Here we have the chariot rides and first day of training to start off the Capitol chapters! :D I hope you enjoy!
Break
Tonight, I start the fire
Tonight, I break away
James Sern, District Five Male (17)
Shema, Gladius, and Semter poke and prod at me, as I sit helpless in the chair they practically strangled me into, trying to make me look my best for the chariot parade. I scowl and give them each a death glare.
They ignore me. Shema is taking my hair in bunches, trimming off the edges.
"Don't touch me!" I growl at her.
Her neon yellow high heels glide across the marble floor clumsily, as if she's not used to walking in them. Her overly long eyelashes blink at me repeatedly.
"Now, now, James, was that very nice of you to say?"
I narrow my eyes at her. "You think I care if it was a nice thing to say?"
"James," she cautions. "Just apologize to me, and we can forgive and forget all of this. Just wait until your stylist comes in, James, that's when the real fun will begin for you."
I scoff. What an imbecile of a Prep-Team lady she is. "Don't talk to me! Don't touch me! Don't look at me!" Shema's eyes widen, I think I can even see a few tears trying to make their way out. So she's offended. Good.
"And that goes for all of you!" I add, just in case Gladius and Semter were misled into the belief that I enjoy their company any more than I do Shema's.
"James?"
"Stop saying my name!" I can't stand people. None of them understand me. Rose was the only one who ever did. None of these three pitiful excuses for human beings understand what I am going through with losing Rose.
Shema is now flat out balling. Her stark white face is buried in Gladius' gold and silver arms, the latter whispering words of comfort into the stringy hair of the former.
I can't take them anymore. This is why I don't like talking to people. Shema, Gladius, and Semter are all lucky that I did not punch them each straight in the nose for exhibiting such disgusting physical contact upon me. That's usually how I react. I'm actually surprised at the self-control I'm showing, though It's on the verge of falling apart.
Semter tries to give me one last chance. Idiot.
"Your stylist, Marnella, will be here shortly. The three of us were only trying to properly prepare you like any Prep-Team should. Marnella has a great costume in store for you, I can assure you."
His cat-like eyes flicker to a tray on the table next to him.
Scraps of metal and buzzing wires and cables are present among other things.
I gasp. I don't need them. How did I not see this beforehand? I don't need Shema or Gladius or Semter, nor do I need this so-called Marnella.
"I'll be taking that," I say. I snatch the tray from the table, and keep walking on without a backwards glance.
I settle myself in the hallway, right outside the door t the very room that had just been graced with my presence.
I don't need people. Now that my Rose is gone, I don't think I will ever be able to have a normal conversation with anyone ever again. They all just irritate me. I much prefer to remain on my own.
Who needs a stylist? I've been working with these types of metals and wires all my life, constructing things far more difficult than a silly little dress-up costume. I can make my own outfit; one far beyond the dreams of Shema's dainty little pale hands, or Marnella's "skill" which I presume to be virtually nonexistent, though I suppose that's not a fair assumption having never met the woman, but that's besides the point. They will see me in my perfect costume, - years and years of experience allows me to already deduce that it will be far more perfect than that of my district partner, Summer, at the very least - but I will not give them the satisfaction of even glancing their way, contempt in my own knowledge of how the Capitol will love the costume so much more than any other one a dssDistrict Five tribute has ever been clothed in.
This will just prove that I do not need others. I needed Rose, that much I will never deny. I still need Rose. But now Rose is gone where she can never come back to me again. So there's no one else that I need to rely on. Since Rose was forced to leave me, and especially since her tragic early demise, I have remained in this mindset of mine that me, myself, and I are the only three important people left in my life.
And I do not intend on this outlook I have on life being swayed.
Saffron Irons, District Twelve Female (16)
Jax and I wait with our eyes closed. Our stylists, Jayra and Klark, decided that the two of them simply could not wait any longer to show us our chariot. We are not even clothed in our chariot costumes yet, but, to quote Jayra, this will be just too perfect for us darlings to wait any longer to see.
Jayra and Klark steer Jax and I forward respectively.
The smell hits me even before Jayra or Klark can tell me to open my eyes. The acrid smell of smoke is practically burning my nostrils. I'm pretty sure Jax cannot sense it; that Jayra and Klark have provided us with faux fire smelling only the faintest bit like actual smoke. But my nostrils can sniff out the fire anywhere.
Fire.
I wrap my arms around myself. Goosebumps are forming under my fingers and I squeeze and rub myself harder.
"Three . . ." says Jayra, "two . . . one . . . open!" On the last word she yips with delight and Jax and I do as she asks.
My teeth begin to chatter and I tremble with fear.
Fire.
I'm going to be burned alive just like Clary. I can already tell. Except in my case it's going to be before the Games even begin.
Fire.
Jax touches my arm gently. "You okay, Saffron?"
Jayra and Klark are still hopelessly oblivious as to what is going on with me right in front of them.
"F-Fine," I stammer. "I'm f-fine." I don't want him to have to worry about me. All of us tributes already have so much on our minds, and for me to burden my district partner with one more worry would be horrible.
"Are you- Are you scared?"
I shrug. He's takes it as a yes. "Of fire?"
Shrug.
"That's nothing to be ashamed of, Saffron."
"Hey." He makes me look him in the eye. "Listen to me, Saffron." He has my full attention. "There's nothing to be afraid of; if anything happens on the chariot I . . . I promise I'll protect you."
I can't bring myself to speak. My cheeks are flooding with color. At the same time I smile the most grateful smile I can muster at him. That's very kind of him to promise me and I will always appreciate it, even though logically there is nothing that he can feasibly do to protect me should such a situation arise.
Jayra puts an arm on each of our shoulders. "Beautiful isn't she?"
I had not really looked past the fire encased within some sort of glass cases on all four sides of the chariot. As I do so now, though, I realize that it truly is a beautiful chariot and so very District Twelve. Coal is pressed up against the sides and bottom of the chariot, as if being thrown into the fire. Klark explains to us that the two of us with be coated in dirt from the neck down, but our faces will shine out and be seen from their positions above the fire pillars.
"All right then kiddies," says Jayra. "You can run along and play later. Right now we have work to do, making those little faces of yours as pretty as the chariot we have prepared for them.
She and Klark recede back into their offices, implying that Jax and I should follow them. Jax is about to do so when I call him back for a moment.
