Disclaimer: Hunger Games does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Suzanne Collins, etc.
CHAPTER ONE
the sarcastic rich boy
Trance Arkins, male tribute of District One
As a part of my training – not mandated by my instructors, but rather a task that I've set for myself – I force myself to get up as soon as I wake up, every morning. I wake up around six, early but not obscenely so. I'm usually out of the house by a quarter after, jogging to the training center that my mother has enrolled me in.
It's the best one, actually. Because my mother never does things in halves, even if she doesn't exactly approve of me training. I think she initially thought that it was a phase I would grow out of if she decided to humour me, but, well, I'm eighteen now and I plan to volunteer at the reaping today.
I probably subconsciously sensed that she didn't approve and decided to follow through, just to spite her.
Well, maybe I'm being unfair. My relationship with my mother is pretty good, compared to some of the ones I've seen around town.
But enough about that; I hate gossip, and I'm not about to start spreading it around.
Actually, that's part of the reason why I went into training. My hatred of the District politics. My mother is one of the most prominent citizens of District One – she owns one of the foremost gem-making factories in the city – so naturally everyone wants to know little ol' me.
Especially Wonder Tassel (stupid name, right? I mean, you see a name like that and you think wow, Trance isn't such a bad name), the daughter of the owner of the other big gem-making factory in the city.
Spending even a little bit of time around her makes me want to rip out her vocal chords, I'll be frank.
I'm sitting downstairs (we have a large, two-storey house despite being a family of two), eating my breakfast and musing over the events that have led me here, today. There's no training today, since the reaping day is officially a holiday. In a place where there're volunteers every year, like District One, it is a holiday. In other, less fortunate Districts... Not so much.
"Good morning, Trance," my mother says, sounding a bit more subdued than she usually does. In public, she's very forceful. Around me, she can relax. "Still set on volunteering this year, I suppose?"
I nod, swallowing my mouthful of cereal. "Of course. Wouldn't to put all those years of training to waste, right?" I grin, knowing that, to a rich family like us, putting a kid through training and then having said child not volunteer wouldn't even put a dent in our finances.
"I'd still be proud of you even if you didn't," she responds, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "You know you'll still inherit the factory. And you won't have to marry that Tassel girl, although I know you know that a monopoly over gem-making of that strength would be a force to be reckoned with."
I shrug disinterestedly. "I can still take over the factory when I return from winning the Hunger Games," I point out. I notice that her grip on the cup tightens at this.
"True," she agrees, a bit tersely. My mother is big about taking responsibility for your own choices. I'm an adult now, and if I die in the Hunger Games, well, that's me dealing with the consequences. She's advised me against volunteering quite a bit, so she's leaving it in my hands, now.
Oh, but she's not a hypocrite, or anything. She also knows that it was her decision to put me through training when I first mentioned it. Not to mention that, after she got pregnant with me, instead of getting an abortion like her parents wanted, she decided to give birth to me and raise me on her own.
If there's one thing we have in common, it's our stubborn streak.
"So, any parties or luncheons I can attend with you before the reaping?" I ask, changing the subject. No one has to work today, but social events are still scheduled.
"There's a lunch at the Tassels' house. To celebrate Wonder's birthday."
I make a gagging sound, and my mother hides her smile by taking a sip of her coffee.
"I wasn't planning on attending, but I will if you wish to," she adds delicately. I roll my eyes. I definitely got my sarcasm from her, too. I'm just far more obvious and rude about.
"No thanks," I say. "I'll just catch up on some reading."
"Edible plants, again? Do you want me to quiz you?" she asks, looking up from the file that she was perusing. Even on off days, she's still working.
"That would be great," I agree, secretly grateful that, even if she doesn't approve of my choice, she's still willing to support me. We spend the rest of the morning going over the book – another self-assigned task; it's a topic covered in the training center, but only briefly.
At eleven-thirty, we both go back to our rooms to get dressed for the reapings.
This year's outfit – lovingly picked out by my mom, with minimal input by me (a bit of a compromise, because she doesn't approve of me volunteering, and I don't like letting her pick my clothes): black dress slacks, a white dress shirt, and a dark blue vest to go over said shirt. Apparently it goes with my blue eyes. I mean, people are supposed to dress their best for this, but usually it's not this formal. Ah, well, if it makes her feel better. I don't bother doing anything with my platinum blond hair – it's too long to be spiked up or something without lots of gel, and I don't really care for that look anyway. I add the silver charm bracelet that will double as my token – it's kind of babyish, but my mother gave it to me for my eighth birthday (and a new charm every year), and I can't think of a better token.
