We walk out of the train and into a tunnel and are lead to the chariot, which is black with rhinestones on it and the horses are the color of coal with red and orange dazzlers in their hairs and painted fiery patterns on their bodies. We are ordered onto the chariot and Damion looks about sick.
"Are you okay?" I ask sincerely. He gulps and says, "What if we fall off? What if the horses go wild? What if-"
"Damion, calm down. Nothing will happen if I have anything to do with it." He smiles, but I still see worry in his eyes, so I tighten my grip on his arm. I look around the tunnel, seeing the other chariots and tributes. District four has a chariot with waves and the horses have wings on them, I only think the reason for that is Poseidon, greek god of the sea, also made horses and pegasi. The tributes are wearing blue unitards with sea green, the same color as Damion's eyes, waves on them and rhinestones, and they hold tridents.
District seven's chariot is green and brown, the horses brown with white spots, and the tributes are trees, as usual. Damion's stylist, Amos, a man with curly brown hair and unnatural lime green eyes comes onto the chariot and tells us what to do-hold our heads high, feet only an inch apart, back straight, and wave to the crowd, and give them your best smile. Smile to the Capitol idiots? I think. The only way I'll do that is to make fun of what they wear.
But I manage to grin, only from my thinking. I know I need to give my best show, I really need sponsors, because I know at least some of them already hate me from my parents, which isn't good for Damion's and I's benefit. I tell Damion that, and that he should put on his best show, too, because it may be the only way to earn sponsors.
So he does his best to smile and he practices waving, and let me tell you, he's great at it. Though I still tell him that just because girls do it on TV, doesn't mean he has to wave like a pageant girl. We get a good laugh out of that, and he doesn't even have to try to make a handsome smile anymore. Finally, the District Twelve chariot comes out of the tunnel.
The crowd is in a shocked silence, and then they burst out cheering. I can see myself on the big screens in the Capitol, along with Damion, who's waving and making that charming smile of his, so I follow his example. I smile and wave, and they absolutely love it. We are thrown multiple roses, and Damion catches a stem in his mouth like they do in a dance I think called the tango. It makes me laugh, and everyone else laughs with me.
Damion stops waving a moment to take the rose from his mouth and give it to me, then he goes back to waving. It makes me so happy, I stand up on my tip-toes and kiss his cheek. The chariots line up in a circle in the square as I see President Snow giving his speech, turning every once in a while to glare at me, which I return, hoping it won't cost my life.
It gets dark, but the camera stays mostly on our chariot, and I earn scowls from other tributes, and they send a clear message, You will be the first one I kill in the arena. It almost makes me laugh, knowing I'll most likely be the one to win, other than the buff guy, Zander, from District Four. The boy from District Seven, Terrance, is too busy staring at our outfits in amazement, and a girl with glasses and pure black hair in a bun and braces doesn't even seem to care.
The opening ceremonie ends, and when we get back to the tunnel, we are engulfed in hugs. Everyone tells us we were great, and the prep team, being as dramatic as they were, are crying. We talk for a minute, and we are driven in a car to a large building. I immediately know this is the Training Center. We go inside and I am immersed in coldness. Everything is made of marble. Cecelia leads us to a large glass elevator and we go up to our District's floor. The speed is so fast I want to ride again.
I am broken apart by my parents, or mentors, as I now have to call them, and Damion, as Cecelia leads me to my quarters. Inside, is a king-sized plush bed, chairs, and many tables, a bookshelf, which I can't help but feel grateful for, a bathrrom with a shower and as soon as I step out on the mat, I am dried within seconds and my hair is untangled, a programmable closet, and a large book filled with many foods I just need to order on the phone and it is instantly delivered to me, alomg with any other needs.
I know I'm wealthy, but I've never had a more fancy room my whole life. I thank Cecelia and I go to the closet. I shed my dress and put it on a hanger, reminding myself to give it to Italia later. I put the mocking-jay pin and hair clip on a side table and go take a shower. The warm water feels much better than the cold building I will stay in for the next few days. I wash the paint off my face, or try to, but I figure out it won't. It's permanent, but the hair coloring isn't.
I step out and I am dry and my hair is untangled after two seconds. I go to the closet and pick out a fitting v-neck long-sleeve shirt, boot-cut jeans, and brown slide-on shoes. I put on my mocking-jay pin and my hair up in a ponytail and head to dinner. We eat, Cecelia bragging and telling how good of a job Italia and Amos did on the outfits. I don't listen to much of it, though.
I can only think about what lay ahead. The arena. An arena that supposedly was never destroyed. I know it's one of the arenas that my parents entered. This is the way Snow will find my weak spot. In an arena, still having the smell and marks of my parents' blood. And twenty-three other tributes there, too. They can find what I can't stand and use it against me easily. My parents thought the fight was over, when in reality, it has just begun.
So all this time, when I thought I would be the one to win along with some other tribute, I'm really going the be the first one to be killed in the blood bath. I guess I knew all along it would be me first. Snow is probably already ordering my casket, filling it with roses, and blood.
And what about my family? What will they do when I'm gone? Surely they will care, but they'll still be as rich as ever. As healthy as ever. But they'll cry and moarn over me, so I know I have to win for them, and for District Twelve. Then I'll be more wealthy than anybody in the world, even Snow. But that thought crosses my mind. I don't care about being wealthy. I only care about staying alive.
