Chapter 4 - The Skyscrapers Of The Capitol

As I sat on the bed staring out at the countryside rushing past I finally had peace for the first time in days. Even before the reaping I'd had the stress of the build up – wondering how it would affect mother, what stupid things Stacey would try and do to show her rebellion against the system. The last time I'd been properly at peace had been 6 days ago. The lights had gone out so I'd been sent to go and get some candles – when we didn't have any I'd begun to walk to the nearest shop and had found myself climbing up one of the hills by the coal mines. When I reached the top I'd just sat and stared out at the vast blackness in front of me. With no light it was hard to see how far District 12 stretched, how far the roads wound across the landscape. Up here I could pretend I was the only person in the world. I'd closed my eyes, taken a few deep breaths, and listened to the silence.

Now I had silence, but it was an eerie silence. Everything the Capitol touched was creepily soundproofed, but I had a feeling someone was listening to every word that was being said. Tina had gone to her own room – I'd checked it for anything sharp but she had scowled and said she wasn't a child. It was good to see her finally back, I had seen her around school a few times with Mike and she seemed like a fun, loving girl. Yet another innocent soul that the Games would crush.

Suddenly I heard the sound of a train track clicking – we were transferring to the Capitol rail. Rising to my feet I walked over to the window and then saw the towering structures of the buildings ahead. I had never seen anything so huge. My hill seemed like an anthill compared to this. Feeling a strange excitement rise in my gut I ran back into Tina's room and saw her doing the exact same thing.

"Isn't it amazing?" She asked, smiling for the first time in a long while. I nodded, moving to join her and we watched the magical city slowly draw nearer to us.

As soon as the train stopped it was back to the hustle and bustle of showbiz. Tina and I were escorted through the crowds (these ones hundreds times bigger than the ones that had greeted us outside the District 12 station) like celebrities and then lead into one of the huge towering buildings I had admired upon our arrival. Once we were inside several more scary looking Capitol residents greeted us and gave the instructions that would mark out the rest of our day.

"Welcome tributes!" They exclaimed, obviously not having learnt our names like Effie and Haymitch had. I found myself strangely missing the presence of our two 'mentors' – they had been hustled off to somewhere else and I gathered we would not be meeting again for some time.

"Congratulations on your selection," again with the congratulations. I was pretty sure these idiots would not be so cheerful if they had been selected to fight to the death against 23 other people, "and greetings from the Capitol." Well at least we could agree on that one. We had certainly been greeted. When I had stepped out of the train I had noticed my face on a huge towering screen erected on the side of yet another gigantic building, and thankfully I hadn't looked tired or scared. Just amazed.

"You will now be taken to meet your stylists and to prepare for the presentation ceremony this evening." Oh yes, I had forgotten about this part. All tributes before being forced to kill each other had to be subjected to the trials and tribulations of beautification. Each girl or boy was given a stylist and it was their job to work wonders and make their tribute presentable for the opening presentation ceremony. It was customary viewing in Panem so pretty much everyone I knew would be watching. And everyone I didn't. Whilst some of the tributes already had a good beauty regime, and some of the girls didn't mind being improved aesthetically, the thought of being prodded and poked wasn't exactly my idea of heaven. However, when I was taken away from Tina and lead downstairs to an underground room filled with strange looking women with aprons on, my apprehension turned to straight out fear.

"Don't worry my pretty." One of the ladies said, her face contorted by too much plastic surgery and her skin and eerie blue colour. "We will sort you out in no time." I closed my eyes and hoped to be alive when I resurfaced.

When I opened my eyes I found my lungs were still working. My pupils adjusted to the light and then I realised I was in a brightly lit room with metal walls. I tried to move but found I was strapped to a table, thick metal buckles securing me in place. I was about to begin struggling, when a door I hadn't even noticed opened and a man strode in. I couldn't tell if he was tall or not from the angle I was looking from, but he had dark skin and a curly mop of black hair. More importantly though – he looked human.

"Are you my stylist?" I asked, more hopeful than questioning. The thought of one of those alien ladies deciding upon my outfits was more than I could bear.

"Yes." The man replied, much to my surprise. As he walked over I saw him survey my body – not in a leering way, but simply admiring whatever had been done to it. I couldn't lift my head far up enough to see, but my legs and arms felt tingly and sore like they had been waxed.

"Those ladies certainly worked their magic." He said with a smile.

