Chariots, Part One.
Houston Harrels, 12 years, District Ten Male.
I think, without words, that me and Kelsea have become allies.
Neither of us ever said it out-loud. Even when our mentors discussed allies with us we never talked about it. But we haven't really left each other's side long enough to discuss it with other people, have we? Besides. As soon as they were done getting me ready I went right to Kelsea's room without even thinking, and she had smiled when she saw me in the doorway, and that seems good enough. I don't think we need words to figure it out.
It's not like there's anything for me to do besides this, anyway. We're all still in the mindset that Kelsea and I should be doing everything together, a united front as always. There's no reason for me to go out there without her.
"Are you sure I look okay?" Kelsea asks, for what must be the seventh time since I arrived. Lord only knows how many times she asked before I got here. The stylist tuts and tilts her chin back.
"You look amazing, sweetheart! As if there was any doubt."
It's nothing crazy. She's wearing a long, royal blue dress that's supposed to look like a blue ribbon. Not ... exactly, I would say, but close enough. I look like an equestrian rider from somewhere much richer than Ten, my jacket the same color as her dress. Definitely more creative than they've gotten in recent years, at least. I don't know if I'll be able to get out of this afterwards, for how tight it is, but I'll worry about that later.
There's the sound of more footsteps down the hallway and I peer out of the doorway.
"Who's that?" Kelsea asks. She tries to look herself but one of the assistants all but grabs her by the shoulders and pins her to the chair. So much for that.
"Twelves, I think," I say quietly. I think I've got all of the other tributes down. The girl goes sailing past me before I even get a good look at her face to make sure it's really her, the boy not far behind her. He's got his hands shoved deep into his black, dusty pockets and spares us a split-second glance before he's continuing on after her.
After that it's the Fours. The girl does almost exactly the same thing as the first one did, with even more scowling, but the boy stops, after a second. Hesitates when he looks at us.
"Don't mind Celia. She's being a little pissy today."
"I'm being what?" And he seems to panic, eyes going wide, when he realizes she's stopped at the hallway and is what? Waiting for him? Or getting ready to hit him, it looks more like. I barely hear Kelsea stifle a giggle behind me as he goes tearing after her. And I don't see it, once they turn the corner, but it's all too easy to imagine the smack he probably earned for that one.
"Probably shouldn't be laughing at the Careers," I point out and she covers her mouth, looking no less amused. It's good to see her like this though. Happy. Sometimes it's too easy to associate her with the girl who completely froze at the reapings and almost refused to move. We're both so much more than that moment, as we've come to learn.
"Alright, sweetheart, you're all done!"
Kelsea hops off of the chair with way too much eagerness and nearly falls over for her effort. I don't think the heels are helping matters much. I offer my arm to her and she smiles gratefully, toddling over until she can hook her arm through mine.
Kellen told us we didn't have to wait, so we don't. We don't need someone to escort us in, help us into our chariot. I doubt any of the older ones are going to be getting the same treatment, especially the Careers of all people. We already made a decent impression at the reaping. Not stellar by any means but it was a start, and so we need to keep that up.
I've seen too many kids my age fail over and over again, but this year it could be possible. And I won't push Kelsea out of the way to do it.
Two Peacekeepers open the grand doors for us, and Kelsea sucks in a breath. The room is huge, the chariots all lined up in the middle of the stadium. There's not too many people out yet, and I have no idea where the Fours managed to get to if it wasn't here, but that's it. Not too intimidating, in the very least.
I'm sure it will be, very soon though. Kelsea and I cross the room and even the meager number of people in the room are staring at us, at her holding onto my arm, no doubt. At least once the rest of the tributes join us we'll have the advantage.
Maybe.
I help her up into the chariot and then clamber up after her, hoping no one notices the scuff marks on my knees. This is better. We can see everything now, and the height doesn't seem so daring.
"We got this," Kelsea says confidently. She's still holding onto the edge of the chariot, and I mostly suspect that's because she's wary of falling right out of the chariot with the shoes on, but she smiles.
Like I said, it's enough.
"Of course we do," I fire back. I'm never this confident, and maybe I'm not. Not really. At the end of the day we're still two, small kids daring to fight back against the odds. And maybe the audience will end up forgetting us.
But I know I won't.
Tanis Maes, 15 years, District Seven Female.
I'm really questioning whether or not this could get worse.