Staying alive for my future birthdays, one of which will be in the arena. Staying alive for my wedding. Staying alive to have children. To grow old and die at an old age. Though I don't know about that last one, if it will be the one I'm proud of. I always wanted to die a hero, not die as I grow old. Maybe the arena will be the opportunity to fufill my dream. No, not in the arena. I will be no hero if I die in there.
I want to make history. Die from saving another life. Die from leading an important war. Something like that. Just not in the arena or at an old age. It makes me more determined to win. I need to win. I have to to win. I will win.
"Don't you think, Flourence?" Dad's bright voice breaks my thoughts. I look up alarmed and say, "Huh?"
"Don't you think President Snow's face was hilarious when you glared at him on camera?" Wait, they got that on camera? That's not good, if the president sees that on the recaps...
"I...I didn't really catch it. Sorry." He frowns a bit, then they burst out into their usual conversations, all except Damion. He tapped my shoulder.
"Hm?" I say. He looks at me, consern filling his face.
"Are you okay? You were in a seemingly other world the whole dinner until your father spoke to you." How come he noticed? I don't know why, but I take this the wrong way. I am so worried about the Games, and then he has to get in all my business.
"Well wouldn't you like to know, wouldn't you Damion? Hm? Why don't you just mind your own business?" I say. He frowns ans recoils from me.
"Well, sorry Flourence! Sorry for worrying about if you're okay!" He turns away, anger and hurt filled in his eyes. Something I can't stand. Did he really worry about me?
"I-I'm sorry, Damion. I'm just worried about the Games. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." He unstiffens a bit, but doesn't turn back to me. I sigh and say, "I'll tell you about it later." I turn and eat the food, but I glance back at Damion and see he's smiling. A new thought comes to my head. He's doing this to get into my head. To make me feel sorry for him, to help him win the Games, and then in the end, when only three of us are left and we're supposed to win together, he'll turn to and kill me.
"Why are you smiling?" I say, my voice like a snakes-scary, rude, and terrifying.
"No reason." He says, not breaking his smile. "Tell you later." We finish dinner and watch the recaps of the opening ceremonie, my dad fuming when he sees the kiss I gave Damion. I'm sure he has nothing against him, he just doesn't want his little girl to grow up. Well, I'll be turning nineteen in a week. A little too late for that.
I walk to my quarters and sit on the bed, reading a new book, Out Of My Mind. But I can't read. Instead, I go to the door of Damion's quarters and knock on it. After a moment, he answers, smiling.
"Yeah?" He asks. I move my hand in a come on gesture, and walk to the stair-case, not waiting to be followed, though I hear footsteps behing me. We enter a very, very small room and I open a square-shaped door. I walk out of the room and stand on the roof of the Training center. I go to the railing, and soon Damion joins me, taking in a breath.
"Wow," he says. "The view is amazing. How do you know this is here?" He turns to me, a look only he can make on his face. I look down at the Capitol smiling non-forcefully. I feel serene and happy here, nothing else.
"My parents used to come here all the time. Beautiful, isn't it? Come on, I'll show you the garden." I walk to the other side of the roof, all they way to a wonderful space full of Azellias, Primroses, sun flowers, Iris's, and many other beautiful plants. Damion stands beside me, and can only let out one word, "Wow." I smile even more. He takes my hand, taking me off track. I stare at our entwined fingers, and when he sits down, I can't help but join him.
"Damion," I say. "I hate this place."
"Why?"
"Because, it reminds me of my parents story. I haven't told anyone this, but I have dreams. Dreams of what my parents went through, and the night before the reaping I had a dream of my mom and dad sitting right here in this garden, my mom's head in my dad's lap, my dad fiddling with her hair," I smiled. "It was beautiful. I have dreams like that, peaceful and beautiful, then I have dreams, horrible dreams that come the next day, or longer.
I can't stand them. I thought, maybe if I tell someone, then they'd go away, but I know, they'll never, truly, leave. I thought, maybe, it was the tracker jacker venom in my dad. But these dreams, they are beyond that. These dreams won't go away, not like his venom did."
"Have you had any dreams since the Games?" He says.
"No."
"Then that's probably it. You can have all of those dreams unless you're in the domain of where the dreams happened."
"That can't possibly be-"
"True," he snorted. "I know. But there are alot of things you can't believe in The Hunger Games. Anything is possible here."
"Trust me, I know. I know more about the Games than anyone but the people who went into them themselves. I just wish they weren't real. That's what everyone wants. You know what I think at night? I think this can't be real. This is just another nightmare, my worst nightmare. People think I haven't gone into the Games yet. But in reality, I've lived it my whole life."
All he can repeat is, "Wow."
"Yeah, wow. And to think, I thought my brother had it hard."
"Is that what you were wondering about at dinner?"
"Partially, I guess. Mostly about my death in the arena."
"Really? You'll probably be the one to live, along with someone else like that guy from District Four."
"You don't know what I mean."
"What do you mean?" I look from the starry sky to him, take in a deep breath and say,
"If I can survive the blood bath, I'll tell you." And with that, I go inside and into my quarters. I order an avox to take the dress and shoes to Italia then change into a white silk night gown and lay down in bed. But no sleep comes. Instead I decide to cry. As much as I can I weep and bawl myself to sleep.
Only to have a terrible dream.
