Sorry it's been so long since I posted last— I feel so embarrassed.
"You're kidding me."
Taftan arched an eyebrow as he sat staring at me from the bed in my room. Not even a hologram or something even crazier that the Capitol could cook up; Taftan 'the baker's boy' Mellark was on the train headed to the Capitol, seated on the edge of my bed, practically gaping at me as I told him everything that had happened so far that day. He had already confessed to stealing a waiter's uniform while the train was in District Twelve and finding a man's Capitol ID card that Taftan could pass as himself before stowing away. All to come with me to the Capitol and make sure I was okay.
Grateful to have my best friend with me, I paced agitatedly back and forth across my compartment, "No I'm not kidding. I really said 'stay alive'."
"Well, you're the Mentor." Taftan smiled easily.
Between Taftan and I was this incredibly uncomplicated friendship that never ceased to make me feel a little bit more myself. Those pink lips of his would stretch into a friendly grin and my own would mirror them. When Taftan was happy, sad, excited, or upset I tended to feel the same way. I honestly couldn't explain it if I tried, but being friends with Taftan was easier than thought and I didn't want anything to ruin it.
So of course I smiled back, "Tell them that. Slade is just so slimy and he doesn't really care what I have to say about the Hunger Games because he has it all figured out. Then Maysilee challenges everything! I'm pretty sure she thinks the odds of me telling her the truth are worse than her chances of becoming this year's Victor."
"Don't take it too hard— if I remember correctly, someone didn't take advice from her escort very well when she played the Hunger Games." Taftan chuckled.
"That's the problem." I fumed, although I wasn't really angry anymore, "Maysilee and I are too much alike. Both of us are wary of help and think we already know what's best before we completely understand the problem. I have no idea how to convince her that she has no clue what she's in for!"
"Do you?" When I started to argue Taftan held up a finger, "Think for a second. Do you really have a clue what's going to happen to her or any of the others? There are more tributes this year which means fewer angles to play and less sponsors per tribute."
"You're right." I sighed and sat next to him on the bed, "Playing the Hunger Games with twenty-three other people is hard enough. There is only so much I can do for these kids and odds are that the little I can do won't be anywhere near enough."
Taftan patted my shoulder, "Don't worry, you'll do your best. That's all you can give."
Leaning back until I lay on my bed with my feet still touching the floor, I stared at the ceiling, "No one understands. I have to give more than my best to the Hunger Games. It's a cold and calculating beast that lays a trail of poison wherever it walks and most people have to merely deal with its horrid presence. But some people it stalks once it has them in its little bubble and drives them insane before stealing their lives. I'm not either of those people. The beast took my life with its poison and its master decided that death was too good for me. No, he had to make me suffer. He had to make me squirm under his precious monster's thumb. The master had to have my soul in order to be happy withhis good work."
Gently Taftan took one of my small hands and laced his fingers with mine, "Titania I know you're not telling me something. The only reason I haven't gotten down on my knees and begged you to tell me is because I want you to say it when you're ready to. Whether that's tomorrow, a week from today, or even decades from now, I don't care. Just know that I am here whenever you're ready."
Meeting his soft blue gaze I realized that I did want to tell Taftan about what Snow was going to force me to do. The only problem was that I had no idea how to begin that delicate conversation. Maybe being delicate was the problem.
Bluntly I stated, "Snow is forcing me to become a call girl in trade for my family's lives."
It was weird to watch Taftan's reaction to my news. First his blue eyes grew wider than saucers with utter shock. Then his face contorted with an emotion I had never seen before on his face: pure unobstructed rage. Taftan's grip remained loose on my hand but the rest of his muscled body was tensed and shaking.
After a few anxious moments Taftan calmed down. His expression turned from rage into empathetic pain and worry. Slowly, and with the utmost care, Taftan scooped me up off the bed onto his lap and held me close. For a brief moment the two Titania's inside of me warred over whether to shove Taftan away or to break down in his arms and cry. The second option won out.
Curling up into my best friend's chest I cried the hardest I had since the night after my Father's funeral. Before that moment the full weight of what I had in store for me hadn't hit and suddenly it all came rushing in like a torrent of horror. There was no more beating around the bush. In a month I would be making love to strangers in order to earn my family's safeguarding. I was going to be a whore, a prostitute, a slut, a mistress, a cat-around; the list of names went on and on. I had to be all of them in order to be the life preserver that kept my family afloat.
