Train Rides
Duet

Duet: A musical composition for two performers in which the performers have equal importance to the piece.

Octavia Branshaw, 18
District Two

She'd definitely picked the right year to volunteer. Octavia didn't even try to hide a smile as Lyric shut off the tape of the reaping. Three reaped tributes from the Career districts. Three non-Career volunteers. A kid who had attacked his mentor and another who had punched out an escort. A girl who didn't seem to know what the reaping was, and whatever the hell was going on with the girl without a last name. This was definitely going to be a good year.

To her surprise, Quint was smiling, too – albeit a little bitterly. "Well, whaddya know," they muttered. "Looks like I won."

"Won what?" Octavia asked.

Quint looked up, startled, as if they hadn't realized they'd said anything out loud. "My uncle organizes betting on the Games. Sometimes there are wagers on the reapings – who's going to chicken out, how old the tributes will be, things like that. I bet there'd be a volunteer in Six. Wouldn't've guessed a twelve-year-old, but a volunteer is a volunteer. I won."

Octavia cocked her head. "How'd you know?"

Quint shook their head. "I didn't know. If I knew, it wouldn't be much of a bet. I guessed. Gut feeling, you know?"

Octavia nodded. She did know. She knew exactly what a gut feeling felt like, and she was getting one now. "How would you like to be part of the pack?"

Quint's face went blank. "What?"

"You heard me."

"What, because I won a bet?"

"Because you trust your instincts."

"With a few pennies, yeah."

Octavia shrugged. "In for a penny, in for a pound, right? So what do you think? Are you in?"

"What's the catch?"

Smart. "No catch. You saw the other Career districts. The girls from One and Four are only a year older than you are. If they can pass as Careers, you can too."

"And if I don't want to?"

"It was an offer, not a demand." She leaned back in her chair, watching curiously. "But I will say that if you say yes now, rather than waiting a few days to decide, it'll be easier to convince the rest of the pack you deserve a spot."

Quint raised an eyebrow. "You, the boy from Four, and two fourteen-year-old kids? You think they'll need convincing to let anyone join?"

Octavia smirked. "You're the betting expert; you tell me. Who has a better chance of getting into the pack – a reaped thirteen-year-old who was practically begging for someone to take their place, or, say, a pair of eighteen-year-olds from Nine? Or a strong tribute from Five who already proven he can punch out his escort, maybe?"

Quint shook their head. "Me. And you know why?"

"Do tell."

"Because the pair from Nine are already just that – a pair. You saw how the boy took the girl under his wing. They're working together, no doubt about it. You invite them both into the pack, and maybe the two of them think they don't need the two of you who are actually Careers. Maybe they think they can take you and the boy from Four in a fight – or take you down when you're not looking. You invite them, and you have to watch your back even more."

"Part of being a Career. Part of the Games."

"And the boy from Five? He's made himself a perfect target for anyone who wants to prove their loyalty to the Capitol. Attacking an escort? You know better than to ask someone like that to join the pack." They cocked their head. "And you knew that, didn't you. That was a test."

Octavia shrugged. "Life's a test."

"So did I pass?"

"I didn't take back the offer, did I?"

"You're really serious?"

"Absolutely."

Quint grinned. "Then I'm in."

Eddie Hyde, 14
District Three

Everything was moving; he could tell that before he even opened his eyes. The motion was smooth, but it was there. He was in some sort of vehicle, which narrowed it down. Eddie groaned as the realization hit him. He was on the train. Headed for the Capitol.

Headed for the Games.

Slowly, he sat up. There was another noise he couldn't quite place. A noise that was almost music. He was on a bed. Whoever had put him there had tucked him in. But who—

Damn. The memories were starting to come back now. Hyde taking control. Attacking his mentor. Then something had struck him in the head. Eddie felt the back of his head. There was a bit of a bruise, but it didn't seem to be anything serious. And it was nothing compared to what could happen if Hyde got loose again.

"Well, look who's awake." The voice came from the doorway, where his district partner was watching him. What was their name? Eddie's forehead wrinkled. "F-f-fermi, right?"

Fermi played a few more bars on the kazoo in their hand, then nodded. "That's right. And which one of you am I talking to?"

"Ed-ed-eddie."

"And the other one is…?"

Eddie shook his head. "I j-j-just c-call him H-h-hyde."

"Because he's hiding inside of you?"

"N-no, because th-th-that's m-my last n-n-name."

Fermi cocked their head. "Doesn't seem fair, really – him only getting one name, while you get both."

"It-it's n-n-n-not a 'he.' It's a m-m-m-monster."

Fermi plopped down in a chair beside the bed. "How would you know? You've never even met him."

"Wh-what?"