"That was really nice of you, Jax, what you said to me."
He smiles. "I hope you take it to heart, Saffron."
I beam at him and he's about to go off after Jayra when he whips back around and stares at me for a moment. Then he smiles, but his words are serious. "There are worse things in this world than pyrophobia, Saffron." He winks at me and then he is gone.
Circuit "Kit" Tethra, District Three Female (17)
Keon strolls towards me nonchalantly. His hands are at his sides and atop his head is a headdress so similar to my own, wires connected to a tin hat as if they are running through his brain.
I wave at him and he nods at me. We stand there for a moment in silence, each absorbed in our own thoughts.
Then something crosses Keon's face. It's almost like he . . . just got an idea?
"Wow," he says. "Wow. I cannot believe it did not click until now. Circuit Tethra?" Oh, so clearly it was not an idea that popped into his mind, but recognition of my face and placement of the name Circuit Tethra. I do not believe I know him though . . .
"In the flesh," I choke out with a smirk. How does he know me? And why does his name sound so familiar.
Watts . . . Watts . . . Keon Watts . . . Do we know each other? Certainly I would remember if we had met.
"I am a big fan of the work you and your friends do."
This catches me off guard. I can feel my eyes popping open. "W-What?" I splutter. "B-But h-h-how do-"
For a split-second Keon looks frustrated with himself, then he says. "You know. I just have a way of knowing things." He winks at me. "But like I said, huge fan, Kit - can I call you Kit?"
I nod at him.
Keon Watts . . . Keon Watts . . .
And then it hits me. Keon Watts is the son of two highly esteemed engineers back in District Three.
According to Digit's research, he is incredibly manipulative, playing people up so that he can use them to get what he wants. Digit is just about the sneakiest girl on the planet. Needless to say she's marvelous at what our group does.
I gulp, hopefully not audibly. Is that what Keon is trying to do with me?
Outwardly, I smirk at him, unwilling to let him see my dilemma. "Glad to see you're such a big fan of me and my friends."
The Breaching Bugs. That's the name of my little . . . gang, if you will. That's what he's referring to. But how does he know what we do? It's impossible . . . we all take precise steps planned in advance when performing a thievery or hacking so as not to be figured out and traced back to my parents' basement. And if he is aware of our work, then why does he sound so impressed? Surely most teenagers would not look up to another kid who steals for food and other staple items like Keon so clearly is now.
When the other Breaching Bugs said goodbye to me, they warned me about Keon. Did my fear interfere with my mind so much the day of the reaping that I could hardly even focus on the wonderful advice my friends must have been given? I scowl in frustration. Why does fear have to eat away at me like that?!
I do remember a bit of Digit and Glitch and the others cautioning me about trusting Keon. (Not Boolean of course, this was one conversation at my goodbyes that he did not contribute to.) They reminded me that he's manipulative and a jerk and that's why we were almost going to make his family one of our scarce family targets as opposed to the wealthy merchants and huge warehouses we usually steal from. (We didn't target Keon's family in the end though.)
"K-Kit may I ask you something?" His brown eyes are clear and his face is blushing.
I motion for him to go on.
He plays with his hands a little bit before continuing. "K-Kit, w-would you mind . . . I mean, d-do you want to be my ally?"
His face turns an even darker red than before. He looks down at his shoes and his blond halo of curls is what cuts me deep. Keon is just a kid.
Digit was not wrong. Digit is hardly ever wrong about these things, I try to tell myself. Keon is using you.
But there is another memory that conjured forward from the back of my mind, one that I had not focused on even once until now.
It was back when we were struggling to find merchants and other of the sort to hack into their system and get past their security to take from right after Cordin's death, after Digit presented her case about Keon Watts deserving to have his family stolen from. Later that week, Boolean countered her for once in his life. Generally, he does not make any intelligent insights. If I'm being honest, we mostly keep him around for our entertainment. It was approximately two days after Digit had made her case. Boolean said that everyone in town to whom he has spoken about Keon (of course, I scorned him for doing such a dangerous thing as bringing up a person having to do with the Breaching Bugs with outsiders, but I did listen to what he said) insisted that he was a rather air-headed boy, but one with a kind heart.
Of course, then again, Boolean has been wrong, and I can hardly pinpoint a time in my mind when Digit's theory on a person (or how to break into somewhere once we've hacked their system for that matter) has been proven wrong. But Keon does seem so . . . so . . . so just like Boolean described . . . I think I actually believe Boolean over Digit on this matter which shocks me immensely.
I smile at Keon, being snapped back to the present. I feel sorry for the kid. He doesn't seem like he's trying to use me or anything. He just seems like a boy who needs an ally and feels most comfortable asking his district partner. He seems actually honored to be in my presence. "Sure, Keon." My voice in almost never this soft. "I'd love to be allies with you."
He beams at me and I grin back.
I relax and lean against our chariot. My eyes flicker down at the computer codes our stylists tried to embed along the sides and I smirk. Apparently, they have taken the liberty of inventing their own, nonexistent codes for Keon and I.
He does not see me looking up. But when I do, something flickers in his expression of ecstasy, something fishy. Sinister even.
I finger my token; the metallic silver badge. It once belonged to Cordin, but now it is all mine. It identifies me as the leader of the Breaching Bugs. If I die it's going to be passed down to Glitch. He is my second-in-command after all. I smirk at the thought of everyone having to take orders from Glitch. It's sad really, me envisioning them having so many good times without me . . . they are all like my family. That's why I need to win this thing. I need to get back to them all and lead them once more. I cannot be my brother in this one aspect of life. He did not even make it past the Bloodbath last year . . .
I cannot shake the look on Keon's face that only lasted a half second out of my mind.
I clear my throat and rub my fingers along the silver edges. I am the leader of the Breaching Bugs. Years of decoding and hacking and thieving has taught me many many things. One of which is to never let my guard down.
I'll be watching you, Keon Watts.
Kai Loran, District Two Male (18)
Caecilia and I sit side by side atop the District Two chariot. She is scowling.
I know Caecilia from training; knew that she would be my district partner. I know her well in fact, like any good district partner should. Back in the Training Center we were all told time and time again that we need to be wary of our opponents, but even more so, our allies. I do not understand why it matters whether or not I know Caecilia's strengths and weaknesses though. It's considered a huge dishonor to kill your district partner anyway back home (being a Victor's son I am well aware of how things work in the Victor's Village, despite being avoided by almost all of the more recent Victors) so why would Caecilia ever try to hurt me?
