Author's Note:
So this chapter is like... the longest I've ever written for any of my stories. I think that's a bit of an accomplishment, even though it's a pretty lame accomplishment. I've always written chapers really short.
So I'm pretty sure there are still a lot of holes with continuity because my mind somehow is still dwelling on the original versions of chapters that I write. I feel like RIB of Glee. So let me know if you notice any and I'll clean it up.
Enjoy, broskis.
It was the strangest thing. Every time Blaine would turn around, these electric blue eyes were on him. They belonged the boy of District 1—the beautiful one; the menacing one; the one that can penetrate 2 dummies with one spear.
Blaine left training at the end of the day a little uneased by the Career's stares.
"Did you notice anyone staring at you?" He asked Meredith.
She shook her head. "I think everyone was too busy showing off to stare at me," she replied. "Why? Was someone staring at you?"
"Yeah." Blaine subtly nodded to the District 1 boy tribute talking to the other Careers.
Meredith quickly glanced in their direction. "Him?"
"Yeah," Blaine pulled her to the elevators. "Why do you think he's been staring at me?"
"Maybe you're a target…? We are the weakest competitors in their books." She replied.
They entered the open elevator and pushed the button for their floor. The doors closed.
"Or maybe they want you as an ally." Meredith quietly added.
Blaine took in her fallen face. He took her hand. "Don't worry. No matter what, we're sticking together in the arena. I won't let you die."
"Thank you." She smiled and leaned into Blaine's arm.
Misha and Effie met them at the elevators on the 12th floor.
"So how'd it go?" Misha asked.
Blaine and Meredith didn't say anything about the boy with the blue eyes.
"So did you see anyone you want as an ally—well, that is, if you want one." Misha said over dinner.
Meredith looked over at Blaine, who kept eating and ignoring the question… and the thought of the District 1 boy.
Meredith cleared her throat. "District Nine looks okay. The girl was helping me with knives and the boy was learning camouflage… seems innocent enough. Eleven looks sketchy and the rest are definitely not trustworthy." Meredith said, looking over at Blaine again.
"Oh. Well, see what they're all about tomorrow during training. Blaine, what did you see?"
Blaine put down his fork and sighed. "Well, it's hard to pay attention to anyone when someone else is watching your every move."
"Who, dear?" Effie asked. "Who was watching you?"
"More like staring…" Meredith muttered.
"District One's boy." Blaine said.
"A Career?" Misha gasped. "No Career has laid their eyes on us since Seventy-Four."
"Yeah, we know, Peeta. Geez, Mellark. You need to let go of the Seventy-Fourth Games. You're like… obsessed, just cause you're Peeta's blood." Meredith said.
"Hey, I'm trying to get a Twelve a pool of Victors—something to be proud of. Those Games were like a turning point for us, even if the rest of Panem doesn't know it. Everything started with Katniss and Peeta. I just want us to be on top."
"Well, no duh, we all want everyone to stop thinking so lowly of us," Blaine said. "But lets face it. We can't be on top. No matter what any of us do, we'll just be town down; not just us, but all of us—the districts. It doesn't matter if Twelve wins or loses—"
"Blaine, sweetheart, that's enough." Effie calmly growled.
Blaine bit his lip. Effie sat her napkin down on top of her half-empty plate and excsed herself from the table.
"It's time for you to go to bed." Misha said to Meredith. Meredith nodded and left the table.
"You, come with me." She mouthed to Blaine. She grabbed Blaine's shirt collar and pulled him into her room.
She hurled him into the wall. "Did you have ANY idea what you were saying out there? You could have gotten us killed!" She whispered furiously.
"What?"
"This place is bugged! They're listening to everything we all say! Remember that you are in The Capitol! We could be charged for Treason!"
"I'm sorry, but I needed to rebuke! You clearly don't understand perfectly—"
"Oh, I understand. But I can't have you running around yelling about things!" Misha shoved Blaine's shoulders. "Geez, what is with you Everdeens? Always trying to start rebellions and shit…"
"What?"
Misha laughed bitterly. "What do you mean, 'what'?"
