A/N: Sorry it's a day late, but I hope it's worth it. My goal is to get another chapter out within the next few days, so that will be some lagniappe. (That means a little something extra) Please review :)
"What would you say your strengths are?" I ask. Today is the first day of training for the tributes, and I figured it would be best to meet privately with Cyana to start discussing strategy. I'm sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed, trying not to let memories of my stay in this very room resurface.
"Um, I'm not sure. I don't have any experience with weapons…" she trails off. She has her legs pulled up against her with her arms wrapped around. "Sorry I'm not giving you much to work with," she adds with a sigh.
I shift my gaze over to her. "Don't apologize. You do have strengths; you just don't realize it yet. There's a reason District Four has been successful in the Games."
"Because we know how to swim?" she asks.
"That's a good start. There's always water in the arena, so you already have an advantage." Well, unless there's a kid from Three who has access to electricity. I decide not to tell her that part. It's better to focus on the positives.
"Fishing should help, too," Cyana says pensively. Her gray eyes look focused on something far away. I see her shoulders ease a bit, and I know that this is helping her feel more confident.
"It definitely will. Are you good with knots or knives?"
"I guess I'm okay with knots. I was never really one for gutting fish, though," she answers.
"That's okay. While you're in training, practice with all the different weapons and choose what works the best for you. Then use that one in your private session. Don't forget the survival stations, either. Fire-building and edible plants are important," I say.
"Okay," she says automatically.
I remember something else then. "Oh, and don't let anyone pressure you into joining an alliance. Be friendly, but don't make a decision until you know you can trust them. I would stay away from One and Two, and the boy from Nine, just in case." I can't picture Cy being in a career alliance. She just seems too innocent and I don't trust them not to turn on her. "Just observe people today and see what they can do. Then we'll figure it out."
"What about Mike? Is he teaming up with the other volunteers?" Cyana questions me, her voice rising in concern.
"I don't know. I'll talk to him later today. I think you two should team up because he's really the only one you can trust. District teammates protect each other." The second after I say that, I remember Osten's personal vendetta against Crystal. He was eager to kill her, even if he knew that her winning would be good for District One. No, Michael isn't like Osten. He wouldn't kill Cyana, right? I'm fairly sure he wouldn't.
"He has a better chance of surviving than I do," Cyana admits sadly.
"It's not always the volunteer that wins. I never trained for the Games."
"Yeah, but it's not like you were hopeless, either. You made an eight in training. I'll be lucky to get over a four."
"Stop talking like that!" I say sternly. "You're just setting yourself up for failure."
"My best friend always says lowering expectations actually makes you happier. When we go out on the boat to fish, we don't expect anything, so even if we only catch a few, it's a success."
I have to admit, I remember using the same logic last year when it came to making it far in the Games. That doesn't make me feel any better about what Cyana is saying now.
"When you lower your expectations, you still know deep down that you'll do better. You just set your standards for success lower. There's too much at stake here for that. You need to be confident so you can do your best. Don't expect a three in training and be happy to get a five. The only way to do well is to aim higher. Understand?"
She nods, but she still looks unsure. Apparently, my little motivational speech wasn't enough. I'm going to have to dig deeper.
"Tell me about your best friend. Is she the one who was clinging to you at the reaping?" I ask.
"Yeah, that was her. Her name's Cerulean, but everyone calls her Lea. I know, the nickname is a bit of a stretch. Both our names mean blue, so some people call us Blue One and Blue Two. Everyone says we're practically the same person because we are so close. I trust that girl with my life."
"What would you have done if she had been reaped instead of you?" I ask.
Cyana's face pales at the thought. She looks down and her dark hair shields her face. "I don't know. That would have been awful. I guess I would have tried to volunteer, but she would have stopped me. I would have promised to look after her little brother and begged her to win."
I nod. "And what if she decided that she didn't stand a chance and didn't even try to come home? What would you do if you had to see her give up of television when she could be fighting for her life?"
That seems to make something click in Cyana's mind. She looks up and meets my eyes. "I can't do that to Lea," she says softly.
"Then fight. For her sake. For your family's sake," I tell her.
"I will," she says, finally sounding determined. Her expression falters a few seconds later. "Mags, if I don't make it back, can you go visit her for me? I wish I would've told her how lucky I was to have her as a friend, and that I want her to stay strong no matter what happens. I just couldn't find any words to say when it was time for goodbyes."
