Chapter 2
Hellos, Goodbyes, and Solemn Train Rides
Tribute List:
District 1
Name: Velvet Dover
Gender: F
Age: 16
Weapon: spear
Name: Glass Renshaw
Gender: M
Age: 18
Weapon: sword
District 2
Name: Astrid Modesto
Gender: F
Age: 14
Weapon: knife, spear
Name: Caliber Bromley
Gender: M
Age: 18
Weapon: pickax
District 3
Name: Luster Fritz
Gender: F
Age: 12
Weapon: electricity
Name: Spark Orsino
Gender: M
Age: 13
Weapon: slingshot, wire
District 4
Name: River Ainsley
Gender: F
Age: 16
Weapon: knife, traps
Name: Cas Ludwig
Gender: M
Age: 16
Weapon: hooks, knife, trident
District 5
Name: Magdalena Vorous
Gender: F
Age: 17
Weapon: Knife
Name: Quinton Millhouse
Gender: M
Age: 15
Weapon: dagger saw
District 6
Name: Aurelia Orestes
Gender: F
Age: 14
Weapon: N/A
Name: Phineas Laird
Gender: M
Age: 12
Weapon: N/A
District 7
Name: Hope Moran
Gender: F
Age: 15
Weapon: Ax
Name: Cedar Prektor
Gender: M
Age: 17
Weapon: spear, knife
District 8
Name: Gracia Weeder
Gender: F
Age: 13
Weapon: chakram
Name: Dion Eastwell
Gender: M
Age: 17
Weapon: pickax, saw
District 9
Name: Isabel Oakley
Gender: F
Age: 15
Weapon: N/A
Name: Mathias Charter
Gender: M
Age: 16
Weapon: rope, knife
District 10
Name: Chrysanthemum Gray
Gender: F
Age: 17
Weapon: whip, knife, ax
Name: Bo Mullan
Gender: M
Age: 15
Weapon: N/A
District 11
Name: Tangerine Wythe
Gender: F
Age: 18
Weapon: rocks
Name: Cadmus Wythe
Gender: M
Age: 15
Weapon: rock, knife, hands
District 12
Name: Lilly Arkin
Gender: F
Age: 17
Weapon: dagger
Name: Rocco Fields
Gender: M
Age: 18
Weapon: bow and arrow
The room in the justice building the peacekeepers left me in is small and damp with salty air, with one tiny window and a chair with the seat broken out of it. I can hear their voices through gap in the door, and tidbits of their hushed conversation leak out. I urge myself not to pay attention but the curiosity is killing me,
"-should've pre-reaped the girl too-"
"-lucky, he'll die in the bloodbath."
"-my son works with him on the docks-says he's tough-"
"-talk to the game makers-"
Quite a discouraging lot, they are. I'd like to think I have a chance in the games but I gotta be realistic: a District 4 tribute hasn't won in eight years. And that winner is seriously mentally damaged, I think.
I lean on the windowsill and loom out at the nearly empty square; citizens have gone home now to do whatever it is they do on their days off. I wish I could be with them.
The voices stop outside and the door creaks open, heavy footsteps entering.
"One hour," the peacekeeper says irritably.
I turn and my mother's there, throwing her arms around my waist. Seeing as I'm a full two heads taller than her. I hug her back loosely.
"Come home to us, Cas. Please, come home. I can't lose you too." She begins to sob and it takes all I have to not sob with her. This reminds me of when my father left to go on the run, that sinking feeling of knowing we might never see him again. I'll be expected to be a career, no doubt about that, but I refuse to be a part of them. I've seen them kill one of their own without hesitation. I'd be better off hanging upside down over a shark in a cage.
Markus pries my mother off of me and takes her place, except he's all business. Eyes latched onto mine, he places his hands on my shoulders. "You know why you're here right?" he whispers, barely moving his lips.
I nod slowly, eyeing the peacekeeper guarding the door. I randomly wonder if anyone has ever tried to run out of here.
He nods briefly. "Don't let them get to you. They're going to try to kill you in every possible way; keep a look out. Don't ally up-especially not with River or the Careers. That risks more lives-theirs along with yours." Don't the games risk lives anyways? "Get whatever weapons you can. Kill if it saves your life-" I cringe; I can't imagine killing another person. "-Do anything in your power to win, okay? You can do this, Cas."
