Upon entering Blossom nimbly directs us each into our own compartments. We're both given our own rooms, and It's not until I'm escorted into mine that I agnise how expensive and jaw-dropping everything looks. Forget about the Justice Building, this is what you'd call luxury. My room is at least twice the size of my one in the orphanage: I have my own large bed, a wide-screened window, and a closet filled with more outfits than I've worn in my entire life.
I go to lie on my bed, basking in the beautifully comfortable silk sheets and resting my head gently on the plush purple pillows. I run my hands up and down the sheets and then stare out the window to my right. Now would be the perfect time to cry if I want to. This train might be fast, but it'll still take about a day until we reach the Capitol. I don't, however. I'm so lost in the extravagance of this room, almost as if I've left all my concerns back in District 9, which really doesn't seem to make any sense.
I decide it best to head to the washroom-one that I don't have to share with ten other girls for the first time in my life-and strip down to take a long warm shower. I've honestly never had a shower before. I mean obviously we clean ourselves, but it's usually out of a large bucket and you have to actually pour the water over yourself. I've certainly never bathed with hot running water and an array of endless shampoos at my disposal.
I step in and turn on the faucet. I hadn't realised the amount of grime and dirt that's been piled up on my skin over all these years. I vigorously scrub myself clean until all that's left is brown water trickling beneath my feet and I step out. I then proceed to choose which clothes to wear. I'm more than happy to get out of the awful teared-up dress I was in during the Reaping. I pick out a simple blue tunic and some black pants. I don't want to feel too different. Besides, pants make me feel much more comfortable anyhow.
For the next few moments, I alternate between drying my hair and staring out of the window-for some reason I can't find myself doing both at the same time. I watch the trees go by as the train zooms past at an unbelievable speed. I find it unbearable to think about anything: about Lila or Jackson, about arriving in the Capitol. I just glare out of the window, letting the forest outside encompass my thoughts.
It isn't until I hear a knock on my door from Blossom calling me to supper that I come back to my senses. I leave the room and once again gawk at the automatic door that opens as I walk through.
Stop acting stupid, Marisole. Ordering myself not to act childish anymore.
I stroll down a narrow hall with various doors on the sides and observe the small chandeliers above swinging silently from the movement of the train.
Eventually, I enter the dining room and find Blossom and Lynne sitting down on a large wooden table with a surplus of food. I take a seat beside Lynne as an attendant pours a pink coloured drink into my cup. I know I promised myself to act reserved, but it's all really too much to take in at once. I'm completely overwhelmed at all the food placed before me. From the large roasted pig in the center, to the hot lamb stew beside me. My stomach can't seem to decide which to stuff myself with first. I become conscious that my eyes must look like boulders because I notice Blossom and Lynne staring at me right as I'm about to take a large bite out of a slice of roast pig.
They must be so used to this-having to never worry about whether or not they'd go hungry, having entire entrees put before them each day. Even though Lynne's from the same place as I am, he must be much more accustomed to this high-class lifestyle, what with his dad's wealth and all. You should see the house he lives in, he's practically neighbors with the Peacekeepers. In their eyes, I must look like some sort of starving, savage animal. But who can blame me? Let's see one of them try living in a torn-down building with never enough to eat. I find this annoys me somewhat so I decide to stuff the entire piece of meat in my mouth and swallow it in one whole bite. I see Blossom turn away, but Lynne's gaze stays focused on me.
"They don't give you much to eat in the orphanage, do they?" he asks, stating the obvious. I'm kind of thrown off by this because, frankly, I'm surprised he even knew I lived in the orphanage.
I glance down at his clothes. He still didn't change them, but I don't see that he'd really need to. "Well, we don't wear suits and fancy watches, if that's what you mean."
"Look, I wasn't trying to make fun of you," says Lynne.
"Then just close your eyes when I'm eating, all right?" I expect him to get worked up, but all he does is go back to eating his food, appearing slightly amused at my behavior. Well, I definitely wasn't trying to be funny.
"Someone's got quite the attitude," says Blossom, taking a sip from her glass of what I assume to be white wine.
"Sorry," I say, using the same tone when speaking to Abatha so that she won't get angry. "This is all a little strange to me"
Blossom lets out a snort. "If you think this is strange wait 'till you get to the Capitol. I know this sounds silly, but even I think it's all a little too much sometimes," she starts twirling the glass in her hands. "This is at least taking it to some sort of moderation."
Well I don't know about moderation, but it's still not what I expected to hear from someone like her.
