Disclaimer: Hunger Games does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Suzanne Collins, etc.


CHAPTER TEN

the guarded scientist


Amandine Lerner, female tribute of District Five

Six years ago, if someone asked me what I wanted to do when I got older, I probably would have answered something along the lines of 'geneticist'. Well, that actually remains what I want to become when I'm 'older' – my ultimate goal is to perfectly combine the DNA of a human and an animal. It's true that mutts can have humanoid appearances, but they're actually based on the DNA of a monkey or an ape, with special adaptations to make them appear more human-like...

But the competition to earn the Capitol grants is quite intense, and only the best of the best ever succeed in getting them. I think I have the potential to earn one, to further my studies, but then there is the problem of performing according to the Capitol's expectations. A scientist's deadlines are set by the Capitol, and if they aren't met... At best, the scientist's career will be ruined; at worst, they'll be executed for abuse of the money. It's a good motivator.

But five years ago, I discovered another way to gain the proper funding, with far less (relative) risk:

Win the Hunger Games. If I win, I can choose the study of genetics as my talent – many of the Victors from District Five have similar talents – and there won't be any pressure for me to produce results, since the money will come from my own pocket. Admittedly, most Victors from other Districts have 'lighter' talents – like singing, or painting – but it's about doing something that you're good at and enjoy.

I may be getting ahead of myself. I have to win the Hunger Games before I can become a geneticist, and to win the Games I'll need to volunteer...

Usually I wouldn't have bothered getting to the reaping so early because our escort, Vulpina Coral, is notorious for being late to everything. Sure, there's something called being fashionably late, and the Capitol and its citizens are all about fashion but on the other hand there are some things that it's just unacceptable to be late to.

Well, if I wasn't planning on volunteering, I probably wouldn't have dressed up this nicely for the reaping, so I guess I can (somewhat) understand. My parents, despite their reservations about my decision to volunteer (they know I can do it, they just don't want to see me put in danger), bought me the nice sleeveless dress and matching flats. It's a shimmering silver colour, and although I don't usually bother dressing up 'nicely', I really like it.

I didn't do anything with my hair, so the long black strands fall to just past my shoulders like always. I'm also wearing the silver charm necklace my training instructor, Mr. Bonsdeer, gave me for my seventeenth birthday. It says my name in delicate cursive writing; I've decided that it's going to be my token in the arena, as well.

My best friend, Daliana Parker, and I are standing at the front of the seventeen year old age group. I was planning to show up roughly on time, which would ensure my arrival before Vulpina's (she is never punctual) but Daliana convinced me to show up early because she heard about some 'supplementary class' being held by a younger kid.

There's an air of anticipation in the square, which isn't exactly new – District Five is one of the few Districts that looks forward to the reaping, probably because the kids that get sent off to die actually choose to do so – but it's more palpable than it usually is for the reaping.

I have to wonder how this extra class was organized – I've never heard of an event place before the reaping before. Doing so without proper authorization could get a person in a lot of trouble; the reaping (and anything else related to the Hunger Games) is sacred to the Capitol. They don't take flouting of the rules lightly.

Unless it has to do with the Careers One, Two, Five and Seven produce every year, naturally. Of course, there's always the threat of ending up like District Four (or worse, Nine), to keep us in line.

An excited hush falls over the crowd as a child walks onto the stage, toting a marker board. He's dressed up, with messily combed brown hair and large grey eyes. At first I think he must be under ten, but I soon realize that he must just be short for his age. He probably hasn't hit puberty yet.

I don't think he's twelve – most, if not all, of them would be too nervous about their first reaping to even consider doing something like this. If he is older than fifteen, I would be very surprised. If I had to guess his age, I'd go with fourteen.

"Ok, class," he begins, pacing around the stage restlessly. "Today, we're going to learn about Punnett squares. Does anyone know what that is?"

I raise my hand, as do most of the kids in the upper age groups. It's an instinct to answer any question asked in an educational context.

