"May the odds be ever in your favor."- The Hunger Games, Chapter 1
MAGS (1)
Mags Flanagan, aged 70. On the way to the Capitol
"Two volunteers again," Adrian had been saying. "Why do they all want to volunteer?"
"You were a volunteer," someone had reminded him, but Adrian hadn't been listening. They're Victors after all. The reaping brings out something ugly in all of them, and in Adrian it brings out the same rant year after year.
He's right though. It always seems to be volunteers these days. They all have the same bright hope in their eyes, and they all know the same training tricks. They all believe they'll be the one to make it home. But Mags has seen them die year after year just the same. No, skills are not enough to win the games. To win the games you need to make them root for you.
The boy is young. Mags can't understand why he's here yet. He's a career tribute alright, but he's still got a few more years at the academy left. What is he doing here now? He'd seemed confident on the stage, but so young. So young to throw his life away.
The Capitol will eat him up, she knows. She tries to push the thought away but it lingers coldly in the back of her mind. They will eat him up, the young pretty boy who volunteered for his District. It makes a nice story. Snow will try and spin it. He's exactly the sort of tribute they want.
"I'll mentor the boy," she had said. A split decision, but the right one she knows. That boy will need help, and she doesn't trust any of her fellow Victors to give him the chance to prove himself.
"You want to mentor?" The surprise has finally killed Adrian's rant. She hasn't mentored a tribute in years. The truth is, she's getting old. Old enough that the Capitol have forgotten about her. Years have made her safe. But the boy… Perhaps she sees a little of herself in him.
"I'll mentor the boy," she repeats firmly.
Which is why she finds herself on the train an hour later, heading back to the one place she hated the most.
X
Everyone's quiet at dinner. Mags had almost forgotten the taste of rich Capitol food- puréed vegetable soup, fish cakes with creamy lime paste, little birds full of orange sauce with wild rice and watercress. Both tributes seem a little dazed. Mags isn't sure if it's the overwhelming events of the day, or the exotic platter laid out in front of them that is responsible. She can barely remember her first trip to the Capitol. It seems like another lifetime.
The dessert is brought out- chocolate custard dotted with cherries.
After dessert Geena says, "Shall we watch the recap of the reapings?" She's looking at the boy. If Mags hadn't known better, she would have guessed he was older than fourteen. He's already quite tall, with a hint of muscle. Mags can see one day he will be beautiful but she hadn't realised what that meant until she saw the way the escort was looking at him. She feels a sense of guilt then. Perhaps this wasn't the right thing she was doing. Perhaps she shouldn't have come after all. Perhaps it would be better for him to die in that arena.
They move into the living compartment, the one with the television. The boy settles into an armchair and everyone else finds themselves a seat so that they can watch the competition. They are all seated as the anthem begins to play and the annual recap of the reaping ceremonies in the twelve districts begin.
Only a few stick out: from District 1, a thickset boy named Andradite, with long pale hair. From District 2, a crafty looking red-haired girl, Sagitarria. The girl from 7, Rupalia, looks interesting, but Mags can't honestly say why. She is about the same age as Mag's tribute, with long dark hair and hazel eyes, nothing spectacular. Perhaps it is her expression- she looks like a fighter.
"Well then, there you are," Seaton says when the Capitol seal comes onto the screen to symbolise the end of the broadcast. He's volunteered to mentor the girl this year. She's his first tribute since he won five years ago.
"Looks like there's some pretty tough competition!" Geena says, but there's something wrong about the way she says it. She seems far to cheerful to make that statement. Or maybe it's just her accent.
"I can handle it," The girl, Blye, says airily.
Mags doesn't get a chance to talk to the boy properly until the next morning.
He wakes up late, so by the time he appears Seaton and Blye have already eaten and are off somewhere discussing tactic. When he enters the dining compartment only Mags is sitting at the table.
"How are you this morning, boy?" Mags greets him, gesturing for him to sit down. She watches as he surveys the piles of food on the table, eyes looking a little wide. Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes. A tureen of fruit sits in ice to keep it chilled. The basket of rolls they've set before him would keep a whole family going for a week. There's orange juice, coffee and hot chocolate.
The boy pours himself cup of coffee, but leaves everything else.
"I've been better," he replies. "Where is everyone?"
"Well I don't know about Geena, but Seaton wanted to mentor Blye- that's where they are. Hope you don't mind being stuck with me." Mags says.
The boy takes a sip of his drink. "No that's fine...So you're supposed to give me advice?" he asks.
"I'm here to help you," she offers. He seems to consider this.
"We'll be in the Capitol soon," she adds, and the boy nods in response.
"So Finnick," she says, trying his name out for the first time. "What are you doing here?"
And it all tumbles out of him in a jumble. About fishermen and his grandfather, and about how he wanted his life to be his own.
