The Queen: Almost Okay

A/N: Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen! This is Claudius Templesmith again, and I am here with Caesar Flickerman, who has now been untied from his chair!

(Claudius Templesmith gestures to a dazed Caesar Flickerman, who, albeit untied from his chair, has been injected with laughing gas. Caesar lets out a giggle.)

CF: Heh heh, I'm on TV! Heh heh, heh heh... I'm SEXY!...hee hee!

(The entire Capitol shoots him a unified blank stare. Five minutes later...)

CT: Anyway, the brilliant SilverAquaTrident has thought a rather important thought today: though everyone loves to hate Glimmer (well, as far as she can tell, anyway), no one has any reason to root for her, or Cato or Clove, come to think of it. Well, as the drama begins to stir up a few chapters later...er, you might reconsider who you're rooting for! After all, this story is not completely canon to the book or the movie. The almighty SilverAquaTrident would also like to sincerely apologize for not updating sooner, as she has recently started school, and teachers are bombarding her with some strange phenomenon called 'Homework'. Moving on, Caesar, what are your thoughts on the odds of each of the Career tributes so far?

CF: Hee hee...Cato's such a sweet little girl...hee hee...

CT: AIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE E -

(Five minutes later)

- EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

(Claudius falls down and dies from an overdose of dimwitted discussions concerning the controversy over Cato's gender)

CF: Hee hee...you're dead...hee hee...Happy Hunger Games!

A feeling of triumph washes over me as I stare out the polished window. The silver and golden buildings of the Capitol loom sky-high above the train as it moves slower and slower. Capitolites scream in excitement as they see the train pulling in, dressed in neon and silk and lace. Their fabulous sense of style is one of the only things in the world that I admire, besides myself. A grin spreads across my perfectly dreamy face. This is where I belong. Sure, I go here every summer with my father, but I was never praised those times like I am here.

They scream my name, chanting with glee, and I can spot every last man swooning over my luxurious presence.

Of course, I don't actually hear them chanting my name, but I just know they are. How can they resist? My name has such a sexy ring to it. Go ahead, say my name. I know you want to, you want to see if it really does have that sexy ring to it. Just sound it out for me. Gl..i…mm…er. See? Now just say it over and over again, and you'll be satisfied.

Actually, no, you won't be satisfied. No one can ever get enough of me, not even I can!

I run through various angles in my head that I can play to the crowd. Do I want to seem pretty? Hot? Gorgeous? Beautiful? Astonishing?

After thinking it through for about eighty-ten seconds, a genius idea sprouts from my amazingly big brain – I could combine all of those angles!

So here I stand, waving and flashing smiles at the crowd, being pretty, hot, gorgeous, beautiful, and astonishing all at the same time. Yes, that's right, I can do that! I'm just that breathtaking.

By now, the crowd is freaking out. No, not at that guy…what's his name…Marcus, I think, slouching nearby. The Capitol loves me, not him, and rightly so.

That's another thing the Capitol and the districts have in common. They both love me!

"Um…Glimmer?" Someone's obviously un-manicured finger taps my shoulder.

"What?" I snap, whirling around. It's that ...what's his name... Mack guy, raising his eyebrows.

"It's just…um…you're coming across as a bit…arrogant." He flinches as he says the word, as if his instincts are telling him that I'm about to slap him.

Well, at least his instincts are useful, because indeed, I do slap him across the cheek, as hard as I possibly can. No one insults Glimmer Maybelline, the prettiest and richest girl in all of the districts. I have that kind of unspoken authority over others; no one ridicules me - after all, there's nothing about me to ridicule, because I'm perfect.

"Go away, Matthew," I growl at the street rat. "You're so stupid!" I suppress a smile, proud of my well thought-out insult.

Mateo gapes at me. "That was completely uncalled for! And also, please call me Marvel, that's my name, not Marty or Matthew or whatever you call me."

I sigh dramatically. "Wow, you're so picky, Marble! Well, we've just arrived by the looks of it, so I'm leaving. I have better things to do than associate with street rats." I emphasize the word, making sure that he knows exactly what I think about street rats.

Oh, just letting you know, I don't like street rats. They're too frumpy when it comes to style, they need to get with the program!

I turn on my five-inch heel and stroll away, toward the door that the stylish Natalie Fritter is opening just now. Without any goodbyes, I saunter out of the train and onto the streets of the Capitol.

While breathing in the sweet aroma of food and civilized people, a sense of belonging rushes through me. This is where all the great and powerful people are, people of my kind. I glance at Mackle, who gawks at his surroundings, almost seeming enraged, probably because the Capitol never shared their wealth with him and the other street rats.

Sucks for him, I giggle to myself. I don't have much longer to enjoy the view of the Capitol, however, because the crowds have now caught up with us. Cameras flash blindingly everywhere, and reporters shove microphones toward my mouth, screaming questions at me. I was right; they really are chanting my name. I reward them with a smile and blow a kiss toward a group of particularly hot guys, one of who faints.