The kid points in my direction. "Um, yes, the black-haired girl at the front, Miss...?" he trails off, obviously waiting for my name.

"Lerner," I supply, then launch into the explanation. "A Punnett square is a diagram that can be used to figure out the possible outcomes of a breeding experiment." I learned this two years ago, in the introduction to biology. Does that mean this boy is fifteen? Another possibility is that he read ahead in the textbooks, which isn't such an uncommon practice here.

"Right," the kid agrees, and continues with the explanation of what the diagram looks like and how it works. I listen with only half an ear, more focused on the (hopefully imminent, but let's face it: Vulpina is always really late) arrival of the escort to start the reaping.

A shrill whistle interrupts the boy's explanation – accurate, from what I can gather – and he quickly disposes of the evidence and hops off the stage. As I suspected, he's fourteen; he melts into the crowd of that age group.

I wonder what that was all about? I try to look around, but since I'm only a little above average in height, I can't see anyone coming or going from the square.

It turns out to be Vulpina and our mayor. That's actually surprising, but I think everyone is glad that she showed up (somewhat) on time for once. Seriously, I think she's been the escort for a good twenty years, at least; I don't think she has ever once shown up less than an hour late. Only thirty minutes past the scheduled time is downright early for her.

"I think I'll just start my speech while the children to sign in, how does that sound, Vulpina?" the mayor remarks.

Vulpina makes a distracted noise of agreement – she has her phone pulled out and is scrolling through it.

That's professional.

About ten minutes later, the Victors of District Five (and there are quite a few of them) arrive in the square. A lot of them look like they just hastily threw on some nice clothes and didn't have time to do their hair. I guess they were counting on Vulpina's trademark tardiness, like most of the kids who are still in line to sign in.

I assume someone tipped the Victors off, since none of them were in evidence before that.

"Ok! Let's get started, everyone," our escort cheers enthusiastically. No one is really paying attention though, or at least they're not reacting. I'm paying attention, of course, but I'm not someone who's going to start cheering. I might be volunteering, but that doesn't mean the Hunger Games are my favourite thing ever because they're not.

Vulpina prances over to the female reaping bowl. "Is everyone ready for the first name? This year's lucky girl is... Esther Cline!" When Esther joins her on the stage, the escort adds, "Any volunteers this year, District Five?"

I was just waiting for her to ask. I raise my hand (habit) and call, "I volunteer!" about half a second earlier than several other older kids.

Vulpina smiles at me, but it seems rather plastic as far as I can tell. "Well, come on up to the stage!" she calls, though I'm already halfway to the stairs. "And what's your name?" Vulpina questions, when I get up there.

"Amandine Lerner," I answer into the microphone, keeping my voice controlled and calm. I spent a lot of time thinking about how I would present myself in my first appearance on camera, and decided on calm. I think it ties in nicely with the District's stereotype of intelligence and it also leaves me many options for later on. I don't have to stick to the bloodthirsty Career routine (which, let's face it, I doubt I could pull off anyway) or the nervous schoolgirl (I'll admit, there's a bit more truth to that one) or anything like that.

The crowd politely applauds me, and Daliana gives me a thumbs up.

Once the square is mostly quiet again (people are still talking, but that's how it always is), Vulpina skips over to the male reaping bowl. "And it's going to be... Homozygous Geno! Please come up to the stage, young man!" she announces brightly.

The boy from before, the one who was holding the impromptu class, bounds up to the stage. He has a big grin on his face, and he bows to Vulpina. Well; at least I know his name now, though I'm sure someone will volunteer for him in a moment or so.

"And how old are you?" she asks.

There's a moment of stunned silence – the age groups are clearly labelled and separated, and while he is a bit on the short side, as soon as he left the crowd of fourteen year olds it was obvious he was coming up to the stage.

"Fourteen, ma'am," he answers, holding one finger up on his right hand and four on his left. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same under the circumstances.

"Oh! You look much younger," Vulpina responds plainly, as if that's an excuse for her being practically blind. She turns away, dismissing Homozygous from her mind. "Any volunteers-" she begins to ask.

