Mags Flanagan from District 4
Victor of the Eleventh Annual Hunger Games
Mags looked at the deep water and sighed. The ocean looked beautiful but chaotic this morning; a perfect reflection of her inner mind.
"You can taste the salt," Lunan said.
They opened their mouths wide, savoring the ocean spray.
"I wish we came here more often," Mags murmured, softly closing her eyes. To her, the ocean was a deeply peaceful place despite its chaotic vastness.
She remembered her father's old textbooks, the ones she'd cluelessly leafed through in her down time. Histories and biographies and sailor's journals. And an old book about how life came from the ocean. As she stared out onto the horizon, it wasn't difficult to imagine the water was calling her back.
Lunan ran his fingertips over Mags' hand, feeling her like the waves feel the rocky shore.
"Hard to believe it's been a year," he said.
A year since they held hands for the first time. A year since they kissed. It had been the week before the reaping of the tenth annual Hunger Games. They met each other at the waterside, of course. That was where everything exciting seemed to happen in Mags' life.
Mags laughed. "Remember how scared we were?"
Lunan raised his eyebrows.
"For the reaping, I mean. My sister was so scared she threw up."
Lunan didn't respond for a while. He just watched the horizon and tasted the salty sea air.
"It's normal to be scared," Lunan said. "Watching kids die on TV is a scary thing."
"I… I think we return to the water when we die," Mags said suddenly. It was a thought she'd been bursting to share for a long time. "The water that we came from millions of years ago."
"Maybe," Lunan said shortly.
The tide was falling now, swirling away from their feet, revealing the rocks and shells sitting in the sand.
Her mother had taught her to love the ocean. She was one of the few people who still believed in spirits. "My mother can weave a basket so tightly, not even water can seep through," Mags had said one day.
"Can you do that too?" Lunan had responded.
Mags had shrugged. "Not yet. Maybe someday when I'm old."
Someday she would be old and tired, but that time was not now. Right now, she was a young woman in love with two things: the sea and a man named Lunan.
"Low tide," Lunan said at last, breaking the silence. "Let's go home."
Mags laid a hand on Lunan's chest, feeling the body that felt like her home. The sun was rising and there was salt on his eyelashes and the electric taste of his lips made her body churn like a riptide. He was right: it was too late to stay here any longer. Wouldn't want to risk missing the reaping for a few more kisses.
"How many times is your name in today?" Mags asked as they began to walk. It was a personal question, sure, but she knew she could ask him anything.
"Just five. I've never taken a single tessera."
"Me neither," Mags said. "We're really lucky."
It hurt to leave the ocean behind. Like bidding a loved one goodbye. But, scientifically speaking, the ocean was everywhere – existing in three different states – water in the sea, water in the sky, water in the air. Water within people. That, Mags realized, was why she saw water as part of the human spirit.
Lunan laid a kiss on Mags' cheek, spreading slowly and softly like a ripple. "I love you, Mags. See you after the reaping."
It was a painfully long process. The escort, some Capitol lady in a fiery orange dress, was a woman who loved to listen to herself talk. As she rambled on and on, all eyes were fixed on the reaping balls, standing menacingly on either end of the stage.
The mayor spoke afterward, delivering the annual spiel about the Dark Days and the reason for the existence of the Hunger Games. No one really cared, and the mayor knew it. The look on his face told everyone he was just as eager to get this over with as the civilians.
As the escort's orange glove clawed around the girls' reaping ball, Mags was reminded of a goldfish swimming in a bowl of water. She thought of the water, of home, of the man she loved…
"Mags Flanagan!"
The bubble in her chest exploded like a water balloon. She heard a yell from across the square – whether it was Lunan or her father or some friend she couldn't tell.
Fishbowl, fishbowl. Mags repeated the word like a mantra as she sauntered up the steps. She was a beautiful, scaled creature swirling in a glass bowl, not a girl from District 4 on her way to die. It was a calming thought.
"Welcome to the Hunger Games, Mags," said the sickly-sweet voice.
She froze, limbs locked, lips nailed shut. A fish out of water.
"Why don't you tell us about yourself?" the escort urged.
"I love the ocean."