I leave before my mother, because she always takes ages to get ready, and I don't want to be caught in line signing in. She insists on me showing her what I look like all dressed up, though. It's like the first day of school all over again.
I still arrive around twelve; the reaping starts at one, so I guess I'm a little bit early. The line is already pretty long, though. I guess it's obvious that the reaping is something kids look forward to.
After about ten minutes waiting, I sign in and head for the eighteen year old section. In the past, the eligible children were separated by age and sex, but for over two hundred years, they've just been separated by age.
Wonder arrives about fifteen minutes later and immediately latches onto my arm, much to my annoyance. Seriously, I'm only ever rude to her; I don't know why she likes me so much. Not to mention, every single boy in our class would gladly go out with her if she said the word. Maybe she wants the gem-making monopoly that my mother goes on about. Except in my mother's case, she's mostly joking. Wonder is completely serious.
"Trance!" she cries, clutching my arm tightly. "I didn't see you at the party!"
"Yeah," I agree. After a pause, where she looks at me expectantly, I flatly add, "I didn't go."
Wonder pouts at me. I notice that several boys are staring in apparent jealousy. Well, marrying Wonder Tassel would guarantee a life of luxury. Too bad I already have that. "Why not, Trance?" she asks sulkily.
Oh, for Snow's sake. "I had better things to do," I reply shortly. I kindly don't add, like jumping off a cliff.
"Well, if you're too shy to propose-"
"-it's definitely not an issue of shyness," I interrupt, feeling a moment of despair as I realize I'm subconsciously mimicking her use of verbal italics. Great.
"-I already had myself made a ring, so you can-"
Fortunately, this train wreck of a conversation is derailed when my sparring partner from the training center shows up.
"Hey, Arkins. There you are. The press at the front of the crowd is getting pretty intense, you might want to move up," Spark interrupts, and I'm so grateful to him that I don't even call him Sparky like I usually do.
"Well, that's my cue. We should not do this again, Wonder. Farewell," I say, hastily extricating my arm and hurrying off with Spark. Wonder is making outraged noises and unpleasant comments about Spark's family – they're near the bottom of the poorer half of the District, but his parents scraped together the money to train him somehow. It shows in the shabby state of his clothes, though.
Spark snickers as we push our way to the front, so that we have a perfect view of the stairs leading up to the stage. "She's like that every year, and it never fails to amuse me," he remarks, smirking.
"Yeah, yeah. Shut it," I order, elbowing him. Hard.
"I hope you're not planning on using moves like that in the Hunger Games," he drawls, acting like nothing happened.
"I hope you're not planning to score a girlfriend with pick up lines like that," I snipe back.
"You're not a girl. I'd actually show respect to a girl that I'm interested in," Spark responds loftily.
I scoff, but don't bother replying as the mayor and our escort, Lettie Knack, take the stage. The crowd quiets as our mayor steps up to the microphone. When it's mostly silent, he begins to tell the story of Panem, the two rebellions that it survived, and then he recites the Treaty of Treason.
Really dry stuff, I must say. Not to mention the mayor's about ninety and his voice is all croaky and weak.
Finally, Lettie takes the mayor's place. She looks relatively normal, apart from the bright purple hair and lips. Oh, and the gold eyes. That's a nice touch.
"Happy Hunger Games, District One!" she cheers, actually bouncing up and down. She really loves the Hunger Games. An overall enthusiastic cheer from the crowd answers her. "Is everyone ready for me to pick this year's lucky tributes!"
Without waiting for a reply, she moves with surprising agility over to the first bowl of names. I don't think I could pull off heels that high, but then, I'm not a girl. "And the female tribute is... Casey Taylor!"
I'm already calling, "I volunteer!" before she finishes reading Casey's last name. I stride up onto the stage, ignoring the annoyed looks of the people around me. They all have one more chance.
"And who are you, cutie?" Lettie asks, and I feel my eyebrow twitch in annoyance. I'm not cute. Boys older than age eight are not cute, and do not appreciate being told they are.
"Trance Arkins," I tell her, smiling. If there's one thing I'm good at faking, it's a smile. I can pretend to be polite for a while... But not long. Smiling, however, is much easier.
Lettie coos over me for a few moments, before moving on to the male reaping bowl. She doesn't even start reading the boy's name before a young girl from the thirteen year old section runs up to the stage. Everyone looks at her like she's a bit stupid, but she just declares, "I volunteer for whoever you drew."
Just like that.
Well, I guess you have to do something drastic to make it up to the stage first from so far away as the thirteen year old section.
"Aren't you eager!" Lettie cheers, directing her to stand beside me. I can see that most of the eighteen year olds at the front are giving this mysterious girl a death glare. "And what's your name, dear?"
"Raelle Dowd," she states, flashing a confident smile at our escort.