"I promise I will," I reply. I feel hurt at the thought of this scenario playing out because it would mean Cyana would be dead. This is exactly what I don't need to be doing right now: getting more attached.
Now I'm feeling stressed, when I should at least be glad I was able to get through to Cyana. My tribute's next comment takes me by surprise.
"You don't seem like a victor, you know. I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just that, even though I saw you on T.V., you don't seem like you could hurt anyone. I didn't think victors could be nice people."
"Thanks, but I did hurt people," I say sadly.
"If you regret it, it doesn't count. You had no choice."
I'm not so sure about that.
"Come on, let's go back to the living room," I say to change the subject. Only a few minutes pass before Lilith shows up to deliver the training outfits.
"Ew," Isidora comments as Lilith passes. Perhaps I was wrong about thinking of her as a mother figure. Sometimes she acts more like a teenage girl. Still, I have to admit that the death glare Lilith gives her in return is pretty funny.
Soon after, Mike and Cy return to the living room dressed in black and red training clothes. As Isidora leads them out the door and to the elevator, I offer last words of encouragement. "Listen to the instructors and be nice to the other tributes!"
"Now you sound like you're sending them off to school," Alec comments.
"I can't help it, okay?" I say, trying to sound irritated, but I'm still amused by our running joke. "Are we supposed to go get sponsors now?"
"We can go now if you want. I was thinking we should just split whatever we make between the two tributes. That would be easiest if they are in an alliance, but it'll work either way."
"Is that what you and Kallan usually do?" I ask. Splitting the sponsorship money seems like a good idea, but I 'm not sure if it's completely fair. Alec will probably get more donations than me. Then it would seem like I'm mooching off of him and using money that's supposed to be for Michael.
"Pretty much. Tributes from Four usually ally together so it works out that way anyway. We're all a team," he answers.
"I guess you're right. I just want to make sure I pull my own weight."
"You'll be fine. You might want to dress a little nicer before we go down there, though. It's an upscale place," Alec says, eyeing my worn-out tank top and white shorts. If making myself look presentable is what it takes to get sponsors, I'll do it.
I retreat to my room and undress. Then I open the closet and shift through the outfits that have been provided for me until I find a satiny dress that I wouldn't mind wearing. My hair could use some work, but I'm eager to leave, so I just pull it out of my messy bun and brush it until it looks passable.
It turns out that the sponsorship room is in the training center. Alec presses one of the many buttons on the elevator that I ignored before, and we travel first sideways, then down until we reach our destination. The room is very large and dimly lit. The only light comes from orange-tinted lamps that are set on tables and on the walls. I don't understand how dim lighting equates to formal, but there's a lot about the Capitol that I don't get. It must be in fashion or something.
The part of the room closest to us is filled with tables for two draped with lace tablecloths, making it look like a restaurant. Beyond that, there is a bar and a wide open area where people are standing and talking with one another. Sure enough, everyone is dressed nicely. I recognize a few other victors and escorts conversing with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol.
"Come on," Alec says as I am still taking it all in. I follow him over to the far side of the room. From what I can tell, sponsors come in through a door over here and wait to be approached by someone asking for a donation. I'm still not completely clear on the entire process because I used to be under the impression that sponsors called a phone number to place their donation. Aside from that, I don't understand how districts without victors get sponsors through this process. Do the escorts carry that burden? Oh well, I'll just have to learn as I go.
We walk up to a plump woman staring impatiently at her solid gold wristwatch. She smiles widely when she sees us, showcasing a mouth of sapphire-colored teeth.
"Nice to see you again," Alec says easily, smiling back.
"Well of course. I wasn't going to let you down," the woman says in a raspy voice that doesn't match her appearance. Her eyes flicker over to me, and I can tell that she's a little annoyed that I'm here. She doesn't say anything about it. "Should we get a table?" she asks, turning back to Alec.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," he replies, and the three of us walk over to the restaurant area. I'm not exactly sure if I'm supposed to sit with them, but Alec pulls up a third chair, so it must be okay. An avox serves us drinks and they start conversing about the District Four tributes. I know I should say something to help. I just don't know what to say because I feel so awkward and out of place. The woman is completely ignoring my presence, anyway. The term "third wheel" comes to mind.