"Moderation is key, that's what I always say." I hear the voice coming from the other end of the room. Avain is there, leaning on the side of the wall and observing us silently. It's the first time I notice his bright blue eyes, which sort of bear a slight resemblance to my own.
He walks towards us, slightly wobbling as he approaches. You'd think by now he'd figure out how to walk properly with that thing.
He takes a seat beside Blossom and picks out a small pastry from one of the trays.
"So this is what I've got to work with this year." He begins examining us, looking at Lynne and then at me. "Not too bad."
"Aren't you going to tell us what our strategies should be?" I ask.
He points his finger at me. "There, I love it. Persistence. It displays strength, but-ah, save it for the interviews."
"I'm not persistent." I refute.
"Slightly deluded, too. You should work on that, it might just get you killed."
"So when are you gonna tell us something useful?" I ask, growing ever more impatient.
"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. Let's take this one step at a time. Focus on enjoying the food first, we'll get to it." He grabs another pastry and plucks it in his mouth. "But who knows, learning to be a little patient might end up saving your life."
"Or make you lose it," I hear Lynne say under his breath, although Avain didn't seem to catch it.
"How 'bout we start by getting to know each other first, what d'you say?" says Blossom, clasping her hands together.
My mind is too stuck on staring at Avain's scar to really care about answering her question. Everyone is District 9 knows about his Games. We're not used to having victors very often. I still remember the sword that caused it. It must have gone so deep that not even the doctors could fix it. I remember that it was down to him and a boy from District 2. His face was covered in blood and the other boy was missing most of his fingers. Then I remember Avain crawling away in the sand, hoping to reach an axe a few feet in front of him, but not before the boy from 2 managed to chop off his foot… I shake the memory from my head.
Instead of continuing the argument, I alternate between gobbling up the rest of the food on my plate and sipping the belch-inducing pink drink from my glass as Lynne and Blossom converse about life in District 9. Really, I'm in no mood to talk about home, mostly because I find it unbearable to think about those I love. Plus, I'd also hate to trample over their parade with stories of rotting garbage and dead bodies.
"Yeah, my dad used to take me on walks to see the sugarcanes. You could just taste the sweetness in the air," explains Lynne.
"It's so fascinating, I've never seen any of the farms," says Blossom, completely absorbed by Lynne's recount. Yeah, I bet you haven't.
"I mean it's small, but it's got its own little charm, you know," continues Lynne. Oh, I'm sure he knows all about what life there is really like. I keep wanting to blurt out obscenities, but I know that Blossom would think it's inappropriate. Instead, I find that the only way I can remain at the table is by repetitively stabbing my knife into my steak.
"You ought to see it during the summer time," insists Lynne, putting Blossom at the edge of her seat.
"Do tell."
He lets out a loud sigh of awe, but it's enough to get her to intrigued beyond her wits.
My mind is focused on admiring the amount of incisions I've managed to embed into my steak when Blossom grabs ahold of my wrist, shaking me to my senses.
"C'mon, Marisole. You've seen the farms, right? I promised some friends I'd tell them all about it. And now that I've got you two story-tellers..." urges Blossom. She must be confusing me with Lynne because I have been the exact opposite of conversive, but maybe she doesn't bother to acknowledge that we're two seperate people.
"Well-" I'm at a loss for words. I know I can't tell the truth. I then spot Avain. He's been quieter than me, simply staring down at his plate and quietly finishing the rest of his food. I bet he knows what District 9 is really like. I think he lived near the Sheds growing up, but my memory is a little foggy. "-Breathtaking, really. When we're not working we'll go up to the top of a hill and just watch."
"What kind of work?" asks Lynne, who seems genuinely interested.
Once again I have to be prudent in my choice of words. "Mainly keeping the animals out. Plowing if they need extra hands," I venture.
"Keeping the animals out?" he asks, as if surprised people did that. I also notice Blossom's eyes widen in dismay.
"Well… I mean, it's safe. They don't get too close," It's as far from safe as you can imagine and they always come too close.
"They let you weapons, don't they?" asks Avain, who's apparently begun listening in.
"Guns, sometimes. Bows and spears for the most part." I reply, sort of the spot.
He lets out something in between a laugh and a snort. "You any good?"
I look at him with complete puzzlement, as if he's said something ridiculous.
"Well there won't be any guns in the arena. So?" he inquires.
"Bows, but they don't shoot very far," I stammer.
He chuckles "Better than nothing. Better than anyone I've had yet," he says.
