Chapter Seven – The New Head Gamemaker

Hamish and Bruce stood poised, wands raised and some sort of mutual realisation crashed upon them both. Bruce's brow furrowed as his eyes fell on Hamish's wand and then back up to Hamish, and it was clear he couldn't quite believe it. He didn't even notice the drops of blood sliding down his chin and neck.

Hamish lowered his wand and spun round to face Aberforth for some explanation; he was staring at Bruce, mouth slightly open, as nonplussed as Hamish. Yet it was he who broke the silence again.

'You're a wizard too?' he breathed to Bruce and slowly got to his feet.

'Yes,' murmured Bruce. Curiosity had caused him to also lower his wand. 'I thought there were none of us left. I thought everyone had died in the battle.'

'Me too,' muttered Aberforth. 'And how wrong we've been. That's at least three of us in one district. Or four, even?' he added with an enquiring glance behind at Ella, but she shook her head.

'Three in one district, eh?' said Aberforth in an undertone.

Hamish looked back at Bruce. By now, his wandarm was hanging limply at his side. This was incredible. Perhaps he should have acknowledged something when Bruce had pulled him up for attempting to steal his pig. He knew, now, that he'd unconsciouslyused magic to avert the stallholders' eyes whenever he went to take food, and that Bruce had been the only exception in seven years. And there something else. Something that had been masked by Ella's beauty and equally by Bruce's malevolence. They both had the same strange accent as Aberforth.

Before Hamish could ponder any deeper into this, the compartment doors slid open and Adina emerged. In a flash, Hamish and Bruce stowed their wands away following a very stern look from Aberforth. It hardly mattered, because Adina took one look at Bruce's injury, shrieked, and trotted back through the doors again.

That evening, Hamish sat on the end of his bed, head down and hands locked. His mind had never had to deal with all these different emotions at the same point in time. The food had been stupendously delicious, though they had finished their dinner in a strange silence since Adina had recovered, and they obviously couldn't discuss anything to do with magic while she was around. Even so, Hamish had departed for his room the moment dinner had finished; he still hadn't been ready to confront Bruce again, whether as allies or otherwise. He had no wishes to emerge from his room just yet.

There was a soft knock on the door and Hamish's head lifted. He cleared his throat and said, 'Hello?'

The door opened and Ella peered round, her curtain of hair swinging in with her.

'Hi,' said Hamish automatically.

'Hi,' she echoed. She looked slightly nervous. 'D'you mind if we talk?'

'No, not at all – here, sit down.' He shifted to one side to make room for her.

'Thank you,' smiled Ella. She closed the door quietly and sat down. 'I'm sorry we've barely met other yet. I guess there's just been ...'

'A lot going on,' finished Hamish. 'I know what you mean. How're you feeling?'

Ella sighed.

'Oh, I don't know, Hamish. I feel I should be worried, but I'm not, if that makes.'

It did. Because Hamish felt exactly the same.

'I mean, it's always there, in the back of my mind. That I'm a tribute. But all this,' she waved a hand around the room. 'It's distracting me. And it won't get any better when we're lying in huge double beds in the Capitol, with – oh, I don't know, eight courses a day and a swimming pool each.'

Hamish laughed, but her words were true. There would be no getting used to the Capitol lifestyle before now and the arena: it would always seem too good to be true.

'So – your Dad's a wizard, right?' he asked her.

She nodded. 'I've never been able to, though – you know, do magic. I used to watch Dad do it a lot at home, when I was little. But Mum isn't magical either so I guess it's not too bad. I couldn't believe it when you pulled that wand out earlier.'

'Yeah, well,' said Hamish. He'd rather the conversation steered clear of the incident with her father. 'Aberforth gave me it when we first met. He's got a whole collection in his house, you know.'

'Has he?' said Ella, failing to keep the longing from her voice.

'Yeah ... told me he didn't want any to go to waste after that war at the school. Just in case.' There was a pause as Ella considered this but she didn't appear too downcast.

'I bet it'll be useful in the arena though, right?' she asked casually.

'Will it?' Hamish disagreed. 'I'm not so sure. The Capitol won't like it at all if they found out. They'd probably kill me for having such a secret advantage, or at least give me hell in the arena. That's what Ab reckons, anyway.'

'Hmm,' said Ella. There was a short silence as she contemplated Hamish's view. Was she jealous of Hamish's magical abilities? Or pleased he didn't think he could use them in the arena? Mayve both. Yet she didn't press the matter.

'I like Aberforth. He's a good soul. I guess he's got some experience of watching all the Games as well. He's a lot nicer than Dad.'

'Don't worry about him,' said Hamish, though he could have been giving that advice to himself. 'I need to go and apologise to him actually. I hope he'll be on my side since we've got something in common.'

'Yes, maybe you're right.'