"You stressed, Caecilia?"
"I'm fine!" She snaps. That means yes.
I can't exactly blame her for being upset. I might be too if the roles were reversed. She is the stone and I am the stone mason. Her pretty face is hardly recognizable from behind the silver polish coated onto her deeply tanned skin.
I loop my arm through hers like I did back at the reaping, this time skipping the part where I kiss her hand, because I feel like that would be pushing my luck a little bit too far.
She does not resist me, which causes me to grin, proud that I sort of got through to her in this tiny way.
District One's chariot takes off right in front of us.
A bed of precious jewels lies beneath the two of them. The two tributes are clothed all in white, blond hair fanning out behind the girl, Dream. Two wings sprout out majestically from each of their backs. Angels. They are angels. I don't know how their stylists did it, don't know how it is possible, but it is almost like they're floating; not even grazing the bed of jewels. Dream and the boy - Fibonacci or something I think - are angels residing in the luxurious heaven that is their everyday life back in District One.
They receive cheers. And more cheers. And more and more and more. The Capitol loves them. I don't get it. What's so great about Dream and Fibonacci or their costumes or chariot? Next it's our turn. One's chariot is about to make its final loop, ours only beginning its course.
Our initial cheer is rather disappointing, much less than what Dream and Fibonacci received.
I stand up. My arm is so tightly attached to Caecilia's that I drag her up with me. At first she remains quite still as I wave animatedly at the audience, beaming, blowing kisses at at groups of females in the crowd, causing them to swoon and their husbands and boyfriends to scowl.
"Lighten up, Caecilia," I tell her. "You only get one shot at a first impression after all."
"Please do not tell me what to do, Kai," she says, politely yet with an acidic undertone.
She knows I'm right though. She knows that you can never redo a first impression, and she knows that it means she must make every second count.
She extricates her arm from mine and turns around, refusing to look me in the eye. I swear I hear her mutter a thank you though, as we each continue to wave at the crowd.
"You're welcome, Caecilia m'lady," I mutter back to her. "I've got your back."
We take our final turn. The ride is coming to an end. The sound of applause we got never quite peaked as high as Dream's and Fibonacci's did, but we did do remarkably well in comparison to the beginning. Though, in my own personal opinion, these costumes are some of the worst in District Two's history. Most stylists focus on us being fighters; warriors, which showcases a much more desirable aspect to our district than just stone masons.
The ability to chop up rocks will not get you very far in the Hunger Games. Being a fighter though, that will.
Catt Williams, District Nine Female (18)
I stand with Forest, the boy from District Seven. His district partner is sitting in her chariot nearby. I hate to stare at her, but I can hardly help it. She seems to be . . . hugging the trees on their chariot or something; wrapping her arms around them affectionately.
Trying to ignore the girl, I focus all of my attention on Forest.
He eyes my obvious bicep muscles and raises an eyebrow at me. "You look pretty strong for a girl from Nine you know, Catt. How?"
I don't meet his eyes. He can't know. He can't know. I can't tell him.
"Oh you know . . . just all those years of . . . working with my dad in the fields," I lie.
"Is that so?" His voice is silky . . . alluring.
"Y-yes," I stammer, but I know that he does not believe me.
"Come on, Catt. You can tell me." He touches my elbow and looks me in the eye. "You can trust me."
I can trust him.
I motion for him to bend down to my level so that I can whisper into his ear. "Not here. Not now. Not when they're watching us."
He nods knowingly.
We stroll together as we talk, passing the chariots of Districts Seven and Eight and now coming up towards my own.
Forest smiles at me. "So I'm assuming you and your district partner are not allying?"
I scoff. "I've barely spoken two words to the kid."
I did not even know my district partner's name until he became just that. Sometimes back in Nine I would see him carrying bags of grain in the fields, sun beating down his neck, joking and laughing with all of the other workers. Aside from that I've never seen Cameron until we were reaped together, and it took me a while to place where I had seen him before when he was reaped. Father and I spend most of our time inside anyway. He's scared that if I don't spend enough of my time working on perfecting my abilities as best as we can, I'll go the same way as Kyle if I don't put enough work into it. Well, at least it's coming in handy. Of course, I'm no Career, but Father and I did the best we could and at least it was not for nothing.
Forest speaks. "Well, Birdy and I sure as hell are not allying up . . ."
"Are you implying that-"
His scream cuts me off.
We've now reached the final two chariots; the one from Seven is out of our view almost completely.
We are standing by the chariots of Districts Eleven and Twelve. The boy from Eleven is gipping the little girl from his district forcefully, trying to make her stand a certain way. The heads of the two tributes from Twelve are peaking out from above the fiery, blazing pillars around their chariot. They are coal. The fire surrounds them.
Forest crumples to the floor and rocks back and forth on his knees. "No! No!" People are staring now. "No! Save them! Please! I'm begging you! Save them! Save me! Save yourselves!" His voice is desperate, pleading. His teeth are chattering.
The pair from Twelve make to descend from their chariot and help Forest out, but I give them a look saying that I have it all under control.
Forest is heavier than I expected, but my muscles are thicker than most teenage girls'.
I heave Forest in his entirety up off of the cold floor and throw his arm around my neck. I place my own hand around his waist and half drag, half carry him the whole distance back to his own chariot.
I grit my teeth and groan, gasping and stretching my arms out when I lean him up against the District Seven chariot.
I had not even noticed until now through all of my sweating and heaving, but Forest is no longer screaming. He is no longer mumbling and the tears seem to have long since ceased to stream down his face.
Forest clambers into the chariot on his own.
"Um . . . melodramatic are we?"
He hardly even bats an eyelash. "I believe my chariot is leaving." He is not making eye contact with me, but his voice still has that sexy, alluring quality I noticed before.
His and Birdy's chariot takes off, just as I open my mouth to speak.
I'm pretty sure that the "Any alliance we were in the midst of forming is off!", which I call to him a second too late goes either unheard or simply ignored by its intended recipient.
Martial Avalaine, District Eleven Male (16)
"Did I say you could sit down?" I snap at Briony. I tried to arrange her in a standing position so that she wound up being about the same height as I am sitting down, but her sitting now now just ruins all of my careful rearranging!. "And smooth your skirt, Briony, for the last time!"
