Author's Note: I'm sorry this took such a long time! All of a sudden midterms are upon me, as well as the sudden acquisition of a social life. However! Next week is the much desired spring break, in which I will do my best to not only update properly, but write a bit back-up chapters, so that if I do miss a week of writing, that week's chapter will already be done, so no updates will be missed.
As a result, however, this chapter might feel a bit shorter or a bit more rushed. If you happen to notice an egregious errors or discontinuities, please let me know so that I may fix them.
Thanks to all the people who added this story to their favorites/alert lists, and thanks so much to everyone who left a review! Your words make me smile and make me want to keep writing.
Chapter 3:
The room Dalton left me in was bigger than my home back in the Seam. It even had a private bathroom and dressing room, which I found excessive- but then again, everything about the Capitol was excessive to me.
I had an hour to kill before dinner. Dalton had explained that I should take a shower and change into some new, finer clothing from the chests of drawers in my room. While I had told him I would to get him to leave, I had no intention of it. The clothes on my back and the lingering layer of coal dust on my skin connected me to District 12, and I wanted to hang on to those connections for as long as I could. Instead, I threw myself onto the overly plush mattress and toyed idly with the feather pendant Olivia had given me.
Looking at it, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had forgotten to tell her something, or that I'd wasted my time with her by arguing. More than anything, the thought that I wouldn't see her tomorrow, hauling a bag of laundry bigger than she was to the Merchant District, smirking at me, drove home the reality of the coming Games. The face that I saw when I closed my mind should've been my mother, or even Hendrick, but all I could see was Olivia.
"Wake up!" Someone said sharply. I blinked my eyes open; I must've fallen asleep, lost in the pillows of the bed. Somehow, the comforter was over my face.
Footsteps indicated that someone was coming closer, then something punched me, or at least attempted to; a pillow protected me from the blow. "I know you're in that cocoon, Haymitch, and if you don't get out of it soon you're not going to have to worry about the Games because Tilla will kill you herself!"
Maysilee, of course.
Somehow, I found my way out of my nest of blankets. "Did I miss dinner?" The question would probably only serve to make her think I was mocking her, but I hadn't eaten anything for hours that day, and the idea of a real meal was one of the few plus sides I could come up with for the whole ordeal; missing one would be pouring salt in the wound of the reaping.
To my surprise, no verbal abuse was lobbied my way. "Yes, you did, but I saved you some, but you have got to get up now otherwise Tilla really will kill you. The recap will be starting in ten minutes, and it's more than mandatory."
"Wonder why you were the one to come get me." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
"Dalton came, but thought you had vanished. Claimed he poked at the bed, but got no reaction, and when he pulled back the comforter a bit he didn't see a thing." She laughed; it was a tense one, but the sound was still surprisingly nice to hear. "You're just so skinny, he didn't believe that you AND all those pillows could be under the sheets. Anyway, Tilla decided not to worry about it, said she'd be speaking to us all after the recap, anyway, and that dinner was just a formality, but when you continued to not show up she got significantly testier. I swear, more thorns showed up in that creepy hair of hers. Finally, she got sick of waiting, and sent me."
Dragging myself over to the mirror, I attempted to flatten my sleep-tousled hair, then decided it simply wasn't worth it. "So, I didn't miss much?"
"On the contrary, you missed learning all about our new… mentor." Maysilee replied, hugging herself. "The woman is made of ice, Haymitch. She couldn't care less about us, only that one of us might win. She even suggested to me and Reed that we take out Lissa early on, to get it out of the way- while Lissa was sitting between us!"
For the first time I turned to look directly at her, my face a mask hiding my outrage at the suggestion. "And what did you say to that?" I asked, quietly, to keep the anger in my voice from breaking free. It was a harsh reality that Lissa would have to die if I was going to live, but I refused to think about that, and refused even more adamantly to be the one to do it.
She smiled coldly. "I said that I'd personally kill the one who kills Lissa, therefore it could never be me to do it."
I patted her on the shoulder absent-mindedly as I came to stand next to her. "We might just be able to agree on that. This Tilla woman is that harsh, then?"
"This was just a half-hour dinner's worth of information." She replied, her eyes on my hand. Then, as if a light bulb had gone on, she suddenly jerked away from me. "Hey! And don't you think my coming to get you means I'm not upset with you for the way you've been acting!"
I waved a hand dismissively at her. "Oh, don't be so upset, sweetheart. It's a favor! Everyone's going to look at you three and think, 'Oh, how noble, they're standing together until the end!', and then look at me, the bastard outcast. No one's going to want to help me, but everyone's going to want to help you, the golden-haired angel of District 12. Maybe if you're lucky the stylist will give you a coal halo as part of your costume."
I thought for a moment she was going to shout back at me, to say something, but instead she just sighed and shook her head. "Is that what you think, really? This is a game for the press?"
"Yes," I shrugged. "What else could it be?"
"Did you ever think it might possibly be genuine? That I really want the four of us to be close?"
