Valentino Ricci

District 10 Male, 18
First Morning at the Capitol

To be completely truthful, I slept like a goddamn log from the depths of District 7. No agonizing dreams or anything, just pleasant darkness. So, when I wake up, I'm almost surprised at the fact that I'm alone in my huge room.

It's weird not to have my brother Alessio snoring loudly on the top bunk or the sound of birds breaking up the peace of the morning. We built the frame together with Grandpa, about five years ago when we outgrew the other bunk bed. Didn't prevent it from creaking as though it was busy summoning the demons from hell.

The Capitol is just so damn quiet, but loud at the same time. I know it doesn't even make sense, but there's no birds, no cattle moo-ing right outside your window, but there's the busy droning of vehicles, generators and construction lifts that just plunges the entire city in some permanent buzzing atmosphere. It's not the right noises though, distinctly un-District 10-like.

Even as I'm tempted to open my eyes, I keep them closed, imagining the minute noises that became a habit back home. Even the cracking and creaking bed is now a welcome memory.

I imagine getting up quietly, thwacking Alessio in the face with a pillow for good measure and running down the stairs as he swears loud enough to wake up the neighbors. He never could catch me, unless he wanted to throw himself off the already-unstable wooden frame. He's done it once or twice, almost broke his knees, and has been content to just hurl the most inventive insults my way. Grandma and Grandpa got weak of hearing lately, thank god for that, because I'm pretty sure Grandma would thwack him harder than I ever did with the end of her signature wooden spoon, if she heard the words that came tumbling out of his mouth.

It was always hilarious to screw with him like that.

It's what older brothers are for.

I'm not huge on sentimentalism, never really had time for it, but in the comfort of this enormous bed, I let my mind roam a little bit. Before this, I never really needed this kind of introspection, because my life just… was. As far as I was concerned, I had my cows to take care of. I'd get up at 4:30AM every day to start the tasks at hand, finish up at 3PM and lie in the grass sometimes, if I had a bit of extra time on my hands. In between my tasks around the farm, I'd go and make a decent breakfast and lunch for Grandma and Grandpa, once Grandma couldn't walk no more. Alessio would help out, once in a while. He started doing more of that recently, because I think he got it into his thick head that he ain't gonna stay a kid forever.

I can almost picture Grandma's sharp words echoing after me and Alessio whenever we did something stupid and Grandpa's disapproving glare from underneath his thick grey bushy eyebrows. Alessio had a real knack to imitating that glare, it was goddamn hilarious. Never in front of Grandpa though, he'd clout us in the ear something fierce if we were within the reach of his rocking armchair.

More often than not, we'd horse around and run away laughing towards the barn, and by the time we were back, our grandparents would have forgotten whatever crap we got up to in the first place.

That's the way life is in District 10, though. We're a strong folk, loyal and hardworking, we have a temper, but we forgive easy. Grandma and Grandpa, they're both not what they used to be, and the worrying thought of me dying and them just withering away with no one to take care of them makes me frown.

Yeah, I'm not gonna go there today. I'm not going to ruin a perfectly good morning with my existential crisis crap.

I open up my eyes and stare at the ornamented ceiling. Hell, that single piece of carved-out decoration could've fed us for a year, and I'd still sell my soul to be able to get back to that life. I know some people would keel over and die if they were confronted with the kind of routine I've been subjected to since I was younger. Hell, we've gotten a disproportionate number of volunteers in this year's Games, so it's highly probable that some of the kids here did it to escape the monotony of their lives, or whatever the hell kids think is the shit nowadays.

But I don't know, there's something comforting in the fact that your life just has this rhythm and expected quality to it. I'm a man of simple tastes, and I'd have stayed perfectly happy to just keep doing that until the end of my days, so life throwing me a curveball in the shape of the goddamn Hunger Games is… is frankly shitty.

I've never really bothered stressing about what would happen if I got reaped, and now it's biting me in the ass.

I stop myself again before that thought process goes off the rails. No point in agonizing over something I have absolutely no control over.

I roll out of bed, and hit the ground silently.

Absentmindedly, I wonder whether the cows will be alright today, since Alessio always slept in, no matter how much I asked him to take care of the animals for me. Drove me crazy when we were younger, but I've kind-of gotten over that self-righteous anger. Now that I'm gone, he needs to step up, whether he likes it or not.

When Grandpa got sick and my help became less of an appreciated gesture and more of an indispensable thing people just expected, I missed the alarm once or twice, and thought nothing of it. That's the thing with animals though, they can't take care of themselves and they're not some object you can just put on the backburner for any time you want.

Ol' Riri's prone to mastitis, which is a nasty udder infection, and no one wants to deal with that. That was a lesson I learned the hard way… smelled like rotting flesh and curdled milk for a week. You'd think one cow doesn't really make a difference, until you can't sell her milk no more, and you go hungry. That's when you understand how much we depend on animals out in District 10.

That was before we expanded our cow herd too, so Ol' Riri getting sick was a real set-back. That's not even the thing that bothered me, she just seemed in so much pain, moo-ing and shifting from one side the other, the udder veins popping out like a damn spider web.

It's never fun to know you've caused someone else's suffering, especially with animals, and the way they stare up into your eyes, all innocent and shit, as though you can cure them is just goddamn heartbreaking. We didn't have any medicine for animals either, so we just had to wait it out.