"What, you mean the aliens?" I replied. I was surprised I could joke, given the situation, but the man obviously found it funny and smiled at me.

"Yes. I guess they look a bit like that." I was about to ask whether I could be released from my confinement when he flicked open one of the buckles and pulled away the strap, as if he had read my mind. When he had removed all of them I immediately sat up and saw that I had indeed been waxed from head to toe. And that I was naked.

"Oh God." Suddenly feeling embarrassed I moved my hands to cover myself and the man laughed.

"Don't worry. I've seen more than enough dicks to last a lifetime." As I blushed harder he handed me a pair of pants and I quickly slipped them on.

"I suppose I should introduce myself." He said, once I was clothed and over my embarrassment. He had kindly looked away as I had dressed and I guessed we were going to get along. "My name is Cinna." Cinna held out his hand and I shook it. It was the first genuine greeting I had received since my name had been drawn.

"I suppose you know my name." I said, managing to add in a bit of sarcasm. Cinna laughed again.

"Yes I do Sam." He replied. "Haymitch was right about you."

"Haymitch?" Not saying anymore Cinna motioned for me to stand and then surveyed my body again.

"Yes. We should have a lot to work with here. Did you have a job in District 12?"

"No." My response was met with a confused frown. "Well, I'm still at school, but I have a brother and sister to look after. I kind of do all the manual labour jobs since my father…" I didn't finish my sentence but Cinna understood.

"That explains the muscle mass." He said to himself, nodding his head. His hands ran across the tops of my arms but again I didn't feel violated. There was nothing threatening about my stylist, considering his employers.

"Yes, we will be able to do lots with you." He continued after a while. "And the people will respond to your looks."

"You make me sound like a piece of meat." I replied, before realising in horror that now that was pretty much what I was. Meat to be slaughtered.

"This is a business my friend." Cinna replied with a sympathetic smile. "But it's looking good for you." Apart from the getting killed part. After handing me some more clothes Cinna told me I was to return to my home building and rest until work began in the evening on my ceremony look.

The home building was perhaps even bigger than the others. With 12 floors each one represented a district. I pressed the 12th button in the elevator and was transported up into what could only be described as the ultimate penthouse suite. The living room was huge – about 5 times the size of my whole house, and housed just about every electrical contraption you could imagine. TVs, running machines, simulators. There was even a huge electronic fish tank placed in the centre – as I walked over to it I noticed not fish inside, but some weird species of turtle that made me jump back when it snapped it's jaws.

"Hey Sam?" Hearing a familiar voice I turned round to see Haymitch sitting in front of yet another huge TV screen. He seemed a little more sober now, but his brow was etched into a deep set frown. "Come here." As I walked over and placed myself down in one of the plush red seats I realised the TV was playing a recap of all of the reapings.

"What's up?" I asked, still noticing his frown. Effie was sitting to my right and Tina had perched herself across from me. For a second I was shocked at how different she looked, and saw her blush when she noticed my gaze.

"There's been a bit of a scandal." Effie finally stated, filling me in.

"A bit of a scandal? The reaping has been fixed!" Now it was my turn to frown. The reaping fixed? What could that mean?

"How did they do that?" I asked. As if on cue, the TV started replaying the ceremonies again and Haymitch simply pointed to the screen.

"Watch."

The reapings were done in order of district from lowest to highest, so District 1 was first. I was amazed at how much grander the stage was that housed the two glass bowls, how the crowd chatted excitedly about who would be chosen instead of silently praying it wouldn't be them. A woman that could have been Effie's high-class sister tottered to the front of the stage and read out the rules again. I blurred the noise and focused on searching the picture, trying to see if anything suspicious was going on. Then the woman picked the first name out of the bowl.

"Rachel Berry." Immediately a lithe dark haired girl jumped up from her seat. Several of her friends squealed, patting her on the shoulder and acting like she had just won a prize. As she walked up the steps I saw the jewels in the star shaped necklace hanging around her slender neck glinting in the sunlight. She greeted the Effie woman with a smile and a handshake and then waved to the crowd. The scene was so unlike the district 12 reaping that it didn't seem like it was actually happening.

"Thank you Rachel. Would anyone like to offer as tribute?" Immediately I realised the scandal. Someone strange must have offered. But amazingly nobody moved. Even the lady seemed surprised.

