"Sam, you have to calm down. These things happen. There's not anything that can be done about it."
While waiting for Clara and Waco to arrive from the Hall of Justice, Sam had devolved into a mess aboard the Capitol train in the dining car. Cheyenne loitered against one of the windows with a glass of whiskey as Dallas tried to bring Sam back under control. Nothing he was doing was working – she only saw the scrawled handwriting underneath Clara's name, with the threat and punishment for what she'd said. She had damned Clara to the Games, likely to death. If only she'd kept her stupid mouth shut!
Worse, now she knew in no way could she speak of anything. Dallas couldn't know – couldn't know anything but that Sam was terrified for a friend.
"She's my best friend!" Sam fired back, on the verge of launching crystal glassware across the train car. "And I don't think we're gonna get back-to-back victors here in District 10!"
"That's optimistic. We're already off to a good start," Cheyenne murmured sarcastically.
"You were chosen with only five papers in," Dallas appealed to logic. "She stood just the same chance you did. It's horrible, but the Games are like that. You know more than anyone, just coming off them yourself."
"Or someone set her up to get at Sam," Cheyenne offered. "Been done before. Hawthorne last year; you think that was accidental?"
Sam blinked at Cheyenne. Without even any outside words, she'd already guessed what had happened. Sam couldn't confirm it for fear of Nihlus's reprisal – he could be on the train, for all she knew – but Cheyenne was clearly indicating she knew more than she was letting on.
"Why would they want to get at her?" Dallas asked with a quizzical glance. "I don't think so."
"First non-Career in eight years?" Cheyenne glanced up from drowning herself in her drink. "And just the right kind of person to break their streak? I could think of a lot of things. Break her, and you break anybody who was inspired by her win. That simple. She killed two Careers, and her group killed a third. That's as good as a bow shot over the Capitol."
"I don't think I have anything to do with it," Sam lied, knowing that was exactly it. "But she's not related to any former tributes or anything. She's just…I dunno, not that different from me, I guess."
"Let's keep in mind we have two tributes, not just one," Cheyenne added, showing some leadership for the first time that Sam had ever seen. "When they get on, you two stick back. I'll deal with any first formalities. Since we're only the second district to have Reapings today, when they start showing recaps, you two can show up."
"No, I-" Sam began.
"You're emotionally out of whack," Cheyenne cut her off. "Dallas can calm you down in the meantime; he's better at that than me. And if the boy – and your friend - sees you losing your head, guess what happens? We're done at the Cornucopia. That's a great strategy. If you want the slightest gumption of bringing either of them back home alive, try to at least look like it wasn't a minor miracle you survived last year. Even though it was."
"I don't care who's friends with who," she turned her back to leave for the lounge car, where Clara and Waco would be seated when they arrived. "But I don't really want to see both our kids dead and gone after ten seconds of helplessly being gutted like a squealing pig. If you'll excuse me…"
She drained the remnants of her whiskey, slamming the glass down on the table and stalking out. Sam looked on after she'd left, stunned by her sudden defense of their tributes.
"I don't think I've ever seen her like that," Sam managed.
"She's pretty defensive about winning; about trying to get people out alive," Dallas explained calmly, glad that Cheyenne had at least brought Sam down to Earth. "She's a lot of the reason I got out back in '79. But she usually handles the boy, like with me and with Laredo last year. She'll take care of Waco, I'll handle your friend Clara when you're off getting accosted by crowds and media and more. But Sam, I need you for something."
Dallas took a seat, flipping himself a frosted scone off a nearby platter of food. "You're young, fresh, and the Capitol always loves the newcomer to the victor crowd. I honestly don't think the boy has much of a chance – just speaking objectively; maybe I'm wrong – but your friend's pretty and did a good enough job at the Hall of Justice of looking tough. That'll draw some sponsorship on its own, especially if she puts on a good showing and Agrippa comes through again at the Parade. But I need you on the front lines of garnering sponsorships. You'll be the best thing we have out there."
Sam let the idea sink around in her mind before changing topics. "Did you think I had much of a chance last year?"
