Showtime.
Chapter Eleven- Nyal POV
Days pass like the clock can't be stuffed slowing down. And when it does, it's at the worst moments. Like speaking to the crowds where the families of the kids I killed stand listening. And being asked questions where I don't want to answer with any words other than suggestions as to where they could go shove their microphones up.
Trust me, I felt like shoving it up them myself.
District after district. The worst were the first ones, where we'd allied up with the kids. I could only choke out an apology. These were the times where Peyton's curse-of-a-mouth became a blessing.
Over the nights, I became more sleepless. She with the green eyes showed up more in my dreams, as well as in waking life. Flitting about and cleaning.
When I could sleep, it was like zombies having fun in an apartment building. Night of the living hell. Terror time. I became worried that the glass doors would break from having trouble keeping the sound in.
Rica started using more make-up on me to try hide the dark bags under my eyes. I suggested sun-glasses, but I couldn't keep wearing them forever. They'd think I'd gone blind.
And they needed their tiger to have vision.
This was my role. In every speech, I spoke about how I wouldn't let Lanie's death go in vain. That I'd do something about it. And the person responsible would pay very, very dearly.
Cameras flashed feverishly even before I stepped foot on the station. Peacekeepers quickly appeared, pushing back the crowd to keep the red carpet clear. But they could do nothing about the roses that already littered the carpet.
I felt like tightening my tie until I strangled myself.
First up, an interview in front of Panem with Gemini Winters. I wasn't comfortable with this one. If Lanie were here, she'd back off, but without her, I was free to be hit on at any time.
The red carpet cut off in front of a dark-tinted car with open windows. Each Victor had one car. The sunroof opened, and I stood up through it, smiling at all the people I hated.
The stage loomed up ahead, and I couldn't rehearse inside my head with all the noise that the crowd was doing. I had no idea how Zavier was coping, but I guess he's pretty used to it, with spending almost twenty-four hours a day with Peyton.
When I was about a couple of metres away from the stage, an arm suddenly leached out from the wall of Peacekeepers and grabbed my tuxedoed arm. I paused in my tracks, surprised that someone could have such a grip. I looked down at the non-manicured, non-polished hands, then up to the owner's face, who was just about to be overwhelmed by the pressing of the Peacekeepers.
It took a while for me to register her face under the guards, but the light caught her green eyes for only a second. Then highlighted the wrinkles surrounding them. As well as the two children beside her.
Lanie's mother.
Her green eyes spoke so much words, but then her grasp broke, and she was shoved back to melt into the crowd.
I was shaken as my feet took me to the foot of the stage. The steps were also red-carpeted, and I kept my eyes fixed on them. Lanie's mother was here. Watching me. Could she know of the plans? Of the symbol? Was she one of the people included in the plans as well?
Gemini Winters started off my saying my name to the masses of people, and that was when I realised that I was alone, and that Peyton, Zavier and Noah were nowhere. I was going to sweat through all the make-up.
"Nyal," she crowed. "How does he look this good?" she asked the crowd, and they answered with roars.
As they died down, I sat into the chair.
When she sat in hers, I noticed that she scooted closer a bit. Come on, I was only 17.
"How's it been, Nyal?" She did that thing where she batted her inch-long purple eyelashes.
You know bloody hell how it has been. "Upset, of course. Some days, I still don't believe that she's gone. There isn't a night where I don't think of her. But I'm functioning fine."
"Are you available?" she said, batting her eyelids again.
"A- what?"
"Are you available? Are you single?"
Only people in the Capitol would be so insensitive that they'd care more about my relationship status than my actual wellbeing.
"Literally, yes, I'm single." Then my voice overrode all the whoops that had begun to start up. "But no, I'm not available. I'll never be again."
Silence. Where disappointment rode.
"How did you cope?" Her face was in half-pout. "People are asking."
"I feel like I need to avenge her, somehow. And that keeps me going. I won't stop until I've had my revenge."
"Revenge?" She shifted nervously. "Revenge on who?"
"Who killed her, Gemini?" I asked her. She looked uncomfortable, like she hadn't expected herself to suddenly become interviewed.
"T-technically, she killed herself." She was confused.
"Using what?" I didn't relent with the questions. I was asking the questions, now.
"A b-bomb."
I leant back in my chair, looking relaxed. "How did the bomb get in the arena?"
"Parachutes… to the Careers."
"Why were we in the arena in the first place?"
"Because you were Forbidden Children."
"And why are we Forbidden?" The crowd was silent again. Waiting.
"Because of a law-"
"And who made that law?"
Gemini stuttered, then her eyes widened as she realised the answer. The people gasped collectively.
"Who made that law, Gemini?" My voice was hard.
"Z-Zelix Freehold, the Gamemaker." The skin on her face looked like it wanted to vomit out the cosmetics.
"There you have it," I said, looking into the cameras like I'd assumed the interviewer role.