"Well, everyone, cheer for District One's lucky tributes: Trance Arkins and Raelle Dowd!" Lettie tells the crowd, as we shake hands, and they do so.
Then we're hustled off to the Justice Building.
My mother is the first visitor the Peacekeepers allow to enter. There are tears in her eyes, which is a bit of a surprise. I can't remember ever seeing her cry before – but she doesn't allow them to fall, so I guess the record's still intact.
"Good luck, Trance," she says. When I open my mouth to answer that I don't need it, she quickly adds, "I know, I know, not necessary. But I wanted to say it anyway." And then she pulls me into a hug.
We're not exactly a huggy family, but today's been pretty weird already, so I just go with it and hug her back. "Thanks, mom," I mutter.
"Now," she continues. "I don't know about the rest of your competition, but that girl doesn't look like much of a threat at all."
"Yeah," I agree, shrugging. "She could be hiding something though, so I'll be keeping an eye on her."
My mother nods. "And you'll join the Career Alliance – won't you?" She sounds a little uncertain, which is to be expected. I'm not exactly a people person. Spark is the only person who could be considered a friend, and I'd say we're more like acquaintances who insult each other a lot.
But I don't need friends, in the arena, I just need allies.
"Of course. It would be stupid not to," I say calmly. "I've got a plan – try not to worry too much."
"Well, I think I saw Spark on my way in, and I'm sure Wonder wants some time with you," my mother says at length, once we spend a minute in silence.
"I'm sure I don't want some time with Wonder," I respond, deadpan. My mother's mouth twitches, but then she frowns at me.
"Now, now. This will be the last time you have to deal with her- when you come back a Victor, you won't have to spend any time with her," my mother teasingly admonishes me. "So... makes a lasting impression."
"Did I hear that right? Did you just tell me to do whatever I want?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.
"Time's up, ma'am," the Peacekeeper says, and we both rise and embrace awkwardly again.
"I'll see you in a few weeks, Trance," she tells me, smiling a little shakily. I don't call her on it, just nod in reply.
Spark's next. We chat about my strategy, and my partner; Spark tells me he's never seen her before, so I assume that Raelle didn't attend the same training center as me.
"Well, later. I have to go watch the young sib's; my parents are working overtime," Spark says, and I say goodbye.
Wonder of wonders (terrible pun intended), Wonder doesn't actually show up to say goodbye. I spend the rest of the hour alone.
I'm a little bit hurt, actually.
Ok, I'm lying, I'm actually glad.
The car ride to the train station doesn't last more than five minutes, during which Raelle and I stare at each other. I'm not sure what to make of her, at this point. Volunteering at such a young age isn't an advantage – sure, she looks like she has some muscle on her, but I'm pretty sure the other Careers will be around my age. Any one of us could overpower her.
So either she has some hidden talent that makes her confident she can win... or she's a naive little girl.
I'll hold back my judgements, at least for now.
There's a whole hoard of Capitol reporters and photographers waiting for us at the train station, of course.
"Smile and wave," Raelle orders through her smile, when she sees that I'm just giving the cameras a cool stare.
Whatever. What does she know, she's thirteen? I raise my hand in a lazy wave, and then we're inside the train, metal doors sliding shut.
We get a feast of a late lunch, during which the five of us – me, Raelle, our mentors and Lettie – make some small talk. Raelle seems to be ignoring me, except I'm ignoring her too, so basically it just ends up with us not talking to each other.
"You're both attractive, so you should play up your good looks," my mentor tells us when we arrive at the Capitol in a few hours. Unlike the higher Districts, we'll be watching the reaping recap from the Training Center rather than on the train to the Capitol.
"Will do," I respond, gazing out the window with a passive interest.
"We're probably the best-looking pair this year," Raelle adds, smiling at me.
"I am pretty good-looking," I agree, smirking back. "But you're not so hard on the eyes yourself," I add, before she can get annoyed with me, again. And she's not, I just can't forget that she's thirteen. Maybe I'm making too big of a deal out of this.
We're hustled off the train by our mentors and whisked away to the Training Center. Now, I'm used to a life of luxury, but the Capitol is a whole other league of extravagance. There's seeing it on television, and then there's seeing it in person.
The two do not compare.
That night, after another extravagant feast for dinner, we all watch the reaping recap. As usual, the pairs from Two, Five and Seven are all Careers. The pair from Thirteen looks interesting, too. The rest don't really catch my eye, but I'm not paying that much attention either.
I'll see them in training, soon enough.
A/N: First reaping done. 23 more to go... I still need a few more tributes (full list in the previous chapter) so if you feel so inclined... Please submit. Via PM. ;)
