Zelix is an a-grade moron, pain in the ass and world-class nutjob.
Chapter Ten- Nyal POV
Green. Green. Green. Green, this. Green, that. Everything was green. Worse of all, it was her kind of green.
She didn't show up, not personally, but the server girl did. Her hair in a bun. Bow in left hand. Quiver of arrows slung on her shoulder. Wearing arena clothes. Just like Lanie.
But not like Lanie.
I was shivering when I woke up, even though I was cocooned under a thick embroidered quilt with flowers on it. Not my style.
I flinched when the world outside was green, too.
It had been hard enough to sleep last night. Zavier wouldn't give me a break with all the yelling. But then, maybe I'd joined in a bit later. My throat was a bit sore.
The silver necklace was cold on my skin, so I hurried to throw some clothes on. I walked out of my bedroom and walked down the narrow corridor of all the carriages to the dining carriage. Almost everyone was up. Even the woman who'd spilt the water on me during her drunken moment was awake, her bloodshot eyes fixed on her cup of coffee.
Zavier had bags under his eyes. As did Peyton. So I guess last night had been pretty restless for everyone.
As I sat down, a server girl with light brown hair placed an empty in front of me. I could tell that it wasn't her, just the way she moved.
The other one… her movements were lithe, nimble. Cat-like even. The way she'd caught the falling candle-holder before I did. Fast. Also, her footsteps were quiet. Like a trained huntress.
And her eyes. The colour green.
It was as quiet as yesterday. Except for the sounds of spoons and forks on plates, there was silence. Until Rica spoke up.
"In an hour, this train will reach district eleven. We'll pick up Noah. Then we'll continue on to district ten, and onwards until we reach the Capitol. After that, we'll loop back to district twelve and eleven again for the celebrations. Any questions?"
"Can I sleep for the entire Tour?" Peyton grumbled into her jam toast.
"No." Rica lifted a hand to straighten her glasses, and the jewels in her skin caught the light. I blinked hard.
I was only able to stomach one dish, so I left the table early. I had one free hour, but if I could sleep without the nightmares, I would. I decided to kill time looking around the train.
Each carriage had someone's room. The entire bedroom took up almost the whole carriage, except for a small length along the east train wall that was the corridor. Every wall of the train was panelled in wood. The carpet was red and vibrant enough to not invoke blood-filled memories. The carriage after mine was Noah's, so it was empty. I continued walking into the connecting carriage.
There were two glass doors here. I peered into the first glass. Rica's room. The next door was the entrance to some kind of giant wardrobe. Rack after rack of garment bags with white labels. Our costumes, presumably.
The next carriage was untouched, but also had two doors like the one before. Noah's stylist.
The next carriages were occupied by the prep team, plus two empty carriages for Noah's prep. I began to wonder about how long this train actually was when I entered the carriage for the last two rooms. There was a curtain drawn across the glass door to the next carriage, and that piqued my interest.
I stood in front of the glass, expecting it to open. But it didn't. Curious, I placed a hand on the door, and it slid open, startling me.
The room wasn't fancy. The beds were stuffed together. No panelled walls. No velvet sheets. Or flowers on pillows. Striding across the carriage, I placed my hand on the door just to see if it would have the same effect. Nothing.
There was a puffing sound, and at first I thought the door had opened, but in the reflection, two green eyes looked at me.
I'd obviously surprised her. She was a couple of steps inside the door, and the helper behind had to shove her to get her going.
Her friend spotted me.
"Victors aren't allowed in there," the helper said. "Or in here."
"What's in there?" I asked.
"Peacekeeper's rooms. Nothing much to see."
My eyes wandered over to hers, on their own. But she'd already turned away, busied herself with straightening out the sheets on her bed which were already straight.
"Right." I tore my eyes away from her.
I shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked out.
"Where'd you go?" Peyton asked suddenly from inside one of the rooms, surprising me by lying on her stomach on one of the prep team member's beds. I peered inside the open door. "You're not allowed there. You know that?"
"Now I do," I said, walking inside.
"What were you looking for? Wait- let me say that again. Who were you looking for?"
"Nobody. I was bored."
"You looking for Jade?" she asked, as she crossed her ankles in mid-air.
"Is that her name?" Then I realised that I'd let my guard down.
"So you were looking." She rolled off the bed and landed on her feet. "Why?"
"Nothing. Just drop it, okay?"
I shouldn't have asked. I was talking to Peyton, after all.
"She looks like Lanie, doesn't she?" Peyton crossed her arms. To anyone else, it would have just been a simple, casual movement. But to me, she was readying herself. Just in case I took a lunge for her.
Which I certainly felt like doing.
"Maybe it's just the eyes," she said. "Oh, Rica. She's looking for you. Something about clothing. Probably."
Out of all the people, I reckoned that she was the one who'd coped the most getting out of the arena. Of course, she didn't escape everything. Because we'd copped the pain and were mentally and emotionally unable to hold ourselves for the cameras, the job was all hers.
Rica was waiting for me in her costume room. She had several garment bags on the rack next to her, and had one in her hands.
"Suiting me up?"
"No. Just wanted to make an excuse." She placed the bag back on the rack and made sure the door was closed. "Three weeks, Nyal. This tour goes for three weeks. I want to know if you're going to be able to cope with everything. They'll want interviews, answers to questions that delve deep, but most of all, they'll want to know how you're coping."
Interview coaching? Great. Mentors were supposed to accompany us on this trip, but Teah had all but vanished off the face of the earth. Didn't think she'd be able to smile when she remembers that she's the reason Lanie's gone.
Gone.
Rica watched me over the two minutes that I mentally struggled. If she noticed the way my hands curled into fists, she didn't say. Maybe she was too busy looking at the way I was trying to burn the floor with my eyes.
