Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and to everyone who puts spoiler warnings on their fics. I still haven't managed to get hold of Catching Fire, a fact which annoys me greatly. But please - can you keep spoilers out of the summaries? I've read one that goes 'Person X's thoughts on his betrayal. Catching Fire warnings'. Thanks a heap for the spoiler warning - but now, when I read the book and a traitor comes up, the mystery will be spoiled - because I already know person X has done it. Thanks.
And if anyone hasn't realised it yet - Lucas is not an OC, rather he's the crippled boy from District Ten.
Enjoy this chapter
BNTN
After Ren leaves I realise I have to work on my 'hopeless cripple' act. This means that I probably need to start crying, something which I have narrowly avoided doing until now.
It's not hard to get the tears to flow. I focus on my family – mostly Nan, on Ren, on other people I know. I imagine what it will be like to die. I think of their reactions when I come home in a coffin.
The trouble is, once I start crying it's hard to stop. I know I shouldn't be fatalistic. I have exactly one advantage, but it's a big one. Everyone underestimates me. People will look at me and just see the cripple, not see the boy who is determined not to die. They see the stereotype, not the individual.
Usually I hate this. I loath it with a passion. But for once, I'm glad. District Ten is going to get plenty of sympathy votes this year. They look at Kyra and see a twelve year old, not a fourteen year old. They look at me and see a cripple, not a person. And I'm using that to my advantage.
I'm going to do what Johanna Mason from Seven did a few years back. She appeared to be a snivelling baby who couldn't do anything. Everyone thought she wasn't a threat and completely ignored her until there were only a few tributes left. Then she showed her true colours, killed everyone else and won the games.
I just hope no one else has the same idea.
By the time the peacekeepers come to escort me to the train station I've stopped crying. You can see I've been crying, sure, but I'm not going to give the Capitol the satisfaction of watching me break down. I have far too much dignity for that. My way is better – I still look weak, but I manage to salvage some of my ego.
Kyra seems to have had much the same idea I have. She's been crying, you can see that much. Crying but trying to cover it up. Luckily she isn't weeping in front of the cameras. She's trying to be strong. Score one more sponsor for us!
Eventually we make it to the train. That is where I hit my first obstacle.
"Hey you," growls a guard, blocking my way in. "You have a district token, right?"
I nod mutely.
"Is it that stick? Because if it is, you might as well hand it over now. You won't be allowed to take that into the arena."
I shake my head, then realise he's still waiting for an answer.
"No," I say in the smallest voice possible. "No it isn't my district token, sir."
"Well hand it over then." The guard has a sadistic expression on his face. "One item per tribute only."
"But… But then I won't be able to walk." The boy I am pretending to be is about to burst into tears.
The guard is positively gleeful. "Too bad. Hand it over."
Reluctantly, I do. Then I stand there, not moving.
"What are you waiting for?" yells the guard. "Move it!"
Kyra, who has just gotten on the train, turns around to see what all the fuss is about.
The guard gives me a shove and I go flying. My arms windmill and I hop desperately on my left leg, trying to keep balance.
Another guard whispers something to the first one and they guffaw. I hate being the laughing stock of anyone, but I don't see how I can avoid it without blowing my cover and completely ruining my chances.
Well at least this will increase my sympathy points, I think trying to look on the bright side. There's no doubt that all cameras are on me as District Twelve's reaping would have finished about ten minutes ago. And god forbid the audience gets bored.
After what seems like an eternity of standing just outside the train, Kyra grudgingly takes pity on me.
"Come on," she says, "You can use me as a crutch. I'm about the right height, aren't I?"
I nod. And with Kyra's help I finally get on the train. The photographers take a few photos of us standing in the doorway before the doors close behind us and the train takes off with such a rush I am nearly knocked over.
Once I regain my balance Kyra and I stand at the door, staring at District Ten fading from sight in the distance. Some distant part of me admires the speed at which the train moves. I wish I could know how it works.
As the last of the buildings fades away, the enormity of the situation I am in hits me all at once and it takes all my willpower to stop from crying.
When I look back from the window, I realise that the two mentors and Theodora have come into the room with us. There are also several people wearing white tunics watching us silently.
Morgan is the first one to speak.
"We have a while before we arrive at the Capitol. You will be shown to your chambers. I suggest you wash and change your clothes. The rest of the time will be yours to do as you please. A meal will be ready in about an hour and a half. We will discuss things then."
Her voice is perfectly flat and her pale, lined face is completely emotionless. This is what the Hunger Games have done to her. Is this what they will do to me? I am determined that they won't, not if I have any say about it.
One of the people in white gestures to Kyra who with an apologetic smile in my direction follows him. I am left standing in the middle of the train, trying not to put as much weight as possible of my right leg to relieve my left without anybody noticing that crippled boy isn't really so crippled after all.