She puts her hands on her hips. "I don't understand why you think you get to tell me what to do," she huffs.
I don't respond to that. My eye twitches once, twice, three times as I smooth down the skirt of her costume myself, because she is being too stubborn and annoying to cooperate and just fix the damn thing. She's dressed as a pepper. I am a carrot. Rather lame costumes in my opinion. They should have consulted me before stuffing my body into this wretched bright orange vegetable suit.
Briony is smiling at the crowd, basking in the attention, trying to gain herself some sponsors. I try to mimic her, because I feel it would look disproportional if I did not, but my heart is just not in it. I am not feeling connected to these Capitol people in any way right now.
Our chariot comes to a stop and Briony jumps out quickly before I can say another word to her
I'm looking around. Suddenly, I cannot take it anymore. Nothing in this room is orderly or the way I wish it to be. There are people standing in clusters of twos and threes, or awkwardly alone, popping out randomly.
I can't take this. I clench my hands into fists and run. I don't know where or why. I just run.
My feet carry me straight to the elevator bank. Before climbing into one of the elevators, I slam myself into a corner, continuing to twitch.
"Are you all right?" It's a girls speaking to me.
Her hair is an array of soft brown locks, her eyes a stormy gray, looking me up and down intensely.
It's the girl from Twelve, I remember.
"Did I ask you to follow me?" I snap.
She ignores the hint in my words. "I'm Saffron," she says. "It looks like you needed a, uh, . . . a friend."
My voice is icy. "Too bad I don't have one."
The comment is meant to dismiss her and she knows this, I can tell. But she just laughs once and presses on.
"Did something happen? Do you need my help?"
"I don't need your anything," I retort. "You wanna know why? Because you and I are not friends. You and I do not know each other. And I do not plan on pursuing this relationship any further." Harsh words to a girl I don't even know, but I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone.
She just stands there for a moment. Then she purses her lips. "Well, all right then. I respect that."
Is she finally about to leave me alone?
No. Of course not.
"Going up?" Her mouth arranges itself into a smile.
I sigh. "Yeah, going up. And your face is dirty; it's bugging me."
The two of us clamber into the elevator and she beams, ignoring my comment on her dirty face.
She does not talk the whole way up, and I relax. I thought she would never leave me alone. The elevator stops on District Eleven's floor, and I am about to step out when she catches me by the arm.
"It's all right to talk to other people, you know," she says. "It doesn't have to be me, but I don't think this attitude of yours of not wanting a friend is wise at all."
When did I say that? I only said that I didn't want her for a friend.
"Thanks for the advice, Saffron," I say flatly.
I exit the elevator and the doors slip shut behind me.
I scoff. What a nuisance that was. Besides, what she is saying is not true in my case. I don't need friends. Maybe an alliance will be all right, depending on how obedient the ally is, but not a friendship. Saffron and all of the others better watch out. Because now that I'm in this thing, I'm in it to win it.
Birdy Rhodes, District Seven Female (16)
I wake to a stomach ache in the middle of the night. I know it was unwise stuffing my face with all of that greasy oniony food that my stomach cannot handle, but I couldn't help myself; most things Mother and Father permit me to eat have virtually no flavor, or not a good one. Dinner tonight here in the Capitol made my taste-buds ting with enjoyment. Now I'm suffering for it though.
I rush to the bathroom and hang my face over the toilet to retch. I take deep, calming breaths and try to relax myself. But this is not what is going to relax me and I know it. I need to connect with the outdoors somehow.
The odor of vomit still sharp in my nose, I inhale abruptly and open up the bathroom window, not even bothering to find a different window to the outdoors in a room not reeking of puke.
Everything suddenly becomes clearer, more beautiful.
The breezy night air invades my lungs, filling them up with everything that is good and pure. I feel my lips tugging into a smile which stretches into a bright beam. It's been a while since I've experienced this. I never take nature for granted, that's for sure, but when I have not poked my head out in a while and I do . . . it's even better than usual, and that's saying something.
Though the sky is blackened, I am able to make out the outlines of a few glorious trees swaying in the wind.
Forest sleeps soundly, his faint snores reverberating from his room. Palmette, Redwood, and Thinera are asleep in their own quarters a little ways off.
I am the only one awake. For now, it can just be about me and all of the beauty that this planet was blessed with. I take in the scent of flowers blooming, the sounds of crickets chirping in the night.
I'll be back tomorrow night, that's for sure. I have to be strong and get through tomorrow cooped up in the Training Center, and then tonight I take in all of these natural wonders again tomorrow. Looking out this window, it's . . . it's not my woods, that's for sure, nowhere near as beautiful and wonderful as they are, but . . . but it's still nature. It's pure, natural beauty. It's the feel of the wind blowing my through my hair and the smell of freshly mown grass. The sounds of birds chirping and the sight or an array of different colored leaves in the fall or flowers in the spring.
I try to prolong my time with my head sticking out to the great outdoors, thinking about the next few weeks. Usually, the arenas are outdoors in some way shape or form which is good for me.
Then again, when it comes down to it, that might be bad for me: if I had to would I be able to completely destroy a work of nature to save my own life or someone else's? I don't know. I think not. Then again, that situation does not seem very likely . . .
I can feel a yawn coming on and try to stifle it. I'm used to sleeping during the day, not at night, but today I was up all day and it is intended for me to sleep at night like everyone else . . . it's a curious thing for me to crawl into bed when it's light out, rather than to be spending time in my woods, gazing at the blackened night sky.
I leave the window open, even though the breeze might make me a tad chilly, and climb into bed, curling up into a ball.
I fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.
I dream that I am back in my woods. It's a lovely dream.
Then I wake to the sunlight and cannot help the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. It is a dream that will never come true unless I win the Hunger Games, a nearly impossible feat. Is being able to visit my beautiful darling woods just one more night too much to ask?
At least there is that light at the end of the tunnel. If I win these Games, I get to go home. I can see Junie and even my parents again. I miss Junie so much, despite only having just left her. My parents too; I knew my heart would ache with the lack of Junie's presence, but I did not expect to miss my parents as much as I do.
And if I go home, I can see, I can feel my woods again.
All I have to do is win, and then I can go back to my woods. My home.