It started with Camden being done a rough hour and a half before me. An hour and a half. That's mostly because he just ... looks like himself. Like every stupid, stereotypical District Seven lumberjack, plaid shirt and all.
It's more concerning than that, though. The prep team hasn't been too keen on telling me exactly what I'm even supposed to be. All I had for the longest time is that I also had a bit of plaid on, and my legs were inching closer and closer together by the second because of whatever they were doing to them. By the time they allow me to stand up and look at myself in the mirror, I can hardly manage to walk at all.
At least now I know why.
They've turned everything from my waist down into a shoddy representation of a tree trunk. I think. It better be that, or else I have absolutely zero idea what it is.
It all hits me at once. Camden's a damn lumberjack, and if I remember correctly, they gave him an axe and everything.
So, what? Camden's the lumberjack that's going to cut me down?
Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I leave the room before they can change their minds and draw me back in, but it's slow going. I don't think they accounted for the restriction this skirt, or whatever it is, was going to have on my legs. I can shuffle forward an inch or two at a time and that's it. It'll be a miracle if I don't careen over halfway there, having to inchworm myself the rest of the way to the chariot.
Camden's probably going to kill himself laughing later, is the worst part. He won't do it in front of other people because this alliance needs to be a serious thing, something worthwhile. According to him, anyway. That doesn't work if he spends half of his time laughing at me.
"Do you need help?"
"Yes," I respond, before I can even think of who the voice belongs to. It's not like I can turn around to check.
The One guy loops his arm around my waist and nearly terrifies me, but it becomes evident very quickly that he's genuinely trying to help. Tavian, I think. He was one of the one's on Camden's list. The youngest one, if I remember correctly, besides myself.
"Day not going so great?" Tavian asks. I'm basically hopping to gain ground at this point, but at least he's propelling me forward now. A foot, maybe, instead of inches. Progress.
"That easy to tell?" I grumble, and he laughs. God, he has no idea. Whatever he's dressed in is white and gold and flowy and he can move. He has literally no idea how bad it could be. He's also probably not beginning to regret allying with his District partner more and more by the second. If he even is. Camden probably wouldn't be interested in him if he thought he wanted to go the traditional route.
The second the doors open my day hits peak disaster level.
"Please do not take me over there," I beg, looking towards the Seven chariot. Camden's already over there, but now he's got the Five girl with him. She's leaning up against the side of our chariot, somehow managing to make a skirt made out of wire coils and fake electricity not look half bad. Typical. I knew Camden wanted her but not this fast, and I wasn't anywhere near prepared to deal with the level of bad I'm fairly sure she is.
"You can't just stay over here forever. It's going to start soon."
"Watch me," I fire back, but he doesn't let go. Doesn't really do anything.
"Okay, fine," I concede. "You go to yours and I'll go to mine."
He still doesn't move. How else can I say save yourself without actually saying it? Camden might be interested in him but I'm beginning to think Tavian is far too nice for it. Maybe if he was mentally prepared to deal with the terror that is the rest of my alliance, but I don't think he is.
Finally, he shrugs. "I need an alliance anyway. And you two are allies, right? You three?"
I stare at him incredulously. How boys are still managing this level of stupidity is beyond me.
There's also a foolish, hopeful part of me that probably needs him though. Camden and Isi are going to be tight, probably, and who knows who else we'll end up with by the time training's over. Tavian went to me first, offered help when he didn't have to. Besides, he's a Career. He volunteered, just like Camden did. Is easily on the same level as him despite being younger and that's reassuring enough on it's own even if I only met him five minutes ago.
I don't want to regret every single part of this alliance. And I already know leaving it will kill me anyway.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," I tell him, and he smiles. Not in triumph, but general optimism. I could use some of that right about now, instead of wondering and worrying about every single decision I made since I stepped on that train. That'll get me killed almost faster than Camden will.
Besides, maybe if I bring Tavian over, Camden will consider not laughing at me for two seconds.
It's a long shot, I know.
Maybe some of Tavian's optimism will rub off on me too.
Laurel Oversnow, 16 years, District Nine Female.
"Stop worrying. You'll do amazing!"
Are stylists supposed to be extra encouraging by default or is Rosie just being extra nice? I'm not quite sure. I'd been doing better. Since the reaping and the goodbyes I haven't had anything remotely close to a mental breakdown. In fact I'd like to think I'd been rational and collected through it all.