"I can't believe how strong you are." Taftan whispered through the pain he felt for me.
Racking sobs choked me as I shook my head against his shoulder, "I-I-I'm we-eak."
"No." Taftan contradicted gently yet firmly as he cradled my face in his hands and wiped away the tears from my cheeks, "A weak girl would have refused the President. Or she would have run away from Panem, leaving those she cared for to suffer President Snow's wrath. You are strong because you did the hard thing and stayed to endure his torments in order to save someone else's life. You are strong because you saved me."
Sniffling, I half-smiled, "I don't feel very strong."
Enveloping me in a tight hug Taftan kissed the top of my blonde head, "Don't you know that titanium has the highest strength to weight ratio? What was it your Father said about that before the forty-seventh Reaping?"
"I have the highest strength to good ratio that Panem has never seen." I gave him my best brave face and wiped the water-works from my stormy eyes.
"Snow saw how strong you are. If he wouldn't have tried to break that, then you might have been able to prosper where other warriors have failed." Taftan murmured into my hair.
I didn't need to ask in order to know what my best friend was getting at: if Snow didn't try to break you, then you might have been so inclined to use your new publicity to lead a successful rebellion against him.
Setting me on the edge of my bed, Taftan stood and adjusted his black waiter's coat, "I should probably head to my sleeping quarters."
Wiping the rest of the tears from my face, I nodded, "Sure."
Stopping with his hand on the doorknob, Taftan looked back at me, "Will you be okay?"
"Will I ever be okay?" I laughed halfheartedly.
Shaking his head while a sad smile sat on his lips, Taftan chuckled, "You know what I meant."
The second genuine smile of the day plopped onto my face, "I'll be fine."
With a soft click the door closed behind my best friend. It had taken me nearly eight months to admit that Taftan was indeed one of my best friends in this world. For some reason I had a hard time keeping my best friends— whether that meant keeping them alive or simply in my life it didn't matter— because they all left me. Being Titania Fellcrest's best friend was like some kind of taboo. Anyone who was that close to me wouldn't remain so for long.
Flopping down onto my pillows, I stared at the night sky colored ceiling and thought about the three and a half people who had been my best friends.
The half I should explain. A girl in my alliance from the Forty-eighth Hunger Games Wren Fernbank would represent that half. I'm not saying that Wren was a flaky friend or anything, she was just something else to me that was more than a friend. Wren had been the sister I'd never had. Without a doubt I loved my brothers Boreas, Poplin, and Rubus, but there was just something entirely different about having a sister. Neither of us were embarrassed by tears or harassed each other when we did something stupid. Then Wren was attacked by a flock of white bird muttations and despite my greatest efforts, I was unable to save her; there are no words to describe the feelings that overwhelm you upon losing the one thing you secretly craved as a child. Plainly though, it sucked.
Of course Bay Nortek had been probably the best of all the best friends I had. Not in the sense that he and I knew every intimate detail of each other's lives and could hardly survive a day without each other, but in the way we had both cared for each other enough to put our personal survival after the other person. We trusted one another so explicitly that when the time came to put my life on the line for him there was no doubt in my mind that he was worth the sacrifice. Because of Bay I had been unafraid of death when it stared me in the face. He made me stronger and drove my compassion for others to new lengths during the month I knew him. When Bay died he ripped away some part of the old Titania that I'm not sure I'll ever get back. Bay took the old Titania's innocent view of the world with him onto the white realm beyond death where shadows apparently didn't exist.
The other two best friends were people who always seemed to be in the forefront of my mind. Taftan and Haymitch. Weeks ago Haymitch had mentioned that I had dragged him into the last thing on this planet he had ever wanted to be a part of: a love triangle with Taftan Mellark. I then promplty corrected him that while I loved a lot of people— none of them should worry him about where loyalty lies— and confessed to Haymitch that he was the only person on this planet I wanted to marry and grow old with. Not Taftan, Colby, the whole male population of District Twelve that dropped their jaws whenever I entered a room, or the Capitol boys who swooned at the sight of their 'warrior princess' made me feel that way.
That was that. Nothing would change the fact that I loved Haymitch first and foremost. I chose to break the promise to never forgive Haymitch for walking away from our friendship years ago and that was a big deal for me. My brothers, my father, my grandfather, and his father before him had all never broken a single promise in their lives. At a very young age I swore that I would be just a honorable in my promises; now all I felt was a sense of peace as I thought about breaking that one promise to Haymitch. He was worth breaking a promise that I never should have made.