I swallow and nod again, looking away over his shoulder. He hesitates, like he has something else to say, then pats my shoulder. I'm oath-bound to this now. I can't disappoint them. I don't even want to think of what would happen if I didn't come home. What if I do die in the games? What if my death doesn't satisfy the game makers? Cecilia would be next. Perhaps even Gus. I can't let my younger siblings fall prey to the capitol too because I failed.
I slide to the floor and Cecilia and Gus climb in next to me. I squeeze Gus' shoulders like I used to when he was three and afraid of thunderstorms. Cecilia latches on to my arm and I feel her fingernails dig into my forearm. They don't say anything, which I'm grateful for. I don't want to explain to them that I might not be coming back.
My mother sits down next to Cecilia and strokes her hair. She takes my hand like she would if I was five and we were crossing the street. Markus leans against the far wall, keeping his distance like always. He changed when dad left. He turned cold, always down to business and never the goofy, carefree older brother I remember from when I was a kid.
The silence is agonizing, deafening really, but I can't think of a single thing to say.
The peacekeeper returns a while later, impatiently shooing my family out. My mother squeezes my hand. "Goodbye, Cas. Remember you have a mother that will always be proud of you no matter what happens."
I smile feebly. Why would she be proud if I died? I sure wouldn't.
Gus tears away from her and clashes into me, his face wet. "Don't go."
I try to pry him off and the peacekeeper shoots me angered look. What, are they on a time schedule? "I have to go," I say blandly, hating myself for my own words. I have to go echoes inside my head and opens a door to a whole new idea.
The peacekeeper pulls Gus off me of and Gus' fingers nearly rip a hole in my shirt. "I'll be okay, Gus. Take care of mom and Cecilia, okay? And stay out of my stuff."
I regret my words instantly because it just makes him cry harder. I hear his cries until they fade down the hall.
Two more peacekeepers come in and take my arms, leading me down the hall at a pace my legs find hard to keep up with. I try to shake them off. "I can walk myself you know. It's what legs are for," I snap. The peacekeeper on my right laughs, a boom that echoes inside of his white helmet. He tightens his hold on my bicep and I feel my fingers start to numb. Evidently they think I won't need my blood supply.
I clench my jaw and make it an effort for them to pull me forward. If I'm going down, I'm not going down without a fight.
The peacekeepers throw me into the train, the dining car to be exact. I rub my bicep, thinking of the bruises I'll find there later. The dining car is decorated in blues, greens, and whites, with big sea green chairs and a birch wood table. A mural of sea life stretches over one wall, while the other is lined with tall windows. A fireplace takes up the back, a gold-framed mirror hanging above.
River sits in one of the chairs, her purple dress spilling over the edge of the chair and hiding her legs. I've never met her, just seen her in the halls at school and occasionally on the docks.
She looks up from her hands, as if she sensed me examining her, and watches me closely as I lower into the squishy chair across from her. The cushion sinks under me and she laughs at my expression.
"Cas Ludwig." She leans forward, unsmiling, gray eyes glinting. "Want to be allies?"
I cock a brow at her and place my elbows on my knees. "I don't want to be a part of the Careers, River. Not," I add, "That it wouldn't be fun allying with you." I can't believe I just said that.
She smirks. "I didn't say we had to be. And I can't imagine how it would be fun."
I shrug, and Markus' words ricochet across my mind. "Actually, now that I think about, I don't want to be allies with you either." River seems like the type that likes cynicism, so I'm going to shoot it right back at her. Bad tactic, I know, because it will just give her another good reason to murder me in the arena. But it keeps her safe.
She looks mildly hurt. "What are you going to do, go off alone?"
I consider this, staring at the bowl of colorful fruit on the table between us. I realize I haven't eaten anything since yesterday. "That's exactly what I plan to do." I think about telling her about my issue with the game maker's vengeance on me, but I don't. That might just endanger her even more. And what if she tells somebody else? Then I'm a goner for sure.
I take a green apple and bite into it, sweet juice filling my mouth. River continues to scold me with her eyes. I can already see her as a Career. She's got the personality.