"Let me tell you about Michael Harbor. He's strong and determined. I'd say he stands a good chance, and, as you know, sponsors usually have the final say in who wins. I'd be really, really grateful if your donation is what saves him in the end," he tells the woman.
The woman is smiling again, and she leans in close to him. "I'd be delighted to. I swear, you can convince me to sponsor any tribute. It worked out well for the girl last year."
Does she really not realize I'm sitting right here? "We really appreciate it. It makes all the difference in the world," I add, struggling to keep the annoyance from seeping into my tone.
She looks at me again and grunts in irritation. "Alec, it would be a pleasure to meet with you later. I just remembered I have somewhere to be." She pulls paper and a pen out of her enormous purse and scribbles something. Then she hands it to Alec. I see that it's a check for a large sum of money. Under it is a slip of paper with what looks like a phone number.
After she's gone, Alec exhales in relief. "That went well," he says, examining the check.
"Really? That's not how I would describe it," I reply.
"Why not?" he asks in confusion.
"Aside from the fact that it was the most awkward thing ever, the woman was rude and I chased her away the second I opened my mouth."
He disagrees. "We still got the money. And besides, I owe you one for making her leave. Really, it made it much faster and easier. I should take you with me more often."
"Yeah, but that wasn't intentional. I wasn't trying to chase anyone away. Is there any other way to get sponsors that doesn't involve dealing with these people?"
"After the interview, people call in with small donations that automatically go to the district account. That's not something you want to depend on, though. The people who come here are the richest of the rich, and it's a lot more crowded at night, especially when the Games start. This is where the real money comes from," Alec says.
It looks like this is just something I will have to deal with. We work on a handful of people over the next two hours. There's one man who isn't as unpleasant as the others. He seems genuinely interested in talking about the tributes instead of just flirting and doesn't ignore me when I talk. I hope there will be more people like that.
We get back to the fourth floor a little while before Mike and Cyana return.
"How was training?" I ask from the sofa when I hear them walk in.
"Fine," they say in unison. I answer people that way all the time when they ask about my day, but this time, I understand how it feels to want more details.
"Tell me about it," I say. "It's my job to know so I can help you."
"I learned camouflage and tied some knots before lunch. Then I went to fire-building and archery," Cyana answers.
"That's good," I say in approval.
"What about you, Mike?" Alec asks.
"I'm allying with One and Two," he says.
"I don't think that's a good idea," I say, my brow knitting in concern. I don't personally know this year's tributes, but I had trust issues with the careers the entire time I was allied with them last year. I've always thought that anyone determined enough to volunteer for the Games isn't safe. They know they have to kill to win, even if it means turning on allies. On top of that, District Four has been more successful than One and Two lately. That only puts Mike more at risk.
"Well that's what I decided. I know what I'm doing," he says stubbornly.
"The Games are unpredictable and people change. Are you sure you have it planned out?" Alec asks.
"Yeah." Mike says. I have to ask him to be more specific before he gives a real answer. "A lot of the tributes are just scared little kids. I need allies, and I don't have time to babysit because I would end up doing all the work. Tiffany, Orion, and Alaina know what they're doing. I'm not sure about Craig, but we're dragging him along for Alaina's sake."
"Are Craig and Alaina from Two?" Alec asks before I get the chance.
"Yep. And Tiff and Orion are from One. We might recruit Nasser from Twelve," Michael answers.
"Twelve?" I ask, stunned. I remember noting that the boy from Twelve looked strong, but this suggests he could be a front-runner.
After Mike nods to verify I heard him correctly, I look back to Cyana. "Did you see any possible allies today?"
She blinks in confusion. "I thought I was just supposed to observe today. I didn't talk to anyone."
"That's fine," I say to calm her. "I was just wondering if anyone stood out to you."
"Oh, I'm not sure yet," she says.
I realize I really have no control over how these alliances are going to play out. If I could, I would go to training with them to appraise the others and offer advice. But I can't. The best I can do is try to persuade Mike to ally with Cyana instead, and the chance of that happening is slim. I add that on the list of things for me to do later. I'll have to talk with Mike privately and wish for the best.
It's already stressing me out. Since I don't have any rope or knitting needles on hand, I resort to pacing around the room. Isidora is the only one left in the living room, and she finally speaks up after a few minutes. "You're making me nervous with all that pacing. You need to relax."