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each deep in their own thoughts. Then Ella stood up.

'I think the reapings will be on soon ... you should probably find Dad quickly.'

'Right, yeah. I'll be down there in a bit.'

Ella left the room. Hamish sat there, thinking about her and how hard it would be to be in the arena together. The thought of having to kill her crossed his mind and he felt sick. He wouldn't be able to. He liked her too much.

He got to his feet and left, wondering where her father could be. He continued down the train carriages and saw night had fallen. There were bright lights of a district on their left but he had no idea which. He guessed they must be about halfway through their journey.

He found the door marked 'Bruce Tunger' and knocked, now feeling very nervous. There was a gruff 'Come in' and Hamish entered.

The structure of Bruce's compartment was more or less the same as Hamish's, apart from a few books, perhaps containing mentoring tips. Bruce was in his bathroom with the door open and was standing in front of the sink. In the mirror above the sink, Hamish could see his face was coated in a white fluffy substance. Hamish realised it was the Capitol equivalent of shaving foam. Shaving foam was rather expensive in District Twelve and Hamish could tell it wasn't as soft or white. The apothecary's concoction was a bit thicker and tinged yellow. Bruce glanced at his visitor in the mirror.

'Hamish, m'boy,' he said, his mouth not moving much as he shaved. 'How are yer?'

'Not too bad, thanks,' replied Hamish, rather taken aback by the butcher's politeness. He talked to the bed, though, still unable to make eye contact with Bruce. 'Look, I just wanted to apologise for everything I did earlier and for what happened –'

'Don't worry, don't worry,' said Bruce, waving his razor-free hand airily. His voice was still deep and intimidating but it was much less of a grunt by now. 'We both acted stupidly this afternoon, me especially. And as for the whole pig thing ... I'm sorry, boy, but the only reason I turned you in was because I thought you had used magic. I told myself that it was impossible, that I was simply desperate there was another wizard nearby.' He broke off and washed the remaining foam off his face.

'But you were right,' said Hamish.

'I know magic when I see it,' said Bruce simply. It was hard to see Bruce as a wizard, even when he had a wand in his hand earlier. Hamish always pictured an old thin man with grey hair ... just like Aberforth, he supposed.

'I think this is a good time to start afresh, you reckon?' said Bruce with a ghost of a smile.

'Yes please,' said Hamish, relieved.

'Good boy. You ought to head down to watch the reapings. I'll be there soon.'

Finally feeling things were getting better, Hamish left Bruce's compartment and headed up the train. The noises of the screens got louder and more distinct as he paced through the carriages and eventually found the right room.

It was a simple area, smaller than most of the others. Aberforth, Ella and Adina were seated on a red leather sofa. Hamish perched on the end next to Aberforth and looked up at the screen.

Currently, Caesar Flickerman was interviewing someone Hamish didn't know. Caesar was young, perhaps early twenties and his black hair with green shades had been sleeked back into a bun. This was only his second year as the Hunger Games host, but he was already a household name and was cherished across the Capitol. Hamish soon picked up he was interviewing the new Head Gamemaker, by the name Tarky Ubodrown – honestly, someone these Capitol names – which Hamish read on the bottom subtitles.

'So Tarky,' Flickerman was saying. 'This is, of course, your first year as Head Gamemaker. Is there anything at all you can tell our viewers about your first ever arena?'

'I'm afraid my tongue is tied, as you very well know, Caesar,' said Tarky Ubodrown with a smile. Although he was seated, Hamish could tell Tarky was tall and powerfully-built. His hair was long and when he turned his head to Flickerman, Hamish saw it was in a pointy ponytail and streaked with red. His large arms were heavily tattooed with dragons but perhaps his most distinctive feature was the three horizontal scars across each cheek that looked almost like whiskers.

Caesar turned to the audience, shaking his head and scowling in mock disapproval.

'Wrong answer!' he said and the crowd laughed, now chanting at Tarky to reveal something.

'OK, OK,' Tarky said with a good-natured laugh, and the crowd hushed. 'All I can say is that my arena ... nothing like it has been done before. It'll be interesting to see which tributes can adapt, but they are sure in for a treat.'

'Well, I'm sure we'll all be in for the same treat and we're very excited to see what you and your troops have conjured. Ladies and gentlemen, give a huge hand to your new Head Gamemaker for the thirty-third annual Hunger Games, Tarkyyyy Ubodrown!'

There was explosive applause as Tarky shook hands with Caesar, who clasped his in both his own, and waved to the crazy crowd.

'Well there we have it!' Caesar Flickerman shouted, his hand still raised. 'We've met our new Head Gamemaker and, as if things couldn't get any more exciting, it's the time we've all been waiting for. They're on their way to us in the Capitol as we speak and will be with me on this very stage in a matter of days. Let's meet the tributes!'