Blaine pulled her closer. "What rebellion?"He whispered.
She brought her lips to her ear. "Haymitch Abernathy, along with others were planning to rebel against the Capitol, just like in the dark days. They used Katniss and Peeta to help fuel the spark of the fire—the fire that was to bring down the Capitol, but it all came crashing down after Peeta accidentally swallowed the berries—and Peeta and Katniss didn't even know anything about anything at the time. The Capitol realized that it was happening again. They knew the rebels were using Katniss, so they killed her off in the Quarter Quell and put that stupid statue in the district square. Do you know why it's there?"
"Yeah, of course I do. It's to honor Katniss for being a great inspiration for incoming tributes of future Games because of her courage, endurance, and cleverness."
Misha laughed bitterly again. "Is that what they taught you in school?"
Blaine nodded.
"No, Blaine. It's a double message. It was to remind us that if we try anything like what Katniss did in the arena, we'll end up like her—like District Thirteen. It was also to mock all the rebels. The Capitol is sick, Blaine."
"That's why everyone puts quotations around 'memorial', when they talk about the statue?"
"Yeah. Your mom fell apart when it was brought into the square, or so I heard."
Blaine started shaking his head. "Well, what does that prove? I'm not starting a…a rebellion!"
"Neither was Katniss, but you know what? Your mom told me she was exactly like you when she was your age: muttering things against the Capitol—bad things that'd get you killed, going into the games, not knowing that you can change a nation with one move—even an unconscious move! The Capitol has already been watching you since you were reaped. But whether or not you want it," Misha took Blaine's face into her hands. "Katniss left you and your family a legacy that needs to be fulfilled. You can follow through or ignore everything I just told you. But no matter what, you have to be careful. It takes one spark to light a wild fire." Misha dropped her hands from Blaine's face and backed away.
As Blaine absorbed everything he just heard, he turned to the door.
"Wait," Misha said at Blaine started to turn the door knob. She put her lips to his ear again. "You didn't get to finish your sentence from dinner. Why can't Twelve be on top?"
Blaine sighed. "No matter what, being on top won't change anything, it wouldn't matter. We can't do anything because the Capitol is killing us all off one… by… one."
"So, Mister Kurt Hummel," Ceasar Flickerman said to Kurt, who sat across from him on stage. "I hear you were the mastermind behind the beautiful Opening Ceremony ensembles you and your lovely District One counterpart wore, yes?"
"Yes, I—well, my stylist and I worked very hard on them." Kurt replied with a smile.
"So you design amazing outfits, yet you managed to pull an eleven in training! How can a delicate person like you pull that off?"
"Well, I'm full of suprises."
"Sweet but fierce, I like it! Don't you all like it?" Ceasar gestured to the audience.
The audience let out an appraising roar, just the way Kurt liked it. Quickly, he glanced down at Blaine, the tribute boy from 12, whose name he learned from the training scores. Blaine's hazel eyes stood out from the dark of the audience, like a cat hunting at night. Kurt struggled to to look back up at Ceasar.
"So how do you feel about everything?" Ceasar asked, leaning forward.
"I feel so honored to be here," Kurt said confidently. "Sore, it's a little nerve-racking, but I'm from District One. Being a tribute is something to be proud of back home."
"Really? Wow, I've never heard that before."
Kurt's chest swelled. "Yes, I'm confident that I'm gonna get through this."
"You seem it!"
The three minutes were up.
"Well, Mister Hummel, it was amazing talking to you, and best of luck to you!"
Kurt and Ceasar shook hands. As Kurt dismounted the stage, he glanced at Blaine again and his hazel eyes. They were full of fear.
"Why do you think he's been staring at me?"
"Maybe you're a target."
Meredith was right. Blaine was a target. After Kurt dismounted the stage, Blaine's sweaty palms started shaking. Meredith grabbed a hold of them.
"What's wrong?" She whispered.
"You were right." Blaine whispered back.
"What? About what?"
"I'm a target. We're targets. Didn't you hear him? He's determined to win. And he's been staring at me for the past few days in training. One plus one equals…?"