"Couldn't agree more!" she exclaimed, beaming broadly. "You've got some great ocean views here in District 4. My sister came here on her honeymoon. We did a sweepstakes and won this nice hotel right on the water. It was…"
She trailed off, realizing she was being insensitive.
Mags didn't know what to look at. She didn't want to look at Lunan; that would just hurt. She didn't want to look at the cameras or the stage or even the ground. So she looked at the clouds in the sky. Those were made of water.
I wish I was a fish with wings, she thought, so I could dive into the sky.
She was startled back to reality by the sound of the escort's heels clicking over the cement. Her hand dipped into the pile of papers, and Mags was once again reminded of a golden fish swimming in a bowl.
Twenty seconds later, Lunan was on the stage. Panic made it difficult to think clearly, but when the realization came, it hit her in the chest like a hammer.
"I give you the tributes of District 4, Mags Flanagan and Lunan Spiers!"
The next few minutes were mayhem. Mags was led into the Justice Building, her mind wild with fear and fury. She was already praying that they wouldn't have to kill each other. Her father came to visit, not crying but close.
"Just remember that ends bring new beginnings. I love you, Mags." That was the last thing her father said before he was taken away.
A group of girls from school came to visit next. They sat far away from her, and when she leaned in to hug one of the girls, she flinched away anxiously. That was how people always acted around newly-reaped tributes. Like her bad luck was something infectious.
They were good friends – not the brightest bulbs in the bunch, but always willing to listen.
"Just… just don't mess this up," one of them, Riletta, said.
"I'm aware I shouldn't be messing things up," Mags droned. She never knew her voice could be so somber.
She was thinking about the ocean still: its vastness, its beauty, its grandeur. Which was why she felt so happy when Riletta reached into her pocket and pulled out a little seashell.
"Remember this?" Riletta asked.
Mags immediately remembered the smell of the salty spray. A few years earlier, after the reaping, she and Riletta had walked along the beach together. They'd spent all day collecting shells and stringing them onto jewelry.
"Of course I do," Mags said softly.
She took the shell and pulled the chain over her head. It was a beautiful necklace.
"Will you wear it? In the arena?" Riletta sounded near tears.
"I'll never take it off." She toyed with the shell, lightly fingering the soft pink interior. "This is really thoughtful. Thank you."
After the girls left, there was silence. She'd been counting on being able to say goodbye to Lunan if one of them was reaped. But this… this was something else entirely. The entire next week would be a long, cruel goodbye.
Mags stood shakily and looked in the nearest mirror. Her face was as white as ocean foam. She could almost see her thoughts rushing and racing under her face like sea monsters.
She dropped down onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. It would be a long, long time before she saw the ocean again.
The tribute parade this year had a new rule: the tributes were to be dressed according to their districts' principal industry. That meant the stylists had a bigger task than merely combing hair and painting nails; they were tasked with designing elaborate costumes for each tribute.
As Mags looked over the other chariots, she thought most of the costumes were quite silly.
Luster and Velveteen from 1 entered first, dressed in shimmering white tunics inlaid with jewels. Mags had to admit they looked fabulous, their skin shining with some kind of reflective makeup. The crowds in stands tossed trinkets like flowers and coins to show their appreciation. At the tribute parade, all trinkets were allowed, though rocks and rotten food were discouraged.
Next came Maximus and Volumnia from District 2, dressed as Roman gods. The audience showed a decent amount of appreciation, but Mags thought they looked a bit tacky.
Mags anxiously fingered her jewel-inlaid blue crown as District 3's tributes made an entrance. Her and Lunan's stylist, a harassed-looking woman named Callista, bit her fingernails nervously.
"Remember what I told you," Callista stammered. "Stay calm."
"We… we plan on staying calm," Lunan replied.
"Just don't cry and don't beam like a little kid. Make yourselves comfortable."
That, Mags thought as she wiggled into her light-blue dress, would be easier said than done.
The crowd looked like an ocean. That was Mags' first impression. It waved and rolled and roared just like the ocean really did. When she pictured the chariot as an island amidst a swelling sea, her nerves calmed just a bit.
"You ready?" Lunan asked, touching Mags' hand lightly. Callista had specially instructed them to never publicly display their love, but the cameras weren't trained on them yet. It wasn't too late for some affection.
The question echoed around her mind: You ready?