Tiny shafts of sunlight streamed down from the windows above my head and I sat upright. It couldn't be morning already could it? Looking through the window I saw that the sun was rising over the gentle hills surrounding the train. Had I really laid in my bed all night thinking about what I had? Suddenly I realized that everything outside was still. The train must be stopping for fuel before continuing on it's journey.
Changing into the first piece of clothing I got my hands on, I dashed excitedly to the train doors and snuck onto the platform. The misty morning air chilled my bare arms and lower legs that the white cotton dress didn't cover yet it made me feel more alive than ever. Legs pumping as hard as they could down the platform I winced as my bare feet slapped the cement but didn't slow down until the cement was replaced by dewy soft green grass. A surprising burst of happiness washed over me. Twirling like a five year old girl with my arms outspread and giggling at the sweet sensation the grass gave as it tickled my toes and ankles. For a wonderful moment I was free.
"What are you doing?" someone asked.
When I stopped spinning I saw Maysilee Donnor standing in her bare feet and two piece green pajamas at the edge of the platform.
"Living." I smiled and dragged her out onto the grass, "Try it. Close your eyes and just tune everything out for a minute."
Despite her distrustful expression Maysilee closed her eyes as I instructed.
"Hold out your arms."
She complied.
"Now spin." I grabbed one of her hands and twirled her on the spot.
"This is silly." Maysilee protested with a quiet giggle.
"But it's fun." I grinned and danced around in the fog pretending I was dancing on the clouds.
Maysilee joined me after a slight hesitation.
All too soon the train whistle sounded and the two of us grudgingly scrambled on board before any Peacekeepers could notice the two of us weren't on the train. The door closed behind the two of us with a soft thud just as another door to our right hissed open. Four armed Peacekeepers stood behind it.
They aimed their guns at our hearts and heads. Without thinking I stepped out in front of Maysilee. The gaiety from just moments before was replaced by something more bestial than human. A sound crept out of my throat that I had never made in my life: a feral and completely animal growl starting low in my chest and ripping up through my bared teeth. The temperature of the room rose until it burned my skin and tinged my vision red. Down at my sides my usually gentle fingers were curved like talons.
"Excuse me young man, I thought the fancy Academy thought you better than to point that little stick of yours around all willy-nilly." Alvis said from somewhere behind me.
"My pardon." One of the Peacekeepers spat, "Call off—"
"Young man." Alvis interrupted, "If you are about to tell me to call off an easily offended lady with her own free will and a short temper, I suggest you not."
Lowering their weapons, the Peacekeepers backed away so that the door could close between Maysilee, Alvis, myself and them. The one who spoke earlier said one last thing before the door shut between us completely.
"Be careful who you threaten, Miss Fellcrest."
Deciding the Peacekeepers weren't an immediate danger to us I turned and ushered a confused Maysilee on to the dining car with a smile. The whole time Alvis reprimanded me for my recklessness, but I wasn't really listening. All I wanted was a nice and simple breakfast, a cup of hot chocolate, and a morning alone with Haymitch. Not that I'd get the last part. Where I was the tributes were bound to follow like little ducklings follow their mother.
Once all six of us were seated around the table, Maysilee finally asked the question that had been bothering her, "Why did you shield me? I'll be dead in a month anyways."
"Maybe I'm not the shallow, fickle, and deadly person the Capitol paints me out to be." I smiled and took a bite out of the best bacon I'd ever had the pleasure of eating, "There's more to me than meets the eye Maysilee Donnor."
Briare raised her hand excitedly to grab my attention, "Oh, but you are deadly! You're my favorite Victor! Strong, fast, smart, pretty— Titania you are a role model for younger tributes all over Panem!"
I sat and thought about that for a moment. Twelve to Fifteen year old potential female tributes all over Panem thought I was a worthy person to model their lives after. Abruptly I started laughing. The idea that a bipolar serial killing girl was a role model was just plain ridiculous! Surely these girls could find someone more worthy to be their example than me.
"What's so funny?" Briare's innocently pretty face pouted.
"I'm your role model?" I laughed all the harder, "Briare, pick someone who hasn't murdered other kids."
"You talk like you are a kid still." Alvis pointed out.
"Kids don't have curves like those." Slade gave me a smoldering look that only made me laugh impossibly harder.