"I couldn't spend another year just pretending" he says.
Oh you silly boy, Mags thinks. Your whole life from this point forward is pretending.
His weapon of choice is a trident, apparently. He notices how she frowns as he says it.
"What's wrong with a trident?" he asks, amused.
"It's just that they hardly ever have tridents in the arena. We'll have to think of something Finnick."
They talk for a long time, and at some point the boy does end up eating some food. It's afternoon when Geena comes back into the room, followed by Blye and Seaton.
"Look out the window- you can see the Capitol!" Geena announces excitedly.
The Capitol. She's not been back in years but Mags can still remember the first time she saw it. The vibrancy of colour, the fine grandeur of the city. Oddly dressed people with bizarre hair and painted faces, shiny cars that seem to fill up the whole of the roads, and above them- towering buildings that cast a shadow over everything else. There was something compelling about the place, the first time she saw it. She still had hope then. She sees the same hope in Finnick Odair's eyes as he rushes over to the window. She watches him take it all in and she understands him. Anyone who hopes to be anyone, is in the Capitol. And he hopes to be someone.
X
The boy has been trained well. He knows how to throw a spear, how to cut someone with a knife. He has district skills as well; he can tie knots, set a driftwood fire and catch fish.
"My father has a fishing boat," he explains. "I sometimes help out."
"If they have a trident at the training centre avoid it at all costs," Mags suggests. "Save that for your own session, don't let the others know what you're best at."
Mags also encourages him to learn some survival skills.
"Plants are important," she says. "They'll have many you've never seen before in the arena. Learn which ones are safe to eat and which ones might have medicinal value. You don't know what arena you're going to get."
Whilst he trains, she schmoozes. It's not hard to find him sponsors. The boy is already a favourite to win, and Mags finds that people are constantly coming up to her to ask about her new tribute.
"You'll find out more at the interview," she keeps saying, but she takes their money anyway. The boy won't be going hungry, that's for sure.
Finnick comes back from the training centre each day with tales of the other tributes. He tells Mags about the District 2 girl, Sagitarria, who followed him to the camouflage station, and insisted on making up his face with the paints.
He tells her about Andradite, the brute from District 1, who made Finnick watch as he picked up a handful of different knives, and threw them in quick succession at the target board. They all hit, peppering the target like arrows, but only one stuck in the middle of the board.
"District 4 typically produce strong career tributes," she had told him on the train. "You have that image to uphold if you want to get in with the group, and I advise you do. At least to begin with."
By day two Finnick is firmly within the career alliance.
For his individual session at the end of the week, Mags urges him to show off. Without a trident, he does some work with a spear, ands set a snare. It's nothing particularly creative but they hope it's enough. Mags can't help but feel a sense of pride as the scores come out later that evening, and a huge number ten flashes up next to the boy's white-teethed grin.
"Ten!" Geena squeals. "That's the same as the District 2 boy."
"I knew you could do it, darling" his stylist adds. Mags feel a bit embarrassed for the woman. Does she not realise he's only a child? But things in the Capitol are different. Age is irrelevant when you can look young forever.
The girl, Blye, receives an eight, and although she tries not to show it, Mags can tell she's upset that she didn't get higher.
She smiles kindly at the girl and addressing the room in general she says, "Well I'm glad District 4 has two good tributes. If you'll excuse me, I'll retire for the evening." Then looking at Finnick she adds, "Be up early tomorrow, boy. We've got to coach you for your interview."
Not that he needs much coaching. The boy is a natural charmer. He's been playing the game since he arrived without even realising it.
It's too late to choose an angle now of course. Geena set him on the path when she declared him 'District 4's handsome tribute' at the Reaping. The damage has been done. So Mags works with it, trying to rectify the situation in any way she can.
Later she might blame herself for what happens to him. But she comes to accept that Capitol would always have made him into what they wanted anyway.
"Sexy but completely innocent," she tells the boy. "That's the way you need to play this."
"Why innocent? I'm not sure I want to be innocent," he says, scrunching up his nose in displeasure. Mags laughs at the annoyance in his sea green eyes. At the innocence there.
"You're too young to be sexy in your own right," she says. "If you tried it that way you'd seem false and make people feel as though they had been cheated. No, you need to remind them of your innocence and they'll open their hearts to you."
Innocence can be its own brand of sexy, Mags knows. It can be just as enticing as experience- when someone is free from corruption, when cynicism has yet to reach their core. Perhaps it will also remind them of his youth, Mags hopes.
Caesar Flickerman's hair has been dyed green this year which Mags thinks makes him look more than a little ill. He gestures for Amethyst, the female tribute from District 1, to join him at the front of the stage, and she eagerly complies. She has been dressed in a sparkling purple gown- likely inspired by her namesake. Although she looks beautiful in a typical movie star way, Mags can't help feeling it is reminiscent of a little girl dressing up in her mother's clothes.
