Chapter 47- Terra Coppersmith
Something drops at one of the other stations, jolting me awake. "Don't let me fall asleep like that again!" I snap, a little too loudly for the room, but I don't care. I shouldn't be sleeping while Iry's still in the arena.
"We were watching, it's okay," Woven says, reaching over to pat me on the arm.
"It's not; I told her I'd be watching," I tell her, pushing myself up in my chair from where I slipped down. It's the end of Day 5, and my sister is still alive, still breathing, and currently huddled under her blanket tarp while a rain shower passes over. I'd love to send her a tent, or anything better than a blanket, but I can't even afford to send her a cracker. Prices rose even higher overnight, and we don't have enough pecuniae to send anything to anyone.
"You need to sleep sometime," Shuttle says, stretching her arms above her head. I know she's been crying, judging by how red her eyes are, but I won't mention it. Some things you just don't talk about as victors. Nell's death must have affected her more than I thought it had.
"I'll sleep when Iry's back in the Capitol."
"Better hope the Games don't last two weeks then," Woof says before coughing into his hand. "Money's tight as it is."
"We've got nothing to work with, you mean," Woven says, tapping at the money gauge. "Somebody's going to have to go out."
Woof smirks. "The orange idiot isn't having any luck then."
"Nobody's going to sponsor anyone he's pushing forward," Shuttle says in between yawns. "We'd be better off if someone tracked him down and put him back in his room."
"Don't look at me; I'm not going out," Woof says.
"Did you say you're going out tonight?" Corinna leans over from Station 7 next to us.
"Why?" Shuttle asks.
"Licinius Popple; his wife's throwing a party tonight."
"He's the one who got money off of District 12 coal?"
Corinna's brown curls bob up and down as she nods. "Not that he got much. I swear I'm richer than him just by winning the Games."
"He should try the Games for himself," Woof says. "Might give him a new perspective." Woven nudges him in the ribs.
"You can't say that," she tells him in a hushed voice. "Not here." Woof rolls his eyes.
"Anyway, you should come. Mags is going, and Aulus is too," Corinna continues, ignoring Woof completely.
"Anyone I should know about besides them?" Shuttle asks, rubbing her face like she's trying to wake up properly.
"I heard a couple higher up Capitolites are going to go, but the rest of the guest list are people on the Popples' level."
"Sponsorship money in small amounts, in other words," Woven says, and Corinna nods again.
"I hope you go! It'll be dead boring with just a bunch of mediocre people and Aulus."
"We'll think about it," Woven says, smiling politely. Corinna grins back, then turns away to look at her last tribute, the pretty girl who's with Beetee's girl.
Woven looks at Shuttle, then over at Woof. "What do you think?"
"We should go. Nobody I know is likely to be there, so I'll go," Shuttle says.
"You two take Terra," Woof says. "Have a night out. I'll keep an eye on things here."
"I don't want to go," I say. "I've got to stay here with Iry."
"I think I'm capable enough to watch her," Woof says.
"I'm not going to leave her; I promised I wouldn't."
"Go get her some sponsors and do something useful."
"You haven't left the room in almost six days, not counting your little stroll with Mags," Woven points out. "Woof can watch things here."
"The mutts could come back, or something else could happen to Iry. I'm not leaving her!" I say, a little too loudly again. Glass from over at Station 4 looks over and glares at me, before Mags gently touches her shoulder and turns her back to the screen.
"Listen," Woof starts, shifting forward in his chair before jabbing his finger at the large screen that's currently showing an aerial view of the island in the arena, with all the locations of the tributes pinpointed. "Iry's the last tribute in the east; the rest are heading for a get together over in the west. They're not going to send mutts after her again so soon; she's not important enough in the scheme of things."
I open my mouth to tell him that Iry is important, but he cuts me off. "They are not going to go after Iry tonight; I can guarantee it. They'll do something that impacts the majority of the tributes on the other side of the island, to make it interesting. No mutts for a lone little girl on a beach."
"They sent the mutts after Nell and Trestle," Shuttle points out. Woof looks at her like she's an idiot.
"They were obvious targets, and the Gamemakers were trying to eliminate them. Iry's not a target, Terra made sure of that." I can't help smiling when he says that. "Iry's fine for tonight, so you three go out and get some money to support her and Azlon."
