding imperiously down the corridor.
Marvel has the sense to do as he's told, ducking his head and following the Capitol attendant with my brother close behind him.
"Gloss seems…more tense than usual," whispers Falco as we also leave Glimmer behind.
I nod, not quite able to bring myself to talk about what I'm gradually becoming more and more convinced is the reason for that.
Almost a day later, Gloss and I are standing just inside the Training Centre in the huge entranceway, waiting for the tributes to make their way upstairs after the Opening Ceremony. Or that's the excuse that's always been used anyway. Everyone really knows that the tributes will be put in the lifts downstairs as soon as they get off the chariots and that the mentors only gather here so they can watch the ceremony on the big wall-mounted television screen and discuss arena alliances whenever they think nobody else is looking.
Glimmer and Marvel played their roles as well as I thought they would. They made a good impression with their silver body paint and diamond-encrusted tunics and they were as popular as our tributes always are with the watching audience. District Two also stood out, but the surprise of the night was District Twelve.
The girl who volunteered for her sister and her district partner travelled around the city in costumes wreathed with flames and the crowd loved them. They literally outshone the rest and the part of me that doesn't admire the girl for what she did isn't happy about that. If the crowd were looking at the girl from the coal district then they weren't looking at Glimmer, and as much as the idea of those people sponsoring her makes my skin crawl, she is likely to need their support in the arena before the end.
"You like her, don't you?" I ask, speaking in the quietest of whispers so those around us don't hear as I follow the direction of my brother's unwavering gaze to the television screen, finding an image of Glimmer as she stands tall and proud on the chariot outside the president's mansion.
I look straight ahead of myself then, watching the other Victors and various district escorts milling around as they decide whether to wait here for their tributes to arrive or go upstairs to their floor of the building instead. Gloss is standing close to me, his arm pressed tightly against mine, and I feel him tense instantly at my words.
"She's our tribute. If you mean that I want her to win then of course I like her."
I glance up at him, realising he answered my question in a way that tells me he knew instantly who I was talking about. His eyes meet mine and he doesn't look away. I didn't expect him to.
"You know what I mean and I don't mean that."
"Then what do you mean? I met her less than forty-eight hours ago."
"Gloss de Montfort, you know full well what I mean. I've seen the way you look at her."
"What do you mean 'the way I look at her'?"
I am about to respond but quickly fall silent as I sense someone else approach. I spin around in time to see District Two's second mentor, the young man named Augustus who won two years ago, stop a short distance away. I shiver and instinctively step closer to Gloss. There's something about this man I don't like. There's something about the way he looks at me that tells me he's used to getting his own way far too often. I dread to imagine what he's like back home now he's a Victor.
"Sibling rivalry?" he asks, obviously talking to Gloss despite how he's still staring at me. "This early on in the Games, that can't be good."
"There's no rivalry here," I reply, holding his gaze steadily. "Not between Gloss and I at least. Perhaps between you and I…"
"I don't think we need to be enemies right now," he says, and I know immediately that we're talking arena alliances rather than anything else.
This is the way deals are struck in the Hunger Games. A seemingly casual exchange of words between mentors, a decision by one tribute to sit beside another when everyone breaks for lunch on their training days. Everyone here makes those alliances happen and just like I suspected it would when I first saw the calibre of the competitors, the manoeuvring has begun early this year.
"Perhaps not," replies Gloss sharply, standing taller and squaring his shoulders as Vikus drifts over seemingly casually to join our little group. "Not when I'm sure your tribute will be thinking he can enjoy our girl's company in the arena."
I hold Augustus' gaze, not quite daring to look into the cold and totally emotionless eyes of District Two's other mentor, but then when Gloss speaks I have to force myself not to look up at him instead. He sounds so harsh, so unlike my brother that I barely recognise his voice at all. It makes me think that perhaps this is the Gloss the Capitol sees. Perhaps this is the Gloss he hides from me, the person he's afraid to let me see.