Easier said than done.
Solris Reen, District Eight Male (15)
"Eat up guys," Tulle advises at breakfast. "You have a busy day ahead of you, and you both want to keep your strength and energy up. Trust me, Bonnie and I are here for no purpose other than to help you guys out."
Terra snorts and mutters, "Solris is going to need all the help he can get . . ."
Is she calling me a coward? I don't know, but I better make sure this is not the case. "I am not going to need any help, and I personally like to face my problems myself, so don't try to help me," that part is directed at Tulle, the rest at Terra. "A coward dies a thousand times a hero dies but once," I quote wisely to her.
She smirks. "And what number life are you on now?"
I want to retort, but the words are lost on my tongue. I have nothing to say, frozen in place.
Terra does not ask to be dismissed or excuse herself, she simply stands up and recedes into her bedroom.
"So I guess this means we have two tributes this year who don't want our help, eh Bonnie?"
Tulle sounds amused.
Bonnie, on the other hand, is dead serious. "Kid, You may think you can do this all on your own, but let me tell you something. When you're in an arena about to die of hunger or thirst or are being held at sword-point by some bloodthirsty Career, you will appreciate that Tulle and I are doing all that we can to get you your sponsors and give you some good advice on what to do in training and Games and all of it. Because, in case you haven't noticed, we both went through it all as well."
Bonnie grabs Tulle by the arm and mutters something to her about leaving me alone to think.
I'm about to relax, (finally, solitude!) when Bonnie turns back around to look me in the eye fixes me with her hardened gaze.
"Remember kid, there are mentors in the Hunger Games for a reason. There are other people on this planet for a reason."
Tulle looks impressed at Bonnie's profound statement. Maybe by Tulle's standards it was profound, but nothing Bonnie has said to me has impressed me so far.
A man is known by the company he keeps. So I better keep away from Tulle, Bonnie, and Terra. None of them is how I want to be known . . .
Bonnie was right about one thing though. Well, nothing she said, but some things she implied. I have to be careful in these Games. Not too careful that people perceive me as cowardly, (that was a close-call with Terra) but sensible for sure. I cannot make any wrong moves or any wrong decisions.
The first day of training is about to begin.
Terra and I ride the elevator in silence, cramming ourselves against opposite walls, so as to be as far away from each other as humanly possible in the cramped elevator space.
Once in the Training Center, I do not expect Terra to speak to me again, but she does. Eight words: "Good luck, Solris. I hope you do well."
And then our attention is turned to the Head Trainer.
Connor Poe, District Four Male (18)
Briella Manks is the name of the Head Trainer. She's a tall woman, almost my height
She gives us the whole rundown of what is going to be happening in the Training Center over the next few days and all I'm thinking throughout her entire drawling, never-ending speech is blah blah blah.
Briella's blond hair is streaked with hot pink. For a moment I envision her entire body dyed that color and laugh out loud. People turn to stare at me, but I just wave proudly. Even my laugh must sound like a true rapper's. The odd thing is that for a Capitol woman, Briella's appearance is pretty normal, and here I am mocking it.
"Got something to add?" she says brusquely.
"Yo, that's real nice of you to offer," I reply. "As a matter of fact I-"
"It was a rhetorical question!" she snaps, cutting me off.
I put up my hands in surrender. "No need to get sassy with me, Bri-Bri. Yo, I was only answering the question here that you posed."
She growls at me before continuing on with her speech. For some reason, she refuses to meet my eye the entire time . . . I wonder why. Did I offend her?
Briella dismisses us to do as we please, her last advice being to use our limited time wisely. Is it just my imagination, or do her magenta colored irises (are those natural?) flit over to my blue ones . . .
Without another glance, Briella departs and the crowd of tributes disperses, leaving the other five Careers and I to move towards a corner by the sword station.
Dream, the District One Female, is the first to speak. "So, first thing's first. You," she points to Sierra. "Reaped. What's your deal?"
Sierra folds her arms across her chest. "What do you mean, what's my deal? I was reaped accidentally; I bet I could ruin that pretty little face of yours with one slash of a knife. Who cares how I ended up here. Here I am. I would have Volunteered next year anyway, I just thought I'd take advantage of this year's opportunity, in case I missed out next year. By the way, just for when I follow through with my plan to run her through with a knife, anyone prepared to wipe up Dreamy's blood?"
The boy from One, Fibbi, says something intensely, but it only comes out sounding like "gdaks stip 't."
Dream gawks at him, and he bops her on the head with the staff he seems to enjoy carrying around for exactly this purpose. I don't know what is up with this Fibbi kid, but I feel like I better interject in the argument blazing between Sierra and Dream. Better not to have two beautiful ladies going at each other right now.
"Yo, girls, no need to get feisty. Now Dream," I stroke her cheek with my thumb and she immediately jumps back. "Let me tell you something; Sierra here, she can do anything that you and I can and more." I put an arm around Sierra who beams at me appreciatively and leans her head on my shoulder.
Sierra smirks at Dream and hisses in a whisper. "Don't forget what I said . . . what was it? Something about ruining these gorgeous features you've got, dear . . ."
Dream hastily puts a hand up to her face, as if to make sure it's still in one piece and Sierra laughs loudly.
Do I have to intervene again?
I put a hand on each shoulder. "Yo, ladies, no need to quarrel like this. Hey, yo, should I make up a rap on the spot for you guys?" I wink at each of them in turn. "Sierra of course, coming from my own home district where everyone knows of my talent, and Dream perhaps you have heard of me even from all the way out in One. If not, and this is your first time hearing a Connor rap, you are in for a real treat. Sierra will tell you."
The blank expression on Sierra's face is one of utter disbelief. Confusion. She does not even get the concept of me asking her to explain something civilly to Dream. Wow, these two are going to need some work.
I clear my throat.
"Yo,
"Hello,
"It's Connor hear again today,
"I'm here today and here to stay.
"Yo,
"Yo,
"It's Connor sayin' hello.
"Don't fight my gorgeous ba-bies,
"Or you'll look like fish with ra-bies."
The last line of the rap falls short of Sierra's expectations, but hey, that's what happens when you think up brilliant raps every day; the ones formulated in just a few seconds might not quite meet the standards.