"They'll ask about her, Nyal," she said, as soon as my grip relaxed.
"Then I'll let them ask. I'll make them wait until they realise I'm not going to answer."
"You'll have to. If you don't, Zelix is going to think he's gotten through to you. That he's defeated you. He'll think that you're vulnerable."
"Do you think that I give a pancake about what he thinks?"
"No. But Panem does. They'll think that their hope has been extinguished."
"What hope?"
Rica sighed. She took off her glasses and polished the lenses with her sleeve. Only then I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. "Maybe I should start from the beginning."
"You should."
"Lanie caused a massive wave when she appeared on stage that day when you were introduced as tributes."
It all came back, along with a lump that lodged itself in my throat. Lanie hadn't been dealing well with her father's death. You could've told that by the way her dress hung on her bones. She had saved Julia. But brought herself a death sentence in the end.
"She embarrassed Zelix in a way that no one had before. On live television. In view of all of Panem. She'd forced him to let what everyone thought a failure go free. He had the original idea for Forbidden Children, Nyal. She, a Forbidden Child that he despised, had ordered him to release Julia. And he did. On the orders of a person made illegal by the law he made. And she played on the crowd's pity and needs for entertainment, so right in front of everyone's eyes, she broke a tiny bit of his pride."
I scoffed. Pride. Zelix could only be inhuman if he'd built up all his pride from killing those innocent kids.
"This gave the outer districts hope. Several of them had had enough of seeing children, whether they be theirs, their neighbours, friends or relatives, killed for the joy of others. They planned."
"Planned what?"
"To overthrow the Capitol. In every district, a handful knows of the Rebellion. If Katniss, the Mockingjay, had done it before, they could do it now. But they needed their Mockingjay to survive. They needed their tiger. Their symbol of hope."
"And Lanie… she was their Mockingjay?"
"Exactly. Imagine the waves of changed she caused the moment she stepped on that stage. And when she had that rant during the interview in front of Panem, that wave turned into a tsunami. Imagine the effects she had. More hope.
"Everyone wanted her to win. Everyone loved her. She was their perfect symbol of Rebellion."
"But there weren't any news about uprisings or riots." At least, I thought there wasn't…
"They were careful this time. Also, they knew that Lanie had angered Zelix, and that lessened her chances to survive in the arena. They waited."
"But Lanie… she's gone. So how-"
"Exactly. They had hoped so much that they could overpower the Capitol with Lanie to lead them, that when she was gone, their hope couldn't be quashed. Plans ruined. No. They simply shifted to someone else. Lanie was one half of the symbol, and the other was…"
"Me." I fixed her with a look. "But why? Why me? I don't know how to sway the crowd like she does. What she had, it was like a power."
"It was, wasn't it?" Rica's eyes slid from past to present, as if remembering something. The smile on her lips was one that a person had from getting a joke that no one else did.
"So what do I do?" I asked, when Rica didn't stop being so day-dreamy.
"Show Zelix that he hasn't won. Show Panem that they don't have any reason to lose hope. Show them the tiger, Nyal."
The train pulled over to the station. The scene looked helluva like the one in district twelve. The cameras. The flashes. The people. Except for the immense green. There was a small proportion of houses. Then the enormous world of neatly cultivated food.
The door puffed open. Noah stood there. A nine-year-old turned eighteen by publicity, popularity, and the stupid Capitol. Not to the mention, the arena. All of this made him older. And his stylist had emphasised it.
His hair was gelled up in spikes. His denim trousers were slightly faded at the knee. There was a leather cuff on his left hand, two inches thick, and had silver studs. A pair of headphones around his neck, unused. A black shirt with bold silver block letters. 'When I was younger…' And a roaring tiger in place of the letter 'o'.
We were in a jungle.
As soon as the train started moving, his prep team disappeared to their rooms. Zinta, Noah's stylist took Rica into a hug. They probably coordinated with the outfits.
"Hey man," I said, tousling his hair for a bit of a joke.
He shook my hand off. "Ha, ha. The gel's going to stay on your hand for hours." He grinned, and for a second, I could see the child that the Capitol had yet to have changed. "Aw. Where's all the food?"
"Peyton finished it all," I said, nodding toward her.
From her space beside Zavier in the corner, she shouted, "Hey!" Then she nudged Zavier softly on the arm and pointed to Noah.
"Noah?" he mumbled. Then he turned to Peyton, completely confused. "He's too old to be."
"He is," Peyton reassured him.
Zavier smiled then turned back to tracing a flower on the pillow on his lap.
"How's it been?" I asked him.
"Mummy's upset. She spends about half a day at my sister's grave. Our house is so huge, but it feels so empty, even with Nate. He's two now and he's almost hardly ever hungry. Annoys me to death because he's tall enough to open door handles. Barges into my room and messes everything up. Once, he dialled our district's mayor by accident."
"What happened then?"
"Nothing. Luckily our mayor's son answered. But Nate… he's so happy now. He's going to grow up healthy. He has a future now."
"Unlike before."
"Yup." His eyes softened. "But I'd rather be the way it was before, than after."
There. The words of a man spoken by some nine-year-old kid. If he was truly still as young as he was, he'd be having the time of his life in his new mansion, sliding down the rails of the staircase instead of walking down it.
Like I would've. If this were somewhere else.
But it wasn't. This was Panem. Where all kids with brothers and sisters feared to be executed by other kids who were probably just as scared. Where the ones in power don't give a damn about the others who ask for their help and get up after falling in the ditches. The ditches that are almost as deep as my hatred for Panem.
But most of all, my hatred for Zelix.
Feels nice to be updating again.
A couple more chapters up my sleeve. I'm still writing, and this story's nowhere near finished.
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