Chapter 4 – The Journey to the Capitol
I sit in my room on the train. It's huge, almost twice as big as my whole house back home. The bed is big and inviting, the sheets soft, the pillows fluffy and comfortable. The carpet is softer, plusher than that of the carpet in the Justice Building, but it's a soft lavender instead of a bright red this time. My dresser is twice as big as the closet back home where my whole family stores our clothes, and it's filled with stylish, comfortable clothes made in the Capitol by designer labels, all of them fitting me perfectly. The bathroom is an ensuite, the tiled walls jewel-encrusted, with a huge shower with several different knobs and buttons. I'd had a shower before, pressing a various array of buttons, and coming out squeaky clean smelling like a mixture of strawberries, freesia flowers, peaches and the forest after rain. It has taken me a full half hour just to identify those smells, but I smell so good I can't stop sniffing myself. I want to figure out which of the many buttons I pressed makes me smell like the forest after rain; it reminds me of home, and I have always loved that smell.
I'm dressed in a deep blue knee-length skirt and a comfortable, long-sleeved white shirt that is so soft I can't stop rubbing the soft material, however absently. My feet, which were previously quite cold, are enclosed in soft, sapphire-encrusted slippers, and my long, white-blonde hair is done in a side-braid over my shoulder. I sit cross-legged in front of the huge mirror, staring at my reflection. I hardly look like me. I've spent almost two hours locked up in my room, forcing myself to do a lot about my appearance to distract myself from the sad emotion I feel. I even put a little bit of makeup on, and now as I stare at myself I barely recognise myself. And now that I've stopped distracting myself with choosing clothes and pressing shower buttons and braiding hair, I finally have time to stop and wallow in my misery. I know that I should probably go and see Jaka, as he's probably worried about me if he isn't asleep or crying. I have just spent two hours locked up in my room, after all, refusing to come out. It's probably lunchtime by now.
As if on cue, Stephanie raps on my door, informing me cheerfully that it's time to come out, as it's lunchtime. When I don't respond immediately she tries the door and then knocks again, calling my name again.
"I'm coming," I call weakly, standing up. A shiver runs through my body. I take a loose white jumper from the dresser before unlocking my door and making my way down the fancy train hallway to the dining cart. I was given a brief tour when I first got here, and I am thankfully blessed with photographic memory, so I have no trouble finding my way.
Jaka is already there, along with Stephanie, Johanna Mason and Silva Godwin. The latter two are our mentors. Stephanie is prattling on to Johanna about some brand of shoes, but the 68th Hunger Games victor is ignoring her, moodily stabbing at her food.
I hesitate in the doorway. Johanna is the first to look up.
"So here's my girl," she says, eyeing me up and down critically. I hover in the doorway, unsure of really what to do or say. "Your name's Jennifer, right?"
"Genesis," I correct her. "Genesis Howard."
"Oops. Sorry. My bad," she says. She doesn't sound very sorry.
I frown at her before slowly making my way over to the table and taking a seat next to Jaka. He hasn't looked up; he's pushing his food around on his plate with a fork. His eyes are red and puffy, as if he's been crying. I won't be surprised if he has.
"Jaka?" I ask softly.
He looks up at me. His blue eyes are dark, and dulled by his sadness.
"You should eat." Silva finally speaks up. I realise that I've never actually heard his voice before. "Put on some weight before the arena."
I realise he's right, and I guess Jaka does as well, as he forces a piece of toast into his mouth, and I fill my plate up with pancakes, a delicacy I have had all of once.
They taste heavenly, but really the pancakes are the last thing on my mind.
"So, I guess you already know, but even if you don't, I'm Johanna Mason, Genesis' mentor," Johanna says.
"And I'm Silva. Jaka's mentor," Silva says softly.
"One of you is coming home this year," Johanna says.
"It's going to be Jaka," I say at the same time he says, "It's going to be Genesis."
We both look at each other and frown.
"I'm not letting you die, Jaka," I say. "You're my little brother and I love you more than life. I'll die a million times over before I let you."