Dream, however. She is speechless. Her face is a pale white, her mouth cocked open and she keeps running her fingers along her face, her eyes glued to Sierra, though that probably has more to do with the threat Sierra made to her, but I'm sure the sheer awesomeness of my rap contributed to her shock largely as well. Although, I'm not entirely sure that fish can get rabies . . . oh well, even if they don't the rest of the rap made up for it for sure judging by Dream's expression.
I grin, satisfied.
Kai from District Two interrupts us. I had almost forgotten about him and his district partner, Caecilia. The two of them have been exchanging small talk and chatter quietly whilst the rest of us interacted.
"I say we move on from this." His eyes travel disapprovingly to Dream and Sierra and he loops his arm proudly through Caecilia's, as if bragging to Fibbi and myself about having the most civilized, well-mannered of the three girls for his district partner. "We might as well get started on training for today. Dream, Sierra, please. Try to work it out, or stay away from each other, or . . . whatever else you need to do."
Sierra nods right away. "Of course, Kai. I think it would be most prudent to use our time here in the Training Center to learn more about fighting, not fight with each other."
Kai smiles at her and nods his approval.
Dream, however, has other ideas. "And who put you in charge?"
Caecilia speaks up. "Well-"
Dream cuts her off, wrapping her arms around herself and glancing over her shoulder a few times as she speaks. "How do I know to trust you? How do I know you will not betray me?" She sounds genuinely nervous.
"Well," Caecilia's patience is on the verge of snapping. "Kai and I are the only two who are totally neutral and not biased in any negative or positive way to any of us."
Fibbi emits a noise. "F't I do't." He waves his hands in the air and points eagerly at himself.
Sierra smiles sadly at him. "Sorry, Fibbi. It would be hard to listen to you when none of us can . . . you know . . ."
Fibbi hangs his head and Sierra touches his shoulder gently. Any trace of ice her words held when speaking with Dream has vanished.
"Yo, dudes!" I have an idea. "How bout me, yo, bros, sistahs? You feelin' me?"
Caecilia winces.
"No think about it, yo!" I'm getting really excited about it now. "You say that the reason Kai is in charge is that he's not biased for or against anyone, but if you think about it the two of you seem pretty close, and seem like you favor each other. Now, Sierra's my home girl so of course she holds a special place in my heart," I blow Sierra a kiss and she blushes. "But I love all five of you, and am not against anyone here in any way. Come on guys. Sierra, tell them how much fun I'm going to make it."
Sierra shrugs. "Lots of fun, I guess."
Dream Swiller, District One Female (17)
That settles it. No one really wants to think of Connor the idiot thapper (I believe that is what he called it) as our Career leader, except Sierra and I - the one thing we agree on - but the others reluctantly nod, because they do not have counterarguments for his logic. I smirk, and to think I was beginning to think Kai was smart? He cannot even counter Connor's logic which has many loopholes! Not that I'm complaining, as I would much prefer Connor over Kai or Caecilia if it cannot be me.
Obviously, Connor is not a Career leader type in the slightest. Sure, he looks the part being big and brawny, but just from one conversation and hearing one of those poem things of his - what was it called again, a drap . . . a shrap . . .? - I can tell that he is barely Career material, let alone Career leader material. But out of the other Careers, he is the one I trust most, which is why I agree readily. They do not like me, so they will not allow me to be the leader, but I can see any of the others stabbing me in the back far more easily than Connor. Connor seems too . . . too innocent to do such a thing.
Of course I'll have to watch myself constantly nonetheless. The leader position is more of a title than anything, and any of the other Careers can just as easily slit my throat in my sleep as a leader can, and then there's Connor himself . . . I do not trust him in reality, of course, just more than the others.
"Uhh . . . yo, so, now we train!" Connor sounds so unsure of himself that I can hardly stifle the laugh building in my throat.
"Connor, you have no idea what you're doing," I comment. Then, looking ahead and seeing that this could possibly be taken to mean that I would prefer one of the tributes from Two, I add. "W-well, you seem to be catching on already; I'm sure we will all do great with you as leader."
No one answers me, I bet they caught anything unusual in my voice. Please no, please no.
Caecilia and Kai lead the way. They say that we are all going to check out the spears first. It seems that the two of them are taking charge, even if Connor is officially our "leader." Connor, on the other hand, does nothing but show off his abilities to rap (he just reminded me of what it is called) and flirt with Sierra and I. This is good though. He is not focused on training. That's one out of five allies that I can trust a smidge, though, of course, other people can always betray me.
We stop by the spears and Caecilia reaches for one. I prefer a flail, but if our whole pack is staying here I might as well take advantage of the opportunity to further perfect my skills. Of course, I've been training all my life. Harder than all of the others, that's for sure. I want to win, but I also understand that I can be killed at any point if I'm not careful, even by one of my own allies. I can trust no one fully, which means that I must rely on my own skills. Which means that my skills must be ample. More so than anyone else's
I reach for the second spear the trainer offers me, the first one having been the one he gave Caecilia. I take it, and glance over my shoulder for a second, making sure that no one is sneaking up behind me to ruin my shot or do something more sinister. As my head tilts around, however, my eyes rest on another station across the room.
The little girl from District Eleven is listening intently as a trainer instructs her step by step on how to start a fire both with and without matches. He demonstrates and the flames blaze brightly, dancing in my eyes.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Flooding into my mind are the thoughts of how I at least have someone who I can trust. Connor isn't so bad. I'll do fine in the arena. I'm okay. Secure. Relaxed.
Without another word, I drop the spear, calm as anything. I walk towards it, towards the little girl and the trainer.
"Hello," I say to him, a kinder tone than my usual.
"Well, hello there, dear," the man replies. "Would you like to join Briony here in learning to create a fire?"
I smile at him and nod.
"We're starting off small; how to start it with a match. Briony's about to move on to some more difficult scenarios though."
"Thank you," I say.
I strike the match.
Flames. They bob up and down. The rope obstacle course is only a little ways away. There are trees in one part of the room. I want to do it. I hold the match in my hand and try to gulp down the urge, but it would just be so . . . so fascinating to see this room erupt into flames.
My palms are sweating. My body is sending me signs of nerves, yet my mind is cool and calm. Nothing seems to be able to go wrong at this moment. The trainer is focused on Briony. I glance at the fire on my match and it calms me down, but only momentarily. The trainer is distracted; it's now or never.
