Alright, I still don't own the Hunger Games (Duuuuh).
And my apologies to DEDEBUG9, I'm sorry I blew up at you.
This one's a little dark later, I'm just warning you.
OH YEAH I'm working on another fanfic about the guy from District Three. I haven't posted it yet, but look for it soon.
I go back to my room cheerfully, and sit down on the nice bed. One of those creepy silent attendants comes in, probably to make my bed, but then scurries away when she realizes that I'm in the room. That's fine by me.
I let my hair down, something I barely ever do because of it's potential to strangle me in a thick, fiery, rope, and lay down. I wonder what score I'll get. I didn't do anything super fancy, just a little trick to show them that I can live up to my Foxlike looks. Maybe I'll get a six. You know, training isn't half bad, and neither is the Capitol, really. I could like this experience if I wasn't being trained for the Hunger Games.
And that reminds me. The interviews are soon, the day after tomorrow. I remember the first night I met Michael, on the train, when he described me as "the first ever Hunger Games fox". Without thinking, I touch the ring on my finger.
Interviews mean having to wear one of The Hipster's creations. I wonder what he'll dress me in this time. Geek glasses and a white button down? A fake fox-fur dress? The possibilities are endless and I don't want to think of them. My room starts to feel a little depressing, so I step into the hall and sit out there. One of the silent attendants hands me a book. I don't have the heart to tell her that I can't read.
What? I can't read, so what? The way schooling works in District Five is like that. In Kindergarten you choose whether you want to follow science, mutations, or other works. The Science students are taught how to read and write and learn everything there is to know about science. The Other Works kids are taught shop keeping and things like that. The Mutations kids are taught about DNA and animals and numbers and things like that. I decided on Mutations. They never taught us to read.
I soon get bored sitting around so I get into the elevator to go somewhere. There are a few floors at the very top of the building for the tributes to hang around in. But my fingers linger not on those room floors, but on the very top number. I've never been there. I want to know what it is.
The elevator moves quickly upwards. Before the Games, I'd never ridden on an elevator, and when I did for the first time, I'm not going to lie; I got a little motion sick. But now I'm actually pretty used to it, maybe I even enjoy riding elevators a little bit.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step out. This floor is nothing, just a small little room with a heavy metal door set in the yellowish wall. I open the door and immediately feel a breeze wave through my thick half-curls.
I step out onto what must be the roof. It looks amazing from up here. I can see everything! There are bright lights and bright buildings even though it's only four PM and everything is just so amazing.
"Lovely, isn't it?" says a voice behind me. I turn quickly, and see a boy there, maybe a year older than me. I recognize him as the one from District Seven. I don't know his name, so I just stare at him, my curls blowing in the breeze.
Then I realize he's waiting for an answer. "Yes." I silently curse myself for saying such a stupid answer. How did this guy sneak up behind me, anyway? I've got the best hearing anywhere. Or maybe I don't.
He smiles at me, amused, and then steps so he's leaning on the railing, next to me. "I'm Josh, by the way." I look up at him. He doesn't look like he's trying to flirt, just trying to make an ally for the Games. Little does he know, Amber the Fox works alone. But he doesn't need to know that. I can have a friend for a few days.
"Amber," Is all I say. Then, something causes me to say, "Do you think you're ready? For the Games, I mean?" One look at his face tells me that this was the wrong thing to say.
"I don't think I was ever ready, personally." He says quietly, not looking at me, "But we all have to do this, since we all got reaped, anyway."
"I know what you mean." I say truthfully, or so I think.
"Do you? Are you the oldest of five siblings that rely on you for almost everything? Are you the only thing that keeps your best friend from killing himself? Are you eighteen, almost out of the Hunger Game's grasp? Are you about to propose to the girl you love?" He asks, shouting by the end.
My voice sounds hollow as I try to make a joke. "I don't fall in love with girls very easily."
He doesn't laugh or even look at me, so instead I say, "But I am engaged." I look down at my ring yet again.