"Why Azlon?" I blurt out.
"Because, he's a boy who got lit on fire and has been sitting in the same spot of the jungle since. He gets water at the same time Iry does, because I am not seeing one of my tributes die of thirst. Understood?" Woof says, and there's iron behind his words.
"And what if Iry does get attacked while I'm gone?" I ask.
"If anything happens, I'll get a message to you. Happy?"
I look over at Iry, sitting in the late afternoon sun after the rainfall, sipping on her now full bottle of water. She needed it; she asked me for it; I heard her. And I couldn't help her. If I go tonight, then I can get her money and send her water and food, and keep her alive another night. I don't want to leave Station 8, but I don't have much of a choice, now do I?
"No, but I'll go. But you have to tell us as soon as anything happens."
"Any developments, you'll hear them," Woof says, and I know he won't break his word.
Shuttle pushes her chair back and stands up. "Let's go. I'll be damned if I let Aulus Buteo get sponsors before we do."
"You and Buteo," Woof mutters, shaking his head.
"What? He's a competitive idiot who never left the arena."
"Did any of us?" Woof looks up at her, and something passes behind his eyes, something I can't quite place. He's right, though.
"You know what I mean," Shuttle says, glancing over to where Aulus is standing with Athena over at Station 2. "Bunch of battle hungry morons."
"Let's go," Woven interjects, taking Shuttle's arm in one hand and reaching out to me with the other. "We'll be back in a few hours."
Woof sits back in his chair and crosses his legs. "Take your time; I doubt anything impactful is going to happen anytime soon."
"Back in a few hours," Woven repeats, turning and pulling Shuttle and me along with her towards the doors.
"Woven!" Woof calls after her, making her turn back around.
"What?"
"If you see our escort, kill him for me, will you?"
"I'll have him stuffed and mounted," Woven promises sarcastically, but Woof nods anyway.
"Good."
Woven turns back around, ignoring the bemused stares of our fellow victors and mentors, and pulls Shuttle and me out of the room with her, all the way to the elevators, and up to our apartments on Level 8.
"I don't want to be here any more than you do, but let's try to have a good time," Shuttle says while we wait for the front door to open. The sun's barely starting to go down, but it's not the same light that it was when Mags and I talked yet. I wish it was; it might make this purple house look less gaudy.
"Do you know them?" I ask, dodging the matter of having a good time. I doubt I will; I'm only here because of Iry. Shuttle shakes her head.
"Only by reputation. As long as it's not a Hornfell party, I don't care who they are."
Licinius Popple's house is smaller than the others I've seen in the Capitol, and it's located further away from the Training Center than I've ever been before. Still, it's bigger than my house in Victor's Village. Why do Capitolites need so much space?
Woven straightens the strap on the dark purple dress I'm wearing just as the door opens, revealing a dark-haired girl dressed in blue. Silently she motions us in, shutting the door behind us. Without any emotion showing on her face, the Avox gestures for us to go up a set of well shined wooden stairs. My heart skips a beat; I don't want to go upstairs; don't want to mingle with the Capitol people who are only interested in themselves and watching my sister die for their entertainment.
Shuttle touches my shoulder gently, before leaning in to whisper, "It's just like the other ones we've been to. You'll be fine."
"I hate them all," I whisper back, and Shuttle nods.
"Better than the arena. You go one way, I'll go the other, and we'll all meet up at the top of the stairs in a few hours."
I barely get to nod before we've reached the top. Woven, behind me, fiddles with my skirt for a moment, then we're both sucked up into the crowd of wall to wall color, and feathers, and alcohol plied Capitolites. Strange sounding music is coming from somewhere in here, and I think it would be better if it were turned off entirely. It's terrible.
Do this for Iry. Do this for Iry.
Somehow, being here is harder than the last parties I've been to; maybe it's because I've left Iry, or maybe it's because I haven't left the Viewing Hall in days. The stakes seem higher than before, now that it's almost Day 6 of the Games.
"Terra Coppersmith!" Some high-pitched woman in yellow runs at me, champagne glass in hand, and pulls me into a one-armed hug. "I didn't know you were coming!"
"I didn't either until about an hour ago," I say, trying to smile while being man handled. I have absolutely no idea who she is, as usual.