I'm about to ask her if she has any plans when the door opens with a whoosh, and Jezebel, wearing an even more hideous dress, strolls in, followed by our deranged mentor.
Gabriel O' Dell.
I was only eight when he won his games, the first Quarter Quell, but he looks exactly as I remember him, with a few changes give or take. Tall, with sun browned skin, close-cropped brown skin and a 5 o'clock shadow. He has on black trousers and a wrinkled tan tunic with the collar unlaced. He scowls when he sees us. If I remember right, he won by chopping off the head of the boy from 8.
Jezebel smiles broadly, the thick powder on her face cracking. "Children, children, are we getting along?" she places her hands on my shoulders and it sends a creepy shiver down my spine. I stand to face her.
"We don't need to get along," I say. She pales but that stupid smile remains on her face.
"Oh, leave them alone, Jez. They don't have much time left to strategize, you know." Gabriel laughs at his own joke and collapses in the chair next to River. He throws an affectionate smile at her and she rolls her eyes.
"Gabriel, for the last time, do not call me Jez. It's…inappropriate."
River and I laugh and she glares at us. Gabriel smirks. "You said that last time."
Dinner comes in courses, which is apparently how they eat in the capitol. A runny soup filled with long noodles and celery, the green tinted rolls that are special to our District, cheese that tastes faintly like spoiled milk, oysters and steamed baked potatoes, even a cherry pie. Jezebel keeps urging us to drink this black tea that supposed to be strengthening, but I think it tastes like watered down sand. I barely eat any of the soup, and the rolls don't taste like they should. The cherry pie is so unlike anything I've ever had I take two slices. Gabriel makes smart remarks throughout the meal, and I notice he doesn't even touch his heaping plate of food. River only eats the oysters. She tries to get me to try them but I refuse. Last time I had oysters I puked all over Markus.
We go to a different car to watch the recap of the reapings. A long, bright blue couch takes up most of the space, and Gabriel slumps on the farthest end, examining his fingernails. I try to remember the games last year, any memory of him helping the tributes, but I remember nothing. I consider asking him if he knows about any of the game makers' plans for me. I need to know what I'm up against; he reapings only cover a little of that.
I need to win.
"When are we going to get to the Capitol?" I ask, staring at the back of Jezebel's pink clad head.
"In the morning," she answers without looking at me. River gives me an odd look and I sit as far away from her as I can.
We watch the other reapings, starting with District 1. Names run through one ear and out the other, but some definitely stand out. A broad boy from District 1 steps forward to volunteer for a crippled boy. The District 3 tributes are just kids, barely thirteen. Our District is next, and I watch River wind through the crowd to the stage, her dress fluttering behind her, and I hesitantly look away as I watch myself quietly make my way to the stage, shoulders set, face grim. The boy from District 7 looks like a lumberjack, and the girl from District 10, Chrysanthemum something, is both gorgeous and deadly. I could tell by her posture. The District 11 tributes are brother and sister, which is horrible really, and the boy from District 12- Paco? Rocco?- I make a mental note to not mess with. They cut to the anthem and Gabriel snorts as the program ends.
"They get smaller and stupider every year," he mumbles.
"Then why don't you try to help us so you won't have to watch this every year?" River asks unexpectedly.
Gabriel doesn't answer her.
Jezebel fixes her bright pink wig, staring at Gabriel like he just told her she was going into the arena. "Your mentor has mental issues."
"Obviously," I mutter.
She glares at me. "Don't be so quick to comment, Mr. Ludwig. He gives you advice, lines up any sponsors, and presents any gifts being given to you. He might as well be the one to decide if you live or die!"
Her mouth thins to a tight line and River catches my eye. I look Gabriel, who just wears a smirk and files his nails with the edge of one of the butter knives from dinner. Jezebel huffs and sinks back into the couch, and her wig is knocked forward so it covers her eyes. She shoves it back irritably. River catches my eye again and raises her eyebrows expectantly.
I get it then. Gabriel is no real help to us, and Jezebel won't be able to do much once we're in the arena. Going against Markus' advice I nod at her.
I've just become allies with River Ainsley.