Goodbyes
Anacrusis
Anacrusis: Also known as a pickup, a note or series of notes that comes before the first complete measure of a composition. The anacrusis prepares your ears for the next measure's downbeat.
Opal Granite, 14
District One
"You really did it!" Ruby beamed as she, Pearl, and Jade rushed into the room in the Justice Building. "You actually went and volunteered! You were serious! We thought you were just kidding. I mean, we didn't expect you to actually volunteer for the Hunger Games! This is so cool!"
Opal smirked. "Of course I was serious." The truth was, she hadn't been – not until that strange, awkward silence when the older girls had failed to step forward. She had been a bit nervous, but now … now all of that was fading away. This was what she had always dreamed of, but had dismissed as idle fancy because there would always be someone older, someone stronger, someone better trained than her.
But they hadn't volunteered. They hadn't seized the moment. She had. And now she was a tribute. Just like that. Everything she'd ever wanted lay in front of her. All she had to do now was take it.
Ruby was still chattering away. "This is so unreal. I mean, you've got to be one of the youngest Careers ever."
"I just hope the rest of the pack doesn't have a problem with that," Jade pointed out. "They sometimes kick younger Careers out if they don't think they can cut it."
Opal rolled her eyes. "Like that's gonna happen this year. Did you see my district partner? What're the chances he's going to be part of the pack? They won't be kicking anyone out. They can't afford to. I mean, we can't afford to," she corrected herself. She was part of the pack now. She was a Career. She was a tribute.
"Besides," Pearl cut in. "If the pack kicks out both tributes from One, they lose One's sponsors, and that's worth a lot."
"Yeah, and Phoenix is clearly going to favor you," Ruby agreed. "I mean, sure, the other guy's seventeen, but did you see the way he was acting? Like you said, it's a disgrace. And you're a volunteer. The Capitol loves volunteers."
"Even if they're not quite ready," Jade mumbled.
Opal shook her head. "Jade, what is your problem?"
Jade flinched. "It's just … I don't want you to die. That's all."
The room went silent. No one else had mentioned that possibility – even her parents – although it had probably occurred to them. No one wanted to dampen the moment. Opal ran her fingers along the thin bracelet her mother had given her for a district token. "I'm not going to die," she said quietly. Then, more firmly, "I'm not. Don't you think I can do this?"
Jade looked away. "Of course I do. It's just … well, that's what all the Careers think. And only one of them is right. Only one of you is coming home."
Opal nodded emphatically. "And it's going to be me."
And it was. It had to be. She couldn't just die. That would be so … so pointless. No, she had been meant to volunteer. She may not have trained much for this, but she had been born for this. It couldn't be a coincidence that the year she said she would volunteer was the year the older students had backed out. She was supposed to do this. This was her chance.
Besides, it was too late to back out now. Ruby, Pearl, and Jade were already on their way out the door. She wasn't expecting anyone else, really. Her family and her friends. But once she came home a Victor, everyone in the district would want to see her. Everyone would love her. All she had to do now was earn it.
Aurora "Aura" Flash, 16
District Five
Neon was still thanking her. Aura held her sisters close as the three of them huddled together in the small Justice Building room. "I … I just wish there was something I could do," Neon said softly. "Some way to make it up to you. You … you didn't have to do that."
Aura held her close. "That's what families do. They protect each other." If nothing else, she had protected Neon. If she made it back, Neon and Ember would never have to take tesserae again. They would be as safe as they could possibly be. And they would have everything they ever wanted. If she made it back. If she didn't…
If she didn't, the two of them would still have each other. She could never have lived with herself if Neon had died in the Games. She couldn't have lived with the thought that there was something she could have done to stop it, something she could have done to protect her little family. At least if she died, Neon would know that it had been her choice, that she had known what she was getting into.
And she did know what she was getting into. She wasn't kidding herself. Her job at the dam meant she was used to working long hours, a bit more accustomed to physical labor than Neon would have been, but that wouldn't mean much if she found herself up against a Career who had trained for this their entire life. She had a better chance than Neon would have, but that didn't mean her chances were good.