"I am such a big fan of yours!" she squeals, nearly tipping her glass over onto me. "I just loved your romance story; it was so sweet! It must be so exciting having your sister in the Games!"
It's like the woman just pelted me with rocks, with how dismissive she is about Fletcher and Iry. "It's very exciting," I agree, choking out the only words I can string together. She snaps her fingers, flagging down a passing by waiter. Before I can protest, she's shoved a fragile looking glass of something sparkly into my hand.
"You're going to love it!" she chirps, sipping from her own glass. "It's the best! I didn't think they'd get it here, but they did!"
Trying to keep a smile on my face, I take a sip. In terms of alcohol, it's good, but I don't like drinking it. "Very good," I assure her. "I'm afraid I haven't gotten your name yet."
The woman takes another sip, fluffing her yellow skirt out with her other hand while she does so. "Oh, how silly of me! Cordia Caerellia," she says, sticking her hand out to me. I shake it with my free hand, then step back, since she's getting uncomfortably close. "You're too young to know me; young people these days never do!"
"Your name is familiar," I tell her.
"I was a District 1 escort back in the day," she says proudly.
"Then you'll know all about the Games."
"I've been following them since the beginning!" she chirps proudly. "I love the arena this year! So unique!"
"Have you ever sponsored anyone before?"
"Of course! And I'm betting you're going to ask me to sponsor your little sister, you sly one you!" she says, reaching out and poking me in the stomach. I take a sip from my glass; this woman is starting to really irritate me, but I need her. I need her sponsorship.
"And if I was going to ask?" I say, trying to keep a smile plastered on my face.
"It's too bad! I'm already sponsoring two tributes this year," Cordia says, but she doesn't look very downcast about it. "Can't have too much money going out, can we?" She pats me on the shoulder twice, then beams at me. "Well, ta ta!" And with that, Cordia Caerellia loses interest in me and disappears backwards into the mass of color and people.
"Damn it," I mutter into my glass.
"Language," someone says good-naturedly behind me, prompting me to startle and turn around to face them.
"Aero Carter," I say, lowering my champagne glass. He holds his arms out, looking almost exactly the same as he did when he agreed to sponsor Iry during Training.
"One and the same," he says. "I haven't seen much of the Games today; how is your sister?"
"Alive," I tell him. "Low on sponsor money, though."
"And that's why you've come here tonight."
"That's the only reason. Why are you here?" I don't know anything about Capitol politics, but this party was supposed to be for lower ranked people, and I've always placed Aero on a higher level than these people around me. Absolutely higher than an ex-escort for District 1.
"They invited me," Aero shrugs. "And I'm not one to pass up a party like this."
"Why?"
"I'm here for the food," Aero says, laughing, which sets me off too. He has such a nice, good natured laugh, that it's hard not to. Come to think of it, I don't think I've laughed since the Games started, and it feels like a small weight's been lifted off of me.
"I haven't eaten much in a few days," I say, suddenly realizing how hungry I am too. "Where's the food you're talking about?"
"Come with me; I'll take you. Besides, I'd like to talk to you about sending a little more money Iry's way."
"Would you?" I ask, letting Aero take my hand and start to pull me through the mob of tipsy Capitolites. "I thought you couldn't offer much to begin with." I don't want to be rude, but it's the truth.
Aero looks back at me with that smile that reminds me so much of Fletcher's. "My father was generous enough to give me half of my inheritance yesterday. Can't think of a better way to spend it than helping to save a little girl's life."
Aero and I pull to a stop in front of a table filled with different foods piled high, but I'm not focusing on them. "I don't want you to go bankrupt for me and Iry," I tell him. A little voice in my head is saying Just take the money, and don't question it, but this is Aero Carter, not some other Capitolite that I don't care about.
"I've still got the other half of my inheritance," he says nonchalantly. "And nowhere to spend it."
"Aero, you're wonderful."
He grins. "Thank you for noticing." Grabbing a plate, he fills it high with different treats and fruits and who knows what else, and hands it to me with a flourish. "Now, in exchange for my inheritance and a plate of food, you have to return the favor."
"What do you need?" I ask suspiciously.
"You can tell me where Shuttle is."
