Willow's hands were all but a blur as she tapped her fingertips together clumsily, her palms cold and sweaty. It was the only thing she could think of at the moment that gave her some semblance of control. Her breath came out in short, shaky puffs as she waited for what came next.
"Willow Astoroth," Ms. Trinket's voice still echoed in her ears. The female tribute for District 12.
The room in which she sat was silent, dusty and it may have been cold, but she couldn't tell if it was the room itself or her shocked body. A faded map of Panem hung on one ebony-paneled wall and a bookshelf with only four or five books on it leaned precariously against another. Willow jiggled her own leg so ferociously that the leg of her crooked chair clacked hollowly against the floor.
Outside of the Justice Hall, the sun was shining but there was a sickening silence. The entire district was at the same time sighing with relief and holding their breath in anticipation. Every year, it was the same. Everyone watched the games but two families watched more intently, hoping in vain that this would be the year their child came home a victor.
There was a low rumble as a group of people made their way towards the room. Willow crossed her arms and sat perfectly still. The heavy wooden door opened with a creak.
Willow's grandmother entered first. She was a thin, wrinkled woman with short auburn hair and black eyes, which at the moment were red and wet with tears. She was all Willow had left.
"Sweetie," Grandma whispered hoarsely, holding out her arms.
Willow jumped from her chair with a clatter and rushed to her, squeezing her tightly, forcing herself not to cry again. She felt Grandma's tears dripping on the top of her head.
"Listen," she said, holding Willow out in front of her and looking into her eyes, "Just do the best you can. It'll be alright. Whatever happens, it'll be alright."
Willow gulped and nodded. It most certainly would not be alright and both of them knew it. Willow was the last thing left to remind her grandmother of her long-dead daughter. Both of Willow's parents had died and now she would be taken away too.
Grandma held her again and kissed her forehead. She straightened the sleeves on Willow's grey dress. Someone near the door cleared their throat. Willow looked up.
Haymitch Abernathy stood between two peacekeepers, looking uncomfortable. His hair hung limply around his face and a sour pout sat on his lips. He was District 12's only living victor and as such, her only mentor.
"It's, uh… time to go, sweetheart," he said softly, his words slurring noticeably but not beyond comprehension. He held a rough hand out to her.
Willow walked towards him, letting one hand slip away from her grandmother's grasp while placing the other on Haymitch's shoulder.
"I love you," Willow said over her shoulder.
"I love you, too," Grandma replied, shrinking despondently into the chair Willow had just left.
Haymitch placed a steadying hand on Willow's waist and supported her as they exited the room with the peacekeepers close behind.
He smelled ripe and was using the young tribute as a support just as much, if not more than she relied on him. He was barely able to walk in a straight line.
"The boy is already on the train with Effie," Haymitch said, as if trying to make conversation.
Willow had all but forgotten Thorn, her male counterpart and fellow Tribute. He was a few weeks older than her. They had grown up together. Both their fathers died in the same mining accident. She wouldn't have considered him a friend, necessarily, but suddenly found herself on the verge of tears for his fate.
"What was your name again, hon?" Haymitch grunted, "Some tree name, wasn't it?"
"Willow," she replied patiently.
Haymitch let out a quiet belch and stumbled slightly, pulling Willow with him. She did her best to guide him back to the center of the hallway.
"Sorry," he grunted, "I've been, uh, self medicating. Reaping day is rough for me."
Willow nodded in agreement. "Fuck, it's the roughest day I've had in a long time," she said.
Haymitch let out a surprised chuckle. Willow blinked at him.
"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you," he said quickly, "Just didn't expect that. Use that sense of humor in your interviews. The Capitol will eat it up."
He held up a wobbly finger, nearly brushing the end of her nose, all but losing his balance. "But don't swear in front of Effie, you'll start her nagging like you wouldn't believe."
He led her out of the front doors of the Justice Hall and into the car that would take them to the train station.
The ride was short and uncomfortable. Willow and Haymitch were crammed shoulder to shoulder into the seat. The alcohol on his breath was almost too strong to bear.
At the station, they once again hobbled their way toward their goal. Haymitch fumbled with his collar, trying to straighten it for several seconds before Willow intervened and did it for him.
"Thanks for all your help, honey," Haymitch commented. He looked at her with something that was attempting to be a smile but looked more like a grimace.
Willow only nodded at him as the two of them boarded the train. She took one last breath of the air in her district. Her home.
The inside of the sleek Capitol train was clean and comfortable, plated in futuristic-looking chrome and blue velvet. Everything inside was more luxurious than Willow had ever seen. The seats were deep and soft and the whole compartment smelled fresh and somehow opulent. There was more food on display than she thought existed. Fruit, pastries, drinks and some other delicacies so rare she couldn't even name them.
Effie Trinket, the Capitol's liaison with District 12, sat primly in a cushioned seat, her nose wrinkled as if she smelled something rotten. She wore a purple-grey wig that twisted intricately above her head, complete with a cloud-like puffy lilac dress and leg-warmers to match. Her violet lipstick and downturned magenta eyelashes accentuated her sour expression.
Thorn Weatherby sat in his own seat, ravenously eating some kind of exotic yellow fruit. He was a thin boy with dark hair and beautiful cow-like black eyes. He looked up when Willow and Haymitch hobbled in and mustered up a half-hearted smile, his lips still wet with juice.
"Shall we be on our way, then?" Haymitch asked.
"So kind of you to escort your mentor to the train, Miss Astoroth," Effie said disdainfully, "Why, it's a wonder he can stand at all. I can smell the alcohol from here."
Willow wasn't sure what to say, so she grinned slightly. She and Haymitch sat in adjoining seats, saying nothing.
Effie looked at the both of them with a displeased grimace. Haymitch leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It was clear that he'd reached his helpfulness limit for the time being.
"Well," Effie said finally, with a sigh, "As your chaperone in the Capitol, it is my job to promote your best features to the sponsors to give you both the best possible chance at survival."
Willow and Thorn exchanged a glance. Thorn raised an eyebrow at her hopeful use of the word "survival".
"So, tell me a little about yourselves," Ms. Trinket prodded, flicking her wrists in an encouraging motion.
Willow and Thorn looked at each other again, neither daring to speak first. A strand of black hair fell across Thorn's forehead and fruit juice dripped down his rough fingers to his wrists.
Effie snapped her fingers impatiently.
"Well, I'm eighteen," Thorn blurted out, "I live with my mother and we run a cobbling business. The plan was to wait until I was old enough to start working in the mines so I could better support her. My father died in the mine when I was about ten. Both of our fathers did, actually. In the same fire."
He looked at Willow as if hoping for approval.
"That's right," Willow said, "My mother died of an illness a long time ago so when the fires killed my father, I had to live with my grandmother. That's where I've been ever since. I help her make clothes to trade in the market."
"This is all so bleak, you two!" Effie said, rolling her eyes, "Give me something we can use! What do you do for fun?"
Thorn and Willow stared at each other for a long time, their minds racing. Thorn's eyes darted back and forth between Willow and Effie.
"Sleep?" Willow replied finally.
Haymitch let out a kind of chortle badly disguised as a cough, slightly opening one eye.
Effie stood up huffily and marched out of the room saying, "I can't do it. I simply cannot do this."