Suddenly, as I'm basking in my much-deserved glory, someone dares to disrupt me. Cashmere. She drags me with an iron grip around my wrist toward the main doors of the Training Center. No matter how much I struggle, she keeps on dragging me away, away from my innumerable fanboys. Finally, I let her pull me through the throngs of people. I don't want to seem like a weakling in front of the spectacular Capitolites.

I stumble through the doors into the main foyer of the training center, breathing heavily. Ignoring Cashmere, I stop to take in my surroundings. The foyer is beautiful even on my standards, which is saying something. The entire place is black, with glowing blue accents all over the place, creating a modern, ghostly sort of effect.

I walk with Dionysus, Cashmere, Natalie, and Marcus to the front desk, where a lady elegantly dressed in neon green sits, blonde hair curled into green-streaked ringlets, complemented with green glasses with spikes at the top corners. She smiles as she sees us.

"Ah, hello there!" she chirps. I grin in reply. I've always loved Capitol accents, they're so beautiful and smooth, like freshly washed satin.

"Marvel Tomlinson and Glimmer Maybelline, District One," Dionysus mumbles at the green lady.

"Wonderful!" she chimes. "Gossip has spread around the Capitol that you're the best Career in the district!"

I wink at Marble- I've decided that is officially his name -knowing that the green lady is definitely talking about me, not him. I'm not sure he even qualifies as a Career, anyway.

As the mentors and Natalie step into an elevator, me and Marble walk to another elevator. The doors slide open, and I notice him feeling the metal, fingering the buttons as if they're the most magnificent thing he's ever seen.

"Why are you so amazed?" I ask the street rat, my voice loaded with venom.

Marble cocks his head, staring at me like I'm insane. "T-this is so…like…uh…" I watch with amusement as he gestures wildly, trying to find the right words for his astonishment. I'm about to laugh at his stupidity when I hear something behind us. I turn around, and there stands another girl getting into the elevator. Her hair is a rich auburn color, and her eyes sparkle a deep blue-green. She's pretty, but nowhere near my league, of course. She smiles at us good-naturedly.

"And who are you?" I snap. Marble gapes at me.

"Glimmer! That wasn't very nice!"

The girl shoots him an amused look. I don't blame her. It's not often that you see a supposed Career reprimanding someone for not being very nice.

Shrugging it off, she holds out her hand to Marble. "I'm Fiona," she says. "I'm a female tribute – well, I guess that much is obvious."

Marble laughs as the doors close, shaking her hand. "I'm Marvel, District One. I'm also a female tribute," he jokes, and the two of them laugh. My blood boils. How can he disgrace the name of the Careers by associating with non-Careers?

"So I guess that makes you District One's male tribute?" the idiot Fiona asks me. I huff, scowling at her. How immature can you get?

"Indeed," Marble jokes brightly. "What district are you from?"

"Me? Oh, I'm from Four, and also a Career. Are you two going to be in the pack this year?"

"Of course!" me and Marble respond in unison, though our tones are completely opposite in emotion.

Before I know it, we reach the first floor. Marble waves to Fiona as the doors slide back open. "See you soon, buddy!" he tells her.

"You too, hopefully!"

As soon as the doors close and Fiona is shooting up to the fourth floor, I slap Marble even harder than I did last time. "See you soon, buddy?!" I hiss at him. "What were you thinking?! We are the Careers. We don't have buddies!"

"I do!" Marble protests. "I have lots of buddies! There's Aimee, and Ellie, and Siobhan, and Miguel, and Ruby, and –"

"I DON'T CARE!" I shriek. "YOU CAN'T JUST GO AROUND SAYING STUPID THIINGS TO OTHER CAREERS! THAT WILL MAKE US LOOK STUPID!"

I realize that I'm holding him by his collar so that his nose is inches from mine. "Okay, okay!" Marble says. "Sheesh, just trying to be friendly!"

Before I can slap him again, he scurries away from the room. Good riddance. Trust me, having a street rat around kind of darkens your day.

I wipe my hand on my blouse and gaze around at the golden themed dining room, which I'll have to admit is even more extravagant than mine. Everything is gold and white - the walls, the plates, the lining of the windows. The Capitol has such a sense of style! That's yet another reason why I should be a Capitolite, because my sense of style is amazing.

Just like everything else about me.


AWHILE LATER, 19:00 PM

"Pass me the chicken," I order Marble. He starts to protest, but then he quickly pushes the platter of grilled chicken toward me. I don't blame him. He's learned his lesson from the last time he tried to contradict me today.

The food here is the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted, far better than the crap our stupid Avox Mina used to cook up. The chicken is tender, the drinks are refreshing, and everything is perfect.

Like me.

"So," Dionysus slurs, taking a sip of deep red wine. "Since our first attempt at a strategy meeting failed last time -"

"Yeah," I cut in. "It's all your fault, Marble!" I shoot the dirty street rat a pointed look.

"No it wasn't!" Marble protests. "And it's Marvel. I'm starting to think you're doing that on purpose."