Augustus laughs in response. "I don't think that's likely."
"What? Are you trying to tell me he's more likely to want to sleep beside Marvel?"
Even Vikus laughs at that, the sound as cold as everything else about him, but again it's Augustus who replies as he shakes his head.
"If only it was that simple," he says.
The look he then gets from Vikus silences him instantly and makes me surprised he didn't immediately drop down dead. They both look edgy and almost nervous. There's something odd about District Two this year. I can't begin to work out what it is but there's definitely something.
After exchanging a few more cautious words in an attempt to secure the tenuous beginnings of an alliance for our tributes, Gloss and I quickly retreat upstairs to what is as close to relative safety as anywhere here. We'd have stayed watching the screen with the other Victors for longer if it hadn't been for the arrival of the reporters, but as soon as the telltale screeching of high-pitched Capitol accents reached my ears, I took one look at the expression on my brother's face and decided that enough was enough, for today at least.
"Where's Falco?" asks Gloss when we get upstairs to the Level One dining room and find it empty.
"Meeting sponsors already," I reply immediately. "He's gone to the president's party."
I scowl at the mention of the banquet that President Snow always holds at his mansion after the Opening Ceremony but at the same time I feel grateful that I don't have to attend. As Falco has told me so many times, it's a good opportunity for gaining sponsorship because the rich and well-to-do of the Capitol love to gather there so they can see and be seen, but at the same time it isn't somewhere usually open to Victors. Ursala told me Tiberius had been to watch the ceremony there once, but I knew without her having to say that it wasn't when he was mentoring and that it was during a night that wasn't his own. I've never been.
"How wonderful for him," says my brother as he casually falls down onto the sofa, making a point of putting his feet up on the extravagantly carved and no doubt extortionately priced coffee table in front of him. "I'm sure he's really enjoying himself," he adds sarcastically, knowing almost as well as I do how much Falco has grown to hate what he has to do.
"He'll be back later," I reply. "He promised."
"And he never lets you down."
"He doesn't," I say firmly, knowing that however hard he usually pretends otherwise, Gloss has never totally forgiven Falco for not being able to save me from my fate when I first became a Victor.
I take a step further into the room but as I do the door opens behind me. I spin on my heel to find Glimmer and Marvel walking towards me, carefully maintaining a distance between themselves as usual. They quickly stop and look expectantly at Gloss and I, almost as if they're waiting for their next set of instructions. However I don't know what to say because all I can think of is how other-worldly they look as the dim light coming from the lamp on the sideboard reflects off their silver body paint.
"It's over now," says Gloss, speaking to both of them but looking only at Glimmer.
"They were all staring at that stupid girl from Twelve," spits Marvel. "All because of her ridiculous costume. Don't they realise she'll be dead on the first day? District Twelves always are."
"They were staring at us as well," says Glimmer, somehow managing to make me think she's subtly berating Marvel for begrudging the disadvantaged ones their few seconds in the spotlight with her tone of voice alone. "You heard them shouting for us when we went past as well as I did."
"You're both high up in the betting," I say, trying to diffuse the tension between them. "You did very well tonight."
Marvel smirks, taking my words as pure praise like I knew he would, but Glimmer just smiles faintly and stares unblinkingly back at me, the diamonds on her tunic twinkling as they catch the light. I watch her for several seconds before I notice how she can't quite keep still, always shifting from one foot to another or lifting an arm slightly before putting it back where it was as if she doesn't dare move.
Then I remember. When I was a tribute girl my body paint was gold rather than silver, but I still recall how much it irritated my skin even now. Lace made me sit through the whole of the Opening Ceremony replay before I was permitted to leave so I could wash it off but I'm determined not to be the mentor she was. Glimmer has far too much pride to ever admit her discomfort but I can tell she feels it. I might not know what to say to her but it seems I've finally found something I can do that will make her feel better.
"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," I tell them, smiling knowingly at Glimmer. "There's no reason for you to endure the Opening Ceremony more than once."