"Ok, ok… Well onto the boys!" As Rachel walked gracefully to her seat the woman dipped her hand in the next bowl and drew out the final slip.

"Blaine Anderson." Instantly cheers rang out. Haymitch smashed his fist onto the small wooden coffee table that sat between us and the TV and made us all jump.

"FIX! How can the Mayor's son and his cousin be picked by chance!" I still didn't understand his anger until I saw the face of the boy. Short but equally lithe, with broad shoulders and a skin tone exactly the same as Rachel's – they definitely looked related. In fact, Rachel seemed just as pleased over his selection as he was. Clapping hands with the boys surrounding him Blaine was mobbed as he made his way towards the stage, like he was already a celebrity in his own right. When he reached the stage the people cheered again and he held out his arms like he was soaking it in. The distain rose in me like a boiling pan.

"That cocky idiot! He must have been training for the games since he was born!" As Blaine and Rachel exchanged a kiss on the cheek Haymitch ranted and raved, causing Tina to bring her legs up to her chest protectively. To be honest I was just as angry as my mentor. Nobody had the right to celebrate their selection. The opportunity to kill was not a good one.

As we watched the other reapings there was plenty more action to be had. In District 2 a shock volunteering saw Noah Puckerman volunteer to replace the male tribute and join his 'soul mate' Quinn Fabray. The commentators described it as 'an act of true love and sacrifice' – Haymitch pretended to gag and I had to agree with him. In District 3 a boy with a severe walking impairment named Artie Abrams was chosen – the shock rang out across the arena but he put on a brave face and nobody volunteered to replace him. The District 6 reaping saw two equally similar children being chosen, again both with slightly darker skin. Jake and Sunshine held hands as they greeted the crowd – this gesture unlike the arrogance of Blaine and Rachel but instead showing solidarity. The male tribute from District 10 made me shiver with his sheer size but his female counterpart didn't look too happy to be paired with such a brute and District 11 produced two of the youngest tributes. The hollow shock on their faces reminded me of Stacey and for a second I had to look away. Then Effie patted me on the arm and I looked back up to see her excited.

"Look! It's you!" Flicking back to the screen I saw the familiar square of District 12. Tina's meltdown seemed even more disturbing from this angle – I watched her curl her legs up further and bury her face into her knees with shame as she watched, but I understood her reaction. It was probably something most of the tributes had wanted to do. When my name was read out the silence was deafening. My hands held high attempt at sarcasm was hailed by the commentators as 'heroic', and I was beginning to admire my performance, when the cameras suddenly cut to the exchange Stacey and I had shared before I ascended the stairs. As they zoomed in on her dead face I found the tears that hadn't come before suddenly bubbling towards the surface and in one quick movement jumped out of the chair to run across the room.

"Sam!" Tina called out in concern. I ignored her, running until I reached a door and slammed it shut behind me. Suddenly it all flooded out – I dropped to my knees and began sobbing – the sobs that had been silent before now loud and extremely painful. I sobbed until the floor around me was wet with my tears, until my chest hurt and I barely had enough energy to hold myself up anymore.

After a few minutes I heard a knock at the door. I went to shout at them to go away but remembered the sound-proofing rule and so waited with a hung head for them to enter. I had been expecting it to be Tina, so was surprised when I smelt the faint whiff of alcohol.

"The first time you've cried?" Haymitch asked, his voice not directed at my body, but at the window. I glanced up to see him staring out of it. I hadn't realised, but we could see the whole Capitol from here. The sun was beginning to set and I knew it wouldn't be long before the opening ceremony.

"I remember my first time." My mentor continued after I made no reply. "You try so hard to hold it in and then you just feel like it's useless." I still didn't want to say anything but hauled myself to my feet. As Haymitch and I both stared out of the window I felt glad that he wasn't about to tell me to do anything – like he was respecting me as someone who knew what he'd been through.

"All your family…" I asked after a long stretch of silence. My voice was cracked and the sound of it made me hate myself, made me hate everything that had happened up to this point "…did they all die?"

"Every last one of them." Haymitch replied with a sad smile. Suddenly his expression flickered and I realised he was putting on his own act. "Death is something you have to get used to now. You have been chosen to kill – every moral or reason you had before is gone. You are a slave to the Capitol now. And the sooner you realise that, the better." I wanted to say something – ask him the thousand questions that had been brewing in my mind the whole train journey – but before I could get my words out he turned and walked swiftly out of the door.