The interview only lasts for three minutes, before the next tribute goes on. They all try desperately to stand out. One goes for elegance, another for ruthlessness. The District 2 boy tries for mystery, his female counterpart is charming.
When Blye goes up to take her position on stage, she is amiable enough. She talks about her family and friends, a boyfriend who works at the docks.
"And what do you think about the other tributes?" Caesar asks her. "Especially your own District partner. Finnick Odair seems to have made quite an impact on the Capitol ladies."
The crowd screams in agreement. Mags watches as the camera zoomes in on him, and as he tries out their practised smile. A little coy, with a hint of mischief. She'd made him practise biting his lip in the mirror, all the while trying to push down thoughts of how she was becoming a part of the exploitation.
"Finnick's great. He's really charming. Our fathers work together on the same dock, so I used to see him down at the harbour a lot."
Really? Mags doesn't know if it's true or not, but he imagines it's something Seaton might have told her to say. It's becoming hard to deny Finnick's popularity in the Capitol. Latching onto that in anyway is sure to help the boy's District partner.
Her interview ends shortly after that, and then Finnick is being ushered to the front of the stage.
"Finnick Odair, might I say how handsome you look tonight? Caesar begins, and the room of young Capitol socialites applaud in agreement.
"Thank you, Caesar," the boy replies. Mags can see he's slightly uncomfortable with all the commotion. He'll get used to it, she thinks cynically.
"Now then, what do you think of the Capitol? I suppose it's very different from District 4?"
"Well there's a lot more ocean in District 4," Finnick begins and the crowd laughs. "But I have to say," he continues. "I think the Capitol is beautiful in a different way."
"Oh yes? How's that?" Caesar asks amicably.
"Well everything is so colourful and so shiny and the clothes are lovely. Everyone just looks so beautiful here-" He breaks off there and does another sheepish grin. They'd practised this a few times.
"They'll want to get onto the topic of your love life," Mags has told him. "It's important you give them an opportunity to bring it up. It's what your sponsors are dying to know about, but you need to be subtle about it. We don't want them to think you're playing them."
"Ah, yes. Speaking of which, Finnick, I have received many requests tonight to ask you about any special people in your life." Caesar smiles. "A special girl or boy perhaps?"
"Special people?" Finnick says. He pauses deliberately, dipping his head a little in mock bashfulness.
"We'll keep it a secret," Caesar urges, then turning to the audience he asks, "We can keep a secret, right?" A loud cry of agreement is his response.
"Well," Finnick begins slowly. He meets Mags' eye and he repeats the answer she had suggested "The most special girl in my life is my little sister Sammy. She's eight." This makes the crowd aww, and Caesar chuckle.
"Well, I can't believe that," He replies. "A handsome lad like you?"
"It's true," Finnick says trying to sound honest, because of course it isn't true. Then he decides to add something to tug at the Capitol heart strings. "I guess I'm just waiting for the right person to come along."
The audience are lapping it up, and one women even shouts, "I'm here! I'm the right girl for you Finnick!"
"I suppose then," Caesar says with a touch of seriousness, "That you better win then, so that you can find them."
"I fully intend on doing just that, thank you Caesar." Finnick nods back.
And just then the buzzer goes off.
"No, thank you, Finnick Odair." Caesar says, before turning to the audience and shouting, "District 4's Finnick Odair."
The responding screams and applause that smatters across the room rings on for ages, even after the next tribute is seated and ready for questioning.
"How was I?" Finnick asks Mags later.
She remembers her first thought when she decided to mentor him. The Capitol will eat him up. She was right. They had latched onto the boy from the very beginning. He is the perfect tribute- young, beautiful and charming. He's already had so many sponsors, she's not sure if she'll even be able to spend all the money. She knows he's got a very good chance of coming home.
Mags is more worried about what might happen if he does.
But all she does is tell him he did well and encourage him to get some sleep.
X
She gives him her final piece of advice as he stands there in a white shift, waiting to board the hovercraft. He doesn't look nervous, but she can tell by the way he keeps fidgeting and from the clench of his fist that he's more afraid than he's letting on.
"Whatever you do, don't trust any of them," Mags says "If I send you anything from sponsor money, try to keep it to yourself, unless you have to share it. And trust your instincts.'
Then she kissed him on the forehead, and whispered 'You'll go far, Finnick Odair'.
She hopes he remembers her advice an hour later as she watches his cylinder rise into the arena. She watches him blink in the sudden light, and shiver in the cold air. This year's arena doesn't look as though it will bode well for a tribute from sunny District 4.
Then the voice of Claudius Templesmith crackles in the air.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games begin!"