It took a while for Gemini to be 'normal' again. Or, as normal as one could get in the Capitol sense.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Panem, Nyal Copperhue."
I met their cheers with my back and disappeared behind the stage. They were all there. Pale white. Wrinkles criss-crossed Zavier's tie where he'd twisted it. He and Peyton went on stage while Noah clapped me on the back for support.
"I admire your guts, Nyal."
"Then I supposed you'd admire them more when Zelix rips them out of me." I sat down and hung my head in my hands. "There's no way I'll get out of this in one piece."
"Who will?" Noah fiddled with his bow-tie. "In my district, people are starting to stash some of the harvest."
"Isn't that illegal?"
"Yes. But even a rat can sense the oncoming war. No one's going to get out of this unscathed. Some people are going to lose something or someone, somehow. Whether it's an arm, leg, mother, father, house, money or dignity. Everyone's going to be affected. But it'll be the only way to stop all of this."
"You sound so old." Why couldn't Noah be the tiger? Everyone would love him. He hardly had any flaws. Me? I was a scarred, heart-broken, sleepless, make-up covered person who'd stood by his girlfriend had exploded to bits by saving him.
"You look old.
"Touché."
Noah left as the other two came. To my surprise, Zavier let go of Peyton's arm and sat down next to me.
"Lanie," he mumbled.
"Yeah." I rubbed my eyes, then realised that it was a mistake when I saw the powder on my fingers.
"Gamemaker… fault."
I looked at him. I'd lost my best friend, the guy who'd helped me chuck rotten berries at Manley's house at night, kept an eye out for me when I was trying to pick the lock open on his back door to invite the robbers, and covered for me whenever I pranked anyone else. The boy I'd met looking through our trash for something to salvage and began helping me looking for other rubbish. The guy who'd once helped me play hide-and-seek with Lilly, and scared the hell out of me when I was the seeker; he was gone. But I knew, somewhere deep, that he was there, and he'd just run away when he couldn't take it all. He was coming back. Slowly. And one day we were going to start hurling rotten fruit at grumpy old Peacekeepers again.
"Are you going to help me, Zave?" I asked, using the nickname I'd given him.
He nodded and grinned. For a moment, I'd thought he'd come back, but then he left again, and his eyes became glassy.
People drifted around the room. Talking. About the latest fashion. About the oncoming Hunger Games. About President Tobias. About Lanie. About me. Me and Lanie. But most of all, my interview.
Some of them drifted because they had silver platters of crackers that they had to serve. Others drifted because they were wanted to explore. I drifted because I was avoiding people.
But of course, Peyton couldn't be avoided.
"Thought you'd given up." She stood beside me, eyebrow raised. She jerked her chin towards the glass of alcohol in my hand. "Drinking."
"You thought wrong," I muttered. The glass in my hand was made of crystal, it seemed. A lemon wedge on the edge of the glass.
She crossed her arms disapprovingly, then, knowing that I'd probably be more likeable when I couldn't think properly, walked off.
Someone flitted over, but gave me no reprimand. Tobias stared at the marble floor, fiddling with a couple of cue cards for his upcoming speech.
"Is that good?" he asked me, eying the alcohol.
"Mm-hm." I downed the liquid fire in one. "Won't remember a thing tomorrow."
I reached out towards a passing waitress, a silver platter on her hands covered with glasses. She looked like she was going to swerve away from my reach, but I snagged one, careful not to spill much.
"I wish I could," Tobias said forlornly. "But it's not good an image for a new President."
I gave a non-committal shrug. "You know…" By the way my words stuck together, I knew that the alcohol was doing its work. "I reckon everything would have been better if there was only one Victor. None of this… crap." I waved the glass around as I tried to find a good word, and some liquid sloshed out. "I.. forgot what I was going to say."
Everything seemed like they were fading away. Blurred images. Their words seemed just as twisted as mine.
I didn't notice when Tobias left. I only became conscious of him on a podium in the building, his words booming when he spoke into the microphone. Something about… an announcement?
I blinked hard, struggling to zoom into his sentences. Make the words out one by one.
Tobias stepped aside as a guy in a purple and gold-fringed robe stood forward. Blood roared in my ears and cleared away the clog that made things not make sense. This was the guy. The guy who ruined everything. The guy I'd threatened to kill on national television.
Zelix Freehold smiled to the crowd. "I am deeply honoured to deliver this announcement to you all. And to our… charming Victors."
His eyes met mine.
"I am pleased to say that last year's Victors, will become the mentors of this year's tributes!"
It took a while to know what he'd said, because the cloud in my head hadn't cleared yet. When that while was over, I understood, and I took a couple of liquid-filled glasses off a waiter's platter.
Then I drunk until I was immersed in the cloudy haze of probably-won't-remember-anything-tomorrow.
Sorry for the big, unexpected break, guys.
Last time I was going to update, my computer stuffed up.
But there's a new update, so...
:D