Chapter 21 – In the Capitol with Johanna Mason

Johanna Mason

Genesis is crying.

I watch the screen, absently tapping my fingers on the desk in a repetitive tune. It's night-time in the arena – the same night that Astraea's face was shown – despite it only being mid-afternoon here in the Capitol, and Genesis is curled up in her sleeping bag with tears rolling down her face. Lyric is asleep next to her and Jared sits a few feet away from them, sitting on a tree stump keeping watch. He twirls a short sword in his fingers, watching as it glints in the moonlight. I wonder if he knows that Genesis is upset – again. Probably not. Otherwise he'd be over there comforting her.

It's sweet, I'll admit, the relationship, and it gets them sponsors, but stupid and utterly pointless. At least one of them is going to end up dying, and if I have my way, then it'll be Jared going home in a wooden box and Genesis coming home to District 7. But I know that things won't be the same for her if she does win. She'll have lost a brother and a love in the space of two weeks – not to mention the fact that she'd be a celebrity famous for killing kids.

And I thought I had it bad. I'd never even had any siblings or lovers to lose, and my parents hadn't cared much for me anyway.

I sigh and rest my chin in my hand, the other still tapping on the desk. It's hard to watch her. I glance over my shoulder at the big screen which is showing what the nation is seeing. Right now the cameras are on the pair from District 4, who are discussing in low tones what their plan should be. I'm actually quite impressed that the two of them have made it this far, what with one mentor being mentally unstable and the other a Capitol-obsessed freak that spends his time going out to parties rather than helping his tributes.

Finnick's not here this year; for mentoring, anyway. For his other 'business'? Well, yes. He's here all the time for that. Even more than the rest of us.

I look back at my screen. It hasn't changed. The scene is still the same.

Suddenly unable to take Genesis's madness and grief, I switch off the screen and spin round in my spinny-chair. I must make a mental note to get one of these at home.

I survey the other mentors in the room. Cecilia from 8 – for Ariadne. Annie from 4 – for Telia and Taylor. Irwin from 10 – for Lyric. And Ebony from 2 – for Jared.

Technically speaking Ebony was Astraea's mentor, not Jared's, but when Astraea died Ebony shoved Cassius out the door and took over the job of mentoring Jared.

She disgusts me. She's worse than Enobaria, almost. She didn't even care when Astraea died.

Her own daughter.

All she cares about is some relative of hers coming home victorious. And now that her daughter's gone, she's rooting for her nephew.

I was a little girl when Ebony Phoenix won her Games. Two years old. I remember waking up from sleep after a nightmare and wandering into the living room, where my parents were watching the Games. I wandered in and saw a young, beautiful black-haired girl ruthlessly stabbing a knife into a limp blood-stained body. I screamed, and I never forgot that face.

Even now, sixteen years later, when Ebony is a thirty-four-year-old swimsuit model for the Capitol, she still gives me the chills.

I'm almost glad that I never met her late older sister Ivory; one Ebony is bad enough. Two Ebonys would be murder.

Ivory Waters – well, she was still Ivory Phoenix back then – won the 52nd Games, married a man named Kellan Waters, had a son, and died when she was twenty one years old, the day of the reaping of the 55th Hunger Games. The Games her sister won.

And Jared Waters is the son she had a year after her victory in the Games.

I'm interrupted from my musing about Ebony's family's past by Irwin Simpson, the 40-something mentor from 10 who's here for Lyric. He's enquiring about our tributes' alliance, I realise.

"Sorry?" I say.

He cracks a smile. "I said," he repeats, "that Lyric is incredibly close to having enough sponsor money to send them a loaf of bread – which, in their current situation, would be rather useful – but he's just a few dollars short. Since they're in an alliance, I was wondering –"

"Sure, sure, whatever. They'll all share it anyway."

"Thank you, Miss Mason," Irwin says, and turns to leave.

"Miss Mason?" I repeat incredulously. "Don't call me that, Irwin. My name's Johanna for a reason."

He glances over his shoulder at me and smiles again. "Sorry, Johanna."

He leaves.

I turn Genesis's screen back on. She's stopped crying and is now curled up in her sleeping bag, clutching a knife like you would a teddy bear. Jared has put down his sword and is instead leaning against the trunk of a tree, his hands knitted together behind his head, looking up at the stars through the thick canopy of leaves. I wonder if he can see any stars.

Probably not. But they wouldn't be real anyway.

I hear the door of the mentoring room open up. I turn and see Silva striding towards me.

I stand up and nod in acknowledgement as he sits in the chair that I had been previously occupying.

I leave the mentoring room.

Even though Silva's tribute is dead, he's opted to stay in the Capitol and watch Genesis half of the time. I do need my breaks.

And on this break I intend to go get a drink.

Exiting the Training Centre, not even caring about my haggard appearance – I don't generally tend to sleep very well in the Capitol; mentoring a child in a fight to the death will do that to you – I head for my usual bar, the Blue Bird, simply because they have the best drinks.