"I know," I say as I come to a stop and plop down on the sofa.
"Why don't you go get some sponsors?" Isidora suggests. "That way you'll actually be doing something productive."
I think Isidora just had a decent idea. I was planning on waiting for Alec to come with me again, but he didn't sleep at all last night and finally crashed. It would be best to let him sleep. Also, I think I desperately need to prove to myself that I'm capable of helping our tributes.
"That's a good idea. I'll do that," I say.
I haven't even made it to the door when Isidora stops me. "Mags Brine, are you about to go down to the Sponsorship Hall in flats?" she asks in disgust. I sigh in exasperation, but I don't stop her from forcing me into heels and fixing my hair because I know it's a battle I'll lose anyway.
By the time I finally make it to the hall, it's fairly crowded. I wander over to where the sponsors are entering and search for someone to approach. I catch sight of an tall, older man standing off by himself. What really catches my eye isn't his lavish clothes, but the fact that he has the same triangular tattoo as the man Alec and I worked with earlier. Of course, it's most likely just a design that's in fashion. However, I can't help but think this tiny connection might be a sign that this man will be kind and pleasant like the other guy was.
"Hello, sir," I say as I slide over to him. "I'm Mags. How are you doing tonight?"
"I'm fine. There was no need for you to introduce yourself; everyone knows who you are. I'm Abuter Cario." he says, gripping my hand tightly in a handshake. I lose some of my confidence when I see the look in his eyes. Something about them suggests danger.
"Which one are you in charge of?" he asks.
"Cyana Wilson. The one with the curly brown hair," I explain.
"Ah, I think I remember now. Pretty little lady. Very…mature looking. It would be a shame for the little beauty to die."
I don't like the way he's talking about her. He must be at least in his fifties. What right does he have to look at a fifteen-year-old girl that way? However twisted his reasons may be, his money will help Cyana, so I have to go along with it.
"It would be a shame. It doesn't have to be that way, though. Every donation helps better her chances. Our male tribute this year is really strong as well. His name is…"
"You know, you aren't too bad yourself," Abuter says, interrupting me. It's then I notice he's scanning me up and down. Gross. "Care for a drink?" he asks, flashing a scary smile.
"N-No thank you," I stutter.
"Aw, that's too bad. I have all this money that you could use for your little tribute, but I guess I'll just have to take it elsewhere," he says. He's frowning, but there's a malicious smile in his eyes.
Why does he have to do this? He's pulling money out of his pocket now, effectively tempting me. That could be Michael and Cyana's lives in his hand. It would be selfish of me to turn it down.
"How much will just one drink get me?" I ask meekly.
"Some. You'll have to do better than that if you really want my money. I'm willing to bet that it'll only take three drinks for me to get you in bed."
That mortifies me. Talking to this man was a horrible decision. What was I thinking, approaching a creepy older man anyways? I should have known he was a pervert.
"I-I-I'm sorry. I can't."
"Too bad. How unfortunate for that pretty little girl. Her mentor has one job to do and she can't even pull through for her, even when it's her life on the line." He pulls more money out of his wallet and starts fanning himself with it.
I'm getting really fed up with Abuter Cario and his mind games. I've survived through too much to let myself be taken advantage of now. I swallow hard and muster up some courage to respond confidently.
"My offer stands at one drink. You can take it or leave it."
Abuter is the one who looks unsure now. Finally, he says, "Fine, we'll start with one and see how it goes."
I'm trying to be careful to not let my confidence slip, but it's hard to keep my hands from trembling slightly as I follow him through the half-illuminated room to the bar. I refrain from talking as I sip at my drink because he's not basing his decision to sponsor off of whatever I say.
"You're going to have to try better than that. Could I at least get a smile?" he says.
I give him something that's less a smile and more a grimace. Since when was it my job to cater to these people like this? I thought that staying out of the spotlight and not upsetting the Capitol at least meant that I could be myself.
"So how's victor life?" Abuter asks. Casual conversation feels so out of place right now.
"Okay," I practically spit out.
"Wow, someone's tense. Can we get another drink over here?" He calls out to the nearest avox.
"I said one drink!" I exclaim.
"Your attitude ruined it for you. Don't worry, I'm giving you another chance. I might even pay double if you act friendly."