"If that's what you want, you're a bigger idiot than even I thought. The odds are, we're all going to die in there; you're just setting yourself up for heartbreak after heartbreak by getting involved with any other tributes." I glanced at the clock on the wall and turned towards the door. "Come on, sweetheart, you're the one that said we're on a timeline, otherwise Dame Thorn will make this all a moot point."
For a minute I thought she wasn't going to follow me as I left the room, but then I heard her voice: "You're going the wrong way. Who's the idiot here again?"
Turning around, I scowled. "Oh, I forgot, you of course know your way all around such fine things as trains. Look, you've even got a bit of finery on for the occasion!" I remarked as I caught up with her, noticing the glint of gold on her dress. Most people from the Seam had never even seen gold; the fact that Maysilee was wearing such a precious material seemed frivolous.
She rolled her eyes at me as a perfectly manicured hand came up to trace the source of the glint, a golden pin with a bird on it. "Oh, stop being so bitter. It's my token. It's not quite so… homey as yours, but I assure you, it's every bit as significant."
"Token, huh? What is that thing, anyway?" If it was her token, it couldn't just be some simple accessory she happened to grab; Maysilee, for all her faults, wasn't so empty-headed as that. She'd at least pick something important to her.
"It's a mockingjay. It's been in my family for a long time- a sort of heirloom." She explained, hooking some of her hair behind her ear as we walked. "I thought it was appropriate. The mockingjay was never supposed to survive, let alone exist. Do you know of them?"
Shrugging, I shook my head. "I don't pay much attention when it comes to birds. Can't say that I do. They descended from mockingbirds, right?"
Smiling, she nodded. "Them and jabberjays, the mutations the Capitol invented to spy on the people. Such a stubborn bird, they were never supposed to even exist, but the jabberyjays refused to die off. I thought, perhaps, it'd serve as a good token, reminding me to be the stubborn one that refuses to just die out quietly because the Capitol tells it to."
"That's… actually pretty smart," I remarked, legitimately impressed. I had no idea that anyone from the Merchant's District, let alone Maysilee Donner, thought like that. The way she spoke about the Capitol, it was as if she hated them just as much as those of us from the Seam did, only she also seemed to refuse to be quiet about it. While I didn't recognize the mockingjay, I was willing to bet that quite a few influential people from the Capitol would, and they would know what message she was sending to them. "I'm impressed."
"That just means ever so much, Haymitch." She laughed, before turning to eye my pendant. "Well, I shared mine. Your turn."
By that time we had finally reached the entryway to the viewing room, where we'd watch the recap. I shrugged, smirking slightly at her. "Looks like you'll have to wait for that story."
"I'll hold you to it," she promised, before turning to face the cluster of people around the television. Tilla stood behind a sofa where Reed and Lissa sat. Poor Lissa looked worn out, and had to be propped up by Reed's shoulder; this was too much for a girl her age. Tilla didn't seem to notice. Her expression was hawkish as her head snapped up to look at the two of us in the doorway.
"Aah, our two stars finally returned." She smiled, a cold, calculating expression that never touched her eyes. "You're the ones who really need to see this. Have to keep your finger on the pulse of the competition and all, you know. Move aside, Lissa, let the two of them sit front and center, there's a dear."
Maysilee and I exchanged glances. I still firmly believed that Tilla didn't like me, but I was disgusted to realize that her disliking me was better than her not caring about me at all. She had already written Lissa off, which mean the girl was going to get no training and no support from her whatsoever.
For the time being, however, it was best not to fight her. I didn't know enough about the woman to act one way or the other, and Maysilee wasn't about to cause undue tension right before the recap. We took our places in silence, with Maysilee next to Reed and me next to Lissa. When Lissa timidly rested her head on my shoulder, I didn't shrug her off.
As the Panem anthem played to signal the start of the recap, I felt a hand grip my shoulder. Tilla's. It had to be her hand, as the nails felt like small thorns digging into me. She spoke softly, leaning down so her mouth was near my ears. "Now pay attention, and figure out who you'll kill first."
Next to me, Maysilee stiffened. She had clearly heard Tilla as well.
"You may be our surrogate mentor," I replied just as softly, "but that's not really my sort of strategy."
She laughed sharply. "A strategy, other than immediate offense? How precious."
For the first time, I was grateful for the recap to begin; it forced Tilla to stop talking. She even relinquished my shoulder and stepped back, away from the sofa of tributes, as if being near us would curse her luck as well.
It was a surreal feeling, watching the people we were about to either kill or be killed by. Each reaping took twice as long as normal, to accommodate the double portion of tributes. The fight to be named tribute in the Career districts was disturbing as always, but this year had a particular twist: right from the start, District 1 set itself apart with flash by naming a pair of fraternal twins tributes, a title they both accepted with unrestrained pride. The girl in particular had a smile like a razor as she ascended the stage. All four tributes from District 2 were seventeen, a clear advantage from the start, and all in peak physical condition. District 4's stand-out was a short-haired girl with a manic gleam to her eyes; she looked like she was capable of doing anything, without thinking twice about it. There was another young girl, from District 6, who couldn't have been much older than Lissa; when she was called, Tilla laughed sharply and announced, "Look at that, a free kill," causing Lissa to tense up next me. The other districts passed in a blur of faces and reactions, some stoic, some emotional wrecks; it was almost impossible to feel anything, because if you allowed yourself to care about any of the faces for even a moment, you would never be able to leave the arena alive.