"Does the answer matter to you?" Dallas asked between bites of the scone.
"I guess not."
"Well…you deserve my honesty. I really didn't. Sam, you were a small fifteen year-old who'd cried all the way up to the podium. You were cute, but that was about all I knew at the time. That only goes so far."
"'Spose so," Sam murmured, slumping against a wall of the train. She looked out a window as the district's car pulled up, letting Augusta and the two tributes out. The escort seemed particularly perky to get on her way – just like the past year. Augusta and District 10 didn't go well together.
"What do I do to get sponsors?" Sam asked. "Just talk to them?"
"Be persuasive," Dallas instructed. "Get them to think our two are going to win. Sell them. Don't do anything you're not comfortable doing – because people in the Capitol will try for that – but do everything you are comfortable with. Get wealthy people to trust you and like you; just like you would if you were a tribute again, only now you're actually taking their money personally."
"What do you mean by 'comfortable' with?"
"I'll…uh, let you use your imagination."
Oh, Sam thought, remembering President Octavian's words. I think you and I will have fun together, Samantha. That didn't sound promising, especially after his monologue on "enjoying the present." It wasn't as if Rex would look out for her.
And Nihlus wants to use you to get closer to both…
The whole thing was a mess for Sam. She'd inadvertently locked her best friend into a fight for the death and through it all would have to play her way out of a political dogfight brewing between sides vastly more powerful than she could imagine. How was she supposed to handle all these different roles?
Voices from the other car indicated Augusta's entrance with Clara and Waco. Cheyenne already began her usual routine, criticizing the escort's presence for another year. Augusta let out a noise close to "hmph" and opened the door to the dining car.
"Dallas, you have to do something about her," Augusta fumed, her face red and providing a horribly vivid contrast to her hair. "She…is like a poison on these children. And now Sam here is so well-behaved and minds her manners; is there no way we can just kick Cheyenne off?"
"I didn't make the rules," Dallas shrugged indifferently. "You probably won't have to deal with her next year, so look at it that way."
"If you get her drunk enough she'll just pass out," Sam suggested.
"And a splendid impression that would make!" Augusta huffed, heading off towards a car further along in the train and slamming the door behind her.
Dallas and Sam sat quietly in the train for the next hour, watching Constantine Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith talk about District 6's unassuming pair of forgettable tributes. Cheyenne had morphed from her pugnacious start to the train ride from the previous year, where she'd dared Laredo (successfully) to prove himself as a fighter. Now her voice, although loud and blunt, rang out in answer to questions from the lounge car.
"You feel good enough to go in?" Dallas asked finally.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, feeling anything but alright. "Yeah, I guess so. Have to some time."
Dallas helped her to her feet, steadying her as Sam took a deep breath. The connecting door glided open as an ice cube hurtled past Sam and into the door. She took an involuntary step back, looking up as Cheyenne prepared for another throw.
"Oh," she put the ice back down into its holder. "I thought you were Augusta coming back."
Sam tossed a look down. Waco looked petrified in his chair – he probably hadn't even gotten over the Reaping yet. Sam figured she'd looked just the same last year, with all the fears of never returning home. Numerous times that had almost come to fruition.
Beside him, Clara held onto a fractured semblance of her earlier posture. Her eyes were puffy and red from tears, her hair loosely tossed from wringing her hands through it. She looked up long enough to meet Sam's gaze before casting her eyes downward again.
"I'm Dallas, this is Sam," Dallas introduced to Clara and Waco before turning back to Cheyenne. "What have you told them so far?"
"Pretty much bitched about Augusta and the Capitol," Cheyenne replied. "I explained sponsors and stuff up to the arena itself. Let's wait 'til we have an idea of who else is in before we dive into strategy."
"The kids from 6 aren't much. Constantine already ran them by."
"Well, whoopee. When are they ever?"
Neither Clara nor Waco looked entirely comfortable, so Sam tried changing tactics.
"Let's watch during dinner," she suggested. "That way everyone can get acclimated and feeling a little bit better and we can have clear heads. We can all sit down and figure out a better plan of what to do when we're cleaned up and focused."