"Excuse me, I have the right to refuse a volunteer, right?" Homozygous interrupts shortly. I can't be sure, but I get the feeling that he is very annoyed, despite the fact that he still has the cute grin on his face.

If he ends up being my District partner, I'll have to keep an eye on him.

"Well, yes," Vulpina replies, but she sounds rather confused. "But you're a little... young, dear. Don't you think?"

I'd have to agree with her, but on the other hand it's a terrible thing to say. Obviously younger kids get reaped every year, in Districts where there are no volunteers, and no one says anything on their behalf when that happens.

"Twelve year olds get reaped every year," Homozygous tells her seriously, the smile disappearing from his face.

"Ah, of course, but-" Vulpina tries to turn the conversation around – possibly trying to make sure that the Capitol gets its full quota of Careers this year. For that matter, I have to wonder why Homozygous would want to refuse any volunteers on his behalf. He could be trained, since there are several training centers and I obviously only attend one of them, which would be the only logical explanation. If he was just mad about her comment about age, that doesn't seem to be enough reason to do something so bold.

Because it's true, the older tributes naturally have better chances of surviving the Hunger Games than the younger kids. It's survival of the fittest, with the person best adapted to the arena and fighting their competition who usually wins. Younger kids are not best suited to fighting older, strong ones.

"So it's settled. This year's tributes from District Five are Amandine Lerner and Homo Geno," the boy states loudly, waving at me and then himself. I guess his nickname is Homo? You'd think that's the sort of nickname a person would want to avoid, but this kid is obviously one weird guy.

A stunned silence follows the announcement, then applause breaks out.

That's pretty much how I feel, actually. Stunned, but at the same time I have to admire this boy's guts.

But was it really wise to voice such things aloud? It could be construed as rebellion.

Homo and I shake hands, and although his hand is small (like a kid's) I can feel calluses on it. In a place like District Five, where most of the work is done in labs, the only place he could have gotten them is in training.

I'm actually almost a foot taller than him. I could probably pick him up, tuck him under my arm and away we'd go.

Not that I'm going to do that; but the possibility remains.

Daliana shows up first to visit me in the Justice Building. I guess she practically ran here to get to me first, since she seems slightly out of breath. Or maybe she's just excited.

"I'm glad you got the spot, Amandine," she says quietly, giving me a hug. Daliana isn't a particularly outspoken (a trait we share) and I think I'm probably the only person outside of her family that she would willingly hug. It goes a long way to ease the anxiety that I'm feeling.

I wanted to volunteer, but even so there are doubts. I'm sure every volunteer has them, and for good reason.

"Yeah, if I'd waited I wouldn't have gotten in this year at all," I agree, smiling.

Daliana nods. "The others were pretty upset, especially the eighteen year olds," she tells me. "Can you believe that boy? He must be confident..."

I shrug. Homo seems to be trained, so he has a chance, but I can't shake the feeling that he was really annoyed, and that this is what prompted him to react that way.

"Well, whatever the reason, I can't just dismiss him," I reply. To an extent this is true to all tributes – some of them act weak so that no one will bother killing them, and then in the end they turn into ruthless killers and eliminate the few tributes who remain.

"Of course," my friend agrees. "But I'm sure you'll be able to get to know him soon enough. I tried asking around before, but no one seemed to know anything about him," she adds apologetically. "He's three years below us, after all..."

"That's okay; like you said, I'll get to know him soon," I tell her. "Thanks anyway."

From there, our conversation turns to strategies for the Games. Finally, Daliana apologetically tells me that she has to babysit her brother(they live with their mother) because her mother is working overtime.

I assure her that it's fine, and after a last hug, she bids me goodbye and leaves.

Mr. Bonsdeer, the instructor who first realized that I had real potential to be a tribute, is my next visitor.

"Your parents are waiting outside," he tells me first off. "They wanted to be the last ones to see you, Amandine."