I wish I could choose never. Because if I choose now, it's going to come back to bite me.
I transfer the flame from the match (now nearly having shrunk down to my chewed fingernails) to a wooden stick. The trainer is oblivious as I silently slip over to the ropes course. No one is watching at me.
I throw the stick as far as my arm can manage and fire catches straight on the rope of the ropes course, spreading throughout.
I run. I run away and return to the others by the spears.
Sierra glares at me when I return. "Where were you?"
She knows. She must know. She can see the fire pervading throughout the huge ropes course, almost ready to catch on to something else, to make its way towards some unsuspecting human being. I'm sweating, nerves threatening to take over. I shouldn't've done it.
"What do you mean?" I say outwardly
She does not get to answer.
A shriek comes next. Loud and clear.
Briella the Head Trainer's voice penetrates all ears in the Training Center a second later.
"Emergency evacuation. All tributes and trainers are ordered to leave the Training Center this minute. Emergency evacuation!"
By now people have seen the fire. Is it just me or are people turning to look at me? Kai scoops Caecilia up in his arms and runs with her, beckoning the rest of us to follow. Caecilia scowls at him, but protests in no more ways than that.
Connor looks at Sierra like he wants to do the same, but she just grabs his hand and runs. Fibbi is already gone, having run out with Kai and Caecilia.
I'm about to follow them at a sprint, when I catch sight of the fire once more. It holds my attention. I cannot tear my eyes away from the rapidly spreading reds and oranges. But there's nothing wrong. I feel calm, relaxed. I don't want to move out of this spot anytime soon. That's what my emotions are saying.
But the small part of my brain reminds me to move wins out thankfully.
It takes will power, but I manage to tear my gaze away and run into the hall, desperately searching for Connor, Fibbi, and the others. Even Sierra would be a relief to find.
As I push my way through the crowd of other tributes to reach the Careers, it occurs to me that I was the very last one to leave the Training Center. I was in that room all alone for . . . who knows how long?
I cough once. I had not realized the breath, intruded upon by smoke, was being held in until I let it out and begin breathing steadily once more.
Alistair Penn, District Ten Male (13)
No one seems to want to ally up with me. But I'm not discouraged. This whole ordeal with us being thrown out of the Training Center hardly even fazed me. I'm not really in a training sort of mood today, so I've just been trying hard to find someone to ally with me. I've already been rejected three times, though now that I think about it, I'm not even sure who I asked, so it must not have been too personal or intriguing an invitation.
I decide that maybe the older tributes just don't want to have to deal with a young kid. I could approach my district partner, Lainey, but when I spot the District Eleven girl and waltz right up to her without giving Lainey another thought. I just don't have the patience to think these kinds of things through.
"Hey, you looking for an ally?"
I grin wildly at her and extend my hand for her to shake which she does not, nor does she return my smile.
"I'm sorry. I'm not interested in an alliance with you." She takes a step back from me. Now I'm feeling kind of bad about myself. Not even the only other thirteen-year-old wants to be with me? What's wrong with me?
I sigh. "Okay, I-"
My voice is cut off my that of an older girl speaking to Briony. "There you are." She breathes a sigh of relief. "I've been looking everywhere for you." She smiles at her. This girl is older than both me and Briony, that I can tell for sure from her mature features, yet she is almost half a head shorter than me, and only about an inch taller than Briony.
"Oh, who's your friend?" Her bright blue eyes are filled with pure kindness and warmth.
Briony is sinking closer and closer to this girl, who I believe is the one from District Six.
"He's not my friend," Briony mutters in response with a blush.
"Well, would you like him to be?" the girl from Six laughs.
She smiles up at me. "I'm Kerr Dolce from District Six."
"Alistair Penn," I say proudly.
"Would you like to join Briony and I? We were thinking about sticking together for now and allying up in the arena." Her voice is sweet, down-to-earth. "Is that what you were asking Briony about?"
I nod slowly, looking into her big blue eyes. How did she know what Briony and I were talking about?
"I'm so glad to have you join us, Alistair. Briony is too, right Briony?"
Briony squirms and stands behind Kerr, not responding.
"Aw, don't be shy. You're not shy around me, are you Bri?"
She shakes her head, color rushing into her pale cheeks.
"Well, I expect you and Alistair-"
"You can call me Ally," I interrupt. I don't realize that it was rude until Briony glares at me. I clamp my hand over my mouth.
Kerr, however, grins. "You and Ally are going to be the best of friends."
I hope Kerr is right. I miss Xander and Alane and Anna and Candor back home so much. I could really use another kid my age here to be my friend.
Kerr wraps an arm around each of us and squeezes us tight. "Were you scared, Ally? Briony was a little scared when she first saw the fire and heard the evacuation being announced. That's actually how we wound up together, as a matter of fact, so it must have been a blessing in disguise!" She laughs cheerfully. "I was not really looking to make any alliance of my own unless approached by someone else, but Briony here was just looking so lost all alone - she was by the fire making station when it all went down, mind you - and I was scared for her too, so I grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out together."
By now Kerr and Briony are both heaving with laughter, but I do not see anything funny about the given situation.
Briony looks at the floor when she continues the story, her laughter ceasing at once. "And then I said to Kerr, 'do you want an ally', because she seemed like one of the only nice people here," her cheeks are reddening once more. This girl blushes a lot in my presence. "And then you came up to me and now here we are. Well, I skipped the part about how Kerr said yes and I hope it's not just because she feels bad for me, because there really are things that I can do and . . ."
Briony trails off and Kerr teases her. "Nice story telling skills you've got, Bri." They laugh and smile at each other. I feel like I'm missing out on something. Kerr was so nice as to include me in this alliance, but am I the odd man out? And if Kerr and Briony just met then why are they acting like the best of friends already.
Girls are weird, that's the only conclusion I can draw . . . being friends with Anna has taught me that and now Kerr and Briony are just further proving my point.
Kerr Dolce, District Six Female (18)
"At this time, all tributes are asked to reenter the Training Center, all tributes are to reenter the Training Center."
Briella's voice shocks me back to reality. Briony, Ally, and I sit in silence on the cold floor, my petite legs crossed one over the other.