Cheyenne shrugged. "Sure. Nothing else really gonna get done 'til then. Since you're apparently perky and strategizing now, their rooms are 2 and 3 back. Go show 'em around."
Sam nodded and took Waco and Clara back down the shaking train. She dropped the former off at the first room; he hadn't spoken one word anyway, and Sam wanted time to speak privately to Clara anyway. One the two had cleared into the next car and had gotten alone, Sam let it all fly – still picking her words carefully, concerned what a second slip-up before Nihlus's eyes and ears could cost her.
"I'm so sorry Clara," Sam poured out. "I'm sorry; I didn't think this could happen…"
"It's okay, Sam," she replied. "It's…"
Clara next did something Sam had never seen her do in all their years of friendship. She let her hands fall to her sides in defeat, bursting into a mess of tears as she unloaded all the emotions of being chosen as a tribute. Sam clutched her in an embrace, letting her taller friend bury her face in her hair.
"I know," Sam whispered into Clara's shoulder. "I know. We're gonna figure something out. I'll get you through this, Clara. I'm not gonna let them take you."
Clara pulled away, nodding and sniffing loudly. "Is this…is this what it felt like?"
"Yeah," Sam said. "Pretty much every day until I didn't have a choice anymore."
Sam left her to her own thoughts in her room, neglecting to return to Dallas and Cheyenne and instead taking residence in the next car's first quarters. She tossed her clothes to the green-carpeted floor, engaging in her usual routine of taking an obscenely long shower and utilizing an ungodly number of fragrant shampoos. Dallas had told her to stick away, but she didn't care if she smelled like an aborted amalgam of two hundred different flowering plants. Right now, the warm rain of the shower provided a place to let her fears drip away – if only temporarily. The Capitol was trying to take away her best friend; she'd indulge in all of their luxuries in the meantime. There was nothing to gain by rejecting them out of ideology.
She left Clara and Waco alone until dinner, figuring they'd want some time privately to sort out their feelings. Dallas provided idle conversation in the afternoon as Cheyenne stormed off to her room after yet another argument with Augusta. She didn't show up for dinner; Sam doubted she'd show up for breakfast either, given her usual penchant for surly mornings.
Constantine Flickerman's bobbing tangerine hair took up the television as Sam helped herself to a dizzying array of expensive foods. Waco seemed lost in the extravagance – she'd managed to coax a few words out of him, learning that she'd been right with the guess of a dairy milker's son. He was the only sibling of a single father after his mother had died several years back, leaving a sickening feeling in Sam's gut. She'd ignored the boy out of her friendship with Clara, yet already he sounded all too much like herself between his downtrodden emotions of getting selected to his history. At least Clara and Waco got along – Sam was happy to see she wouldn't have to preside over the likes of someone like Laredo again, who had quickly distinguished himself for not liking her the previous year.
As tributes flew by in the evening recap of the Reapings, Dallas almost choked on a piece of meat as District 4 came up.
"Firth Odair?" he exclaimed. "That's Finnick's son."
Sam felt a rock drop in her gut. Finnick, who'd been kind enough to greet her warmly at her stop in District 4 during the Victory Tour. Finnick, who according to Rex had contributed heavily towards garnering sponsorships towards her alliance with Gannet in the arena. Sam had felt horrible having a friend drawn into the Reapings…but just like with Storm, Finnick would have to mentor his son, knowing the odds weren't good for any one tribute. Compared to that, Sam's predicament seemed positively pleasant.
"Do you know anything about him?" Clara interjected, already searching for ways to boost her chances. Sam inwardly smiled at that.
"He's a Career, just like Finnick," Dallas explained as Constantine focused on shots of the green-eyed, brown-haired boy of an average-height and swimmer's build. "Doesn't really act like a Career. Good enough kid…I don't know if he'll join the annual Career alliance like 4 usually does. If betters are picking favorites, though…that's a good place to start."
"Apart from us, of course," Sam intervened, catching Waco's look of despondency. "Does Annie show up too, Dallas? I just briefly met her in District 4."
