Between Enemy Lines

Tamberlain "Tam" Ektra, Age 14, District Five Male Tribute

There was one part of the Hunger Games that I thought went terribly un-famed, probably because it was one of the only things the Capitol had the decency not to televise, and that was saying something. The time in the Justice Building.

Really, think about all the people you meet over the course of your life. For me, there were my parents, my brother, and my only real friend, Kedger. But then there was everyone else. The person I always saw working in one of the town shops that I hoped was the person to bag our groceries just because. The kids that I shared a table with in every class. My teachers. My neighbors, like the little kid that lived next door, too young and naïve to understand the world. The old woman that signed me in at the Reaping. … Just, everyone.

And most of them didn't even visit me, because think about that for a second. There was no real way to say goodbye, was there? It was just like, Oh, hey! How was that whole life thing goin' for ya? Thanks for playin'! Bye, now!

Yeah. Who would actually want to go and say that to anyone?

It wasn't just bad for the visitors, either. Believe me, watching my family come into the tiny little room to say goodbye made me feel like someone had tried to rip my heart out of my chest. And then, knowing that we had limited time, that I would never get to say anything else to them, that they would continue to get to watch me, but from somewhere far away, unreachable, even as I died among the rest of the tributes, their tears and grief unseen… well, that was just additional misery.

I didn't want to sound too cocky or anything, but what would their lives be like without me? Maybe not having to deal with my paraplegia would be a relief for them. Economically. Emotionally. Socially. But to watch me die without ever even being able to talk to anyone about it?

It was all I could do when my visitors' time was up to not start begging and pleading to no end to let them stay. If only for a few more minutes to have to hold on to in the weeks from hell to come. There was more time that they could've let me have, ticking by on the clock dangling right in front of my face, time that I could've spent with my family to cling to in death. It would likely be the only thing I had, but I didn't have it.

There wasn't much I could think of that was worse, but somewhere in my thoughts, I tried to make myself think of Airah. Twelve years old, just a little girl. No one left to say goodbye to before they shipped her out to die.

I looked at the twelve-year-olds that I passed every single day in school, where some of them were still playing hopscotch and tag and hide-and-go-seek. Kids that ran away from the ball in gym class, scared of getting hit by something made of rubber, let alone a sharp metal blade.

They seemed like such a different entity than the ones that were in the Hunger Games, because, well, the Games just didn't seem as real, did they? But they were just as hard cold reality as the hide-and-go-seek matches were.

It amazed me that anyone managed to do anything in the start of the Games other than curl up on their tribute plate and cry helplessly out of pure terror. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I felt sick to my stomach and choked up and had the heart-being-pulled-out-of-my-chest feeling just thinking about it.

It was a sick, sick world out there. Here, too. But there weren't any other options other than to take it and live in it.

. . . . .

Now, to be fair, what happened on the train wasn't televised, either. In my case, that was probably a good thing.

I still felt shaky and teary, recovering from the goodbyes. I couldn't have even begun to imagine what it was like to go through that suddenly, without warning. I, at least, had months' worth of notice. Time to brace myself for my mom's quiet, barely restrained tears and Dad's last speech and my brother's final comments.

The second the train had started to get further away from the district, I had begun to feel homesick on top of everything. I knew that it shouldn't have been a pressing concern at the moment, but really, it felt like it, tugging at the back of my mind.

I actually didn't hate our district—in fact, I liked it. I said once that I appreciated the tradition for there to be a volunteer when a twelve-year-old was reaped, especially if it was a girl, especially if they were in a bad place. Airah met all three qualifications, easy, since she was particularly small and weak, not to mention terminally ill and an orphan. And yet, no volunteers. She would've had to deny them, anyways, but still… what had changed? Was the world just somehow getting to be a crueler place?

Apparently, it had done quite a lot to Airah Trevor.

We were left alone in the train car that we'd first entered, our mentor, Ella, having disappeared immediately, our escort leaving right after making some… well, rude comments.

At that point, Airah's long monologue began. Let me explain and summarize.

A sort of long time ago, Airah, Ella, and I agreed that for the sake of sponsorship—especially since Five tributes didn't usually get a lot of that—we were going to hide our weaknesses. Simple. Nearly every tribute did it, to some extent. But for Airah, that included her sickness. For me, that was the paraplegia. (I couldn't hide it completely, but I could say that it was cured.)