"We brought you this," Ember whispered, breaking her train of thought. Her younger sister held out a necklace, with a pendant in the shape of an otter. "We were going to give this to you for your birthday, but now…"
Aura nodded and fastened it around her neck. Now she just hoped she would live to see her next birthday. "It's beautiful." She stroked Ember's hair. "Now you two take care of each other, you hear? Until I get back?"
Until I get back. It was a hollow promise, but it was all she had. Ember nodded dutifully. "And we'll be watching you the whole time, cheering for you. The whole district will."
"There are two of us," Aura pointed out.
Neon shook her head. "After what the boy did to your escort? You really think the Capitol is going to let that slide? No, he's toast. Wouldn't surprise me if they blow him up on his podium before the Games even begin, for attacking a Capitolite like that."
Aura cringed, but she said nothing. After all, Neon was probably right. The Capitol wasn't very forgiving of things like that. They'd been known to go after tributes for even less. "I guess that just makes my odds a little better, then," she reasoned. One out of twenty-three rather than one out of twenty-four, but better odds were better odds. And it might even mean that Wade would spend more time with her, rather than wasting his time on someone who was already on the Capitol's bad side.
Maybe. But she couldn't count on that. She couldn't count on anyone. Well, anyone but her sisters, and they wouldn't be in the Games with her. Once she was in the arena, what happened wasn't up to Wade, or her district partner, or even the Capitol. Not entirely, at least. Most of what she did was up to her. And she would do whatever it took to make sure that she came home – home to her family.
Dario Baretti, 18
District Five
He'd probably already made a mess of things. Dario clenched his fists as he stared at the door, waiting. The Peacekeepers had finally taken the handcuffs off when they'd shoved him in this room, but he wouldn't be surprised if they weren't letting anyone come to say goodbye. He wouldn't exactly be in their good graces after what he'd done – or anyone in the Capitol's, for that matter.
Suddenly, to his surprise, the door opened, and Petunia burst in, immediately throwing her arms around him. Dario held her close. "I thought maybe they wouldn't let you come."
"Oh, I talked them into it, told them if I got hurt I wouldn't hold it against them."
"I would never hurt you."
"I know that, silly." She slipped something into his hand – a small wooden gun. "And that's in case you feel like hurting anyone else."
"But it's not real."
"That's the point. You won't actually hurt anyone. Just … when you feel like you want to, take it out and play with that, instead."
Dario shook his head. If only it was that easy. But he took it, anyway. He didn't have anything else to call a district token, and it would remind him of her. "I will have to hurt people, though, you know."
Petunia nodded. "Dario, I'm not a little kid. I know how the Games work. Just … don't hurt anyone until then, huh?"
Dario nodded. It was good advice. Hell, it was advice he should have listened to earlier. He'd just been so angry. The idea that he could have anything in common with one of those Capitolites – it was infuriating. Everything he had, he'd worked for. He'd worked through blood and sweat and pain. He'd worked his way up through the ranks, and now…
Now this. Now it could all be for nothing. He'd spent all this time doing anything and everything Mr. Baretti had asked of him so that he and Petunia could have a good life. And it was a good life. Well, maybe not good, but certainly better than it could have been. He was an enforcer – a killer when necessary – but because of what he did, Petunia didn't have to. If he didn't come back, what would happen to her?
But if he did – if he won – then their lives would be even better. He could have all the good things that he'd come to want out of life without having to do any of the bad ones anymore. All he had to do was win the Games. All he had to do was kill a few more people, and then he could be done. He could be done with killing forever. He could stop being a monster. He could be the brother that Petunia really deserved.
But had he already ruined his chances?
Dario gave Petunia one last hug as the door opened. Maybe he had already ruined things. So he would have to try to fix them. As frustrating as it was, as much as it would gnaw at him, he would have to try to win the Capitol's forgiveness if he wanted a chance. He would have to make things right with that damn escort, assuming he was still breathing, because that was the only way he was going to get home. And that was worth more than anything. Maybe it was even worth more than his pride.
Elemeno Pereira, 12
District Seven
Dead. He was as good as dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. Elemeno clenched and unclenched his fists as he paced back and forth inside the small room, waiting for his parents to come. It had probably only been a minute or two since the Peacekeepers had led him here, but it felt like forever. He just wanted to get this over with, but at the same time, he wanted it to take as long as possible, because he didn't want to leave.