"Hey, hey, break it up," Cashmere says, waving me down as I'm about to slap Marble for the third time today. "Anyway...let's not start with reciting our strengths this time, okay? First of all, will you both be part of the Career pack?"

"Um...I...I guess..." Marble stutters, looking nervous and conflicted. I snort. He's such an airhead.

"Well, duh!" I exclaim. "How would I not? I'm pretty, and smart, and awesome, and talented, and gorgeous, and hot, and pretty, and awesome -"

"STOP IT!' Marble screams, his face contorted in rage. We all stare at him in awe. Sure, Marble's a strange one, but we've never seen him shout like that before.

"Get over yourself!" he shouts, shooting me a glare that rivals even my best glares. "Do you really think that your arrogance is going to help any of us?! Think about it! Think about how many of District One's tributes have made it to the final two and then died because they got too cocky! If you will just get over yourself, then maybe we can actually get some work done!"

Silence passes, ringing off of the white-washed walls. After another moment of shock, I kick my chair behind me. I storm out of the room and into a random bedroom, throwing myself onto the mattress and burying my face in a plush pillow.

Tears threaten to spill out of my eyes, though I can't explain why. Marble is nothing to cry about, or even think about, for that matter. He's just a dirty street rat, with no guts and no looks.

Not able to contain myself, I pick up a knife from an extra utensil set and throw it into the wall, where it lodges firmly in a spot between two picture frames. How I wish that spot was my district partner...

And suddenly, the reason why I'm so upset hits me, like a two-hundred pound sack of mascara. This is the first time in my life that someone hasn't approved of me, let alone adore or envy me. It hurts me in a way I've never hurt before, and I feel useless, witless, worthless.

Quit thinking like that, the little voice in my head tells me. Just because some retarded street rat thinks you're awful doesn't mean that you are.

But that voice in my head makes me feel no better, not at all. When I doubt myself, which is not often, I always let the little voice remind me of how perfect I am. This time, the voice only makes me feel worse. Deep down inside, I know that the guy whose real name might be Marvel is definitely not just a retarded street rat. Something about him is different, more different than I've ever seen in a person. He has something good about him that I don't.

Come off it! the voice yells. You're not acting like yourself!

I sigh, because I know it's true. I must have had too much wine, or maybe I'm in shock or something. Glimmer Maybelline doesn't cry or complement others or insult herself. It's just not the way it works. I'm too perfect for that.

A knock suddenly sounds on the door. Immediately, I sit up and swipe the tears from my eyes. "Who's there?" I snap, with more bite in my tone than I intended.

"It's me," a kind voice says softly. Before I have time to process who it might be, the person opens the door a crack and a warm amber eye peeks through. "Can I come in?"

Without an answer, Marble walks in, shutting the door behind him. "Are you okay?" he asks meekly, possibly noting the remnants of tear tracks down my face.

Slap him, the voice commands me. Don't associate with street rats.

But somehow, I'm frozen into place. He sits down beside me, tentatively wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

Get it off! Get it off! the voice commands me. But I let his arm stay there for some reason. My throat burns from trying to hold back tears, tears that I can't explain.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Marble says softly, in a voice that can tame a lion. I want to tell him it's okay, or tell him to shut up, but I'm still paralyzed. I hate Marvel, how could he be so nice to me? We're Careers, it doesn't work that way.

'Listen," he continues in the same entrancing voice, his amber eyes shining with sincerity. "If you ever want to talk about anything, just...just let me know, okay?"

I make a strangled sound, because that's the only sound I'm capable of producing. Finally, I manage to nod. "Thanks," I whisper, but my voice comes out strained and high.

"Hey, that's what district partners are for."

And with that, Marvel softly gets up and leaves, closing the door behind him. I don't understand why, but I don't want him to go. I want him to stay right here, so I can tell him everything. I don't know what I'd tell him about, I'm pretty secretive in general, but...

GLIMMER, STOP! the voice shrieks. YOU'RE ACTING LIKE AN IDIOT!

"You're right," I mumble. Why on earth did I just soften up to a street rat? What am I turning into?

No, I'm not turning into anything. I'm still myself, the rich, gorgeous Career. That's the way I'll always be. And Marvel is a street rat, I can't just become, what, his friend or something like that.

Or can I?

No, you can't, the voice says firmly. You're too out of his league to talk to him, let alone be friends with him.

Unable to contain the conflict in my thoughts anymore, I curl up under the heavy blankets and let myself sink into sleep, knowing that maybe, just maybe, Marble Tomlinson could be almost okay.


A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the support. I just want you to know, this story will NOT be completely canon to the books nor the movie. I am basing the Careers' stories and personalities from my imagination only. Yes, their ages and eye color and whatnot could be a little off from the movie, but this is NOT canon. Please note that I don't base anything off the movie. Also, the dialogue when the Games start will be altered slightly, as will the deaths of the Careers, and their relationships will change within the story.

Just clearing things up. Updates will be more often and regular, I promise! :D