Time flies by, I can't even recall getting pulled onto the stage, or the speeches given after the boy is called. It can't be someone I know, because I would've woken me from my stupor at the familiar name. When I do come up from my own little world, I find myself in a little room, where people are bustling around, getting things ready for departure, I suppose. I realize this is my greeting room, where all my loved ones are to say good bye and good luck.
So where is everyone?
Eventually, someone comes in and pulls me onto the train that'll take me to the capitol. I don't question it; what choice do I have, really? I'm still in shock that no one wanted to wish me well in my Games.
I'm plopped down in a lush seat, surrounded by pretty, nice, capitol things. As the TV plays something behind me, I play with the little round, glass thing infront of me, trying to block out what has happened today. I could freak out and cry later, when no one was around and I could be alone. But for now, better to just pretend I'm strong and ready.
A door opens; in walks Mendall, Johanna, and Blight. Johanna doesn't look at me; I've known her all my life, seeing as was a close friend of my mother. She heads straight over to the boy tribute, a young looking boy with light hair and little eyes, and they leave together in whispers. Mendall looks from the now shut door, back to me, and shrugs. He heads over a mirror and begins to primp his afro. We are headed to the capitol, I'm reminded.
"So, hi." Blight stands beside me, looking down, appraising my lithe frame. "Cathrine? Have we met before?"
I shake my head. "You called my Cathrine. Everyone knows me as Birdy."
"Birdy?" A low, booming laugh. "Alright, Birdy it is. So, start spouting facts, will yeah? I can't help if I don't know what I've got."
I suppress a groan; do we have to start now? I hide this with a small smile towards the big man. "I do paperwork at the mill." Blight shakes his head at this. "I'm lightweight, I can hide easily, I'm a good climber, and I'm good in the trees. I'm not a very good runner, and I've never even held anything more lethal than a kitchen knife."
Blight is quiet. He looks me over again, before nodding. "Watch these sorting reruns. Get to know your enemy." And he leaves me alone, only God knows where Mendall had wandered off to. Instead of breaking down, like I desperately want to, I decide to do as I'm told. District 3 is on the screen. Both it and four have their usual strong, evil-looking players. Five and six are only slight intimidating. At seven, I look away, not wanting to see my own reaping, lest I have a heart attack. Mendall wouldn't care for that. Eight and nine don't even worry me, ten and eleven do. Twelve has a volunteer, which worries me more than anything else so far. Then I watch the opening again to see one and two.
And then I start to shiver. I know that District 1 and 2 have the toughest players, but seeing them as your opponent rather than the bad guys is really, really terrifying. They all look happy to volunteer, ready to tear me apart limb from limb. I immediately decide to stay far, far away from these people.
By the time I finish my observation, the train had stopped. Blight comes through the door, and nods, pulling me along into some building. People scream all around me, and I have the good sense to give them a weak smile. I realize now that it's night, and I wonder if the other tributes are all here yet.
I don't take in anything as we head to our room. I focus on putting one foot before the other, and not tripping over anything. No one says anything once we get to the seventh floor, Blight taking my hand and leading me to a room I presume is mine. He leaves me. I stand in the middle, not caring about the amazing projections around me, or the extremely awesome closet to my right. I just sit on the bed and let myself go.
I cry for my family and friends, the relief that I am here and not them. I cry for the fact that none of those I try my hardest to protect came to tell me good bye. I cry for the poor young boy who is my teammate, who will probably die. I cry for myself, because I know I'm going to die. There's no denying that one. I cry and cry and cry, until I'm asleep and crying in my dreams.
-X-
I am woken up, bathed, and moved in a blur. Before I know it, I'm in a strange room and people are plucking at my body and I'm ignoring the pain, because I've pretty much cried myself out. I don't know how long I'm laying on that table with the people doing weird things to me, but eventually they leave and I'm left to breath freely. For a moment.
"Another small one!" A high voice shrieks, and I have to stop myself from covering my ears. A blonde woman with green skin is glaring at me. I assume this is my stylist. She tsks, pulling me off the table and onto my feet, examining me. "I usually get at least one big one! How can I justify dressing two pipsqueaks as strong trees?" She paces, looks at me, and continues grumbling. Then she leaves, with nothing else said.
"Crazy," I mumble, momentarily distracted from my despair. I'm left alone for a while, twiddling my thumbs, before the three people from before are back, and they're dressing me. Considering two are men, I shut away my embarrassment and just grin and bear the pulling at my hair and the placement of fabric on my body. It takes me a minute to realize this isn't a tree costume, but a gray and white fabric, flowy and dancing on me. I don't know what this is supposed to be, but I'm not a damn tree, so it works for me.
Once the minions are done, they offer me a mirror. I refuse, and they seem upset, but they lead me out to a big room full of people and chariots anyway. I see the boy- I found out the morning his name is Renny- and I head his way. He is a tree. Why am I not a tree?
Johanna grins. She slaps the stylist on the back. "That's great. The wind and the tree. Perfect."
"Well, what else was I supposed to do? You can't make a four-foot-ten, ninety pound girl into a tree! She'd just look silly." She walks away, and Renny snorts.
"And she justifies making me a tree? I'm not much bigger than you!" His voice is high pitched and pubescent. He really couldn't be older than fourteen. That worries me almost as much as District 1 and 2.
Then we're ushered onto the wooden cart, and the tributes are being rolled out to the screaming public. The proud, strong Districts before us all get raucous applause. District 2, unsurprisingly, seems to be the favorite this year. Them we begin to roll.