It didn't matter whether she was ready. Five seconds later, all the cameras were trained on her. Her sparkly crown threw beads of blue light across the chariot.
A coin flew through the air. Mags caught it and laughed a little. "Next we'll be millionaires."
The tribute parade passed surprisingly quickly. As soon as the chariots pulled into the city circle, the crowd began drawing away. It was late and they all wanted to go home.
"Low tide," Mags whispered.
Even after the crowds disappeared, nine figures sat unmoving in the stands. The victors, Mags realized. She'd seen them all on television, but never looking as dreary and empty as they did now.
District 1 had two victors, the exhausted-looking man named Luxor and the beauty queen Citrine. District 2 used to have two victors until one of them was assassinated. Now, there was only Tyrell, staring blankly at the chariots. District 5 had Electra, the enigmatic girl who'd won by electrocuting her final competitors. District 6 had Jaguar, the thoughtful but cynical victor who was never seen without his journal.
The victors from the higher-numbered districts looked even drearier. Rowan from 7 looked like he'd aged several decades since he won his games nine years ago. Georgio from 8 just looked empty. Mags noticed that District 11's victor, Bluebell, always dressed in bright colors, and today was no exception. Her pale purple-and-pink gown stood out like a sore thumb amongst the other victors.
The last victor in the line was Canary Roselock, the girl from 12 who'd managed to claim the Victor's Crown the year prior. The last twelve months had changed her so much. Mags could have sworn she made eye contact with the victor. There was pity in her eyes. Pity and sadness.
In that moment, Mags realized with immense disquiet just how many competitors she was up against. Maybe that was a good thing. It meant she and Lunan might never have to kill each other.
It felt like a million years since Mags had last worn her blue crown, even though the tribute parade was only four days ago.
"Welcome, welcome!" Caius Flickerman shouted. The audience exploded with applause. "I'll try not to keep you waiting, because I know we're all very excited. Tonight, we will get to know each tribute a little bit better, as a three-minute interview is slotted for each of them. Are you ready?"
Backstage, the tributes watched the production on a holograph screen, garbled in the lively but garish costumes that had been designed just for them.
Mags held Lunan's hand, trembling. His fingers were even warmer than she remembered. Possibly because her own were so clammy.
"They told us not to do this," Lunan whispered as the interviews began.
"I don't care," Mags said. "I need you right now."
"Listen," Lunan said, his voice shaky but encouraging in a weird way. "You're going to do great."
There was water churning in her stomach. She remembered watching fish struggle in a net, hopelessly captured. That was what it felt like with so many terrifying thoughts swimming around her head.
"I don't…" Mags trailed off, looking at her feet. "I don't want to die."
"Me neither," Lunan said. Whatever pretense of confidence he had instantly shattered. Without seeing or hearing it, Mags could tell he was softly crying.
All too soon, it was Mags' turn to take the stage.
"Ms. Flanagan! Your turn!" a peacekeeper boomed.
"I don't want to die, Lunan!" she hissed.
"You're not going to die. Remember what you told me after the parade? About the people being like an ocean? Just imagine that."
Mags felt herself walk onto the stage, and an instant later she was in full view of the crowd.
"Good evening, Mags! How have you been faring here in the Capitol?"
Mags didn't hear him at first. She was entranced by the crowd, the way it looked like an ocean. The people were so colorful, it wasn't hard to imagine them as fish. Very silly fish.
"Oh…" she stammered, processing Caius' question. "It's been great."
"That's great to hear, great to hear. Why don't you tell us about District 4?"
Mags felt like a fish had jumped in her chest. District 4! Her mind went blank of everything she'd seen in her entire life.
"The ocean is my favorite place in the world. I think it's beautiful."
"Really?" Caius said. "What do you like about it?"
The Capitolites, Mags realized, didn't have much appreciation for the bodies of water she loved. After all, the ocean had tried to destroy their country during the Great Disaster. To them, it wasn't exactly a friendly place to be.
"It's hard to put a finger on. Just the feeling of existing next to the water is so beautiful. I love it. It's my favorite place to be."
Caius smiled, turning toward the audience. "You are a fascinating girl, Mags Flanagan."
"You too, Caius."
That made the audience laugh a little.
"If only I had a sense of humor," Mags said, reeling in the audience a bit more.
Caius reached into his ear as if to pull something out. "Want some of mine?"