Holding tight to my plate with one hand and my glass with the other, I spin in a circle trying to spot Shuttle, but all I can see are Capitol people, milling around and chatting about nothing at all. "She went the opposite way that I did, but I haven't seen her since I got here."
"For shame," Aero says, shaking his head, but I know he's not serious. "And you're not old enough to drink," he continues as he plucks my champagne glass out of my hand.
"I'm twenty-one."
"Barely out of the cradle," he says as he hands the glass off to a waiter and grabs another glass in its place. "You'll like this better." He hands me the new glass, full of a dark blue liquid. "Take a sip and tell me what it tastes like."
I take a small sip, and am immediately flooded with a wonderful taste that I can't place. Finally I settle on, "It tastes like stars."
"Stars, I like that." Aero takes my hand that's currently holding the glass of stars, and kisses it. "I'll be off, if you don't mind. I'll find Shuttle and settle the inheritance with her then. Take care, Terra."
"Aero?"
"Terra?" he replies, raising his eyebrow.
"Thank you," I say simply. He gives me a simple salute and a final smile.
"Anything for the victors of District 8." And with that, he's gone, leaving me with a plate of food and a glass of stars.
For a while, I just stand by the catering table and eat the delicacies that Aero gave me, all the time sipping on my glass of blue stars. Nobody notices me, and that's the way I like it for now. It gives me a chance to watch the people, every one in a more outlandish costume than the last. I wonder what they think about every day when they get up; what they do all day when they're not watching the Games.
It really is like they're a different species than the people in the Districts, and I wish Iry could see them. What is she doing right now? Is it raining again or is she staying dry? Did the mutts come back? Is she-
My thoughts are interrupted when I catch a glimpse of grey streaked red hair passing through the crowd. I shove the last bite of my last cake into my mouth, then hand my plate off to a waiter standing by.
"Excuse me, excuse me," I say, pushing my way through the mob, being careful not to spill my glass on anyone. Different faces come in and out of view; women with feathers inlaid in their cheeks like species of insane birds; men with spiked hair and sharp, altered cheekbones.
Finally, I see her, and I shove through a final few Capitolites to reach her. "Mags, wait!" I call as loud as I dare, and luckily she turns around and sees me.
"Terra," she says, smiling.
"I need to ask you something." This is the only time I'll get to ask her, and I want to know the answer without the other victors listening in. Mags tilts her head and nods for me to continue. "Why did you send that sword to Iry? Why did you choose her over your boy?"
Mags is quiet, and I can see her weighing her words carefully. She won't lie to me; I trust her not to lie to me. And she doesn't.
"I've seen so many young girls go to their deaths unarmed, and each time it is more painful than the last. I believe your sister might still win, but I won't let her die unarmed if it comes to it."
"And your boy?" I ask, almost in a whisper.
"He is still overconfident," she says. "Still, I believe he could win too. I would like him to come home, very much. But I know he will face his mortality at some point. I hope he makes the decision to live; he has everything to return to in District 4." She sighs and rubs her forehead. "I don't want to lose another tribute."
Mags looks tired, like she hasn't slept properly in days. I know she hasn't; she's nearly always at her station, like I am at mine. We're both trying to keep our tributes alive, and I can't fault her for wanting her boy to return home. I don't know what she means about him facing his mortality, but I hope it rules in Mags's favor. I really do, just as I hope Iry being armed rules in mine.
"Thank you. For saving Iry," I tell her. Mags looks me dead in the eyes, and I see a faint flicker of a smile in the green hazel.
"She didn't need saving; I only helped her a little," she says. "Your sister did the rest on her own."
"She's changed," I blurt out, even though I wasn't meaning to spill all my problems to Mags again. "She's not the same as when she left."
"Did we stay the same, Terra?" she asks, and I don't even have to reply. She knows the answer. The arena sucked us in and spat us all out, and none of us, no victor, was ever the same. "I think there's someone you know," Mags says, her voice lightening, and points behind me.
"Oh no," I mutter, turning to see where she's pointing. Mags chuckles and pats me on the shoulder.
"Good luck with him," she says, starting to walk away. "And good luck with your sister. No matter what happens, or who the victor is, I wish you only the best, Terra."
"You too," I say, turning my attention away from the drunken idiot in orange. "Good luck, Mags."