"Nah, their most recent victor, Jetty, is the other mentor as of recently," Dallas replied negatively. "She's decent. Annie's…not really fit to be a mentor."
"Shame about that woman," Augusta bemoaned. "But everyone has a different reaction to winning, I suppose."
"That's kind of what happens when you watch your friend get decapitated," Dallas said.
Or worse, Sam thought. She still saw Gannet in her worst nightmares at times, watching Hadrian's halberd blade eviscerate her and spill intestine before she had time to take out his knees. It'd never leave her dreams.
"Let's go onto other…things," Sam motioned, looking away.
Clara had ignored the three, instead paying attention to the continuing recap of Firth before turning back to Sam. "How'd you get the boy from 12 and the girl from 4 on your team last year?"
Shoot. "I, uh," Sam stumbled, tripping over memories of Storm and Gannet. "Gannet – the girl – was quiet and nice, and since she didn't have anybody looking to get with her, I offered. I just…let her trust me, I guess. She was just a kid from a Career district, so I think she was a little shell-shocked. Storm came to me, actually…I thought he was an idiot at first, but he wanted to be with me. So I agreed…it went from there."
"If someone looks promising," Dallas added, noticing Clara's interest in Firth on the screen. "Don't hesitate to try and form a bond. Like Sam showed, you're better off with a group – as long as you get along – than without one. The Careers have their pack, and that's very hard to break if you don't have something to compete with."
District 2's recap proved Dallas's point.
The boy from District 2 was a standard brute like Hadrian had been during Sam's games, a powerful and brawny blonde-haired warrior named Commodus. The girl from 2, Nyx, was something else entirely. Standing well over six feet in height and bearing a dark, seductive body with well-toned musculature, she seemed capable of devouring her formidable district partner.
"I guess that's not good," Waco eked out when Constantine recapped District 2, brimming with excitement.
"Physically," Dallas offered options. "But up in the head, sometimes the Careers aren't all there. Hadrian in last year's Games…I think Sam could offer a better explanation than I can, but he was arrogant and let killing get to his head."
"He was a little off," Sam agreed.
"So don't team with them?" Clara quipped as more of an off-color joke than anything.
"That's probably a good plan."
To round out the Careers, District 4's girl, Scylla, came in with the same swimmer's build as Firth and a mane of reddish hair. District 1 offered a dark-haired, slender girl named Sinopia and a snarky, manipulative-looking boy, Sistine. Only after Constantine mentioned it did Sam see what he was getting after – they were siblings.
"Well…there's your Careers," Dallas said with a wry smile. "1 is gonna be a challenge, especially if they're with 2."
Sam saw an opening, however. "If you can get Firth away from them," she said to Clara. "Then that's one less Career to deal with, and maybe a good ally as well for you."
"This is actually kinda funny," Dallas laughed. "I hate to say 'back in my day,' but you're the first victor I've seen actively using the strategy of teamwork in the arena, Sam. Outside the Careers, of course…but I don't know why more people don't think of it. It works. You proved that."
"Thank you," Sam smiled. She didn't know why nobody else used that, either. Tributes on their own had a habit of dying – except for Royal, but anyone with the ability to frighten Fresco and Hadrian was not to be understated.
She died, anyway, too. So point stands.
The "middle districts," as usual, offered scant pickings. District 3 gave a thin boy seemingly lost in thought as he made his way to the podium named Gauss. A miserable girl with brown hair named Willow represented District 7, although she bore considerable upper-arm build – likely from work out in the forests, given her age at eighteen. A lanky boy with messy brown hair named Wikus stood up for District 9; Sam privately gave him no chance. District 9 had to be the unluckiest district in the Games. She couldn't remember who the last victor from there had been, but it had been at least thirty years.
"I look awful," Waco bemoaned as District 10's recap flashed by. "No sponsor wants that."
"You'll be fine," Sam tried to brighten his mood, feeling bad for dismissing him so fast earlier. "Once your stylists work up something for the chariot rides, you'll look great. I was a mess of tears last year. Even the Capitol understands that it's a tough moment."
