I wake to a loud bell tone that summons the Avoxes to get up for work every morning. Once it stops, our chambers are filled with silence as we dress for work.
I share a room with three other female Avoxes, one of whom is Shay. She looks troubled as she heads out to make last-minute preparations on the fifth floor, where the District Five tributes will be staying until the Games. She must be thinking of the last Hunger Games, in which both of the tributes she'd been assigned to were killed.
We are not permitted to use the elevators, and our main living quarters are in the musty sub-floor, so I prepare myself to climb the many flights of stairs that lead to the twelfth floor. I'm running late, so I run up most of the way, and by the time I reach my destination my lungs are aching.
I've been told the District Twelve tributes are to arrive around midday, so I double check that all of the rooms are in order as I left them last night before setting the long glass table in the dining space with the gleaming silverware and glasses and embroidered napkins. The rest will be left to the chef, Paolo. He is not an Avox, but he is a good friend of ours and often sends down the best leftovers from Capitol clients' meals when our boss, Philomena, is not around to scold him for it.
With the rest of my time, I clean the floors and make sure there is an adequate supply of cleaning supplies in the maintenance closet, as well as enough towels and other items the tributes, their mentor, and their escort will need. As I close the closet in one of the bathrooms, satisfied with its contents, I hear the elevator ding as it reaches the floor.
The District Twelve tributes have arrived.
I stand by the entrance to the main room, as I've been instructed, to receive any commands that my guests may have.
The escort, Effie Trinket, barely glances at me as she passes by in a flurry of light blue fabric, drawling on about the wonderful view they will have, being on such a high floor. I don't even think the tributes are listening.
The mentor, Haymitch, appears even more inebriated than he did during the reaping, and I catch a strong smell of liquor as he passes by, also without regard to me.
The blond girl, Madge, looks tentatively around the room, her eyes glancing past me before heading down the hall towards her own room. I notice that her eyes are red and swollen.
Gale, the other tribute, barely takes a few steps past the elevator. He takes in the lavish surroundings critically, his eyes landing on me. He turns to Effie, who is lingering by a window, looking out at the bustling Capitol. "What is she just standing there for?" he asks quietly, as if I can't hear him.
She looks over at me, then waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, her. She's an Avox. They're servants, former traitors against the Capitol. They have their tongues cut out, so they're mute. She's here to serve us during our stay."
He looks over at me again, his eyes catching mine after hearing traitors against the Capitol. I remember his rebellious expression at the reaping, and wonder if we have anything in common. I bow my head in respectful greeting, and he looks away.
When the conversation doesn't continue further, Effie says, "Lunch should be served shortly," loud enough for the others to hear her down the hall. Then she adds, to Gale, "Why don't you go see your rooms? They're even better than the ones on the train. And change, maybe? You've been wearing those filthy clothes since the reaping."
Gale skulks down the hall in a huff, without responding to her.
A bit later, I hear a small, high-toned bell ring, indicating it's lunchtime. There's a kitchen on every floor, and I am fortunate enough to have Paolo as the twelfth floor chef. I bring out pitchers filled with beverages to the table first, noticing that Haymitch and Gale are both conspicuously absent. The two women sit beside each other on one side of the long glass table, making polite but awkward conversation, as I bring out the first course.
"See if you can get the other two to come to lunch," Effie instructs me. "I can't get either of them to come out when I call for them."
I nod, then head down the hall. The first closed door I meet is the mentor's chambers. I decide to pass it for now. Chances are he's in a drunken stupor anyway.
The door at the end of the hall is almost all the way closed, but not quite. I knock quietly, and am met with a semi-hostile, "What?"
I push the door open a bit more and find Gale sitting on the bed, scowling. His expression lifts a little when he sees me.
"Sorry. I thought you were Effie again."
I point outside the door. Lunch.
He shakes his head. "I'm not eating with them."
I notice he's cradling one of his hands in the other. The knuckles on his right hand are red, and one of them is split and bleeding, as if he's punched something hard. I take a few steps closer, motioning to his hand.
He looks down at it, as if he'd forgotten. "Oh, that. It's fine."
I walk to the adjoined bathroom and return to him with a bandage, cloth, and healing ointment. I take his hand, and am surprised when he doesn't pull it away. He lets me dab at the blood on his knuckles with the cloth, then spread a bit of the ointment on it. As I press a bandage to his hand, he looks up at me. "Traitor against the Capitol, huh? What'd you do?"
I turn away, returning the ointment to the bathroom and throwing the dirty cloth in a waste bin, then leave the room without another glance at him.
My next hour is consumed with getting a semi-conscious drunk from the bathroom floor into bed and cleaning up the vomit that missed the toilet. It doesn't really bother or disgust me; I've had to deal with worse things as a Capitol servant.
