A/N: Yes, I have been updating heaps. I HAVE TIME! Love the holidays...anyways, here is yet another chapter. I hope it is going okay, and that I haven't totally made any of you get angry saying OH NO THIS GIRL IS AWFUL – RUINED IT...Please read and review if you can, it'd be really awesome! Anyways, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing – just Suzanne Collins pure awesome, me trying (and most likely failing) to even slightly replicate it.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep wouldn't come. It didn't matter how comfortable the bed was - moulding itself perfectly to the shape of my body - or that there were no distractions. It was all in my head.
As per usual.
Thoughts were racing around, endless circles forever doomed to repeat themselves, and I could do nothing to make them stop. Sleep wouldn't come, the door was locked (I had checked before, after an hour of not being able to sleep, I thought a walk might help), and there was nothing and no one to pull me away from the thoughts that plagued my mind.
Tomorrow was the first day of training, and I had yet to meet my mentor. This year's Hunger Games had been so...so...different to the normal routine that we went through. Everything was out of place. All children from the same district, no pairing, mentors introduced at the last minute...it was all crazy, disorganised and it drove me near mad with frustration. I thought that the one thing I could rely on was my past knowledge of the Games - my grandfather had hammered into me the importance of structure in each Games, the purpose of everything, that everything had it's place, that nothing was there for no reason - but now even that was gone. My one-up had disappeared. And I was left with...what?
Nothing.
I was left with my grandfather's name, which had earned me the instant hate of most of the population. Hate that would influence a sponsor's decision, hate that would mean that from the very start, the moment the games begun, I would be at the bottom of the pile. I'd love to say that I can live with that, but honestly I don't believe that is true.
It would most likely get me killed.
Sighing, frustrated, I pushed myself up from the bed and went to the window. From where I was standing, I could see most of the Capitol. Could see lights in some houses, and I could almost imagine the people inside, living their lives, never having to fear another Games again - not for them, or their children, or their friends' children...and it continued.
I knew that 24...or should I say 22...houses down there were probably not sleeping as a result of their children being placed in this building to prepare for their deaths. 22 families, subjected to sleepless nights, stressful days, all waiting for the final outcome. And just like the kids were going to be in the arena, those families were already against each other - wanting their kid to be the one to survive, no matter the cost. It was barbaric.
This whole idea was barbaric.
I mean, hell, we were all from the same DISTRICT. In the end, there would be nothing to stop those families from hating each other, trying to make each other's lives as miserable as possible to compensate for the loss of a child. I hoped that it would be okay. I hoped that that wouldn't happen. But the likelihood was about as high kids getting into that arena and killing each other.
Those lights.
Those families.
Those broken hearts.
I leaned my head against the glass, pleased by the cold feeling against my cheek. I suddenly noticed that I was incredibly clammy - beads of sweat had broken out across my forehead, and my arm was sticky and warm. Pulling my eyes away from the view, I went back to bed. During the time I had stood staring out the window, my eyelids had grown heavy, and I wanted to encourage the feeling so I could actually get some sleep for tomorrow. I settled into bed, allowing sleep to leaden my muscles and drag me into the haze that it offered - I accepted willingly, offering no resistance, letting it take me over, take control, take me...take me...take me...
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!" I screamed, startled out of the depths of the dream I had just had.
It was an Avox, servant of the Capitol, his face mere inches away from mine. He had woken me with a slight shake of my shoulder, but I hadn't been expecting him so close. His eyes gazed intently into mine, a wondrous shade of brown - deep and rich, and he stayed there for a few seconds before leaving at a brisk pace. But before he closed the door, he gestured to my clothes, and then tapped his wrist twice. I glanced at the clock - I had very little time before I was expected downstairs for breakfast, followed soon after by meeting the mentors. The rest of the day would be spent training.
Rushing, trying to dispel the last remnants of sleep which clouded my brain, I dressed in a hurry - simple, stretchy black pants which allowed for easy movement with little restriction, and a plain white button up t-shirt. I pulled on my boots - expensive, true, but of good quality and provided for both comfort and support. My mother wouldn't allow anything less. I went into the bathroom, washed my face quickly and gargled a swig of water in my mouth to get rid of the stagnant taste in my mouth. If I brushed my teeth properly, it would ruin my meal - and I needed to have that in order to conserve my strength for the training session.
Quick glance in the mirror. I looked okay. Good enough. Pulling my hair into a pony-tail, I left the room, closing the door with a soft snick. I walked towards the elevator at the end of the hall. It was made to look like gold - another example of how rich the capitol was. Or at least, it used to be. Ever since the rebellion, I honestly had no idea what was going to happen to this place. But for now, for this last Hunger Games, it was the most ideal spot to house the tributes. Everything was here, ready and waiting. There would be no point changing venues.
Ding.
I stepped in, pressed the button, and the doors were closing when a hand suddenly shot out and the doors slid back open.
It was the Boy, accompanied by Zambia. I moved to the side, allowing them space. The silence that followed the final closing of the doors was an uncomfortable one, each of us not knowing whether to break the silence, or just wait out the ride. Eventually, Zambia spoke up.
"So...uh...Eliza. I am not sure if you two know each other properly yet, but this is Anders," she said somewhat awkwardly, gesturing to the Boy. "And Anders, as you may have guessed, this is Eliza."