"No," he says, "everyone at this table knows that I have absolutely no chance at winning. I don't want to anyway, I can't live without my big sister. But everyone at this table knows that you're more than capable of taking those tributes down. You're going home, Genesis."
I open my mouth to contradict him but Johanna cuts in. "Alright, both of you, be quiet," she says. We fall silent. "I'll be trying to bring Genesis home, and Silva'll be trying to bring Jaka home. Capiche?"
We stay silent. We're both too intimidated by Johanna to say anything.
"We've got this train ride all planned out," Silva says. "We have six hours – well, four now – and most of that time you guys will be spending with either Johanna or I. We don't wait when it comes to strategy in District 7."
Jaka and I nod wordlessly.
"It'll be separate, of course," Johanna says.
Jaka shakes his head at the same time I do.
"We're not leaving each other the entirety of these Games," I say. "We either learn together or not at all."
Johanna gives me a frustrated look and Silva sighs.
"Fine," he says.
Half an hour later the four of us are seated in the television room, Silva sitting stiff-backed on one of the armchairs and Johanna sprawled over the other. I'm sitting on the couch, and Jaka's lying down with his head in my lap. I stroke his rust-coloured hair absently.
"What strengths do you guys have?" Johanna asks. "Know any weapons, survival skills…?"
"I've worked as a woodcutter since I was fourteen," I say. "I'm good with an axe and reasonable with a knife. I'm strong and fast and can climb trees but I don't know anything about survival."
"I've only been working with axes for a couple of months," Jaka whispers. "I'm fast, but that's all."
"Right," Johanna says. "So, you guys are gonna stay together, presumably." We nod. "You're both gonna have to either separate or kill each other at one point."
There it is, said bluntly and clearly. We will either have to eventually separate, or kill each other. I shudder at the thought of even going near Jaka with a weapon, let alone hurting him and killing him. I feel the same about separating, leaving him free to be killed by the other tributes without my protection.
"When the time comes for training, I want you two to stick together. But Genesis, don't show your skills. It'll only make you a target for the Careers. Both of you, stay totally learning survival skills for the first two days. Don't even go near the weapons. The third day practise with weapons. Genesis, you can use axes, right? That's good. Avoid them completely. Practise knives a bit, but try out some common weapons that you don't really know. Swords, maybe, spears perhaps. Jaka, focus on the basics. If you reckon you're a natural with the axes, go to them for a short time but not long enough for people to see exactly how good you are. Try a sword; I reckon you've got a good figure for a sword. Knives too, maybe. But remember: survival the first two days, weapons the third. You can separate when practising weapons if you want."
"What about alliances?" I ask. "We could recruit others, maybe, you know…"
Johanna is shaking her head before I've finished the sentence. "I know you two won't stab each other, but the other tributes have no reason to be loyal to you. They'll stab you in the night while you're sleeping when your usefulness is up, unless you do it first. And a pack is harder to hide than a pair."
"But," Silva says, "I won my Games by doing that. That's a strategy you could use, although it's possibly the worst, the weakest, the lowest strategy there is. You make alliances and then stab them in their sleep when they have no chance of fighting back." His green eyes are cold and hard. He's in Hunger Games mode. This is no time to be feeling sympathy.
"That's right, you could, but it's totally ruthless," Johanna says. "But I still say still together, don't show your skills, get sponsors in different ways."
"How?" Jaka asks.
"Dude. You two are about the two best-looking tributes I've ever had to mentor. Genesis, you'll get a huge amount of sponsors if you go for sexy and flirty. The dumb blonde. It works, the Capitolites eat it up. We'll be beating off sponsors with a stick."
"But that's not how I want to be remembered," I say. "I don't want to be seen as some dumb blonde who sleeps her way to the top."
"It'll get you sponsors. If you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it."
I glare at her, but don't say anything. I can see her logic, even if I don't want to admit it.
"Jaka, you can be the cute and likeable guy with a sob story. Obviously, the sob story is being in here with your sister."
