A/N: Thanks to Jemmie for reviewing the last chapter! The support is appreciated :)
Just like how the timespans between chapters is going to vary with this story, I think the actual length of the chapters is going to vary also. But even though this one is a little shorter, I hope that you all like it :)
Chapter Four
PoV: Ludovic Robertson (17), Mentor for the Female Tribute, District 4
The District 4 Tributes' Train, en route to the Capitol
7.30 pm, Sunday 13th July, year of the 68th Hunger Games
The train rumbles on again as I make the same journey I've made for the past two summers.
Back as a mentor once again.
However, it's the third time that Finnick has made the journey this year already. He was summoned to the Capitol in January to attend the grand party at the end of the victory tour, and he hung around there for a month or so, presumably on some errands for Marcus Crane. That is how we have come to describe the whole situation. Better that than talk about it openly in our homes, which most likely are bugged by the Capitol, anyway.
Not that we talk about it much, anyway. It's a bit of a taboo subject even among us victors, as I suspect many of those I live with went through the same thing in their youth. But all I can say, is that thankfully, Crane has stayed away from me throughout this year. Remembering what Johanna said about returning home to nothing, I'm a little apprehensive about spending the best part of a month in the Capitol, but duty calls.
Another year, another reaping, and surprise, surprise, I've got the worst of it. Then again, having had my name drawn from that bowl twice before, I think I already know the way luck works around me. Finnick and I have decided to swap roles this year, so he could mentor the boy and I the girl. Finnick's got it lucky, with this properly-trained Career who volunteered for the twelve-year-old whose name was drawn from the reaping bowl. Evan Parker. Easily over six feet tall, must be touching two hundred pounds, you won't see a larger physical presence in this year's Games, that's for sure.
On the other hand, I got Grace Tyler.
Grace isn't bad, I suppose. She should be able to defend herself, despite having no training. She's pretty, which could be used to her advantage, as long as she gets a decent-ish training score. Nobody will give sponsors to a girl who scores a three, no matter how good-looking they are. She's probably five and a half feet tall, slim and at least relatively athletic. I doubt she has any experience with weapons, though. Still, there's time to work on that. But she will by no means be the favourite to get out of the arena alive.
But really, what makes it so much more difficult this year than last year is that I know Grace. And I don't just mean that I've seen her around every now and then in District 4 and know her name. I actually know her. She was in my year at school, was in the same lessons as Finnick and I were, before we got kicked out almost two years ago. I don't know what Grace has been up to this past year, but she was always alright at school. Even if she was constantly trying to flirt with Finnick. I smile at the memories of the old days, but then remember that it's not going to be like that again. We've all grown up, gone our own ways. And one of us has effectively been given a death sentence this year by being reaped for the 68th Annual Hunger Games.
No wonder nobody was going to volunteer for her; she's three months away from eighteen, capable of surviving in the arena almost as much as any Career would be. Sure, she won't be a natural killer (at least, it's highly unlikely), but she's no pushover. What's the point of voluntarily giving yourself up to the Games if the person you're replacing stands a reasonable chance of winning, anyway?
So that's where we stand in the Games this year. Really, we're worse off than last year, already. But there's nothing we can do now except trying to work with what we've got.
Finnick and I sit in silence in the dining car, sprawled across a sofa beneath the wall-mounted television that's currently showing some sort of Hunger Games highlights programme. Having been issued a TV in victor's village with access to Capitol channels and not just the highly-censored content everyone else in the district is shown, I'm aware of most of the programming that the Capitol use. I mean, there's a couple of general channels - CBC1 and CBC2 - and then all sorts of specialities - you know, sports channels, comedy channels and the like. Then there's this station - channel 11 - called Hunger Games TV, that I barely ever see anything of. It shows old reruns of past Hunger Games, highlights shows, and basically anything related to the Games all day, every day. I can't stand to watch it much, but apparently it's popular in the Capitol. However, the point I'm getting at is that on reaping day, it doesn't matter what you watch, every channel is like HGTV. There is no choice; the Games are all-encompassing. So Finnick and I struggle through this terrible feature about past victors of District 8 while we wait for the show we actually want to watch - the recap of this year's reapings.
Finnick slouches beside me, a glass of wine in his right hand. Since his return from Capitol in February, he's been a little more liberal with pouring out the red stuff - considering what I'm sure he went through under the watchful eye of Marcus Crane, I'm not surprised. But I do my best to keep him sober when I can, being a non-drinker myself. I don't want him turning into a Haymitch. But considering what everyone goes through on reaping day, I really don't care this evening.