No one knew that Airah was still sick despite the medicine sent by the Capitol (other than Ella and me); the people at the Home were convinced that her illness was gone. As for me, no one other than the Capitol doctors, who I just about knew had to sign a confidentiality statement about my being "cured", knew that I wasn't predicted to be able to have full motor abilities until long after the Games, except for me and Airah and Ella. It wasn't that obvious, inconspicuous enough that I could hide it. The only other people to worry about knowing about the paraplegia—the people that might actually say something despite my lying—were also going to be secretive about randomly knowing about my past, and Airah's, and any tribute's.

Airah started by telling me that I had to go along with her lie. I said, "Of course," because, why would I want to sabotage her? She had a bad enough standing already. I knew that she wasn't a threat, and besides, she was my own district partner. I felt like we were supposed to help each other out, even though… well, that wasn't exactly how it worked.

But she took the "helping each other out" to a different level.

After my affirmative answer, she said, "And," which was never a good thing. "And, you're going to kill me in the arena. Fast. Right after the gong."

"No way," I said, in enough shock to not come up with anything better. "I'm not killin' ya, Airah. I wouldn't do that."

"Yes, you are," she pressed. "Because if you don't…" She paused for a second to look around and confirm that there was nobody there, then leaned closer to me, voice quieter, "I'll tell everyone that you're not supposed to be able to walk right for almost another year."

"What the hell?" I couldn't exactly say that I thought we were friends or anything, but really. Threatening me? A twelve-year-old? And into killing her? "No. Do y'know how dumb that is? Just do it yourself, if that's what you wanna do. Throw yourself off o' your tribute plate, your choice, but don't drag me into this. Wha' d'ya wanna die for, anyways?"

"To prove a point—" she started, but I cut her off.

"To who? The Capitol? Fat chance o' that. And there ain't nobody else who needs a point made."

"I'm going to die anyways," she practically hissed at me. "So I might as well. Plus there won't be any pain in it."

"Still, then, just jump off the plate."

"Are you even listening? I'm saying that if I set myself up as a stronger tribute, and then get killed early, it'd tell somebody out there that they don't know us like they think they do. If I killed myself, it wouldn't show that I was weaker than they thought."

"Look, no offense t'ya, but I don' think ya could pull off being a stronger one."

"Might as well try," she repeated.

"But that's stupid," I said, because by that point, I'd really given up on having a real, solid argument. "It just is."

She shrugged, staring at the ground, and then looked up at me, with her huge green eyes. "I guess I'll say it in my interview, then."

She whipped around, making her hair that was loose from a butterfly clip and her sunshine-colored dress spin, and started off towards her room.

"Wait," I called after her, before I lost my nerve. "Fine. I'll do it."

I actually wasn't so sure that I would, but right now, I just needed to stall for time. Someone else would likely get to her before I did.

She half turned around, gave something like a wry grin, and said, "Good," then proceeded leaving the room.

Alone, I sighed to myself, once again feeling nauseated, from all of my thoughts and things I'd mentioned before, and the motion of the train, and the impact of having that little exchange with my district partner. Sweet kid, eh?

When I had stood there for several minutes, wasting time because I had no idea what I could do, one of the servants came in and asked if they could get me anything. "Got a time machine that can go back a year or so?" I asked. They gave me a strange look, one that wasn't quite offended, but maybe surprised.

I was definitely one of the people who were surprised at me. I didn't know how to categorize how I'd acted towards Airah, and kind of regretted being caught so off guard I dropped any pretense I'd worked up, but I couldn't actually put much blame on myself. I was just about sure that my first question of "What the hell?" was fairly justified.

The servant eventually left, all awkward like, and I headed out to find my tribute quarters or whatever they called it. I did, and went in, and closed the door behind me to discourage any visitors, because right then, I didn't want to talk to anyone. It felt like a risk, because I honestly wasn't sure what would come out of my mouth in my next conversation, if it was too soon. Again, something that was maybe justified, but they wouldn't know the justification, in all odds, and that was another good thing. Although, I did feel like I wanted to try and talk this out to somebody. Ella would likely have a right to know.

Well, we all had rights that were never granted, didn't we?

. . . . .

Author's Note:

And we are now officially done with the Reapings. Next chapter goes to Kizzy and Trey, and then we're off to the Capitol for the opening ceremonies.

A notice: in the interest of getting more chapters up for this story, The Place of White and Gold will be on hiatus until December 22nd.

Thank you, all, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

Lavender Flame