She nods to me, telling me without words that I was right about both her desire to leave and the reason why, and then she quickly retreats towards her rooms, not even looking to see Marvel following behind her. A couple of seconds later I hear the sound of a door slamming.
"It seems he's been put in his place yet again," I say to Gloss, guessing what I heard was Glimmer shutting her bedroom door in Marvel's face.
"Good," replies Gloss, smiling for what I think is the first time since we arrived in the Capitol.
He lifts his arm up, resting it along the back of the sofa as I walk across the room. I sit down and curl up against him and we sit there for hours, doing our best to talk about arena strategies even though we still know virtually nothing about the other tributes. I try to point out to Gloss that this will be a lot easier once training begins but he seems determined to carry on anyway and I go along with it. I know better than to argue when he has that look in his eyes.
"What was that?" he asks, halting our discussion about the pair from the fishing district in response to what I soon realise was the sound of the outside door closing.
"Either someone coming in or someone going out."
"Are you expecting Falco back?"
"Not until the morning."
"If it was Glimmer…" he says, starting to push me away so he can stand up.
I cling to him so he can't, suspecting it probably was. "Leave her, Gloss. She probably just wants some space. Nothing will happen to her in the Training Centre and you know she can't leave."
"She shouldn't be alone."
"Perhaps she wants to be alone," I reply. "People deal with being here in different ways. She'll come back when she's ready."
He nods and shrugs his shoulders, apparently deciding that now isn't the time to argue with me and returning to his previous relaxed position. I breathe an inward sigh of relief and we stay there until the early hours of the morning when Falco returns.
"How did it go?" I whisper, speaking into the darkness in response to his familiar hand shaking my arm.
"The plan is starting to come together," he replies cryptically, making my heart somehow rise and sink at the same time as I instantly know he means the new plans for rebellion.
"Falco-"
"Not here," he replies. "Not now."
I nod even though I know he can't see me, allowing him to pull me gently to my feet. Gloss wakes as soon as I move, and he exchanges a few sleepy words with Falco before leaving to go to bed. He tells me to do the same so I do, dragging Falco with me despite where we are. I know the risks but his subtle reference to the rebellion plot makes me decide I don't want to be away from him. Just in case.
"They have to join the Alliance," I say as soon as Gloss walks into the dining room a few hours later. "It's the only way."
"Wait and see what they say about the rest when they've been to training first," he replies. "I told Glimmer to watch them, especially Two and Four."
"And what else did you tell Glimmer?" I retort, regretting the sharpness of my words when I see his expression close instantly. "I'm sorry," I continue, standing up and walking over to him as he sits down. "I just don't want you to get attached to her when she's for the arena in a few days."
"I told you before, I want her to live. I thought you would want the same."
"Of course I want her to live. It's just…I…if I asked you to choose between them then I don't think it would take you long to make your decision."
"I want her to live, Cash. Whatever it takes."
I'm not quite sure what to say to that but I decide to try anyway. However before I can speak the door opens again and the subject of our discussion walks in, dressed in training clothes with her golden hair clipped tightly back. Glimmer might not have wanted this, but at least she's decided to fight. I can tell that much from the fierce look in her bright green eyes.
She walks over to me, stopping only about a stride's length away, and all I can think is that I wish she'd sit down. She's taller than me, long-limbed and slender and so very beautiful. Every time I look at her I'm reminded of what will happen to her if she wins. Who am I to keep that from her? Doesn't she have the right to know? But if I tell her then will she change her mind about fighting for her life? If I tell her and she does then will Gloss ever forgive me? Will I ever forgive myself?
"Sit down," says Gloss, taking my hand and pulling me onto the seat on his one side, never taking his eyes from Glimmer. "Have something to eat."
She sits down on his other side but she doesn't eat. She just looks at him with that half-smile she has, the one which makes her appear like a frightened animal that can't decide who to trust.