Eventually the credits roll, and Finnick rises from his seat to stretch his arms, walking slowly towards the door out of the car, towards our tributes' bedrooms.
"Want me to go fetch them in to watch this?" He asks me.
"Let them know it's on, anyway," I tell him. "But don't force them to come. If they're not feeling up to it, then don't force them to come down here. They have plenty of time to get their head sorted out," I say, thinking of Grace. Another year, another friend from school in danger. I can't help wondering if Marcus Crane planned it to be this way; to make me suffer for my insubordination.
I'm not surprised when Grace doesn't show her face as the recap starts. Finnick puts the alcohol down as he joins Evan and myself in watching the screens as the reaping in District 1 gets underway. With District 1 being a Career District along with Districts 2 and 4, I'm not surprised when a girl steps up to volunteer - Lustre, her name is. She's probably seventeen or eighteen like most who volunteer from District 1, having been trained for the Games throughout her teenage years and will have been selected by her district's Training Centre as their strongest; the one who should volunteer at the reaping. There's no denying Lustre will be good.
The boys, however, cause some confusion; there are two volunteers. Finnick, sitting next to me, laughs aloud, and Evan manages a snort, too. Among Career Districts, two volunteers is a serious faux pas. District 1 have spent years training kids to take the role of tribute in the Games, have hand-picked their best, and then someone else steps up, too? You can almost hear the groan on the face of the male mentor, a friend of ours called Gloss Adlington who won four years ago. It's immediately clear who has been groomed for victory and who hasn't; one of the tributes strides confidently out of the eighteen-year-olds' section, his body padded out with muscles, an arrogant smile on his attractive face. His eyes are green and vibrant; his blond hair cut short. Whoever he is, I have no doubt he's meant to be volunteering.
And I can't shake the feeling that he seems somewhat familiar.
The second volunteer is a boy of seventeen who darts out before the trained Career can even raise his voice. The seventeen-year-old is slight and gangly, a mop of light brown hair on his head, a few inches shorter than his adversary.
Everyone on stage, including the District 1 escort, seems completely perplexed. This is not an event that happens often. It has only happened once in recent memory in District 4, and that was last year, when Alec Flood, our chosen volunteer, was challenged by an eighteen-year-old called Nathan Foster. Thankfully, I had the idea of letting the boys fight for their place; I would get the better man as my tribute. Unfortunately, nobody seems to suggest this in District 1. After much debating which slows up the whole process, they take the decision to say that the boy who had reached the stage first will become District 1's male tribute. This means that the trained Career has been edged out for this gangly teenager, whose name is Johan. I'm sure he'll be able to fight, but Lustre is definitely the stronger of District 1's tributes.
District 2 throws up a fairly usual pair of tributes; a boy possibly an inch over six feet tall, and a girl who possibly even seems to dwarf him. She reminds me of Lyme, this monstrous woman who won for Two about fifteen years ago. It's rare when a girl ends up being the muscle in the Career Pack, although I think that will be the case this year. The boy - Jace - seems to be all but forgotten in the presence of his district partner. As far as the Careers are concerned, Laura is the early star of the Games.
No surprises in District 3, and then I rewatch my own district's reaping. There are no surprises there, considering I stood on the stage throughout the whole thing.
District 5 doesn't offer too much by way of competition, although both from District 6 are aged eighteen and might get better than average scores in training.
Then comes District 7, and the name drawn for the girls is-
Oh, no.
"Rebecca Mason."
I watch on, helpless, as a fourteen-year-old girl stumbles vacantly up to the stage. You don't need to know her name to know she's related to Johanna. Same wide set brown eyes, same brown hair. I guess, for what Johanna did, killing her parents simply wasn't enough. Maybe they had meant to get rid of her sister too, and now they're just going to finish the job. Just a glance at Rebecca will tell you that she's not going to survive the Games. The way she walks would give away her injuries alone, if it weren't for the burn scars that cover the right side of her face. Guaranteed, she'll get the sympathy vote, but she'll be dead within the first three days. Maybe, rather than dragging it out for a fortnight or so, Johanna will be better off this way.
I begin to wonder, considering the spurious correlations between defiant victors and the tributes representing them in this year's Games, if this sort of Capitol revenge is more common than I had thought. To someone who doesn't know, this would be a normal reaping. But because I know what I've been through, what Johanna has been through, I can't help wonder who else has been tortured by the Capitol in this way.
And if Johanna gets all this, then I'm sure Grace Tyler won't be the worst of it for me, either.
A/N: If you liked this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)