The Boy, I mean Anders, offered me a small smile and extended his hand.
"How do you do? A fine day to train for your death, ain't it?" he said, smirking.
I shook his hand. This was odd - before, we had held hands, offered support, felt the same pain, thought the same thoughts, in some ways getting to know each other more than words could express - and yet, now, I had properly met him. I smiled back. He had nice hair, slightly curly, strawberry blond in colour. His eyes - a light blue which I could imagine to be playful in any other situation - looked sad.
"Yeah, it is. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the weapons are being sharpened..."I replied. To my relief, he smiled.
The elevator dinged again, and we were released out onto the floor where the cafeteria was situated. We all headed off, and the silence that fell wasn't half as bad as that in the elevator. It was somewhat...comfortable. Or at least, it wasn't as poignant or blatantly obvious. As we drew closer to the cafeteria doors, I could already hear the murmur of voices spilling out - clearly, we were one of the last few down. Anders pushed open the doors and gestured for Zambia and I to head through first.
All the tributes were sitting in small groups - none any bigger than four - and no one was by themselves. Grabbing a tray and filling it up, I went to head to one of the empty silver tables. On my way I noticed more than one person stare at me as I walked past - some glanced away as soon as I looked at them, but others just continued staring unabashedly. It was a little unnerving, to say the least, and I had to fight the urge to yell at every single one of them "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" Instead, I ignored them as best I could, focusing on my table and heading towards it like an alcoholic might head towards a bottle of the finest port. It was nothing short of a relief to sit down and turn my back on the rest of the tributes. I looked down glumly at my tray - simple food, nothing special. Cereal, a piece of toast with jam, a couple of biscuits and a glass of juice.
"Mind if we sit here?" a voice behind me asked.
Startled, I turned to see who the voice belonged to.
Zambia, with her new buddy Anders. I shrugged, turning back to my tray and started eating. From the corner of my eye I saw them exchange a glance, then pull out their chairs and sit down - Zambia next to me and Anders across from me.
"So, you guys excited to find out your who your mentors are? I wonder how they are gonna pair people, now that we are all from the same district..." Zambia rambled. I had begun to notice that she was the kind of girl that felt she had to fill a silence. I wasn't quite sure if it was a trait I liked, or loathed.
"Honestly? I couldn't care less. It makes no difference," Anders replied, voice slightly muffled to the piece of toast he had just stuffed into his mouth. Attractive look. I gave him a pointed glance - at least he had the decency to look slightly embarrassed and cover his mouth.
"Well I, for one, hope that I get paired with someone good. I mean, it might be handy to have a male ally in the games...you never know...and the mentors? You need a good one. How can you say that? They play such an integral role...I mean, for one, they do their best to keep you alive, which is always helpful, and not only that..." Zambia continued, waffling on and basically providing us with a one woman show.
I did my best to tune her out, but she had a valid point. About the mentor part, at least. I didn't want an ally, or need one - it would only get them killed easier, and there was always the chance that I would be betrayed, which couldn't happen. But the mentor. That was important. As much as I'd like to think it would be just me in the arena, it wasn't true. Someone would be behind the scenes, working out sponsorships, sending me the vitals, (hopefully) trying to keep me alive.
A good mentor was definitely important.
"EARTH TO ELIZA!" Zambia said, waving her hand in front of my face. "Were you even listening? Doesn't matter, anyway, but you might want to pay attention to this guy. Just an idea."
She pointed towards a middle-aged man wearing a grey suit with dark hair heading towards the front of the cafeteria. Within a few seconds, he turned around and boldly addressed all the tributes in the room.
"Good morning, tributes. Today will be your first day of training. As you may know, this Hunger Games has had to be a little different, due to the rebellion and all. Rules have been changed. Firstly, your partner that will share your mentor and that will also work with you during your training has been randomly selected. You will still be partnered with that of the opposite gender, as per tradition, but other than that it will be random.
"Furthermore, the mentors this year are all volunteers. A few members of the group have been previous Games winners, and have wanted to help with the final Games. The remaining few have been chosen for their talent and experience in the past, even if it hasn't been in the Games. You are not at any disadvantage if you do not have an ex-Games participant as each mentor has been trained in the duties and responsibilities that is expected of them, and personally I believe they are all equally good. They have also been chosen at random for you. So now that that has been explained, let me call out Miss Smythen to tell you your pairings and your mentors. Thank you," he finished expertly, and he left his place.
Soon a tall plump woman stood where he was previously standing, her blonde hair frizzed and slightly crazed looking.
"Good morning. Here are your pairings. Eliza Snow," she begun, and my heart took flight, even though it wasn't the pairing that I was worried about. "Eliza Snow, you shall be paired with Xavier Kountze."
I took a quick glance around the room, to see who she was talking about, only to meet the eyes of a dark boy - dark eyes, dark hair, dark skin (clearly from too much sun). He smiled sardonically, giving me a half wave, before proceeding to stick up his middle finger. Somehow, I didn't think he liked me very much. Call it a hunch.
"Your mentor," Miss Smythen continued after seeing that me and my partner were well acquainted. "Will be Katniss Everdeen."
Fan.
Bloody.
Tastic.