No, that wasn't exactly it. There wasn't anything particularly wrong with leaving District Seven. After all, what had the district ever done for him or his family? Leaving his family was worse, but that wasn't the worst part. If he was just leaving, he could deal with that.
He didn't want to die.
He didn't want to, but he would. At least, he probably would. Almost certainly would. Only one twelve-year-old had ever survived the Games, and that had been … well, to call it an unusual year would be a bit of an understatement. He wasn't counting on something like that ever happening again.
Finally, the door opened, and his parents burst in, immediately wrapping him in a hug. "It's okay. It's going to be okay," his mother whispered, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than him. "You'll be all right. It'll be all right. Don't be scared."
"I'm not scared." To his surprise, the words were true. He wasn't scared, exactly. He was frustrated. He was angry. Maybe he was even furious. Maybe 'scared' would come later. Maybe it just hadn't sunk in yet. For right now, he was just so upset. He pulled away from his parents, his fists clenched tightly. "It's not fair."
His father nodded. "I know. It seems so unfair, them picking you when you only had one slip. We even made sure you didn't have to take any tesserae, but—"
"No, I mean…" Elemeno trailed off. What did he mean? Yes, that had seemed like what was unfair at the reaping, but now that he thought about it – really thought about it – that wasn't what had bothered him. "I mean it's not fair in the first place, sending little kids in to fight with people who are practically adults. Why are twelve and thirteen year olds even in the reaping to begin with? Why not start at fourteen, or fifteen? With people who at least have a chance?"
His mother shook her head. "I don't know, Elemeno, but we don't make the rules—"
"Then the people who made the rules are wrong!" The words spilled out before he could think twice about them. "Why not just make it eighteen-year-olds? Then we'd only have to worry about it one year! For that matter, why are the Games still happening at all? They say they're a punishment for the rebellion, but I wasn't alive then! You weren't even alive then! The people they're trying to punish are already dead! Forty years is enough already. We've learned our lesson! It's not fair."
Elemeno was vaguely aware that his father was trying to shush him. "Elemeno, you can't say things like that."
"Why not? What are they going to do? Kill me?"
His father said nothing as the pair of them turned to go. Elemeno sank back down onto the chair in the corner. That had felt … good. It was about time somebody said it. It would probably come back to bite him later; correcting people usually did. No one seemed to like it when he pointed out that they were wrong, but that had never stopped him before. Why should he let it stop him now, when he had nothing left to lose?
Whisper Collins, 16
District Ten
Whisper let out a deep breath once he was sure his family was gone. He'd managed to hold it together while saying goodbye to his mother, his aunt and uncle, his cousin Jolie. But the truth was, the fact that they'd all come at once was pretty overwhelming. It was a rather small room for five people, and it had been all he could do to keep his emotions together while saying goodbye to everyone who mattered in his life, all at once.
But now it was just him – just him and his thoughts. That was what he was used to, after all – plenty of time alone to himself. And from the way things were looking, he would be getting plenty of that on the train and in the Capitol, as well. His mentor had been quick to jump up and introduce himself to the girl, but hadn't seemed particularly interested in Whisper.
There was definitely something going on there. He wasn't entirely sure what, and it was really none of his business. If his mentor had already decided that his district partner was the better candidate … well, maybe he was right. After all, he hadn't even had the guts to step in earlier when he'd seen those hunters dragging that girl towards the district.
The girl who was now his district partner.
Of course, that didn't really matter, either. She hadn't seen him. Until the reaping, he hadn't even known her name – and he still didn't know all of it. What sort of person didn't have a last name? Maybe that was why Hector had decided to focus on her instead. Everyone knew the Capitol loved a good mystery, and there wasn't exactly anything mysterious about Whisper's life.
Whisper leaned back against the wall, gently tapping a rhythm on the arm of the chair. Things didn't have to be mysterious in order to be good. Maybe his life wasn't exactly exciting, but he enjoyed life. It was occasionally a little too loud, a little too chaotic, for his tastes, but that didn't mean he wanted to leave it behind for good. He wasn't ready.