Mags pushed away his offer, forcing a smile. "No thanks, Caius. You'd make better use of it than I would."
She suddenly thought of Lunan. She contemplated bringing him up, but her prep team had specifically advised her against it; disobeying them wasn't the best idea given that they could control her flow of sponsor gifts to at least some degree once the games began.
"What's that?" Caius asked, so suddenly it was almost comedic.
Mags blinked hard. "What?"
"Your eyes glowed for a second. Like you thought of something that made you happy."
She looked at herself on the big screen: the blue dress, the crown, the red-brown hair that was curled like a movie actress. If not for the necklace, she wasn't sure Riletta would recognize her. The real Mags Flanagan wouldn't be caught dead in makeup.
"I… I just thought of the ocean."
It was a stupid response, and she knew it.
"This really rings a bell," Caius said, scratching his forehead flamboyantly. "You and our photosynthesis expert Georgio should be friends. You'd get along well."
Georgio's fans in the audience started screaming. Mags was grateful for that, because it gave her a brief opportunity to compose herself. She was shaking, her breaths coming sharply and suddenly. Lunan must be watching her right now. That gave her the strength to keep going.
"I'd love to meet the man after the games," she said shortly. These people liked confidence, didn't they?
"We'd all love that," Caius said. "What do you think of your district partner, Mr. Lunan?"
The words all jammed up in her throat. How could she possibly describe her boyfriend without giving away that they were lovers? And why did her prep team want her to keep it secret anyway?
She made the split-second decision to spill the secret.
"I'm in love with him."
Her stomach shriveled up with embarrassment. What a way to ruin a perfectly good interview.
There was dead silence, then a gasp. Mags rolled her eyes. These people were so easy to please.
Caius opened his eyes wide. "Does he know?"
"He does now."
The buzzer went off, and Mags swirled out of the spotlight without another word. She was internally screaming at herself. What had she created? A mess of an interview, a clunky juxtaposition of humor and shyness. All topped off with a random declaration of love.
Lunan's interview wasn't fantastic, if Mags was being honest. It was too late to turn back on the whole "in love" thing, but the audience was clearly not buying it. It seemed too fake, too sudden.
"They need a kiss," Mags spit out as Lunan sauntered into the green room. "I don't know when. But they need one. We have to convince them."
"They're already convinced, Mags," Lunan said, holding her hand. "You could convince those morons of literally anything. They love us."
"Maybe I just…"
Now was not a time for lies.
"Maybe I just want a kiss."
"Happy to oblige."
The ocean roared in her ears as their lips touched. She felt her hair stand up on end, like she was underwater. All the other tributes were just colorful fish in the ocean of her mind. The stage was just an aquarium and the arena was just a churning creek she could escape if she fought against the current hard enough.
But, Mags thought, she shouldn't get too ahead of herself. Thinking about the end of the games only made her head spin. In this exact moment, she was happy. That was all that mattered.
Mags' face broke into a grin when she saw the arena for the first time.
It was a massive lake filled with an archipelago of tiny islands. The giant circle containing the pedestal ring was devoid of islands, but beyond that, sandy specks of land sporadically dotted the water.
It was a long way to the cornucopia. Too far a distance for anyone but an experienced swimmer to traverse. But Mags had spent her entire life preparing for this.
She hastily looked around for Lunan, but even the nearest tributes were difficult to identify. The pedestals were just so far apart this year.
The horn sounded, and Mags slipped into the water as smoothly as a trident. It was comfortably warm: much too warm to be a naturally formed body of water. But she wasn't complaining. Hypothermia was a nasty way to die.
She was paddling away from the cornucopia an entire minute before most of the tributes had even reached it. Mags was weighed down significantly, her pockets filled with knives and a backpack full of random supplies strapped to her back, but that did little to slow her down. Swimming was second nature for her.
The thought crossed her mind that she should probably be searching for Lunan. But that was simply not possible, not now that so much time had passed since the start of the games.
Besides, Mags thought, maybe it was a good thing she wasn't immediately allying with Lunan. That way they wouldn't have to kill each other. Then what had they declared their love to one another for?
This entire thing was a mess. But so is the ocean, and the ocean was the most beautiful thing in the world to her. Maybe she wasn't doing so terribly after all.