Clara grimaced at her appearance, but to Sam she looked absolutely dignified. Her straight posture and high head radiated confidence, something severely lacking from many of the outlying districts. If nothing else, Sam could always sell that.
Districts 11 and 12 closed the recaps with a bland note. 11 had two tributes who Sam instantly forgot, and 12 's only note was their girl, an olive-skinned brunette named Vesta, stumbling and tripping as she made her way up to the podium.
"See, not that bad," Sam re-assured Waco. "You could have been her."
"You sound like Cheyenne," Dallas poked fun. "Way to make fun of District 12 already. Everyone does that."
"I think I get a pass," Sam replied, referring to Storm.
She wondered where Gale Hawthorne, full of his depressed anger and bottled-up rage, was now without anyone around him and his son dead. She'd been all too glad to see him depart off into the darkness of that horrible prison-like district during the Tour. He probably hadn't cared one bit about the Reapings; probably had spat the names of the tributes and gone home.
Jerk.
"Well, enough excitement for one day, I think," Augusta seemed energized with Cheyenne absent. "I believe it's time to retire."
"I'll second that," Dallas said as the train began hitting the brakes, with an announcement for re-fueling coming over the intercom. "Got a lot to do tomorrow. You two will want to get to bed before too long…same with you, Sam."
Dallas and Augusta left Sam and the two tributes at the table as they departed. Clara seemed itching to say something as the train pulled in to a stop, fidgeting with her hands.
"Can…can we go outside?" she asked. "Since we're stopped, and all."
"I guess so," Sam looked back towards the lounge car. "Just out the door, I guess."
"We want to ask you something," Clara went on. "But…outside."
Sam shrugged and led the way, pushing past a Capitol attendant and throwing the door open. A blast of warm wind flew in, but District 10 had long since disappeared to the rear. Rather, the smell of wheat and long grasses fumigated its way into Sam's nose.
"Near District 9?" she posed the question. Given how fast the train moved, it was hard to determine location.
The three walked down towards the rear of the train, gathering the red lights at the end of its viewing car. Sam made a mental note to spend the night in there again; with the lights of the Capitol obscuring all semblance of the sky, she didn't know when she'd see the stars again. Quietly Sam put her hand up as she walked, stretching her three fingers out from the end of the drinking dipper and reaching it over three times. There it was, just as always – the North Star, the shining light she'd found solace in ever since she was a child and her brother had showed her the way to always find home. Now, at least, she didn't have to worry about whether she'd see Jake again: that was a given. Whether or not she'd still be sane after the 99th Hunger Games would be another question.
Clara turned about at the end of the train, ready to fire away.
"Okay, because I didn't want to ask aboard," she began, her pupils wide in the dark night. "We – Waco and I – wanted to know…can we trust Cheyenne?"
"Um, yeah," Sam answered. Was that really her question? "She's not really nice, but you can trust her."
"She just seemed too eager to throw us against each other, like we were ready to start fighting right away," Clara clarified.
"Probably just because of last year. Laredo and I didn't get off to a very good start…why, are you two…"
"We want to team up," Waco offered, with Clara nodding agreement. "Like you did with those other two last year. It seemed like it worked."
"Yeah," Clara carried on his logic. "We get along, we're district partners, and we'll have time to figure things out before the arena now. Maybe we can get the boy from 4, as well; maybe someone else too. I mean…you did it, Sam. You brought everyone together and came out."
Damn, she's thinking way further ahead than I am, Sam thought. She didn't even have to consider the reasoning Rex had given her – the unspoken rule of playing smarter to succeed in his Games, rather than harder. Clara had picked that up just by watching Sam's success, now trusting her friend to be her guide and pulling the boy along as well.
Great, I'm a role model. Not the best choice, Clara…
Sam thought about that, however. In a normal Games, sure, it wouldn't be the best choice to follow a tribute who'd very nearly been killed by mutts three times and had been inches away from death in battles against Troop, Laredo, Hadrian, Fresco, and Royal. Yet these weren't normal Games – if playing smarter worked in the arena, why wouldn't it work outside the arena, too?
Why wouldn't it work as a mentor?
Especially when Rex and Octavian both want you in their games of power...