Finally, a familiar venue flashed onto the screen, accompanied by equally familiar faces. I couldn't speak for Lissa, Reed or Maysilee, but watching myself called felt like some sort of twisted nightmare; it didn't matter what I knew, I just couldn't see the handsome boy on the television screen, with barely brushed hair and cold gray eyes, as anyone but some poor bastard of a tribute. No matter what I knew, the boy on the stage, isolating himself from the offer of camaraderie that the dark-haired boy that both was and was not Reed extended, could not be me. The golden-haired girl firmly holding the hands of her surrounding tributes, eyes burning into the camera, refusing to look away, could not be Maysilee, and that little girl clinging to her hand, determined not to cry, couldn't be Lissa. It was some cruel joke.
It had to be a cruel joke, because Tilla Bloom was laughing at it.
"Oh, how darling, how absolutely precious you three are!" She's jeering, gesturing at the miniature not-Maysilee, not-Reed, and not-Lissa on the screen. "Holding hands like you're singing a song or playing a game in the schoolyard, because that certainly won't get you killed in a heartbeat."
"Just what are you trying to do?" Maysilee shouts, leaping up from the sofa. "What kind of mentor are you, that you just point and laugh?"
"She's right!" Reed adds, glaring at her over his shoulder. "It's your job to keep us alive, not use us for some sort of sick comedy show."
Tilla smirks, clasping her hands together in front of her in a flash of blood-red nailpolish. "Oh, but my dears. You've already done yourselves in! Well, at least you have," she amends, gesturing towards Reed and Lissa. "Darling Maysilee here, well, she showed some genuine thought in her little gesture, yes, but it'll only serve to mark the two of you as targets- can't let the smart one amass an allied army, now, can we?" Then, turning her eyes on me, she smiled even wider. "You'll notice this brilliant boy wanted not a thing to do with it. By cutting himself off from you lot, he's making sure he doesn't have to give a care about anything but himself, and isn't that just so smart of him to do so? No one will even think twice about him as a lone player until the last few stragglers fumble about for the final kills, so while the alliances are busy butchering one another into bite-sized chunks, he can scamper off and bide his time. Cowardly, but effective. Am I wrong?"
"Well, thank all that's bright and beautiful in the world that the Capitol sent you for us," I scowled, rolling my eyes. "I never would've thought up that brilliant plan without your expert mentoring. How can you think of such things?"
Everything she had said was painfully accurate, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing it.
Laughing, Tilla shrugged. "I just need a victor, my dear. A real victor, something to be proud of… or, at least, something I can use as evidence of my talents. Because, as much as I love to feel appreciated, my aspirations are so much greater than playing at strategies with a pack of unlucky, unwashed and unfed urchins." She turned on her heel. "I'd never ask you to like me, or thank me. All I want is for one of you to simply not die. Should any of you want to talk strategy, come find me. Otherwise, go scrape the coal dust from under your nails and don't get in my sight."
The four of us watched her go in silence. As soon as she had left, however, Maysilee let out a strangled noise and hurled a shoe at the door she had just passed through.
"The… the nerve of her!" She gasped, enraged. "The things she was insinuating, the games she's playing, I… I just cannot believe it!"
Reed and I exchanged a quick glance.
"Hey-" Reed attempted to calm her down, but was silenced by a gesture of her hand.
"No. No, I cannot and will not deal with this. Not right now. I'm going back to my room, and I'm just going to think, as clearly I can't rely on that woman to help me."
I shrugged. "Suit yourself. Sounds like a good plan. I kind of fancy a good nap in that cloud of a bed. The white sheets really bring out the color of the coal dust under my nails." Next to me, Lissa giggled. I fluttered my nails at her. "Don't you think it's a becoming color? There's so much depth to it, Tilla just doesn't understand true taste."
Both Lissa and Reed laughed at that. Even Maysilee calmed down in her fuming just long enough to roll her eyes and smile.
What was I doing, making them laugh? Abruptly, I realized I had let them begin to encroach on my emotions, had given them an opening in my armor. Standing up, I stretched my arms back. "Well, it's late now, and I've no plans of thinking. I'm going to go pass out instead. You guys do the thinking- I'm the sneaky, cowardly bastard, remember?"
"I don't think you're cowardly," Lissa said softly. It was the first thing she had said to any of us since her name had been called.
"Well. That makes one of us. To prove it, watch me run away."
Before any one of them could say a thing more, I rushed for the door and the relative safety of the hallway, away from Lissa's soft voice, Reed's desperate eyes, and Maysilee's determined expression. I had to isolate myself from them, had to forget they existed as anything other than obstacles in the way of my very survival.
I had to keep myself from caring about them.