"This is so lame," she murmured as she paddled slowly through the water. Even so, Lunan stayed in her mind. She knew she'd spend every single second of the games thinking about him. And if she had to live without him for the rest of her life… well, thinking that too far ahead wasn't making her feel very good.
It was getting dark now. Mags thought about the careers – Luster, Velveteen, Maximus, and Volumnia – and wondered how many of them were still alive. She hadn't bothered to keep track of the cannon shots earlier today.
This place wasn't unlike District 4. If she came to a stop and floated on top of the water, facing the sky with her ears underwater, she could imagine she was merely drifting in a fishing region near her home. In a few minutes, she'd be heading home for dinner.
In that moment, she became part of the arena: just another wave, just another gust of wind. The ocean was calling her and it would not relent.
The anthem played, and a wave of panic washed over her. She didn't want to know whether Lunan was dead. Knowing for sure was better than being unsure. But, she reminded herself, it would be stupid to look away. She needed to know who she was up against.
Lunan's face was the first in the sky that night.
The dark part of her imagination had always wondered how she would react if Lunan died. She'd imagined some kind of raging sadness, or anger, or frustration, or something like that. But it only felt like a dark bath, dragging her underwater, forcing the air out of her lungs.
She screamed, bubbles floating through the dark water. Even when she dragged herself onto land, the bubbles kept floating. Drifting away into the sky where Lunan's face was already fading.
Mags cast her makeshift fishhook into the water, sighing as it sank beneath the surface.
Three days had passed since the bloodbath. Cannon shots had been periodical but sporadic. Ever since the end of the first day, the girl from District 4 had set up quite a home for herself. It was a small island, but Mags didn't need much; the single nut tree provided shade and food and that was enough for her.
There came a tug on the fishhook, and Mags pulled it in, yanking the little blue fish out of the water. She plopped it in the basket she'd made the day earlier and then set down the hook. She'd been fishing for hours. It was break time.
One again, she thought of her father's fishing books. She remembered the drawings: huge sea creatures, swarms of turtles big enough to walk across. Even the most rudimentary wildlife was absent from this arena; this entire place was clearly manmade.
Another cannon fired. Then another.
The careers were clearly hunting fiercely. Two of them were dead – Luster and Volumnia – but that clearly hadn't broken the hearts of the surviving members. They were hunting wildly and they wouldn't stop until they'd tracked down every last outlier.
As Mags prepared a feast of fish and nuts, she thought of her mother's sea-green eyes. The woman who had taught her to love the ocean.
The ocean was a lawless place. Mags had seen schools of fish team up to kill one of their own members, just to keep a predator at bay. She reminded herself of that every time Lunan crossed her mind.
Every fish for itself. Every tribute for themself. That was the Hunger Games.
Even so, she couldn't stop the memory of his touch from tugging at her heartstrings. Lunan was an incredible young man – kind and caring with copper skin and electric lips. That kind of loss never came without mourning.
She remembered a story of a mother octopus who starved itself to death after a predator ate all of its eggs. Even the wild creatures know grief.
As the sun set, she lay back and slowly closed her eyes. She imagined the waves pulsing around her, slowly rocking the island left and right. It was a calming thought.
In her dreams that night, Lunan melted into the ocean. As soon as he disappeared into the sea, the other tributes appeared and turned into sea foam. She heard a conch note in the distance, a familiar sound that was nonetheless terrifying. So far, Mags realized, the dream had been completely silent.
She woke up clutching Riletta's necklace. But she was not alone on the island.
The water was alive: plunging her under and pulling her up, throwing her left and right.
Every second posed some new challenge: waves, debris, mutts. The hurricane had come with no warning whatsoever. One moment, dark clouds were pulling in overhead. The next moment, freezing rain came bulleting down at an impossible speed, burying Mags' island beneath the rising waterline.
The sea monster that attacked her the night she dreamed about Lunan was only the beginning. Even deadlier mutts now roamed the water: malicious swordfish, toxic octopi, and jellyfish that could kill with a single sting.
As the storm tossed her left and right, all thoughts of the other tributes disappeared from her mind. Here and there, she heard a cannon shot, but they slowed down significantly as the day progressed. Anyone who wasn't a hardy swimmer was already dead, and only the cream of the crop was left to face the mayhem of the storm.