"Why are you still standing there?" Morgan asks me. "You were just told to go."
Yet again, her voice is eerily emotionless. She isn't even angry at me.
"Sorry, miss." I say, still in my humble little cripple's voice. "But the guards took my stick off me and now I can't move without hurting myself."
"Oh how thoughtless of us!" trills Theodora. "Of course you can't move! I'll make sure you have a proper set of crutches waiting for you when we get to the Capitol!"
She promptly hurries off to make the arrangements, forgetting all about my more urgent need.
"Oh for heavens sake," groans Ando. "Can't these Capitol people do anything themselves?"
Morgan's expression doesn't change but I detect a tiny hint of emotion in her voice as she hisses at him.
"Don't say things like that. Idiot! Do you want to get us both killed?"
Ando looks suitably chastised as he apologises. It's not hard to work out who the senior mentor is in this arrangement.
He pokes his head down a corridor and yells at a white wearing person who is cleaning the floor.
"Hey You! Avox!"
The person looks around. So Avox is his name then. I must remember the face in case I ever need something from the servants. People always respond better when you know their name.
Ando continues. "As you can see, my friend here has a bit of a problem. Can you give him your mop to lean on?"
Avox nods and hands me the mop.
"Thanks," I say.
He doesn't reply. Talk about rude.
"I know it's not much," Ando says. "But it'll have to do for now." He gestures at a servant behind him. "Can you show young Lucas here to his quarters?"
The servant nods and beckons. With the help of my mop, I follow.
My quarters are amazing. Just the bedroom is twice the size of the one I share with Eoin at home. They consist of a humungous bedroom, a changing room and a bathroom. And what a bathroom it is. There isn't just a toilet like I'd expected there to be – there's also a huge shower (labelled with instructions) with an array of different soaps and even several bottles labelled 'Shampoo: for washing hair'. Wow.
I manage to spend about half an hour in the bathroom, trying out all the different soaps and shampoos. What? If the Capitol gave them to us, it's my solemn duty to waste as much as possible. Every little rebellion counts.
Afterwards I fish through the drawers until I find something decent to wear. In this case a pale blue shirt and some black trousers.
Then I prop my mop on the side of the bed and take what will be one of my only opportunities to walk properly. It's more exhausting than it looks, pretending to be more crippled than I am. It's more mental fatigue than physical fatigue. I hate relying on other people to help me. Oh well, if it gives me a better chance of survival I don't mind living through a week of humiliation.
My bed is amazing, I discover. It's really comfortable and soft, a far cry from my threadbare mattress back in District Ten. Unfortunately, thinking of my home district gives me another wave of homesickness. I pull out the carving that Ren gave me and lie there staring at it.
I don't know how long I lie like that, because the next thing I know I'm in the exact same position and someone's knocking on the door.
I get up, grab my mop and limp over to the door. It's Ando.
"Dinner's in five minutes," he says.
I shrug. "I'm ready, so I might as well come now. Can you show me the way?"
He nods and strides off down the corridor, in the opposite direction I came into my room from. I try to keep up, but of course it is a hopeless task. Luckily Ando waits for me at the door, or else I would be hopelessly lost. He pulls the door open and leads me through a room with soft looking padded chairs and a huge television screen. On the opposite end of that room is another door. He pulls it open and holds it out for me, so I'm the first to enter the dinning room.
The first thing I think is wow. I've never seen so much food in my life. In front of me there is a table laden with all sorts of food. I don't recognise most of it but all of the food smalls really good.
Theodora is already there, sitting at the head of the table and waiting impatiently for us. Hang one, isn't guiding the tributes around supposed to be the escort's job? When I ask after Morgan, all I get is that she's off to get Kyra. I take a seat and stare hungrily at the food. When is Kyra going to get here?
The minutes pass slowly. I'm about to ignore Theodora and start eating anyway when Kyra comes into the room from another door, yawning. Morgan is walking behind her with her face wiped clean of emotions.
About time! I think, and nearly say it too, before remembering that this is not the me I want people to think I am. Instead, I wait politely until Kyra and Morgan sit down and Theodora tells us we are allowed to eat. Kyra, I notice, has no such hesitations. Before the rest of us begin to eat she's already half through her first plateful.
The second I taste the food I too begin to eat like there is no tomorrow, much to Theodora's chagrin. She showers us with remarks about our manners throughout each of the many courses, each one more delicious than the last. There goes Morgan's chance of discussing things.
"Well look on the bright side," Ando tells Theodora cheerfully, after she's remarked on our 'disgraceful manners' for what seems like the hundredth time. "They're better than what I was like, by far. You seem to be getting forgetful in your old age."
Morgan gives him the closest thing to a glare she seems capable of mustering and Theodora sticks her nose in the air, retreating into wounded silence for the rest of the meal. I heard somewhere that the one of the worst insults you can give to someone from Capitol is to mention their age. It seems that Ando is extremely tactless, or extremely fearless.