Honestly, until Briony asked I was not planning on an alliance, especially with such young tributes. I'm not delusional. I know they are going to drag me down. But then there is that part of me that says taking the two of them under my wing is making up for killing the child. I did not realize what a big deal the abortion was until I realized that being reaped could have been my punishment for just that, and now helping out these helpless little children is going to make things even, maybe even tip the scale in my direction in terms of what I deserve.
"Come," I say softly, taking one of each of their little hands in my own and helping them up. "The three of us have a lot of work to do if we want to get far in the arena."
Ally is excited to have joined Briony. We made him feel wanted and I'm glad to have made him feel special like this. Briony inches closer and closer to me, melting away from our third ally. She's shy from him, but for some reason, she feels completely comfortable laughing and joking around with me like we've known each other for ages. She's interesting like that.
When we reenter the Training Center it is good as new, as if nothing happened. All of the trainers are waiting eagerly (or restlessly in some cases) for us tributes to join them so that they can instruct us on how to fight.
I don't know all of the details of how the fire was started and everything, but I suppose it must have been an accident. They've done a nice job putting it out and cleaning everything up though.
The minute Ally's eyes rest on the Knife-Throwing station all the way on the other side of the Training Center he runs off straight towards it at top speed. That's where the Careers are all congregated.
"Wait, Ally, don't . . ."
I trail off; he's not listening to me.
Briony takes off after him and I follow behind the two. By the time I reach them I am out of breath and have to clutch a painful stitch in my side. These kids are fast.
"Alistair, we were all supposed to decide together what to do!" Briony scolds.
"It's all right, Briony," I say, "he did not mean us any harm. But Ally, it's not the best idea from now on to march straight into wherever all of the Careers are and start messing with weapons around them. I don't think being marked as a threat or a target by the Careers is a good thing for any of us."
"I'm sorry." He looks down, ashamed.
"That's okay, Ally. You did nothing wrong." I lift up his chin. "Hey, where's that smile I saw a moment ago? That's the one! By the way, Ally, do you even know how to throw knives?"
His shoulders come up and he shakes his head. "N-no. I don't. I just . . ."
"Just what?" says Briony.
"Briony, it does not matter," I tell her.
Ally ignores us both. "I thought it would be fun."
I laugh and clap him on the back. "That's good you know. Never stop doing the things that you enjoy unless . . ."
"Unless they'll get you hurt or killed or worse?" Briony finishes for me.
Ally and I speak at the same time. He says. "What can be worse?" while I say, "or something that will get a friend hurt or killed or worse," adding on to Briony's statement.
"Do any of us even know how to use a weapon?" Briony says, changing the subject, leaving both of us unanswered. "I did not get much practice in with anything other than some basic survival skills."
"Same," I mutter.
Ally however, says. "I can use a mallet. I saw one earlier to day at one of the stations, so I tried it out and . . . and the trainer said that I'm not bad for a kid my age."
"That's great!" I breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm proud of you, Ally!"
Briony blushes and puts her face in her hands.
My heart goes out to her. "Aw, honey, I'm sure you can do plenty of things too. This alliance is going to do great. I can already tell. The three of us all bring a lot to the table."
I cannot already tell, as a matter of fact if I had to guess I'd say that none of us will make it far at all (I try to be optimistic, but I'm not an idiot), but saying it makes them both beam, clearly pleased with themselves and I smile to myself as well. Does sticking with these kids make up for g-g-getting r-rid of my own? I can hardly think the thought without my eyes tearing up, remembering all that Thomas did to me, leaving me with no option but to kill a child - albeit unborn - in cold blood. Not just any child, my child.
The answer is truthfully that it does not make up for it just yet. But who knows, maybe if - gulp - if I'm not able to return home, then Ally or Briony will, and then in death I can rest easy knowing that I saved a child's life. And if I myself return home, then I can hug Edgar with all my might and surely he'll comfort me when I'm missing Ally and Briony.
So basically, it's a win-win.
No. It's not. It only will be if one of my allies or myself is victorious. But there are twenty-one other tributes in the arena and any one of us can be the Victor in the end. It's really a win-win-win-lose-lose-lose-lose-lose-lose-lose-los e-lose-lose-lose-lose-lose-lose-lose-lose-lose-los e-lose-lose-lose.
Those are not very good odds.
The odds are not in my favor.
Then again, according to the odds, I should not have gotten pregnant. According to the odds, my father should have been like most, and so should my boyfriend.
Maybe defying the odds is a thing of mine.
Break by Three Days Grace
Link to the blog for this story (just remove the spaces): heights101hg. blogspot. com
I would really appreciate it if you guys answered some of the questions I have for you at the end of each chapter xD
Out of the 12 POV's you saw here, which stood out to you and why?
Any thoughts/opinions on the alliances we have so far?
And, of course, How was my writing in this chapter?
The district partners of these 12 tributes will each have a POV in the next chapter, so if your tribute was not featured here, they will be in the next chapter :D The next chapter will include the rest of training :D
I don't know how I feel about this chapter. I don't think it was my best work and yes, late, I know, I know, don't kill me! There were a bunch of things that held me up including my birthday on Monday (yay!), finals and stuff (not yay) and accidentally deleting this document and having to restart the chapter (I know, I'm an idiot.)
A few words about this chapter :D
So, you're probably really confused about some people's backgrounds and stuff, especially people like Kit, James, and a few others, but don't worry, the background will be fleshed out throughout the story! xD
Now I need to talk about the Careers: So, as you can see, Connor is the official "leader", but Kai and Caecilia are the ones who are really taking charge. And about Dream . . . so, I don't really know much about pyromania, so I had to do some research before writing her POV and I still have no clue if I portrayed it correctly :/ Please bare in mind however that I had to incorporate Dream's personality into it, so it might be a little different than other cases.
So far our official alliances are Kit/Keon, the Careers, and Kerr/Alistair/Briony. The rest of the alliances will be sorted out next chapter, so don't worry if your tribute does not yet have one :D I'll be adding the alliances so far to the blog :D
Sorry again for the wait between updates! I hope it was worth the wait, but I'm just not sure . . .
Oh! And, just in case you guys were getting the wrong message, I'm not trying to be one of those evil, "review or I'll kill your tribute" authors. There are many other factors taken into account, and I really do cherish and appreciate every review I get, I just don't think it's fair if I'm wavering between two tributes to keep in, to kill off one who's creator is reviewing if the other is not or something like that.
Long author's note. I know. Sorry xD