There was more applause, which was quickly quietened as the screen began to display replays of the reapings, starting with District 1. This district was one of the richest but still well under the Capitol's omnipotent control. Hamish watched as a fourteen-year-old girl was reaped. There was a bit of commotion as an older girl volunteered, but the younger girl was adamant. There were a few punches exchanged between the two fathers and eventually the younger girl, Zoe, made her way to the stage. She was a fiery character and looked a bit too mean for her age. Then the boy tribute was reaped, and no one bothered to volunteer as a huge guy with spiky hair shoved his way to the front.

Hamish watched intently as the reapings rolled through. Another couple of brutes in Districts 2 and 3. A screaming twelve-year-old girl from 6, for whom no one volunteered. This disgusted Hamish but then he remembered they would be in the arena together and someone would surely pick her off quickly. Somehow he knew the girl's anguished howling wasn't tactical.

There were only a few individuals that stuck in Hamish's head after that. A black boy with dreadlocks from 7; cousins from 4; another, more brave-looking twelve-year-old from 10. And then District 12 was displayed. There was Ella, her face set in slight shock. Hamish was more or less the same. Thankfully, he hadn't stood still for as long as he'd thought he'd had when his name had been called and was pleased he remained expressionless on the stage. District 12 was the only district without a victor and the replays continued as Bruce and Aberforth, who received some laughter from the Capitol crowd, lined up on the stage too.

'Ohooo!' cried Caesar as the screen returned to the Capitol and there was more raucous applause. 'There we are ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of the thirty-third Hunger Games!'

At that moment, a list flowed into the screen and the latest odds on the tributes were displayed. Not many people placed bets at this early stage. They usually waited for the interviews when the tributes had their training score. Even so, the wailing girl from 6 had already been given odds of 200-1.

Aberforth, Hamish and Ella got to their feet as Caesar went on to say what an honour it was to be presenting the wonderful Games again and that he would be interviewing Tarky in the morning to see what he's made of the tributes.

'Time for bed, I think,' said Aberforth. He would undoubtedly be turning over the tributes in his mind, trying to form some sort of plan with Bruce for the morning. Hamish realised he hadn't had a proper conversation with Aberforth since the reaping. That would have to wait for tomorrow though. Today had been emotionally exhausting and the only place he wanted to be was in his bed, asleep.

...

'So Tarky,' said Caesar. 'This is, of course, your first year as Head Gamemaker. Is there anything at all you can tell our viewers about your first ever arena?'

Tarky smiled and said, 'I'm afraid my tongue is tied, as you very well know, Caesar.'

Caesar displayed a comical, disbelieving face to the audience. 'Wrong answer!' The crowd cheered in agreement and began chanting to Tarky.

'OK, OK,' chuckled Tarky and silence fell. 'All I can say is that my arena ... nothing like it has been done before. It'll be very interesting to see which tributes can adapt, but they are sure in for a treat.'

Caesar nodded impressively before saying, 'Well, I'm sure we'll all be in for the same treat and we're very excited to see what you and your troops have conjured. Ladies and gentlemen, give a huge hand to your new Head Gamemaker for the thirty-third annual Hunger Games, Tarkyyyy Ubodrown!'

Tarky and Caesar stood together and shook hands. Tarky waved to the wild audience and headed backstage. Here, he was greeted with more cheers and his assistant, Bella, offered him a glass of champagne. Her hair was navy and straggly, with glittering blue tattoos circling her eyes.

'That was brilliant, Tarky!'

'They're going to love the arena!'

'Over here, Tarky, they're about to show the reapings!'

Tarky followed his assistant, whom he towered over, to a large white room. The Gamemakers' Zone, where he'd been working for the past year. The walls were full of screens, and the biggest displayed the Capitol broadcast that was now moving on to the reapings. The Gamemakers were all huddled round the largest screen in their white uniforms, having abandoned their Arena Panels, from which they would operate the arena when the Games began. In the centre of the room was an impressive three-dimensional map of Tarky's arena that he'd spent the year inventing and finalising. It was inactive for now.

Tarky gazed down from the upper balcony, hands resting on the smooth, curved metal pole, as Bella trotted down the stairs with the other Gamemakers. They all greeted Tarky, who nodded appreciatively.

Tarky watched the reapings with purpose and intent. It was always intriguing to see which tributes looked likely to work well with his arena. The feisty young girl and the huge boy from 1 looked impressive, as did those from 2, 3 and 4. The wailing girl from 6 would probably be the first to go.

It was only until District 12 was displayed that Tarky's attention was really caught. The girl was unfamiliar. Yet he found his eyes rested fixedly on the old grey-haired mentor, though especially the male tribute.

There was cheering and clapping from the Gamemakers. They turned in excitement to see their leader's expression, but he was already out the room.