I nod; that sounds like them. "Thanks for coming, Mr. Bonsdeer," I say sincerely. I doubt most instructors would bother to come to see their students off.

He grins at me. "Not at all! I'm always pleased to see my pupils succeed. I know you can do it, Amandine. You're one of the most talented I've ever trained," he praises me, coaxing a smile from me. I know that he's not one to praise without cause.

"Thanks," I repeat. "I wouldn't be here without all your help... But it's a bit soon to be celebrating, right?" I add, not wanting to get too confident before even entering the arena.

"Ah, of course. But it's nice to be secure as a volunteer," he agrees. I know Mr. Bonsdeer volunteered every year since he was sixteen, but he never got picked; I think that he lives vicariously through the kids he trains that volunteer.

Well, I can't begrudge him that.

"So, you're taking the necklace I gave you as your token?" he asks jokingly, and looks pretty surprised when I nod in agreement.

"You said it would remind me of who I am," I explain, a little self-consciously. I thought for a long time about what I wanted my token to be. Some kids don't give it much thought, but... Well, to fall back on that old refrain, District Five is the place for the thinkers. "So that's why I decided to bring it."

Mr. Bonsdeer grins at me, obviously pleased with this answer. "That's an excellent idea," he agrees, and then we pick up the conversation that Daliana and I left off a few minutes ago, discussion about the Games. He doesn't have any more information about Homo than Daliana did, except for this tidbit: apparently his mother is an instructor at another training center. Does that mean Homo has extra or special training?

Mr. Bonsdeer gives me a hearty pat on the shoulder when the Peacekeepers appear to hustle him out, and then my parents walk into the room.

There's a moment of awkward silence, and then they pull me into a tight embrace. I know this is hard for them; they both grew up without parents, and now their only child is leaving them to compete in the Hunger Games. Despite that, after voicing their opinion and hearing my response, they supported my decision even though they don't agree.

After all, even in a place with as relatively good a standard of living as District Five, parents can't shelter and protect their kids from the world forever.

"Good luck, Amandine," my father tells me, trying to sound cheerful but failing pretty spectacularly. He's always worried about others over himself, but even he can't hide his worry from me. Not that I want him to, either.

"Not that you'll need it," my mother puts in. "We know you'll come back."

I nod mutely, not sure that I can trust myself to speak. In spite of my conviction, I feel a bit tearful. We sit in silence, still in our family hug. It's comforting, and I find that I don't need words.

I give my parents a brave smile when it's time for them to leave, and almost before I know it I'm on the train to the Capitol.

We're not en-route yet, of course; Vulpina is late again, but what else is new?

The mentors pepper Homo (who remains a mystery that I am determined to solve) and I with layered questions, but if anything the mental stimulus prevents me from thinking too much about the fact that I'm leaving behind the only home I've ever known.

We watch the reaping recap on the train (because someone was late, causing our schedule to become all messed up). The volunteers (the Careers) all look like strong competitors, although none of them really stand out. There are a few reaped tributes who I make notes of – there's a handsome, flirtatious boy from District Ten who I'm sure would be popular with the sponsors, and a tough-looking boy from Four, as well as an intense girl from District Thirteen, among others.

Thirteen will probably try to get in with the Careers. The serious volunteers (as this girl seems to be) always do. I wonder if District Four or Ten will make any such attempts?

I guess I'll have to wait for training to see.

I find my eyelids drooping after another lavish meal for supper, and go to bed as soon as I can make the excuse. I'll have all of tomorrow to think about the Games; tomorrow is the chariot rides, which don't start until late afternoon when the tributes from District Twelve finally arrive...


A/N: And we're done with District Five! Almost halfway there..! The Career reapings are almost done with, as well.

Amandine is one of my favourite characters, I think. But then, I like a lot of the characters people submitted ~

Well, there's not a lot for me to say... I enjoyed writing this chapter.

Feedback is appreciated, dear readers! And thank you to everyone who continues to review. You all make me smile. :)