"See you on the Victory Tour, no matter whose it is," she answers, still smiling at me, and then she's gone, mixing into the crowd like Aero Carter did. And all I can hear is her whispered words that she told me in the elevator of the Training Center: Bring her home. I'm going to move the world to bring Iry home, if I have to. Isn't it strange how it is, now that the tribute number is dwindling? Mags and I are on opposite sides, and still, we're on the same side in the end.
"I know you!"
I turn just as Postumius stumbles and shoves a waiter, sending a tray full of drinks into a crowd of sequined women. The waiter, an Avox in blue, cowers backwards, clutching her drink tray so tight that her knuckles are white.
"How dare you!" The tallest of the five sequined women, with a blue curled wig that must be three feet tall, shrieks and wipes her champagne covered face with a gloved hand. "How dare you!"
Postumius sways on his feet and does a sort of drunken laugh. The part of the room where we're standing has gone silent, with everyone watching the idiot and the Capitol lady, whose makeup is running down her face in blue streaks.
In a low tone that I've never heard from a Capitol woman, the blue wigged woman says, "Get. Out."
"What?" Postumius sways again and giggles, patting down the sleeves on his orange suit.
"He's mine," I say, pushing my way through the crowd over to where the escort's standing. "I'm very sorry." I'm not really sorry for her makeup; I'm sorry that we've all had to deal with Postumius for seven years.
"Terra Coppersmith?" the wigged woman asks, startled into recognition. I nod. "And this is your escort?" So, she recognizes him too.
"Yes."
"He ought to be fired, with conduct as terrible as that!" she squeaks, looking around for the approval of her fellow guests.
"I agree," I say simply, then grab Postumius's jacket and pull him after me, into the parts of the house where everyone is still milling around and talking about feathers.
"Where are we going?" Postumius giggles, stumbling after me.
"We're going to find Woven so she can kill you," I say, making the drunken idiot giggle more.
"Terra!" I heard Shuttle. "Terra, over here!" This time I see a pale hand sticking up, and I pull Postumius towards it. Abruptly, the crowd thins out, and I find myself at the stairs, facing Shuttle and Aero Carter.
"Oh for god's sakes, not him again," Shuttle groans when she sees Postumius.
"He had an accident with some champagne, so I had to get him out of there."
Postumius giggles again.
"He doesn't hold a candle to you," Shuttle mutters in Aero's general direction.
"Very kind of you," Aero replies cheerfully. "It's settled, Terra."
"Again, I can't thank you enough," I tell him. Shuttle's beaming next to Aero.
"250,000 pecuniae," she says, her eyes lighting up.
"What? Aero, that much?" I whisper.
"Shuttle made me cut down the initial offering by half," he shrugs. "It would have been more."
Iry doesn't need any more sponsors; she never will. This sponsorship, this gift, is going to get my sister out of the arena. "Aero-" I start, but he holds a hand up.
"You've thanked me already. Now go save that sister of yours."
I'm about to agree with him, when I remember what Mags said. "No. I can help her, but Iry can save herself. She can do it."
"And I have no doubt of that," Aero says with the utmost confidence.
"You found him then," Woven says, arriving next to me.
"You can stuff and mount him for Woof now," I say. Postumius giggles again and does a sort of jig on the spot.
"Where's the champagne?" he asks.
"In your bloodstream," Shuttle says sarcastically. "What are we going to do with him?"
"Give him to Woof and stand back to watch," Woven says, with a slight smile. "Aero Carter, long time, no see."
"Always a pleasure to work with you, Ms. Stonewood," Aero says, shaking Woven's hand.
"We've known each other long enough; you know it's Woven." Aero winks at her and gives a slight salute.
Shuttle's face is almost glowing she looks so happy. "Aero's sponsored Iry again for 250,000 pecuniae." Woven's eyes grow large, then she grabs Aero's hand and shakes it again.
"You're a good man you know, Aero. I've always known it, but you've proved it now."
"And it's only taken me ten years to do so," Aero says. Postumius makes like he's going to wander off again, but I grab the back of his jacket and pull him back.
"Stay here, you moron," I tell him.
"We should be getting back soon. You've done us an immense favor, Aero," Woven says, her eyes shining too. "But may I use some of your donation for Azlon as well?"