I think it's helped, having Rooke around. Someone at least mildly familiar. I don't think he's really wondering about the repercussions that could arise from him allying with the girl who by far had the worst meltdown at the reapings this year. Maybe it was mean, to watch the recaps and hope that one of the ones younger than me had lost it even more, but nothing. Hardly even a tear.
The issue is, I'm also not about to tell Rooke to go away because I know alone I'd be ten times worse than I currently am.
Maybe that makes me selfish. But I'm more scared of being on my own than I am about being selfish.
"Listen to me," Rosie says, dropping both of her hands on my shoulders. "You may be scared, but Rooke isn't. Right now there's no reason to be. All you have to do is go out there and be the girl you were with me when we were getting you ready. They're not expecting anything else."
She's not even as tall as me. Not intimidating in the slightest. I'm grateful for her - where the prep team wasn't very kind and gentle she was, and she recognized nerves better than anyone and dealt with me accordingly. After a while it got easier. So much easier, in fact, that I began talking to her like she was a friend back home before I even realized it. Like she was Kaia, or another girl from my class.
Rosie is nothing like them, obviously. Her eyes are artificially golden and her skin seems to shimmer when she moves but right then I wasn't paying attention to any of those things. It was enough to banish every thought of nerves from my head.
Rooke chances another glance at me from across the room. He's standing alone in our chariot. I probably don't have that long to get over there. Rosie squeezes my shoulders, tight but reassuring.
"The audience will see you smiling, see you being yourself, and all of their opinions will change. You still have time."
Four days of time, in fact, after today. Training and then the interviews and that's it. It doesn't seem like I have a lot of time, but Rosie makes it seem like so much more. Besides, I know how much can change in four days. I need to start using my head.
"Okay," I take a deep breath. "I'm gonna go."
"That's it!" Rosie says, tapping my chin. "Smile on. Go ahead."
I can feel her eyes on me as I make my way across the room, and that helps. There's no one paying too much attention to me besides that. A few darting glances here and there, but the room seems to be filling up more and more by the second and people have other things to pay attention to. The wheat skirt they have me in is swishing around my legs, bright and golden and it makes me feel a bit more like the kind of girl the Capitol will appreciate.
Rooke offers his hand down to me as I approach the chariot and I grab it gratefully, hauling myself up beside him.
"This stuff poking you in places it shouldn't be too?" Rooke asks, and I laugh. He shakes his head and a few pieces of fake wheat float gently down to the bottom of the chariot.
"You both look like you rolled in a pile of hay," an unfamiliar voice says, and I nearly jump. There's a boy standing on the other side of one of our horses, peering around the edge of one of them. If we look like hay bales he looks an awful lot like a telephone pole.
"That's Parker," Rooke explains. "He's trying to hide from his District partner."
"Won't be very successful if you say it that loud," he complains. Ah , right. District Five. Rooke and I both agreed we'd most likely be staying away from the girl, and that's who Parker's hiding from right now. Looks like we made the right decision.
"Is she really that bad? You could come up here with us, for now. She probably wouldn't say anything then."
Parker looks like I just offered to bite his head off, and he scoffs. "The only thing she finds more fun than terrorizing some random, unsuspecting kid is terrorizing an entire group of them. She's got the Seven dude with her now, too. He doesn't look too friendly either."
I finally catch sight of them, a few rows up. They look more like Careers than some of the Careers do. I guess I can understand why Parker is avoiding them - they've got who has to be the other Seven with them too, and the One guy. Definitely a weird group. It would look even weirder if Parker was up there, no doubt, but I also don't think he wants to be.
"You sure?" I ask after a moment. There's only so much they can do now. Sure, in the Games they'll probably be terrifying. But would could they do to us right now?
"Want me to fight them?" Rooke questions, when Parker doesn't answer and I can't help but snort. Down on the ground Parker rolls his eyes. I don't think Rooke's actually serious, but I wouldn't put it past him. I'm pretty sure thinking things through isn't at the top of his priority list - he's more a do things now, regret it once you get slammed into the ground later kind of person.
Which is exactly what I'm convinced would happen if he went over there.
But he laughs, probably at the thought, and when I smile it doesn't feel totally forced.
At least Rosie will be happy about that.
POV layout is exactly the same as it was for Mayday, so if anyone's confused at the sudden shift to three instead of four, there's your explanation.
Hope everyone is having a great 2018 so far and that it's not nearly as atrocious as last year.
Until next time.