There! Land! Mags spotted a spit of sand up ahead. But her limbs were devoid of energy and the island seemed an impossible distance away.
She imagined herself as a salmon swimming against the current, willing to reach the island or die trying.
She reached the island. It took a million years and she didn't know how she did it. As she crawled onto the sand, coughing up water and moaning in agony, the storm heightened even more. The wind blew the raindrops straight into her face, cutting into her skin like a million tiny knives.
Mags distracted herself by watching the colorful mutts pass by: a jellyfish, a puffer fish, a sea urchin the size of a house cat. Any of them could be lethal, no doubt. But for now, imprisoned on the tiny sand island, she was safe.
By the time the hurricane lifted two days later, there were only two tributes left: Mags and Velveteen. Neither of them was in good shape, but they were healing quickly and the games were bound to be over sooner than later.
Through it all, Mags fingered her necklace, feeling the smooth interior of the shell. She ate nuts out of silver parachutes and dreamed about home. And she dreamed about Lunan. The kind touch, the green eyes she would never see again.
Later that week, when she stabbed Velveteen in the chest using her only remaining knife, she fell into another dark daydream. The water was rising around her, creeping upward. Filling her body.
She'd never realized truly how dark, how cold the bottom of the ocean could be.
"Thanks for giving me this," Mags said, twisting the shell necklace in the sunlight.
Riletta seemed to freeze in place. "I'm glad I could be of help. We were all rooting for you, Mags. All of us."
She didn't tell Riletta, but this was the exact spot she'd sat with Lunan the morning of the reaping. His funeral had been a very traditional affair. They'd drizzled salt water over the coffin and whistled an old sailor's tune as they lowered him into the ground.
It was almost like Riletta could read her mind. "It was a beautiful funeral. He would have loved it."
She was right. Lunan would have hated anything fancier than what they'd done for him.
"Do you want the necklace back, Riletta?" Mags asked.
"Oh, no. It's a gift."
Mags didn't press the matter. She just strung it back over her head and stared at the water, remembering other places and other people.
There were scars deep under her skin that would never heal. She'd learned after her games that Lunan had died at the hands of Velveteen. That made Mags feel slightly less guilty about having killed her. But still, the guilt would haunt her forever.
In her victor interview, they'd asked her if she really loved Lunan. She responded by describing the history of their relationship, and while it was a tragic narrative Mags didn't feel it did him justice. Some things cannot be put into words.
As a dark shadow spread over the water, she imagined dark thoughts clouding her brain, pouring out of her eyes into the sea. It was a gruesome prospect, but a fantasy she couldn't help entertaining. It was weirdly therapeutic.
"I suppose now's the time to mention that… well, I have a surprise," Riletta said.
Mags watched the water.
Riletta pulled out a small bag of light-brown spheres. Mags didn't realize what they were until Riletta cracked one on in half and popped the inside into her mouth.
"Nuts," she said.
Mags took the bowl and starting munching. They tasted just like the nuts she'd eaten in the arena. It wasn't a fond memory.
The ocean was a wild place. A place full of death and life and peace and mayhem. But such was the life of Mags Flanagan, the victor of the eleventh annual Hunger Games. One day, she'd be able to weave a basket so tightly that not even water could slip through. One day she'd suffer a stroke that would render her unable to speak clearly for the rest of her life. One day, an old woman named Mags Flanagan would be lowered into the ground.
But for now, a teenage girl sat on the edge of the ocean, watching the sun set over the waves. And, Mags thought, it was a beautiful life to live.
List of Victors
District 1 (2 Victors): Luxor Dodge (1st), Citrine Whitacre (9th)
District 2 (2 Victors): Tyrell Crowley (3rd), Lancaster Percy (6th)
District 3 (0 Victors):
District 4 (1 Victor): Mags Flanagan (11th)
District 5 (1 Victor): Electra Wilty (4th)
District 6 (1 Victor): Jaguar Stratton (7th)
District 7 (1 Victor): Rowan Dobson (2nd)
District 8 (1 Victor): Georgio Bronte (8th)
District 9 (0 Victors):
District 10 (0 Victors):
District 11 (1 Victor): Bluebell Singer (5th)
District 12 (1 Victor): Canary Roselock (10th)