Let me know what you're thinking so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and especially who you're rooting for so far!
Chapter 8- Eleanor Slatefield
Absolute humiliation. That's what this is going to be, absolute humiliation. So much has happened since yesterday, and my regard for the situation keeps going down.
Seeder told me what to expect today, but I wasn't expecting this. But, here I am in the belly of the beast, in the stables about to go out in front of the whole country with almost nothing on. What is my family going to think?
My stylist, Opal, must have coordinated with Lotem's, because we're dressed pretty much the same. Only difference is that Lotem gets to wear even less than I do. Good for him!
We're all lined up in our chariots now, waiting to go. Some of the others are dressed worse than us, but not many. Opal and Claudia, the stylists, have put Lotem and me in body paint only; painted to look like fruit trees. Lotem gets only some leaves to cover what he really doesn't want the Capitol to see, and I get some sort of woven straw top and leaves on the bottom. It's really worse case scenario.
But, I think I'd rather wear nothing like I am now than the cow getup the District 10s are wearing in front of us. And hey, turning cartwheels will be much easier now that I don't have a dress in the way. So it's a blessing and a curse.
I wonder what Rosa will say. I can picture her face and I can't help cracking up.
When I got on the train yesterday, Taizy was horrified when she realized I wasn't wearing shoes. "Where are your shoes?" she asked in that high-pitched accent everyone here seems to have, absentmindedly combing her whiskers. I can't get over those things; how could you do something like that to yourself?
"I don't wear shoes," I said, staring her down.
"You're a Roots girl, aren't you?" Seeder asked, looking me over. "You look like a Roots girl to me."
"I'm a Roots girl through and through."
"You all don't wear shoes down there, I remember," Seeder said. "I used to be a Roots girl myself."
"You look like a Roots girl to me too," I told her, crossing my arms. "Except you're from the Fruit now."
"Not for so long, girl. Let's have a look at you two, see what we're working with this year."
Harvest, the other District 11 victor, doesn't seem very stable if you ask me. I remember from his Games that he watched his district partner get tortured to death, and then he had to kill the torturer. That was an awful year to watch. Two years ago now it was. Now he's a little off, and I don't really blame him.
"Lotem, that's your name, isn't it?" Seeder asked. My district partner nodded. "You're a volunteer, why'd you volunteer?"
"My mother wanted me to so we could get out of the Roots when I won."
"That's a depressing backstory; Harvest, you'll need to come up with a lie to get the boy more sponsors. Nobody is going to go for the mummy's boy story." Harvest nodded.
"And you, who are you?" Seeder asked, turning back to me.
"Nell Slatefield."
"Ah yes, Nell, as you so eloquently told the district. I think you can be something really special," Seeder told me. "But you're going to have to rein it in for me. I don't tolerate buffoonery when I'm trying to keep you alive. Is that understood?"
"I'll do my best, ma'am."
"Seeder. Always Seeder."
The train ride was long, and the day I've had in the Prep Center was even longer. And now I'm here, about to ride out in front of the whole world with my clothes missing. That should shock Auntie.
When I look behind me, I can see the poor District 12 tributes, dressed in this revealing miner's getup with a headlamp strapped to their heads. The boy's completely useless, I can tell you that by just looking at him, but the girl might put up a fight. Just the way she glared at me told me that.
"Right, good luck out there," Seeder says, standing by our chariot. Lotem is next to me, and clearly over this whole experience.
"Don't forget to smile!" Opal says, sipping something. Where is everyone getting these drinks from? Opal has one in her hand, and several of the escorts do too. The moron from 8 is evidently a few glasses in, actually. I'm the one who's kind of at risk here; don't I get a glass? Before I can ask, the chariot lurches forward. The tributes from District 6, wearing black sparkly conductor's uniforms, have just gone out through the doors. I can hear the crowd cheering.
Right, I can do this. It's only twenty minutes and then they will have to wait for my next performance. I'm Nell Slatefield! Of course I can do this! It's just like being on the stage of the Justice Building.
District 7 goes out, dressed like trees. As usual. Our chariot moves forward again. District 8, the big guy and the little girl, go out next. Then the District 9s dressed as farmers. One more then it's me.
Our chariot pulls into place as soon as the cow and cowboy from 10 go out.
"Smile!" Opal shouts somewhere behind us. Then it's our turn, and we're live, on every screen, if only briefly. I remember from past years that the lower districts don't tend to hold the cameras for very long, and this year seems to be no exception.