After hiccuping to a stop I smiled, "I'm seventeen— I am a kid." Then I talked to the group as a whole in a somber tone, "You're all kids. But even though you've hardly lived at all, these people are going to give you a new face, play dress up with you, make you feel like a star, get you a shot a being famous, and then they stick you out in the middle of nowhere to kill a bunch of other kids who are just as lost and afraid as you are. And you know why they do it? Because it keeps the District fighting with one another so that they can't band together like the idiots did back in the Dark Days."
"Titania." Alvis said in a warning tone, "That's quite enough."
"Enough is the whole story Alvis. For now it will merely do."
After a short silence, Maysilee spoke up, "If we win do we end up as crazy as you?"
Smiling sadly shook my head negatively, "It all depends on how you play their game."
Briefly there was silence.
"We'll be arriving in the Capitol this afternoon. Official training starts tomorrow, but I'm hoping to get a feel for your style before the other tributes see what you've got." I announced as I toyed with the food on my plate.
None of them voiced it but I could feel a single word burning in each of the Tributes whirring minds: How?
"Just a couple of physical exercises nothing too serious." I explained as patiently and soothingly as possible.
Looking across the table at Alvis I gave him my this-is-going-to-take-more-time-than-we-have face. Nodding slightly in agreement Alvis took another bite out of some sort of breakfast casserole that appeared to be quite delicious. Forcing down another bite of my comparatively savory eggs I glanced out the window at the now clear blue sky and green rolling hills. In District Twelve we didn't really have open spaces like this. Whatever land didn't have houses on it was full of markets or other important buildings. The only plant life we had was a small flower shop and the dead grass that stubbornly stayed an ugly brown color all year long. Seeing so much green outside the train was kind of fantastic.
"... they win?" The other's must have been talking but I only caught that little snippet.
"Hmm?"
Maysilee nearly choked on her eggs as she laughed, "Briare asked what Victors do after they win the Hunger Games?"
"It depends— what would you do with all that money, food, and fame?" Careful not to give away that most Victors were drug addicts who only cleaned up once a year for the Hunger Games, I decided it would be safer to redirect the question.
"I would buy lots of dresses," Briare began.
"And shoes." Maysilee added thoughtfully.
Briare nodded excitedly, "So that I had one outfit for each day of the year. I would buy more food than I could eat and distribute it throughout the District so no one would be hungry. Then I would buy a big grand piano and pay someone from the Capitol to come and teach me how to play it."
For a moment I considered the novelty of Briare's dream. What if I did that? It wouldn't make me any happier would it? No, I didn't need three hundred sixty-five dresses or shoes to make me happy. A piano might be nice though, it would give me something to do other than sulk around my house singing to myself when I was alone.
"What about you Maysilee? Other than the shoes what would you do?" I asked.
"Well, I would build a big house at the edge of District Twelve for my family to live in long after I would die. I can just imagine my twin sister and I living in a big luxurious house raising own children there. No one I love would starve or go homeless."
"I might have to steal that house idea." I mused with a smile, "Slade what would you do?"
"I'd find a smoking hot little blonde to marry. She'd have a short temper, be about five foot six, and probably have a name starting with the letter T." Slade winked at me and I felt like I might start laughing again.
Without warning Haymitch wound up and punched Slade so hard in the face that he fell out of his seat and onto the floor, "I'd beat the poor idiot who keeps hitting on my girlfriend. That's what I'd do."
Jumping out of my seat I stood between Haymitch and Slade, who was sitting on the ground in a daze, both hands against Haymitch's chest to keep him from charging Slade, "Calm down. You can beat the daylights out of him once you're in the Arena but not here."
Haymitch's furious grey eyes met my stormy blues for the first time since he boarded the train. A tornado of emotions were going through him and I could only pick out a few. Confusion, hurt, sadness, and love all mixed up with the other unreadable emotions into a hurricane of rage.
"Please." I begged quietly.
Begrudgingly Haymitch sat back relaxed a bit and left the dinning car to wait in the lounge. Obviously he and I needed to have a one on one talk so he could get whatever was bothering him off of his chest.
Turning sharply, I glared at Slade, "If you flirt with me again I'll gut you and throw your lifeless carcass off the back of the train, understand?"
"Yeah." Slade swallowed nervously.
"Go get some ice on your face, it's going to be a big ugly bruise tomorrow." Alvis suggested lightly.
Well, Slade had it coming.
What do you think about the new characters Briare and Slade?