I'm sort of taken aback by his comment, but Im actually hoping it makes Lynne jealous. Either way, Avain and I have apparently taken over the entire conversation, because both Blossom and Lynne are silent. It's not like the two of them can add anything, apart from how scenic everything is. I'm also positive Lynne's never picked up a bow to save his life. I'm actually kind of glad because I hope it makes him jealous, knowing that I'll have a significant edge over him in the arena.
An abysmal silence fills the dining room with an air of uncomfort. Thankfully, Blossom suggests we all head into another compartment to watch a recap of the Reapings.
I'll admit I'm both eager, yet daunted to get a good-look at my competition. People in the Capitol will be watching it live, unlike those living in the districts who actually have to attend the Reapings in person and won't be seeing it until later in the afternoon.
The recap begins with District 1 and works its way up until District 12 at the end, showing the female tribute first and then the male. I prepare myself to meet my adversaries, though I'm thrown off by the sheer number of faces I see flicker on the screen. It's no real surprise that both the tributes from 1 and 2 are volunteers, and in addition, they also look incredibly athletic and well-fed. As I said, they've been training for the Games for years in a special academy. In addition, their districts are also far better off than the rest of us, with food never really being an issue for them.
I hear Blossom remark how the menacing-looking girl from 2 has a brother who won three years ago and that it's no wonder she'll be going in as well. Siblings of victors are often purposely reaped as a way of spicing up the betting in the Capitol. There's quite a long list of sibling victors, sometimes winning back-to-back Games in the process.
The next few districts pass and no one particularly catches my eye. But the longer I watch, the thinner and scrawnier the tributes seem to get. It isn't until a fifteen-year-old girl from 7 lunges forwards to volunteer that even the commentators being to get slightly more captivated. District 7 has a good reputation for producing strong tributes; most spend their whole lives swinging axes and climbing trees. They're not as massive or arrogant as those from 1 and 2, but still worth watching out for.
Finally, District 9 comes up on the screen. Lynne and I are shown and I confirm that the rain was only an illusion. I also can't help but grovel at seeing myself on-screen, as if I'm watching someone else. Meanwhile, as we're sitting, attendants constantly refill our glasses and offer us an endless supply of deserts. Unfortunately I'm terrible at refusing, so by the end of it I'm so full I can hardly move. It's almost like they want me to vomit.
Eventually the recap concludes with the national anthem and we're left staring at a black screen.
"You two don't look half bad," points out Avain. He's right, at least compared to some that came after us. The ones from 12, for example, had eyes so hollow you could tell just by looking at them that they probably haven't eaten in days. "I want you both to get a good night's rest. We'll arrive in the Capitol by morning and I need you two to look presentable."
We each follow his instructions and head separately to our rooms.
I don't bother changing my clothes, and instead, curl up in the sheets with the window in my view. In spite of the comfort, it's agonizingly hard to fall asleep. My mind drifts between thoughts of tomorrow and of being back in the orphanage. We'll spend a week in the Capitol, getting dressed and groomed by our stylists until we're eventually thrown into the arena. Back in District 9, most will be enjoying a pleasant sleep, knowing that they'll be safe for another year. I'd be in bed with Lila by now and Abatha would probably come in and check on us to see if we're sleeping.
I wonder how she must be doing? What it must be like to go to bed all alone in that empty room? I remember when I was all alone in there-after the death of my roommate. It's a silence that keeps you up all night, longing for any sort of companionship. Perhaps Abatha will let Jackson join her tonight incase she can't fall asleep on her own, although I doubt it since it's against the rules.
After a while of rolling around in my bed I fixate on an image of Lila and Jackson sitting on the log next to the orchid tree. It's the only thing that calms me down. The last thing I see is Jackson holding the rose in his hands and I fall asleep.
I wake up with no recollection of my dreams, but I'm sweating profusely nonetheless. I look out the window and spot the mountains surrounding the Capitol across the horizon. Fortunately it's still early, meaning that I'll have some time to prepare myself before more cameras are shoved in my face.
I get up and head to the mirror. Even with the shower I had yesterday, my hair is still a mess. I try my best to untangle the knots without yanking too much out. I stare at my face, brushing my eyebrows with my fingers until they're smooth. Personally, I've never taken an interest in maintaining my appearance, at least not like some girls back home. Frankly, most of my time has been occupied in the acquisition of food, and it never seemed to bother Jackson. But Avain's right, if I want to get sponsors I have to look appealing-or at least try. I attempt to let my hair dangle off the side of my shoulder, but I just get frustrated and hope that no one notices my chewed-off nails.