"Well, that's how it works, right? He shows up, and you're gone? Then you take over again, and he disappears. So you've never actually met the guy, right?"

Eddie shook his head. "I've s-s-s-seen what he's d-d-done. Th-that's enough f-f-for m-me."

Fermi shrugged. "He'd probably say the same thing about you, don't you think?"

"I d-don't c-c-care wh-what he'd s-say about m-m-me," Eddie insisted. "S-s-so why d-d-do y-you?"

Fermi giggled. "Isn't it obvious? He's the one who's going to be showing up more in the Games, don't you think? He's the one who wants to have some fun."

"N-not if I h-have anything t-t-to s-say about i-it."

Fermi nodded. "Of course, of course. But that's just it. You don't have any say in when he comes out, do you. If you did, you certainly wouldn't have let him out at the reaping, of all places. But you don't get to pick when he comes out, do you?"

Eddie said nothing, because another voice interrupted the two of them. "There you are," came Archimedes' voice from behind Fermi. "Ah, and Eddie's finally awake, I see. Fermi, would you mind giving us a moment?"

Fermi heaved an over-dramatic sigh. "Oh, if I have to. Let me know if the other guy comes out to play."

Archimedes shook his head and closed the door after Fermi. "Don't let them get to you. I think they just expect everyone to be as … excited about the Games as they are." He sank down on the corner of the bed. "I take it you're not."

"How c-c-could I be?"

"Then do you mind if I make a suggestion?" When Eddie said nothing, Archimedes continued. "Look, you don't want to be in the Games. Hyde … Hyde does. So if you do have some sort of control over when he comes out … maybe you should let him play for you."

"You c-c-c-can't b-be s-s-serious."

"Why not?" He leaned forward. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Eddie looked away. He could kill someone. That was what he'd been about to say. But that was what the Games were about. That was what the Games were. And the truth was, Hyde could play them better than Eddie ever could, if he got the chance. But if he let that happen, when it was all over, how much of Eddie would be left?

Corin Palmer, 14
District Four

Corin grinned as she took another bite of cake. She'd never imagined Capitol food would taste this good. Her family certainly wasn't poor, but no one in District Four ate like this. Well, no one except the Victors, maybe, but even Brooke seemed to be enjoying the chance to indulge. Corin just hoped she didn't suggest watching the other reapings again after dinner. She got it. She was a tribute. Did they really have to keep rubbing it in?

Still, it hadn't all been bad. "Thanks again, for what you did at the reaping," she said, turning to Sebastian.

Sebastian gave her shoulder a playful punch. "Don't say 'reaping.' Brooke'll want to turn that damn tape on again."

Brooke shook her head. "Never hurts to get a feel for what the competition might be like."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Like a reaping's really going to give you a feel for how most of them will fight. You want to know how someone will fight? Fight 'em." His face lit up. "Hey, that's an idea. What do you say, Corin?"

"What do I say to what?"

"Getting in a little early training. I could show you a few moves."

"Technically, that's not allowed—" Brooke started.

But Sebastian cut her off. "The only reason it's not allowed is because of that one time two tributes really got into it and hurt each other so badly, they were easy pickings in the bloodbath. I'm not going to hurt her."

Corin smirked. "And I'm not going to hurt him."

Sebastian stood up from the table. "That's the spirit. Come on. The next car has a bit more room."

Corin followed him to the next train car, which did seem a bit bigger. Sebastian took a few steps away. "All right. Let's see your fighting stance."

Corin hesitated, but only for a moment. She'd seen some of the trainees fight before, after all. How hard could it really be? She held up her fists. "Like this?"

Sebastian nodded. "Good start. Try bringing your feet apart a little more. Yeah, just like that. Good. That makes it harder to knock you over. And be ready to duck in case—"

He swung. Corin ducked. Easy enough. Sebastian swung again, and again she dodged. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Of course, he was probably taking it easy on her, but still—

His leg came out of nowhere, swiping against hers, knocking her off her feet. "You all right?" Sebastian asked, offering her a hand up.

Corin nodded. "Yeah."

"Easy mistake to make. You get so focused on your opponent's fists, you forget there are other things they can attack you with. Did that my first time, too." He smirked. "And my second. Third time, they head-butted me instead." He clapped Carin on the back. "It's a lot to pay attention to, huh?"

"Yeah." Corin bit her lip. It had taken Sebastian years to become as good a fighter as he was now. She had days. Even if she was getting a little bit of a head start, how was she supposed to be ready by the time the Games started?

Sebastian took a step closer. "Hey, if you don't think this is a good idea, it's okay if we—"

She swung. The blow Sebastian wasn't expecting caught him on the jaw, and he took a step back, more startled than hurt. "I'm sorry!" Corin blurted out. "I just wanted to—"

"You've really got to stop doing that," Sebastian chuckled.