Sam felt a surge of hope. She had far more leverage than she thought – while siding with one of the two forces in the Capitol outright was obviously a poor plan, she began concocting a strategy of playing them against each other to at least get Clara out. She'd deal with the fallout later; the immediate need required attention.
"That's awesome," Sam smiled, more at her own burst of ingenuity than Clara and Waco's willingness to ally. "That's great. You guys can learn more together. Get more people to like you for sponsorships. Get the odds in your favor, you know…ah, that was bad."
"That was the last thing," Clara looked nervous asking her final question. "Waco already knows we're friends, Sam. I told him. So, please, tell us…honestly, because you're the only other person I can trust right now. What are our chances? Truthfully?"
A lot better if I force Rex to toss me some bones, Sam thought.
She sighed. This question didn't have a great answer. "You're already better off if you stick together than most of the districts like 5, 11, 6, all those. I didn't see anybody really concerning out of them; maybe the girl from 7. The boy from 3 creeped me out, but he looked like a schemer. If you can swing him to your side, you might be in some luck, since 3 always has the smart kids. With the Careers…"
Sam exhaled sharply. "If you want the honest answer, half the reason I'm still here is because Royal decided she didn't want to play nice with the other Careers and took out two for me. Gannet wasn't a Career either, so I only had to worry about my group taking out the last two, and then I had the fight with Royal at the end, of course. If all six of them get together…I can't say that'll be easy. That won't be good at all, no matter what kind of sponsor I can find."
"If you can divide them, though…somehow, I don't know right now, but somehow – then you're in much better shape. Just…look for ways to use the arena to help you. I wouldn't have won if I didn't do that."
"With the mutt, right?" Waco asked.
"Yeah, that helped. A lot," Sam nodded – good, he gets it too. Smart, not hard. "But anything that stands out in the arena. As long as you're together than you'll have someone watching out over your back and someone awake at all times. That way someone else can't sneak up on you."
"So…optimistic?" Clara probed.
"As long as all six Careers aren't acting like wolves, yeah," Sam said hopefully. "Just make sure you think things out. I'm not really gonna have time to talk to you when we get to the Capitol until after the chariots are done, but when you're waiting to go there…get a look at the others and see if anything comes to mind."
"Alright," Clara said. "I guess we should go back, huh?"
"Yeah, Dallas would get mad at me for even coming out, probably," Sam said.
Waco hurried back towards the train, leaving Clara and Sam slowly pacing their way back.
"He's good?" Sam asked her, referring to Waco. "I don't really know what to make of him."
"He's nice. Quiet, but nice," Clara said. "He's…he's a little like you."
"That's a good thing?"
"Of course, Sam."
Sam looked around for shadows in the dark or rustling in the grasses. Finding nothing, she decided to venture one last piece of advice to her best friend.
"Clara," she whispered softly, her voice just loud enough to be audible. "Just…use here in the arena, okay?"
Clara looked on with curiosity as Sam pointed to her head. "My head?"
Sam nodded. "Just…I know things. I want to tell you to follow your heart, but that's not gonna win. I don't want to say that, but I have to. I want you to come back."
"Okay," Clara said, not entirely understanding. "Okay…good night, Sam."
"I'll…see you tomorrow," Sam said, stepping back on the train after her and loitering in the lounge car.
The diminished lights in the train gave her time to think. The Capitol pervaded her thoughts – would Nihlus have heard that? As ridiculous as that sounded to her, the man seemingly knew everything. Would he have information from the train, too?
And what would he do if he did?
Sam threw the notion aside. She needed to focus all her energy into fighting for Clara (and by association, Waco) now. She couldn't worry about what would happen to her. Maybe Rex had the answer…maybe Octavian, maybe both. Either way, she wouldn't give up. Not now, not with so much at stake.
Lying down in the viewing car under the North Star, Sam gave in to dreams of hope.
A/N: Long chapter there; thanks for sticking with it. I am awful at District 1 names – youch. And before someone asks, Waco's name is pronounced WAY-co, like the city in Texas. Not Whack-o. Although that'd be hilarious.