I take a deep breath and try to act in a way that he will find acceptable. Instead of making me confident and giddy like last time, the alcohol really only makes me feel worse. Abuter drinks much faster than me. His words begin slurring after a while and he doesn't seem to realize how much I don't want to be here.
I'm doing my best to block him out when he takes me by surprise by leaning over and forcing his lips against mine. I start flailing immediately because this isn't right and he needs to stop right now, but he's surprisingly strong, and the kiss doesn't end until he ends it. I stare at him with my mouth open in disbelief. I don't know whether I want to scream, cry, or slap him.
"Come on, let's get out of here," he says before I can unfreeze from my shock. He grips my arm tightly and slides his around my waist. Within seconds, he's pulling me to the door. No. No. No.
"Let go of me!" I screech, not caring if I make a scene. He makes no effort to listen to me. Left with no other choice, I reach under the sleeve of his suit and dig my nails into his skin as hard as possible.
He jumps back and cries out in pain. When he rolls his sleeve back, I see I dug out a jewel encrusted in his skin. It's a bloody mess now. The sight of it is something that might have made me cringe a long time ago, but that was before. Before I went in the arena and saw wounds far worse than this. Before I had to worry about manipulative fifty year old men trying to take advantage of me.
He clutches his arm and throws a string of expletives at me, which surprisingly doesn't faze me. It's the next thing he says that makes me regret everything.
"I don't know who you think you're dealing with! You're not getting any money out or me, or anyone else once I tell them about you!"
I might have just blown my chance at getting any sponsors. Even worse, what if this little incident gets back to the president? That can't happen. I immediately shift into suck-up mode.
"I'm so, so sorry, sir! It's just, um, getting grabbed suddenly made me flashback to the arena. I-I didn't know what I was doing. I don't expect you to pay me, but please don't tell anyone." I add tears for effect, which isn't hard at all because I already feel like crying. I hope with every fiber of my being that he's buying my story.
"Is that true?" he asks gruffly, narrowing his eyes.
"I promise," I lie.
Abuter frowns at his still-bleeding arm and looks back at me. "Fine, I believe you. You could have given me a little warning, little lady. You're lucky you're pretty. Why don't we pick this up where we left off?"
I can almost feel the color draining from my face. "S-sir, I don't know if that's a good idea. The flashbacks make me sick to my stomach. I'm really nauseous right now, and any touch might make me freak out again. I w-wish I could control it," I say, my eyes drifting away automatically as they do every time I tell a lie.
He glares at me and groans. "What a waste of time. Some of you victors really are train-wrecks of people, you know."
"I know," I say sadly, because his words are true.
"Whatever. Bye," he says angrily as he makes his exit.
What a disaster. I rub my eyes as I walk back to the elevator to return to my floor, but I can't stop the "fake" tears from coming. Eventually, I feel sobs starting to rise from the back of my throat.
I've never been a fan of crying. Even before the Games, I never wanted to cry in front of anyone. Since my emotional breakdown during the Hunger Games, I've hated it even more. There have only been maybe two times over the past year when I submitted to the tears and let myself cry it out.
So much for being strong. I can't go back up to the room like this, so I distance myself as far away from others as possible and try to get myself under control.
There's no need to worry about it. That world is a place far away from here.
I don't know where the words come from or why they suddenly pop into my mind, but I can't help but find them familiar, like they came from a distant memory. Somehow, I know they were spoken about the Hunger Games. They couldn't be less true now. This is my world. All these months, I've been trying to find the balance between remembering and moving on, and I thought I was making good progress to being happy again. Why do I even try so hard to see the brighter side of life when I know it will never help me escape?
I finally get my eyes dry enough to leave this awful place. It's cowardly, I know, but I can already say for sure that I'm not coming down here alone again, at least not this year. You'd think I'd be able to take care of myself…
I avoid eye contact with Isidora when I enter the room. "How did it go?" she asks.
"You were getting sponsors?" another voice asks. Cyana.
"That was the plan," I say.
"What do you mean? Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" Isidora questions. She walks closer to me but I just look away.
"I'm fine. I just need sleep. Cyana, you should probably go to bed, too. You have training bright and early." I walk down the hallway before they can ask me anything else.
I brush my teeth furiously, trying to remove all traces of the kiss. As I lay in my bed sniffling, the words from earlier keep replaying in my brain. I just can't remember where I heard them.
There's no need to worry about it. That world is a place far away from here.
I wish that were true.