"Attacking you?"

He shook his head. "No. Apologizing for it. I'm a Career; I can take a punch. And you're going to have to get used to the idea of hurting people if you want to survive."

"I—" Corin caught herself before the words I'm sorry slipped out again. He was right. She would have to do a lot worse than punch someone if she wanted to make it home. And she did want to make it home – more than anything. Corin nodded. "I'll have to work on that."

Vicarys Flask, 15
District Six

Percy had barely said two words since dinner had started. Vicarys cocked her head, watching her district partner from across the table. It was hard to believe he was the same boy she'd met at the reaping. All the energy, the excitement that had practically been radiating off of him onstage – all of that had faded. He was eating quickly, but that was about it. Beside them, Tabatha seemed just as confused, but didn't seem to know how to approach the subject.

Vicarys reached for another chicken leg. "So what's your story, Percy."

Percy looked up. "Story?" he asked nervously. "What do you mean? What makes you think I have a story?"

Vicarys shrugged. "Well, most people don't just wake up one morning and decide to volunteer for a fight to the death. So I'm guessing there's a story." She eyed the necklace he'd been fiddling with since dinner started. "And I'm guessing it involves drugs."

Percy's eyes widened. "What makes you think that?"

"What gave you away, you mean?"

"It's not what you think."

"And what do I think?"

"I'm not … I mean, I don't use drugs."

"Riiiiight. So I suppose those aren't drugs hidden in your necklace?"

Percy opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. After a long moment, he looked up. "Was it that obvious?"

"The reckless decision-making? The sudden mood change once the high wore off? The very suspicious-sounding denial? Yeah, kid, it was obvious."

Percy clutched the necklace tightly. "You don't think they'll take it, do you?"

Vicarys shrugged. "Don't see why they would. Anything that helps make the Games more interesting, right? And anything that makes them a little more bearable for you."

"They aren't that kind of drugs."

"What kind?"

"The kind that make you feel good and see things that aren't there and imagine—"

"Imagine that volunteering for a death match is a good idea?"

Percy stopped short. "The drugs didn't make me do that. I … I made a choice."

"I'm sure you think you did."

"I want to do this. I want to be here."

"Because they promised you could have some more if you volunteered?"

"I—"

Vicarys cocked her head. "What I'm still trying to figure out is what your dealer gets out of it. I mean, I could understand it if they were worried about getting reaped themselves, and blackmailed you into volunteering if their name was called. But you didn't even wait for Noel to finish calling a name. Which means they got to you before the reaping, and wanted you to volunteer no matter who was called. Am I getting warm?"

She was. She knew she was. She could tell by the look on his face. It wasn't any of her business. It really wasn't. But damn it, she was curious. Why the hell would anyone want to convince a twelve-year-old to volunteer for the Games?

When no response was forthcoming, she leaned back in her chair. "Well, I guess I'll find out sooner or later. No offense, but you're not too great with secrets. Wouldn't be surprised if the whole story comes spilling out at the interviews. Eventually, you've got to realize what a terrible idea this was, right? Beg for them to let you go home, say you didn't know what you were doing?"

"But I did. And I can win this."

Vicarys shook her head sadly. "That must be a really good batch you've got there, kid."

Percy said nothing. He stuck his fork rather forcefully into his chicken and kept eating. Vicarys shrugged. Sooner or later, she would figure out what was really going on.

Squirrel Tail, 18
District Nine

"They want us to do what?" Squirrel searched Malachi's face for any sign that he was joking. Exaggerating. That maybe he meant what he'd said metaphorically. But there was no sign of humor in his eyes, and when Squirrel turned to the other woman nearby – a person who had introduced herself as their 'mentor,' Dawn, she nodded in confirmation.

"Kill each other," Malachi repeated patiently, as if maybe she hadn't actually heard the first time. She wished she hadn't.

Squirrel's mind was racing with questions. She grabbed at the easiest one. "Why?"

"It's a punishment for what happened during the rebellion, when we fought against the Capitol." Malachi cocked his head, confused. "You really don't know any of this?"

Squirrel shook her head. She'd been happier not knowing. "You? You fought?"

"Well, not me personally. That was before I was born. This is the 42nd Hunger Games since then. One every year."

"So why are you still doing it?"

"Because the Capitol makes us," Malachi answered simply. "Trust me, most of us don't want to be here, either. Well, except the Careers."

"Careers?"

"Yeah. They volunteer for the Games. We'll want to watch out for them."

"We?"

"I thought maybe … See, tributes sometimes form alliances, work together for a while during the Games."

"I thought you said we were trying to kill each other."