"Oh, Blaine," Meredith said when Blaine breathing became heavier. She rubbed his hands. "Please stop freaking out. You're worrying about him when there will be twenty-one others to really worry about. And anyways, do you really think that we're gonna make home alive, let alone one of us?"
"Maybe."
"And anyways, you're Vic—" Meredith caught herself. "Nevermind. I don't want to worry you further."
Blaine nodded his head. He knew what she was gonna say. He's Victor Blood. Because of Katniss, the gamemakers are probably gonna take him out. Probably become of the stupid rebellion Misha was talking about the other night.
Blaine finally relaxed and Meredith patted her hands.
Ceasar Flickerman flew through the tribute interviews quickly. Soon enough, it was Blain's turn. Blaine met Meredith at the end of the stage stares as she was getting off the stage. They squeezing each other's hands briefly, and then Blaine mounted the stage.
Ceasar shook his hand and Blaine sat down.
"So, Blaine Anderson of District Twelve—tell us about yourself." Ceasar began.
"What would you like to know?" Blaine asked, leaning back into his seat.
"Well, you scored pretty high for a District Twelve tribute—a ten! What do you do back home?"
"Nothing really. I just help my mom with her patients. She's the district healer. Any weapon skill I have, I probably gained her. I'm like a total dud!"
The audience laugh.
"I'm serious! I'm not at all anywhere near the person the people of my district expect that I am."
"And who might that be?"
"Oh, just an athletic guy who can throw around bullies and shoot bows and arrows like… nevermind." Blaine glanced at Misha, who sat on the platform off the stage with the other mentors and stylists. She nodded her head in approval. She wanted Blaine to "unconsciously" bring up the truth about his family. No one in the Capitol and the rest of Panem (except 12 and Snow) knew of his blood connection with Katniss.
"Like who? We're all dying to know." Ceasae patted Blaine's knee. "Isn't that right, everyone?"
The audience agreed.
"Okay, okay. Everyone thinks that I can wield a bow and arrow because my aunt could." Blaine confessed.
"Who's your aunt?" Ceasar asked.
"Katniss Everdeen."
There was a collective gasp from the audience.
Ceasar was wide-eyed in his chair. "Son, are you serious?"
"Yeah. Even ask Misha Mellark over there." Blaine pointed to Misha.
Still wide-eyed, Ceasar turned to Misha. The audience held their breaths.
"Is it true?" Ceasar asked her.
She stood up from her chair. "It's as true as the fact that I'm Peeta's niece." Everyone knew that Misha was a Mellark.
Ceasar jumped up in excitement. "Oh, oh my!"
The audience went insane with excitement too. Ceasar stood Blaine up as the timer went off. Everyone applauded Blaine.
"Blaine Anderson! So you're the son of Katniss's darling sister, Prim?" Ceasar asked over the audience's roar.
"Sure am!"
"What an honor! You're aunt was one of my favorite victors." Ceasar started shaking Blaine's hand vigorously. He then bowed and gestured Blaine off the stage. All the mentors and stylists on the platform were standing, clapping lazily for Blaine with sour faces.
"Wow, you really are Katniss's blood," Effie said when they got back to the training center. "The Capitol audience is crazy for you as they were for Katniss."
"Everything has to be about Katniss, doesn't it," Blaine said sourly. "It's like Blaine Anderson doesn't even exist. All everyone sees is Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire."
"In the end, it's worth it," Misha said. "You have as much chance of winning as the Careers do. Do you know how many sponsors are lining up at our door step? I mean, it worked for me, being one of the famous star-crossed lovers from District Twelve's niece, and I'm not even Victor Blood! Look where I am now: alive and well, and you can be that too next year, and the year after that, and so on."
"And what about Meredith? You're just gonna leave her in the arena to die, not even gonna try, to give a single thought about it?"
"Blaine, of course we're gonna try to help her too, we—"
Blaine stormed off to his room.
Misha turned to Meredith. "No hard feelings? You understand, right?"
" Yeah, I do." She said sourly and walked off too.
Shoot me a review, please?
Next up: The Games.