"Ooh, look, here comes the tributes from seven!" The announcer shouts, and the crowd claps politely. No one remembers seven unless they're from seven. "There's Renny Justice, he's thirteen. I hear he's decent with a club. Oh, and Cathrine Reynolds. Such a small girl! One wonders how long she'll last."
'Stupid capitols..' I think, somehow managing to keep a smile and wave.
Twelve causes an uproar. They're on fire, what else would you expect? The crowd freak out completely, and most of the tributes look angry. No doubt they've just stolen all the sponsors. I can't find it in myself to be angry; they look too cool to hate. I have to remember to stay away from them too, though, because they definitely would crush me flat.
The night passes quickly. I don't pay attention to much other than the flaming teens from twelve, and when they are put out, I just drift. Nothing until training is that important, anyway. Blight begins to lead me out of the room. I wish I'd broken the daze earlier, as I run smack into a wall. I blink, look up, and see a handsome face snarling down at me. Okay, not a wall.
"Watch where you're going, meat." The boy from one looks angry, really angry, so I just nod. Not fearfully, not pride fully, just passive enough to where he'll hopefully forget me. Thankfully, he seems to. He turns away, going back to his pretty partner, but as I head out, I feel eyes boring into my back. I don't look.
I pull the elaborate… whatever the hell the did to my hair, out. The night ends with more crying and worries.
-X-
Showered, dressed, and all cried out, I head down to training with Blight. Johanna and Renny will be down after us. Blight squeezes my shoulder lightly.
"Look, you're little. And, well, you didn't look too good at your reaping. You're probably going to targeted for bullying. Ignore the others, focus on teaching yourself something. Something you can lift and kill with, preferably. Don't ignore survival stations, but I think at this point you need some weapon training. Try a bow or some knives." I nod along, and Blight lets go of me as the elevator doors open, and I walk into the training room alone.
I'm finally shaking off the shock of being recruited, I somewhat know what I'm doing as I step into the big, gymnasium like room. A swimming pool is on my left, a track on my right. Different weapon stations are spread out everywhere, and the few survival stations are in the back. Most of the tributes are here, checking out the equipment or the competition. Renny steps in, along with the scary guys from twelve, and we get some speech I don't listen too. Then we're set free. Renny goes straight to the track, and I wander over to the knives.
Bad idea, it seems. All of the high-ranking tributes are in this area. I don't know what else to do, so I pick up a small knife and examine it, wondering what exactly I need to learn to do. Throw it? Fight with it? I have no idea. I toss it from one hand to the other to test the weight, but instead of catching the handle, I get the sharp side. My left hand starts gushing blood from a small wound and I drop the offending piece of metal with distaste. "Well, that didn't work."
Laughter all around me. A lithe, but toned girl steps in front of me to get the knife. She shows it to me, and still chuckling, plants it in the center of a target one hundred meters away. She shows me a toothy, mocking grin.
Deciding to take the high road, I smile back at the now thoroughly confused girl. "Nice shot. Two, right? You're good at this. Me?" I hold up my hand. "Not so much."
The boy from one steps next to the girl. "You're the idiot who ran into me yesterday."
"Yep. I do that sometimes. Sorry." I pull an elastic I'd found in that closet in my room off my wrist and throw my hair into a bun. "So, uh, I'm going to practice…"
"You're not going to get your hand fixed up, meat?" The boy from one comments, a sneer on his face.
I shrug. "It's not bad, but if it doesn't stop bleeding in a few minutes I'll worry. But for now, I need every minute of training I can get!" I let out a little laugh, before picking up a lighter-looking dagger. The two stare. "Uh, you mind?"
"Birdy!" A shout comes from directly behind me, causing me to yelp and let the knife drop, scratching my leg in the process. I turn to find Renny there, grinning guiltily. "Sorry. But shouldn't you go run the track a little? Birds need to fly!" He grabs my hand and drags me away.
"Thank you. So much. You can kill me if you want. God, that was horrible."
Renny laughes. "Yeah, can't let my only ally get eaten before the Games start. Come on, try the bow."
The time before lunch is spent failing at using a bow and arrows. My arms are just too short. At lunch, Renny and I sit with the tributes from eight, who he's befriended and they don't seem eager to kill us, so I'm fine with it. He's got them calling me Birdy already, which is good, because I'm still not really responding to Cathrine. I feel better than I have in days, sitting and joking with these other murderers-in-training.
Once we're sent back into the training room, I go back to the knives. This seems to be my only hope, and most of the mean kids have gone off to do other things, leaving only the blonde from two. He doesn't even notice me as I step up, pick a weapon, and throw. It doesn't even make it to the target. Three more attempts and I get the same result. Huffing, I almost don't notice the same burning gaze on my back as last night. Almost. This time, I turn to see the offender, and I'm shocked to see the boy from two watching me. He looks around, as do I, to find no one is here. Even the people observing from the rooms above are missing. Where in the hell did everyone go?
"You're holding those wrong," he tells me in a low, gruff voice. He's tall, muscular, and mean looking. Blonde hair and tan-ish skin, blue grey eyes, he would be very attractive in another setting. He's suddenly beside me, picking up my reluctant choice of weapon and holding it in his hand. "It's all in the grip." He demonstrates.
I'm quiet for a moment. "Why would you tell me that?"
He's quiet for a moment. "Because caging a little bird is no fun unless it puts up a fight."
He walks away, everyone files back into the room, and I am left, wondering what the hell had just happened. I knew one thing; the boy from two was out for my head, and I needed to figure out what I was doing soon.