"You want to show the bond you two have," Silva speaks up. "Jaka, you be cute and likeable, obviously, but show a serious side when you speak about your sister. You too, Genesis."
I swallow and nod, turning my head away. The four of us sit in silence for a moment and, of course, Stephanie is the one to ruin it.
"It's time to watch the Reaping recaps!" she says, waddling into the room and turning on the huge flat-screen TV.
The recaps are just starting. I continue to absently stroke Jaka's hair as Caesar Flickerman's face plays across the screen. This year his hair and eyebrows are a shocking yellow, a sharp contrast to his tanned skin.
District 1's reaping starts a few moments later. I take note of all the Careers; a tall, slim girl with blonde curls from District 1 called Lorelei Williamson; a tall, broad-chested blonde called Riley Jamison as her partner; a small, rather lethal-looking girl with short spiky dark hair from District 2 called Astraea Faye, and a huge, bronze-haired killing machine called Jared Waters as her partner. The girl from District 3, Melina or Melissa or something, looks only around thirteen or fourteen. She's a bloodbath, I'd reckon. Her partner looks more promising, Octavian Welloby, if only slightly. He looks a bit older, with large glasses and painfully pale skin. His dark hair is short and spikes up in every direction as if he just woke up. The girl from District 4 is absolutely beautiful; wavy mahogany hair down to her waist with blonde streaks; large green eyes; perfectly tanned skin, and on top of that she looks absolutely lethal. Her name is Telia Westbourne. Her partner, Taylor Beckett, has an arrogant smirk on his pretty face. He's almost as big as Jared, although not quite, and his dirty-blonde hair is chin-length, the same length as Leonides'. He looks more excited to be partnered with Telia than he is to be going into the Games. The girl from five, Vera Van der Woodsen, looks about my age, if maybe a little younger. She's glaring up at their escort with so much venom that if looks could kill, the escort would have been dead a hundred times over. Her partner doesn't look that interesting, the same with both from District 6. I estimate that all four of them will be bloodbath victims, and then I suddenly feel sick. Who am I to be cruelly betting on these children's lives like this? That's what those in the Capitol do. And I will not become like them.
Our reaping is next. I swallow as I watch my name being called once, twice; and then finally my white-blonde figure walks slowly up to the stage. I'm pleased to see that my expression is blank, not displaying any of the emotions that I was feeling at that time. The camera does a close-up of my face and the commentator says, "It looks like Telia Westbourne, the beauty from District 4, may have some model competition!" a picture of the beautiful girl from the fishing district comes up next to my face and I glare at the screen. They're really talking about looks now?
Telia's face disappears and then our reaping is continued. I'm glad it's no longer a close-up on my face when Leonides' name is called. In fact the camera isn't showing my face at all. It's focused on Stephanie, and then Leonides as he's singled out.
Jaka's face is on the screen next, his youthful features arranged into a hard mask as he volunteers for his younger brother. No one could miss the resemblance between them. They are unmistakeably brothers, as the commentator says.
"Genesis Howard, Leonides Howard, Jaka Howard…I wonder if they're all related?" the commentator wonders, and his question is answered a moment later when Stephanie asks whether we're related, and Jaka snaps out that I am his sister. My hand involuntary tightens into a fist, and I only relax when I realise that I'm clutching at Jaka's rusty bronze waves.
It goes on to show the District 8 reapings, and I can't be gladder that our turn is over. I don't pay attention to the rest of the reapings. I catch a handful of names, but that's all…Ariadne Castellan…Calista Wolfe…Lyric Maddox…Spring Wainwright…who on earth names their child Spring?
As soon as it's over I stand up, forgetting that Jaka was on my lap. He grumbled and glares at me as he rights himself.
"I'm going to my room," I announce.
No one pays me any mind.
Thanks so much to CoolGIRL2012 and seanthesheep356 who were my first two reviewers! Thanks so much! Thanks also to the people who've favourited and followed the story. :)