Immediately I'm overwhelmed by the sheer number of people crowded in on either side of the road, all screaming and calling out names, our names that they're reading off programs in their hands. I smile and wave, and I'm thanking my lucky stars that Opal gave me a top. I would never have come out otherwise. This is still humiliating, though.
The horses pulling the chariots are quick, so the people go by in a flash of color. I catch glimpses of individuals, though, each one more terrifying than the last. A man whose face is completely tattooed; a woman who's wearing a three-foot-tall hat; children who are dyed blues and pinks and purples, all jumping and screaming and pointing at us.
Alright, two can play that game. I start to shout back at them, pointing and waving. "Remember me! I'm your victor!" I shriek. Some of my words are lost in the breeze, but the crowd hears my other ones and cheers me on more. At least I think it's for me. It can't be for the cows or miners in front and behind us. I choose to believe their adulation is for me.
Next to me, Lotem is waving too, blowing a kiss here and there. He keeps one hand firmly gripped on the front of the chariot and uses the other to wave. He looks awkward doing so, and I feel a little bit sorry for him. Not much, though. How much pity can you have in the Hunger Games?
I can't wait for this to be over. I could get down off the chariot right now and turn some cartwheels and handstands in the street, but I think Seeder would kill me before I even got into the arena if I did that. Auntie might even find her way to the Capitol and kill me if I did that. Just the idea of Auntie Ruth here in the Capitol is a funny one.
"Remember me! I'm Nell Slatefield! I'm your victor!" I yell all the way to the President's mansion, which is when my breath is taken away. The building is enormous, as big as six or seven Roots homes, at the very least. Built of white stone that gleams, with two large pillars out front and a balcony on the second level, it's gorgeous.
The man that comes out onto that balcony is less gorgeous. President Snow, the small man who's so universally hated in District 11, walks out just as my horses are stopping. Why on earth did Opal have to make me naked? I can feel myself turning red as the president looks over us, his precious tributes for his precious Hunger Games.
I feel like doing something reckless.
The crowd hushes, and so do we in the chariots, waiting for the president's speech. He smiles down at us, but it's not a very happy smile. He looks more like he'd be very pleased to eat us for supper.
"Welcome to the Capitol, tributes of the 41st Hunger Games," President Snow starts, his hands gripping the white stone of the balcony railing. Two peacekeepers stand by his side, staring straight ahead.
"You have been chosen, or in some cases, volunteered, to compete in this year's Games. I salute you for your courage, your daring, and your willingness to vie for the crown and glory of a victor."
Willingness my foot. Ah, but he says he admires daring. I'll show him daring.
"I would be pleased to see any one of you before me in a few weeks time as I give you the crown. Enjoy your stay here, brave tributes, and train well. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
The crowd claps and cheers as the anthem plays, so loud I can feel it in my bones. My heart beats fast as I think about what I'm going to do. It's cheeky, yes, but the crowd will love it. As for the president, or my family- we'll see.
As the last strains of the anthem fade out, I stand up tall. "Hey, Mr. President sir!" I shout, my legs and hands shaking. Nobody ever yells at the president, but he doesn't look angry. More amused than anything, and he smiles down at me. Auntie is going to kill me if I ever make it home alive.
"Yes?" he calls down. Oh lord, the president is speaking to me. Every eye in the whole Capitol, in the world, even, is on me.
"You'll be wanting to bet on me," I shout up, "Because I'm your victor! You should just hand the crown down to me now and be done with it!"
I can feel the ghost of Auntie Ruth rising up behind me and whacking me soundly. Luckily, she's a million miles away in District 11, watching me through the screens in the town square. The president laughs, thankfully, and so do some of the audience. The tension that's descended over the City Circle is lifted slightly by that laughter.
"Unfortunately, I am not allowed to bet, and the crown hasn't been made yet. I'll keep an eye on you especially, though. What's your name?" he asks good-naturedly.
"Nell. Nell Slatefield. And I'll give you a good show, Mr. President sir!"
"I'm sure you will," President Snow says, chuckling. At his signal the music swells again and the chariots do one last round of the city circle before heading into another stable nearby. I keep my eyes on the president, who I've hated all my life, and who I ultimately fear, and he in turn watches me all the way into the stable.
Well, nobody is going to forget me, now are they?
Once we're all safely inside, I jump down off the chariot to a waiting Seeder and Harvest. Seeder looks grim, her face completely blank. "What was that, girl?"