Thankfully as I slide into a corner booth in the packed bar I don't recognise anyone. Apart from the waiter, of course – seventeen-year-old Miracle is used to me showing up here demanding some kind of alcohol.

A minute later the blue-haired, orange-skinned Miracle stands on her tall sparkly heels, cheerfully asking what I'll have today.

"Just the usual, thanks, Miracle," I say tiredly.

"Of course, Johanna, of course! Would you like anything else today?"

I shake my head, and she zips away.

She seems to be ecstatic about the fact that she's on a first-name basis with me, a Hunger Games victor. She's always cheerful and sweet, despite the fact that I'm usually very rude to her. I have to admit that I've taken a grudging liking to her; she's always so optimistic and happy. There's no such thing as storm clouds in Miracle's sunshine-filled life.

Thirty minutes later she's back, my fizzy pink drink – I don't even know what it's called anymore – in her hand.

"There you go, Jo," she says cheerfully. "Will that be all for today?" I nod. "Well, just call me when you need me." She winks she hurries off. How she can go so fast in those enormous heels is beyond me. I can barely go three steps without at least teetering.

I slowly sip at my drink as I casually watch the people in the bar, looking for sponsors. Really, if I wanted a sponsor I'd just go up to an old man and promise him that his sponsor gift will be the key to Genesis's win, but I can't – I won't – do that to her. Young girls with rich daddies are ideal, but I doubt I'll find any nine-year-old girls in a bar that doesn't allow under eighteens.

Even though I've been coming here since I was sixteen. Being a victor means I'm allowed to pull a few strings.

"Hey hey hey! Fancy seeing you here, Jo-Jo," a familiar voice says as a familiar face slides into the booth opposite me.

"Finnick," I say, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course. I went to the mentoring room but Silva said you'd gone out. Didn't say where, but I figured you'd be here."

"Well aren't you a clever little boy," I say.

"I even got an A+ on my being sexy exam!"

"Finnick, there is no 'being sexy' exam," I say exasperatedly, but a smile is playing on my lips.

"Of course there is. And I aced it," he says.

"Well, congratulations," I say dryly.

"Thank you Jo-Jo."

"Don't call me Jo-Jo."

"Why?"

"I'll call you Finn-Finn."

"You wouldn't."

"I would." I'm full-on grinning now. I love this playful banter I always have with Finnick. He never fails to make me smile.

"Give me some of that," he grumbles, snatching my drink from my hand and taking a long sip. He makes a face as he swallows it. "Ew," he says. "How can you drink this stuff?"

I shrug. "I don't even know what it is," I say, taking it back and taking a sip myself.

He raises his eyebrows. Before he can respond someone approaches our table.

Finnick and I turn and see who it is. It's a young girl, probably about fifteen or sixteen, with lime-green hair and several jewels adorning her skin, and she's staring at Finnick, seemingly out of breath.

"Hi Finnick," she breathes.

He immediately turns on his charm and gives her an award-winning smile.

"Hey," he says, his voice smooth and lower than usual. I roll my eyes and take a sip of my drink. He's always like this with Capitolites. Can't he just be like me and tell them to rack off when they're being annoying? Like now?

I snort quietly at my own question. Of course he can't. He's the Golden Boy of Panem. And the Golden Boy of Panem isn't allowed to tell his fans to rack off.

"I'm Rain," she continues, still in that same breathless tone. "I'm a big fan of yours."

"Hello Rain," he says smoothly. "How are you?"

I hide my face in my drink to hide my smile. Watching Finnick interact with his fans is annoying, but entertaining.

"I'm brilliant," Rain replies. She digs around in a bright orange snakeskin clutch until she brings out what looks like a golden fork. "I got you a mini trident," she says excitedly. "Just like the one you had in your Games. Except smaller, obviously." She giggles, holding the trident out to him.

Finnick's smile doesn't falter, but his eyes tighten at the mention of his Games.

"Thank you, Rain," he says. Only I, his best friend, would be able to detect the note of falsity in his voice. Rain notices nothing, judging by her elated smile. He takes the trident and turns it over in his fingers. "It's like a perfect replica."

"Can I get a picture?" Rain asks.

"Of course," Finnick says.

Without invitation Rain slides into the booth next to Finnick – or maybe on Finnick, I can't tell because the table's in the way. She takes out a small rectangular device I recognise to be a camera and hands it to me.

Rude, I think, but at Finnick's warning look I put on a fake smile and turn the camera on.

Finnick puts his arm around Rain, who giggles and snuggles in closer to him.

"Smile," I say, and snap a picture.

I hold the camera out back to Rain but she waves it off and says, "Just a couple more, a couple more."

Finnick rolls his eyes from behind her and I stifle a smirk, managing to turn it into a smile.