He finally looks at me. "So you know how it feels to know that you have to win, but there's so much in your way?" He asks me, in a tone I can't place.
I look directly in his dark brown eyes with what I hope is a steely gaze, and I say directly to him, "I don't think, if you really want it, that there's anything in your way." Then I turn on my heels and get in the elevator to press the big number Five when he holds the door open and slips in. His dark hair partially hides the light brown skin of his face, but I can see a tear tracking its way down his cheek. He presses the Seven button and the doors slide shut.
"Excited to find out your training score?" He asks, like we hadn't just been discussing our own possible deaths.
"I don't know, really. I have no clue of what it'll be." I say with a laugh.
"Well, I'm not. I don't think I impressed them very much." He replies. I'm itching to know what he did for them, but I think that would be a weird question.
But I had no need for that, because he answered my question himself. "They didn't look very impressed with me lobbing the head off a couple dummies with an axe." Of course he uses an axe, he's from District Seven, all about trees and lumber.
"At least you know how to use some sort of weapon!" I exclaim. He looks at me funny, like he can't believe I don't know how to use a weapon. "What?" I ask him.
"Sorry, you just look like… somebody who could bust a head using just about anything, really." His face has two spots of red that are growing quickly.
"Huh." I say, as the doors open on floor 7. He gets out of the elevator.
"See you at the interviews, I guess." He says.
"Yeah." I nod at him, and the doors glide closed.
I sigh. All these people, all the wonderful kids I could be great friends with, are going to be tossed into an arena with me with one instruction: kill all the others.
And I'm going to have to win.
As I walk into the dining room on our floor, Ladilla, Tommy, Michael, and Tommy's mentor are all clustered around the TV. The training scores are on.
"Amber! You've already missed District One and Two! Get over here!" Michael hisses at me. I hop over to the small couch just as the boy from District Three's score, 5, fizzles away and the girl's score is on. She gets a 3.
The District four boy and girl both get 6's. Then, Tommy shows with a four, and then a picture of me with a big shiny eight below me. An eight! This causes me to not see District six, again. I wince.
Then the picture of District Seven's boy, Josh, flashes with a seven. Good for him. Then the picture of his District Partner shows up with a five. They are pretty generic pictures of us, but it makes everyone look better than they actually look in real life.
District eight is pretty good, but neither tribute ever struck me as unique, and now their training scores are both sixes.
District nine gets a 3 and a 2, which is pretty sad, but District ten isn't too much better. But then the District Eleven tributes, the huge boy and the teensy girl, they both get big eights. That tiny girl, winning an eight! And then there's District Twelve, with an eight for the boy (I'm tying with so many people it's sad) and a freaking eleven for the girl! But she's a small thing, what could she possibly do to get that eleven? I'll keep an eye out for her. Then the anthem plays, and the screen goes dark.
Nobody says anything for a while, and then Ladilla claps her hands and shouts, "Wow! An eight! Good job Amber and Tommy!" Neither of us mentions that Tommy actually got a four.
Michael stands up. "Yes, yes. Congratulations. I will see you all tomorrow. Amber, be ready to be taught on interview basics!" I hate that guy.
So I follow Michael down the hall and disappear into my room. Then, for the first time since being reaped for the Hunger Games, I dream.
In the dream, I am standing in a huge field of wildflowers, alone. The day is sunny, but not unpleasantly so. Just the type of weather that District Five never gets. I lay down, in the warm grass, flowers tickling my chin, and smile. Then I hear footsteps. I turn, and there, of course, is Jesse, smiling at me with a picnic basket. I sit up, and open the basket. Inside is, well, a picnic. We start to eat, and talk about everything that's happened, everything besides the Hunger Games, which is just fine with me.
But suddenly, that giant boy from District Two jumps out of a hovercraft and puts Jesse in a headlock and holds a knife to his throat, just as I did to the Gamemaker. But the boy drags Jesse away from me, forever.
Then I wake up.