Aero nods. "My money is your money now; spend it however you like. That's the best way to do it, I've found."
I don't even notice the boy until he taps Aero on the shoulder, and even then I figure he must be an Avox, until he speaks. "I have a message for Woven Stonewood?"
Just like that, my stomach drops into my feet.
"I'm Woven Stonewood," Woven says, and the boy looks over at her.
"There's a phone call for you, if you'd come with me, ma'am." Woven hesitates, nods, then follows after him, leaving the four of us to watch her go.
"I'm sure everything's fine," Aero says, breaking our brief and tense silence. Even so, I see Shuttle slip her hand into his, and he holds hers tight.
Something's happened to Iry; I just know it. She's dead, or the mutts came back, or she's hurt or-
There's a thousand different scenarios, and I don't want any of them to be real.
"Shuttle, meet me in your room tonight," Aero says quietly.
"If I can get away."
"After midnight. In the blind spot." She nods, but doesn't let go of his hand until Woven pushes her way back to us, her face pale and serious. I can feel my heart wanting to leap out of my chest; please not Iry; please not Iry.
"Well?" Shuttle asks, sounding strangled. Woven rubs her wrist, where I know the pin still bothers her.
"Azlon's dead."
"What do you mean he touched a poison frog?" Woven says loudly, hands gripping the desk.
"I'm telling you that's what happened!" Woof says just as loudly back. "He was getting better; he was getting ready to move on, he grabbed a frog with his bare hand, and he keeled over. His screen went dark, and the announcers just told me it was a poison frog."
"Of all the stupid ways to die," Woven says, throwing herself down into her seat.
So Azlon is dead. I don't know how to feel about that; he wasn't my tribute, and if he won it meant that Iry didn't. But I ate with him, watched his interviews, lived with him for a week. And now he's gone.
"I'm sorry, Woven," I tell her. She was the most attached to him of any of us; he was her tribute, after all. Her lip trembles, but she keeps her head high.
"He was a good boy," is all she says on the matter. "Let's get Iry some gifts she won't forget."
"Since the others are on the opposite side of the island to her, it's safe for her to stay on that beach, isn't it?" I ask Woof, grabbing his shoulder.
"You're hurting me," he grumbles, shaking his arm loose. "And yes, she's fine there, as I said to you earlier."
"So let's send her something that means Stay."
"You figure that out," he says, shuffling his chair sideways so I can take the seat next to him. Even with Azlon dead, I feel like I'm walking on air. Iry's away from all the other tributes, and I have more than enough pecuniae to keep her alive.
She's going to come home. Between Mags, Aero, and us, we're going to bring my sister home as a victor.
My hand shakes as I flick through the gift options on the screen. "A tent, so that she'll have shelter tonight," I say, selecting it. "A real supper. Water."
"Send those for a start," Shuttle says. She sounds so much happier than she did before we went to that party. For once, those Capitol people did something right for me.
I press the button, and two parachutes sail down towards my sister on the beach; one large, one medium. Shuttle wraps her arms around my shoulders from behind, and together we all watch Iry's face as she opens them. The eyes, the eyes aren't my Iry's eyes, but her smile is hers.
"She'll be alright," Shuttle murmurs in my ear.
"I know."
"And good luck to the rest of them," Woof says, slapping the desk in apparent satisfaction. "They'll fight it out and Iry'll be the last one standing. You just wait, Terra."
"I'll wait," I say, then I grin. "Oh, Woof? We brought you a gift; it's up in the apartment."
Shuttle snorts behind me. "Just what you always wanted."
Woof looks confused for a second, then dawning understanding spreads across his face, along with pure loathing. "I'm going to go kill him," he says, shoving his chair back and standing up. "I'm going to strangle him until he shuts up."
"Good luck with that. Let us know how it goes," Shuttle tells him. Woof looks at the two of us, then strides out of the room, straight past Mags who's just stepping back into the Viewing Hall. She meets my eyes, smiles, and nods, before going to Station 4.
Iry's okay; she's safe for tonight, and she's warm and fed. And I'll see her soon, I know it.
"Thank Aero for me again," I whisper to Shuttle.
"I will."
When I look back at the screen, Iry's looking up, and for a moment her eyes are her own, and she waves to me.
She's going to come back to me. She has to. I know she will.