"Say cheese," I say, and while Finnick obediently chimes "Cheese!" Rain leans over and kisses him on the cheek right as my finger presses the button.

I feel an emotion I don't recognise stirring in my gut at the sight of her lips on his cheek. I bite my tongue, and force a smile onto my face. I obediently take three more pictures, with each one Rain getting even more intimate with Finnick, until on the last one Finnick just gives up, turns his face towards hers and kisses her on the lips just as the flash goes off.

He pulls away immediately, but he's obviously made Rain's day – or life. A grin a mile long is on her face and I can tell how happy she is.

"I love you Finnick," she says.

"Love you too, Rain."

She grins and bounds over into the booth next to me. I look at her confusedly until she says, "Hand the camera to Finnick. I want pictures with you too!"

It seems that Rain had been the one to break the ice, as for the next two hours we had fans ranging from the age of ten to forty come over to us and demand pictures and a conversation. It totally ruined my outing, just when Finnick was starting to make it better.

We eventually escaped under the pretext that we had to get back to the mentoring room – none of them knew that I had Silva keeping an eye on Genesis and that Finnick wasn't even a mentor this year.

"Thank god that's over," Finnick says as we walk into the Training Room. It's almost sunset now. "I can't even enjoy a nice outing with my best friend without crazy fans coming and sitting on my lap." He slings a friendly arm around my shoulders.

That weird feeling that I'd experienced seeing all those girls cuddling up to Finnick appears again when Finnick calls me his best friend. I've always loved that title before, I've been content with being besties, but now something has changed.

I just can't seem to figure out what it is.

Before we can get to the Mentoring Room, though, we hear Finnick's name being called and we stop and turn around to see his manager, Rosaline, hurrying towards us, her pink wig askew in her hurry. Finnick, being a more popular victor, was assigned Rosaline to be his manager years ago. She's actually quite a nice person, despite her job and her upbringing as a Capitolite.

"Hey Rosie," he says easily, but I can hear the worried note in his voice, and I'm sure Rosaline can too. She's pretty perceptive.

"Where have you been?" she snaps. "I've been trying to reach you for two hours!"

"I was at the Blue Bird," Finnick replies, glancing sideways at me, "with Johanna. We got mobbed by fans."

"And you didn't bother to bring your phone?"

"It was out of charge."

"Oh, Finnick!" she exclaims exasperatedly, throwing her hands in the air. "Don't you remember that you were supposed to be at Mrs Henderson's an hour ago?"

Finnick goes white.

He curses and takes his arm off my shoulders. I feel strangely cold without it there.

"Where does she live?" he asks.

"40 Print Avenue. We'll get you done up in the car, now hurry! You can't go to an appointment with lipstick all over your face."

Despite the situation I smirk a little at that. I'd refrained from telling Finnick about the numerously-coloured kiss-shaped lipstick marks there are on his face.

"Now come on Finnick! I've already had two angry calls from Mrs Henderson asking where you are. She won't be pleased!" she takes his arm and hurries him away.

He throws one last sad glance at me before the doors slam shut behind him and I'm left alone in the lonely grey corridor.

Finnick doesn't come back the next day.

I wake up early and go to the mentoring room, where Silva leaves to go to sleep, the relief evident on his face. That was a particularly long shift. I'm glad I have him; otherwise I'd get no sleep at all.

"What day is it in the arena?" I ask Cecilia from 8.

Despite the fact that her tribute killed Jaka and betrayed them all, I can't blame Cecilia. Apparently Ariadne rejected Cecilia's offer to help, calling her useless and declaring she'd win on her own. It isn't Cecilia's fault that Ariadne is like this. Cecilia and I are still friends.

"Day nine," Cecilia says, and smiles. "It's Genesis's birthday."

"Really?" I look at Genesis's screen. She's smiling for once, and telling Jared and Lyric some story about a thirteenth birthday that went horribly wrong. I assume that it didn't go too wrong, seeing as she's not crying while telling it; normally I would listen in and laugh with her, but I've already missed half the story so there's no point now.

"She's eighteen today," Cecilia says.

"Funny how you know more about my tribute than I do," I say.

"Actually, Genesis is being more interesting than Ariadne so I've been watching her screen for the past hour or so," Cecilia says.

I glance at over at Ariadne's screen. She's asleep, curled up in a tree with her knife in her hand like a teddy bear. I feel a hot surge of anger when I see her. I really hope she doesn't win.

All of a sudden Ariadne's blue eyes open. She shifts slightly and looks down at the ground. What's going on?

I look over at the big screen that shows what the audience is seeing. Lyric is right under Ariadne's tree, trying to get the lid off the water bottle.

"Move, Lyric, move!" Irwin roars, but of course his tribute can't hear him as Ariadne drops down and slices her knife across his throat.

So that chapter was a bit different! A few questions answered, a few questions are raised; what did you think? Remember to review!