I make my way out of the compartment and arrive again at the dining room. Right as I'm about to approach the door, I catch Lynne's voice coming from inside. I stop in my tracks, glad I haven't tripped the automatic door.
"So a knife would be my best option."
"Assuming of course that you're still alive, but yes," the other voice belongs to none other than Avain.
Well, it appears that my mentor and district partner at talking about strategies, and they seem to have neglected to include me! The voices get more muffled so I carefully approach the door, but I accidentally lean in too close and it slides open, revealing the both of them sitting opposite each other.
Silence envelops the room as I walk in to take a seat near the window nonchalantly, hoping neither of them realise I've been eavesdropping on them.
"Good morning," I say, smiling fictitiously.
They both remain quiet.
"What were you two talking about?" I ask. It's clear that they're going behind my back, and it's so disheartening it's like they're piercing that knife into my flesh. I bet they planned this last night when I was already in bed. They must have purposely woken up early so as to not alert me, knowing I'd be fast asleep and clueless when I wake up.
"Nothing," replies Avain.
"Nothing?" I ask ironically. I can feel the anger brewing inside of me and I'm slightly alarmed at how I'll react because ever since I've set foot on this train my emotions have been increasingly more sporadic.
"He was just giving me some advice," answers Lynne, trying to calm me down. This was his plan for sure. What with last night's dinner conversation and my skill exposed, he must've gotten jealous and done this as a way of staying ahead. At least he has the guts to be honest about it. I expected this from Lynne, but I sure didn't expect it from our mentor who's presumably supposed to be helping the both of us.
"Oh, but when I asked for some yesterday he told me to stuff myself," I retort. I'm mainly yelling at Avain. He clearly seems keen of favoring Lynne over me.
Avain, however, seems unscathed by my yelling, almost like he's used to it. "Lynne was here first. It's not his fault you've been sleeping all morning."
"And you couldn't have woken me up? Aren't you supposed to be helping the both of us!" I snap, unable to contain the volume of my voice.
"Marisole, please. It's too early for this. Just spare me the attitude, alright?" I watch him pick up another pastry from the table. He doesn't even have the audacity to look me in the eye, especially when it's my life that's on the line.
"Come on, Marisole. I'm sorry we didn't wake you, but you don't have to get all worked up," says Lynne.
"I'm not getting worked up," I say defensively. Now I'm angry at the both of them. I've never felt so left out, betrayed. Before either of them can say anything else, I storm out as fast as possible.
I spot Blossom come out from her room, probably woken by all the noise.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asks. Although I do spot some guanine concerned in her words, I ignore her and she makes way for me to pass.
Finally I reach my room and go to lie down on my bed, pulling the sheets up over my head. Now I'm crying, bursting into tears, in fact. It's only when I'm in bed that I consider the possibility that I might have overreacted.
Even if they were going behind me back, my reaction was far too sensitive. I should have been more calculated. Maybe even joked around first, then have found a way to get back at them. I feel ashamed, embarrassed. Mainly, because I've proven to everyone on this train that I have the demeanor of a twelve-year-old. My one advantage of being perceived as tough has vanished and all my credibility with a bow has withered. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop crying because it's baffling to me how every small thing manages to provoke me. Why couldn't I keep it under control?.
Now, I'm crying because I feel homesick. Not because I miss District 9, but because I miss Lila and I want to kiss her goodnight. And I'm crying because I want Jackson to hug me again the way he did in the Justice Building. I wish he were here with me now, he'd know how to make me feel better. But I know that my wish is futile. Yet, here I am: on a train, sobbing and clenching my pillow like there's no tomorrow, and right when we're about to reach the Capitol. Great going, Marisole.
I guess it's not just my mind that's faltering, but it's my emotions as well. I can't help it though. I really don't know how I'm going to make it through this week. I'd rather just get it over with, skip this whole build-up. Although maybe I wouldn't. Honestly, I don't really know what I want anymore.
I lie on my bed weeping until I hear a faint knock on my door.
"It's open," I say coarsely, pulling the sheets off of my head. I quickly wipe tears off my face and try my best to compose myself.
The door opens and Lynne is standing in front of it. "Can I come in?"
I'm initially skeptical. I can't tell what his motives might be. Maybe hoping to rub my naivete in my face, but somehow that seems unlikely. Who knows, he might simply be trying to apologize.
I eventually nod my head and he takes a seat beside me on my bed.
"You know we've never formally met," he says. I apprehensively shake his outstretched arm and spot a silver ring on his left hand that I assume must be his token.