"We are, but … That doesn't mean I have to kill you, or you have to kill me. Not right away, at least. You don't want to try to take on twenty-three other tributes by yourself."

"So why do you think we should work together?"

"Because we're from the same district. Well, representing the same district, at least," Malachi offered. "And because we're probably two of the older outer-district tributes in the Games."

"Really? How old are the others?"

"Anywhere between twelve and eighteen."

Squirrel's stomach churned. "Twelve? Those are just kids. They can't make kids kill each other." Could they? Would they? No one really would. But Malachi was talking as if this was an obvious fact, something she should already have known. And there had been some pretty young children back in the district, lined up for the reaping. "That's not fair."

Malachi shifted uneasily. "No, it's not. But it does give us an advantage."

Squirrel stared. He meant it. He actually meant it. He was talking about it being easier to kill a twelve-year-old than an eighteen-year-old. And as horrifying as it was, he was right. It would be easier. Physically, at least. "I don't want to kill little kids," she said quietly. She was always showing the younger members of her pack what to do, helping them learn how to hunt, how to survive. Could she really kill someone that every instinct told her to protect, to teach, to nurture?

Malachi put a hand on her shoulder. "Tell you what. You won't have to. You work with me, and if we're ever in that situation … I'll do the killing."

"Really? You'd do that? You'd kill someone, just like that?"

"I … I don't know," Malachi admitted. "But that's how the Games are played. Kill or die. And given those two options … Yeah, I think I would. I think anyone would."

Squirrel nodded reluctantly. Given those two options, that made sense. But those couldn't be the only two options. They just couldn't. But if she was going to find a third option, she would need time. And she would need Malachi's help. So she held out her hand, the way he'd done at the reaping, and he shook it. "Deal."

Arti Aveneuro, 16
District Ten

"It doesn't quite seem real yet, does it."

Arti looked up as Hector took a seat beside her. Across the train car, Whisper was watching them. Keeping his distance. Maybe waiting to see what was going on. Arti nodded. Hector was right; it didn't seem real. This morning, she had been hunting, minding her own business, and now … now she could die. Well, not right now, but soon. That was how the Games worked. Twenty-four went in. One came out.

"I was just two years older than you when I was reaped," Hector continued, staring off into the distance. "Fourth Hunger Games ever. We didn't have all the trappings you have now, mind you. No chariot parade, no interviews, barely any training. It all happened so damn fast. One moment, we were on the train, and the next, we were fighting for our lives. Or at least, that's what it seemed like."

Arti said nothing. She couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't just reminiscing, that he was trying to tell her something. But what?

"But you made it back," she prompted.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, I did. But there are no guarantees, you know. I made it back. My son didn't. There's just no knowing beforehand, is there."

"Your son?"

"Morris. His name was Morris. District voted him into the 25th Games because he was dating the girl who had just come back from the Games the year before – Inastasia. Didn't exactly work out the way anyone expected."

Arti froze. Inastasia. That was her mother. And if she had been dating Morris during the 25th Games, seventeen years ago…

Oh.

Arti looked up at Hector. He knew. He had to. And he was trying to tell her that he know, without actually telling her. That meant she'd been right to keep her name a secret. Arti put on her best poker face. "That must have been hard."

Hector waved a hand. "The Games are always hard. Hard for me, but harder for you two, I'll reckon. You're the ones who'll be doing the fighting, after all. I'm getting a bit old for that." He chuckled. "Don't you think so, Whisper?"

Across the car, Whisper looked up, startled, as if he hadn't realized that Hector had realized that he was listening. He had been listening, but had he understood? Hector flashed Arti a look. If Whisper had managed to put any of their conversation together, then maybe it was better if…

"You can come join us, you know," Arti called across the car. "We don't bite."

We. Just like that, she and Hector – she and her grandfather – were already a team. Whether or not Whisper had picked up on that, he seemed to have realized that Hector was paying her more attention. If he got jealous, or suspicious of why, that could blow a hole in her cover. But if she gave him a reason not to…

Arti shifted a little on the couch, clearing a spot for Whisper. "What do you think about … well, working together? For a while, at least? During training, and maybe at the start of the Games?"

Whisper eyed her curiously, considering. Maybe wondering what had prompted the offer. Arti shifted uneasily. Had she been too quick? Should she have waited to make the offer? She didn't know anything about him. He didn't know anything about her.

Or at least, she hoped he didn't.

"For a while," Whisper agreed. "Let's stick together for a while during training and … see what happens?"

Arti nodded. He was being cautious. That was good. At least that meant he probably wasn't the sort who would accidentally give her away by saying the wrong thing. Now she just had to make sure he didn't have a reason to do it on purpose.