As I didn't ask her when we were on the train, I know I should do what mentors are supposed to do and ask her about her previous training, about her favoured weapons and her likely arena strategy, but I can't seem to find words. I can talk to virtually anyone but there's something about this girl's ice-cold mask that makes me freeze. However Gloss doesn't seem to notice as he slides a plate of food in front of her and smiles. He also shows no sign of seeing me sigh with relief when Falco walks in.
"Are you ready for training, Glimmer?" he asks, very deliberately sitting down a lot closer to me than is strictly necessary.
"As ready as I'll ever be," she replies, her eyebrows raising almost imperceptibly at the lack of distance between Falco and I.
I see him instantly smile at her reaction and inwardly groan, knowing he won't be able to resist winding her up. I say nothing though, curious to see if he can be the one to finally make her façade crack.
"I don't think the same can be said for my district partner," she continues, her voice full of the usual mixture of amusement and contempt she seems to reserve for Marvel.
"Where is he?" I ask, suspecting I already know the answer.
"Still in bed, I presume. I'm not about to go and check."
"I'll go," says Gloss, quickly leaving the room.
"I'm going to meet a few potential sponsors later," says Falco, smirking in response to the glare I send in his direction as I try to silently tell him that now probably isn't the time. "Will you come with me?"
"Sponsors?" I ask suspiciously, trying to work out if he's telling the truth.
"Yes, Butterfly, sponsors. I'm sure they'd rather see your pretty face than be forced to look at me all day."
"Falco," I hiss warningly, his words confirming how he's being both deliberately obvious and deliberately obnoxious because he's trying to get a reaction out of Glimmer. He'd never mention Games sponsors and me in the same sentence otherwise.
In that respect he hasn't changed over the years. Most of the time, when he's in the public eye at least, he is the image of the dignified member of government, but every so often the boy who walked into the Silver Fountain at the biggest shopping centre in the city because his friend dared him to still makes an appearance.
Glimmer says nothing but watches us closely with an almost amused expression on her beautiful face. She was born and raised in District One. It will take more than that to shock her.
"Don't I have time for breakfast before training starts?" comes Marvel's voice from outside in the corridor.
"It's gone quarter to ten," snaps Gloss. "You should have got up earlier."
My brother looks angry when he strides into the room, though I have no idea what Marvel could have said to make him so. He takes a piece of toast from my plate and then returns to the door, holding it open for Marvel and Glimmer.
Marvel grabs what he can from the table and then leaves. He looks mutinous but he still seems to have enough sense not to argue with Gloss, making me reconsider and think that maybe he isn't a total loss after all. Glimmer, however, doesn't move an inch.
"It's time to go, Glimmer," says Gloss, nodding sharply at the door.
"I know I'm only a mere tribute but is your attitude really necessary?" she purrs, almost reminding me of Narissa but for the innocence in her eyes that I doubt the Capitolian woman ever possessed. "It wasn't me who didn't get up on time."
"You'll be late," he replies, his expression unreadable.
"They can't start without me," she says softly as she gets up and walks slowly past him. "Or they won't be able to in a few days anyway."
Gloss closes the door behind them and I immediately turn to Falco. He raises his eyebrows questioningly but says nothing until we both hear the click of the front door closing.
"I don't expect her to forgive me but I would have thought she'd let you try to help her."
"You did nothing wrong. Not on purpose. I told you that," I reply, sighing deeply. "I don't know what to say to her. I want to help her but I don't know how to because she won't talk to me."
"Give her time," he replies, the look in his eyes telling me he knows what I'm thinking before I can say it.
"She might not have time."
"Be there for her. That's all you can do. Or let Gloss be there for her. He seems to be having more luck at getting some kind of response."
His tone of voice tells me instantly that I'm not the only one who's noticed the way my brother looks at Glimmer but I shake my head and say nothing. I'm not ready to start talking about that yet. I'm not sure I'm ready to even start thinking about it. I didn't feel strong enough to confront what's quickly getting harder and harder to deny before the Opening Ceremony and I still don't now.