But I think neither. I just get the feeling that he hates the Capitol as much as we do, maybe even more. He probably had one of the narrowest victories ever in Hunger Games history.
I remember Ando's games clearly. After the accident I had nothing to do but watch TV, and since the Hunger Games were in a few weeks I spent that entire time watching recaps. Ando's Games had been just a few years earlier, so they were on pretty often. Getting to the Reaping that year was a nightmare. Mum and Eoin had to carry me the whole way and any sudden movement would send waves of agony through my leg.
Ando's victory was simply decided by whoever was the smartest. The Gamemakers had had a field day with traps, setting the arena in an ancient ruin and the surrounding jungle. Poisonous animals and traps ran abundant. The cornucopia was in the middle of the building and the roof collapsed in on everyone who had stayed around to try to get supplies. One victim became half trapped under the rubble and stayed there, not moving, for days until he died. Out of those that were left, half could not get out of the ruins and died of thirst. Some of the others were killed by the many dangerous animals in the arena. I think there were only two deaths in the entire games where the victim was directly killed by another tribute.
In the end, Ando and his opponent met in the ruins. Ando had been in that particular place earlier and realised what the trap was, luring his opponent out onto some floor which would collapse underneath him, sending him into a pit of snakes. Unfortunately Ando came down with him, and it was just a matter of who got bitten first. Obviously, it wasn't Ando. Even with the Capitol's speedy removal of their victor, it's been rumoured Ando nearly died from the venom injected into him.
That lucky escape probably saved my life and that of my family. Thanks to Ando's victory, we had enough food to keep us alive until Eoin turned twelve nearly a year later.
After finishing off the last course I feel a little queasy and begin to regret not listening to Morgan's advice to take it slowly. It's a small consolation that little Kyra looks worse off than I do, running off to the toilet when she takes a bite of the last course, a humungous brown cake which we are told is called chocolate cake. I manage to find room in my stomach and squeeze down a large slice of the very delicious cake.
Then we go into the room Ando led me through earlier and relax in the armchairs – which are even more comfortable than they look. We watch the replay of the various Reapings, which isn't so good. I become more and more nervous as I watch my competitors.
District One's Reaping is the strangest. A sea of seventeen and eighteen year olds rushes at the stage, with the first boy and girl there declared the tributes. The girl instantly catches my attention with her beauty. She's not going to have any trouble at all getting sponsors.
District Two's Reaping looks normal, other than the fact that a huge boy rushes forward to volunteer with obvious glee. Their female tribute looks almost as brutal as the boy only she doesn't look as glad to have been chosen. Morgan says something about someone always volunteering unless the chosen tribute has been trained and is over sixteen.
The two tributes from District Three relax me a little. They both look even more pathetic than I do. Only they don't have the excuse of having a crippled leg. And I'm pretty sure that neither of them are acting.
District Four is exactly like Two only both the tributes volunteer. Neither of them stick in my memory – they're just your average Career tributes.
The boy from Five looks only slightly less pathetic than those from Three. The girl, on the other hand… She has red hair, a face that resembles a fox and an expression that looks like she's permanently up to something. She'll be one to look out for.
Six, Seven, Eight, Nine. Nothing out of the ordinary here, with all the tributes looking various degrees of pathetic and scared witless. One or two look relatively normal, and the boy from Seven looks like he might constitute a threat. None of the others stick in my memory though.
Then it's District Ten and time for my own Reaping. I've never seen myself acting, and am curious to see if my trick worked. It did. If I wasn't, well… me, I'd think that the boy on stage was a dead man walking. He doesn't look the most pathetic of all the tributes, however, a fact which I am glad for. Excellent. Kyra also does well, scoring almost as high as the boy from Seven on the Patheticness scale. She isn't crying, which is a good thing.
Unfortunately, my happiness comes to a halt when I see District Eleven's female tribute. She's twelve. It's hard to believe that she's even old enough to become a tribute at all. There goes any hope for sympathetic sponsors for Kyra. I might still be able to get some sponsors, but not nearly as much as I'd like. No. No!
I see a glimpse of a boy built as big as the boy from Two before the scene changes to Coal-covered district Twelve. I sit back, waiting for two tributes on par with those from Three.
They never come. First, there's another twelve year old. Like one of them wasn't bad enough! There go any sponsors I might have left. What happens next is even worse. An older girl runs after her, screaming her name. She jumps in front of the girl and volunteers.
The other boy from Twelve is in better shape than most of the others, but I hardly even notice. I am too busy thinking of how our circumstances could have easily been the exact opposite. I could have easily been the younger sibling forced to volunteer for the older one. I am jealous, jealous of a girl who I don't know. Jealous of someone who comes from the one district worse than mine. Because she has the one thing I do not.
An older sibling that loves her.