Whisper took a deep breath. His father hadn't been ready, either. And that had happened without any sort of warning. At least Whisper had the chance to say goodbye, to let his family know how much he loved them. And at least there was a chance he would be coming back.
Yes. Yes, there was still a chance. Tributes from Ten had made it home before. Sure, it had been a while since they'd had a Victor, but maybe that meant it was their turn again. Maybe that was why Hector had decided to mentor. He'd brought home their other two Victors; maybe he figured he had a better chance of bringing home one more.
But if he'd already decided Arti had a better chance…
Whisper shook the thought from his head. It didn't matter what Hector thought. He had just as good a chance as his district partner – maybe better. Sure, the Capitol might be more interested in her, but that wasn't always a good thing. The Capitol's attention could be a double-edged sword. Attention made you a target in the Games; he would probably have a better chance if he simply avoided all of that.
Whisper relaxed a little. That was something he could do. He was good at avoiding drama, avoiding attention, even avoiding people. Sure, people were nice in small doses, but people were also complicated. People were unpredictable. People were busy and noisy and confusing. He was probably better off on his own.
Aloe Brittle, 13
District Twelve
Aloe nearly jumped as the door swung open again. She hadn't really been expecting anyone else. Her parents had come, and then her friend Enoch. Who else would be coming to see her? Maybe one or two of the other kids from school?
Aloe rolled her eyes when she saw who it was. "Thought you'd be on the train already. What're you doing here?"
Prometheus stepped into the room. "I thought about waiting until we were on the train, but I didn't want it to seem like I was playing favorites if Lark saw this." He held out something in his hand – a pink and purple bow. "I know you wanted it, but you ran off before I could give it to you earlier."
Aloe cocked her head. "You really went back into the house to catch the cat? To get me the bow?"
Prometheus chuckled. "What did you think I was doing?"
"Maybe getting a Peacekeeper to chase me away? I don't know."
"Look, kid, if I wanted to chase you away, I would have done it myself. I won the Hunger Games, remember?"
Aloe scoffed. "Yeah, by getting all the Careers to kill each other for you."
Prometheus shrugged. "A strategy you might want to consider, unless you're planning on overpowering them all on your own."
"Why do you care what I'm planning?"
"I'm your mentor. That's my job. Now do you want the bow or not?"
Aloe snatched it out of his hand, but then shook her head. "I already have a district token. My dad brought me this." She pulled the little figurine her father had given her out of her pocket. It was about the size of her pinkie finger, made of sticks and twine. He'd meant to hide it somewhere for her after the reaping, but…
But that wasn't going to happen now. Aloe cocked her head, untied the bow, and wrapped it gently around the figurine, tying it securely once she was done. "There. Now I just have one."
Prometheus chuckled. "Problem solving. I like that. I think you might actually have a chance."
"I don't care what you—" Aloe started automatically before realizing what he'd said. "You do?"
"What, you don't?"
Aloe smirked. "Well, of course I do. I just didn't expect anyone else to think so." Her parents had done their best to be optimistic, but had mostly been trying to hold back tears the entire time. And Enoch had gone on and on about all the neat things she would get to see in the Capitol, carefully avoiding the subject of what would actually happen once she was in the Games. Deep down, she suspected, none of them really thought she would be coming back.
It didn't bother her, really. It would make it all the more satisfying if she did come back. And if she didn't … well, then it didn't matter what they'd thought. It didn't matter what she'd thought. Dead was dead, after all.
But she didn't want to be dead.
Prometheus clapped her on the shoulder. "Look, we should probably get to the train. Anyone else coming to see you?"
Aloe shrugged. "Just the mayor." When Prometheus stared at her blankly, she shook her head. "No, genius. I've never even met the mayor."
Prometheus rolled his eyes. "Thought maybe you snuck into his yard, too."
Aloe smirked. "Does he have a cat?"
"I don't think so. I know he has a dog or two. You make it back, and I'll introduce you."
Aloe nodded. He sounded like he actually believed that. Maybe he did. More likely, he was just good at pretending. But for right now, maybe pretending was good enough.