We sit there in an awkward silence. Neither of us knows what to say. Lynne's supposed to be the talkative one, not me. I guess this is as hard for him as it is for me.
Well it ought to be.
"I'm sorry," says Lynne softly. "For making you think I went behind your back."
Think? "Didn't you?" I rebut, retaining my voice. I can't let myself get worked up again.
"What, go behind your back? No, of course not." Maybe he's playing innocent, hoping I'd be dumb enough to buy into it. But there's something in the way he's looking at me, almost disheartened I would suggest something like that, that makes me want to believe him.
I become unsure of what I assume to be the truth; that Avain and Lynne planned to go behind my back while I was asleep. Even saying in my head makes it sound far-fetched. I was with Lynne during the entire train ride. The only time he'd be able to plan this out with Avain would be at night after we both went into our rooms, and I distinctly remember seeing Lynne closing his door. Then I remember Avain's calm exposure. He wouldn't have really done this, would he? What would it do for him? And besides, what did I catch them talking about, knives? It sure doesn't sound like a way of gaining an advantage over someone with a bow and arrow.
I realise that I've completely misjudged Lynne's intentions, and worst, I've completely over-reacted. My face begins to burn up in shame.
"Marisole, I don't know what you might think of me, but I would never do that. Neither would Avain," he says. Now I know I have to apologize, even though I'm terrible at apologies.
"I know. Look, I'm sorry for how I acted. It's just that-"
"I know," he says softly. He must know that I'm using the stress of being put into the Games as an excuse. He must also know that it's a bad one, mostly because he's been reaped too and he certaintly hasn't had a break-down yet. Although, it does offer me some comfort.
"If it makes you feel any better, Avain didn't want to start until you showed up," he explains. Granted, I find that hard to believe, but my perception of reality has not been very reliable of late. "I promise you didn't miss much."
"I should probably go apologize to him. I bet he can't stand me though," I say, dreading the thought of it already.
"I'm sure he's used to it."
"I sure hope he is."
We sit there in silence again.
"So, you really keep the animals out?" he asks, breaking the ice.
"Yeah," I say quietly.
"And it's not dangerous?"
I find it pointless to lie again. "It is. Some get killed, but it's not like they care."
He looks to me in pity and I'm thrown off, because now, I see that he's the one who's ashamed.
"At least they taught you to shoot," he finally remarks.
"Yeah, I guess they did." I look away.
Another uncomfortable silence fills the room when suddenly the windows dim as we enter a tunnel leading into the mountains.
"Looks like we're nearing the Capitol. Here, come on. I bet Blossom's got something for your eyes," he says, motioning for us to leave. I can only imagine how puffy and red they must look by now.
As we make our way down the hall I pull at his sleeve. He stops and turns to me. "Thank you," I whisper. He smiles, but I'm still too reserved to smile back.
"Don't forget to smile when we're leaving," he says. Despite his humility, this rubs me the wrong way for some reason. He's helping me even though we're supposed to be enemies. I remind myself where questioning his motives got me. Why can't I just accept that he's being friendly? A voice in the back of my head responds, because there can only be one winner. It's true, there can only be one winner and the better we get to know each other the harder it will be to kill him. Who knows? maybe that's exactly what he's hoping for.
We arrive back in the dining room with Avain nowhere to be found. Fortunately, Blossom also notices my reddened eyes and offers to cover it up with some sort of powder. After she's finished, I look in the mirror and see that my eyes appear completely recovered. In fact, she's hidden most of my blemishes in the process too. I guess I might have misjudged her as well..
The train begins to slow down as we emerge from the tunnel. Lynne and I both rush towards the windows, astonished at the view of the Capitol. Surrounded by mountains lies the city, with massive skyscrapers and bustling with people. I actually have to look away because the sight of it begins to hurts my eyes. Everything appears to be glowing in the reflection of the sun. The colors are effervescent in their arrays of pink, to blue, to green; even the water seems artificial.
I spot crowds of people gathered around the station, each shoving their way through to catch a glimpse of this year's tributes. It's deafening, with arms extended every which way. I notice Avain exiting behind us, so I just stare forwards. I'll apologize to him later.
Lynne makes his way out front, he's already waving and smiling. I'll give it to him, he knows what he's doing. He's actually starting to make me jealous. So far he's been nothing but collected, whereas I've been nothing but unstable. For all I know, cheering me up might have been more for his benefit than for mine.
I make my way beside him. It takes all my energy to put on a smile and wave affectionately to the crowd. I don't know what game he's playing, but I won't let myself fall behind.