"I just made the whole of Panem remember me," I tell her, trying to stop my knees from shaking. I can't believe I just yelled at the president. Nobody has ever done that, ever. I don't think I'm in trouble for it, from the Capitol at least.
"I told you I don't stand by that sort of nonsense, Nell," Seeder says, her voice low and dangerous. I shrug.
"I didn't know I was going to do it until I did it. You're going to have a hard time reining me in, I tell you that, Seeder."
Before she can say another word, I walk away to see who I can see down here in the stables. I pet my horses as I go by; they did well.
"You look and act ridiculous." I look over to see the girl from 1 standing there, arms crossed.
"Takes one to know one I guess. You got the body paint treatment too; must be a trend this year," I say, leaning against the horse's side. She's dressed in this long gold sparkly dress, and she's been spray painted gold to match. "Gold's a good color on you."
"Your costume is just awful, if you can even call it a costume," she says in a snobby tone, not unlike the tones used by the Branches girls towards the Roots girls.
"Don't you wish you could pull it off?" I ask her. "Your stylist decided the best thing to do was to cover you up. Mine decided the more the Capitol could see of me, the better."
"You'd better give up the idea of being victor, 11," she says, coming closer. "I'm going to win the Games."
"Yeah, and what's your name?" I ask her. I'm feeling extra bold after my conversation with the president. If I can get away with that, I can get away with sassing this girl from 1. "Nobody really knows your name. But everyone knows mine now. Good luck with that, 1."
While she stands there gawping, I push past her and keep walking.
"That was brilliant!" Somebody loops their arm around my neck like we're old friends. It's the boy from 6, the one wearing the conductor's uniform. "Nobody's ever had the guts to do that before. I think we're going to be good friends, you and me."
"If we're going to be friends, then I want your name," I say, pulling away so we're face to face.
"Trestle. Trestle Deadwood. I think you and I can give them a good show, don't you think?"
"Show me tomorrow in training and I'll think about it," I say, arms crossed again.
"Then I will. Nice job out there, Nell." He shoots me finger guns and walks away back to his district partner, who's looking over at me doubtfully.
Seeder comes up behind me and mutters in my ear, "Let's go, Nell. Upstairs." After the day I've had today, I'm starting to feel tired, so I listen for once. I don't think my mentor is very happy with me, but I've put myself out there. I'm going to be unforgettable.
Lotem's looking over at me surreptitiously the whole walk to the elevators. I think he doesn't know what to make of me. Excellent. I'll keep them all on their toes.
The elevator ride is exhilarating; you get into this sort of box and it shoots you up when you press the button with the number of your district. Easy to remember.
The real fun starts when we all get off the elevator and step into the plush apartment that we're going to be living in for the next week.
"What are you doing, girl?" Seeder asks, finally able to raise her voice. "Do you want to put a target on your back? Cause that's what you're doing right now with your shenanigans. If you want my help, then listen to me when I say you need to tone it down."
"Look, all I did was make myself memorable," I say, half paying attention to her, my other half looking around at the beautiful surroundings.
"Se-Seeder," Harvest stutters; it's the first time I've ever heard him speak. "Maybe- maybe she knows what she's doing. She's got a personality that-that all the sponsors are going to love."
Seeder sits down in a chair to think. I devote my full attention to looking around; the floor is hardwood, probably from District 7, and is covered in thick rugs of all colors. Lights hang from the ceiling and are perched on every surface; one wall is just windows overlooking the lit-up Capitol. A dining room, the living room with the television mounted on the wall, and red clothed servants who stand around and look at the floor. Alright, they're creepy. But the rest of the place is absolutely gorgeous.
Rubbing her face, Seeder finally says, "Alright, Nell, we'll make a deal. I'm never going to be able to rein you in, am I?"
"Probably not. My auntie's been trying for years without success."
"Do what you will, since it seems I don't have a choice. But if you're going to pull a harebrained stunt like you did tonight again, let me know beforehand will you? I want to live through this year without my heart giving out."
"Deal," I tell her. Seeder finally smiles. She gets up and comes over to me as I stand in the doorway. Lotem's stepped away to stand by Harvest, who's blinking an awful lot.
"You just might be the gem I've been looking for," Seeder says, kissing my forehead. "Go wash up, both of you, and then we can watch the recap of the Chariot Rides. Then it's an early night for both of you; it's going to be a long and early day tomorrow!"