My grandparents didn't even have to say anything, I got my shit together after that.

If I want to get back to my life though, suffering's exactly what I'll need to hand out to the kids who are here with me. We've gone over the other tributes with Glenn on the train, so I know what to expect.

I also saw the way they behaved before the Chariots… it's really something else.

A lot of them looked like they were about to fly through the ceiling from the sheer stress in their systems, but all I wanted to do is go to bed. I hit the sack as soon as the Chariot rides ended. But look at me now, it's about 5AM and I'm wide awake. Old habits die hard, I guess. I estimate I've got a good two or three hours before I'm expected for breakfast.

I drop to the floor in a planking position and start doing push-ups. It's just a thing I got used to doing, when Alessio started sneaking girls over into our room about last year, and I had to sleep in the barn.

Racking up those 'unbelievably epic and understanding big brother' awards by the dozen, and all that.

Believe it or not, sleeping on hay isn't nearly as comfortable as it sounds, and I'm sure it doesn't sound all that comfortable either. So predictably, I'd wake up even earlier than I had to, when the sun wasn't even close to rising, and at some point, I just made up a routine and kind of stuck with it. To be fair, this was a two-way understanding with my brother, so I'm pretty sure Alessio found his own way to pass time, probably by creating wooden puzzles of some sort which I found lying around the barn at multiple occasions. But I've always found comfort in doing something repetitive, menial, physical.

Muscle memory takes over, and I keep going until I'm panting and sweating my ass off, on the carpet of the luxurious room. I get up, and head into the bathroom.

I take a long hot shower, relishing in the feeling.

Don't get me wrong, I subscribe to the idea of 'screw the Capitol and everything it stands for', but I'd be lying if I said their technology isn't something out of heaven.

I put on a light grey shirt, comfortable sweatpants and give myself a quick look-over in the mirror. I certainly look more in my element than yesterday, at the Chariots.

That was …uh… an interesting experience. I certainly never thought I'd get literally drooled over by women and men ranging from twenty to eighty, but here we are. That's the Capitol for you: home of lecherous creeps and ridiculously amazing showers.

I head out the door at exactly 7AM, and walk into the lobby, with Glenn already slouching in his chair, a cereal bowl in his hands. I never understood people's obsession with cereals, because both of my grandparents always scoffed at this poor attempt at sustenance, even when food got tight. My grandpa's grandfather came from across the ocean from the Democratic Republic of Italia, and brought along many dishes and recipes that our family tried to uphold. Needless to say, some soggy floating fibers in milk-soup wasn't one of them.

Glenn sees me come in and smiles.

"Valentino, you're awake early," he greets me good-naturedly, while gesturing for me to take a seat, "had any trouble sleeping?"

"Nope!" I simply reply, and as an afterthought, I add, "You can call me Val if you like, Valentino just sounds like a mouthful this early in the day."

"Sounds good. But don't worry about 'early' for me, I've got a newborn, sleeping is kind of a foreign concept at this point," Glenn sighs, but a twinkle in his eye lets me know that he's somewhat joking.

I sit down, back straight, and take in visually the food in front of me. My stomach growls and I realize how long it's been since I've had a proper meal. I load a few potato hash-browns, some cold meat slices and beans onto my plate. I do it slowly, the way Grandma said I should when I'm trying to impress a girl. Only here, it ain't a girl I'm trying to impress… it's the guy who just might have my life in his hands, in a few days' time.

"You got some manners, for a farm boy," Glenn says, and I laugh.

"Farm boy with a grandmother who would murder me with a spoon if I didn't eat like a proper person," I answer, smiling at the memory of Grandma admonishing me and Alessio over supper.

"You're Enzo's boy, right?" Glenn pointedly asks, and I stiffen.

"Yep. Been raised by my grandparents since I was a kid, though," I answer, trying to change the subject and he drops the matter. I kind of hope he doesn't get into the whole deal with my parents because it's on the list of things I'm not down to discuss today or ever, really. They died when I was two, and there's really not much else to say about that.

Thankfully, he doesn't inquire any further.

Aderyn shows up bleary-eyed to breakfast and I smile at her. She plops down into a chair farthest away from me. Her hair is frizzy and unkept, and she's got bags under her eyes.

I try to catch her gaze, to make conversation, but she's focusing on anything but me, staring at something particularly interesting in the spoon she just picked up.

"So, when does training start?" I ask, awkwardly clearing my throat and hoping Aderyn will at least look up. I don't know what's wrong, apart from the fact that she might be taking this whole Hunger Games thing really brutally, which, now that I think of it, is a fairly reasonable reaction.

She seems to have a problem with me, in particular though, and I'm kind of confused as to what I've done.

Glenn waves his hand.

"They told me they're starting training a little later this year, just to see whether it works better for intradistrict relations, since that's what viewers apparently want," our mentor elaborates, shoving a delicious croissant into his mouth. Now that's what you call good food.

"So you should be already at the Training center by 11, but before then, feel free to hang around and ….better intradistrict relations," he adds wiggling his fingers at Aderyn and me.

Now, I am infinitely more confused.

I'm usually a pretty approachable guy, especially with people younger than me. I don't remember ever having a person outright hate me just by looking at my face, and I've always tried to be as accommodating and polite as possible. But that's exactly what seems to be happening with Aderyn who has had a problem with me ever since we got on the train.

So, I'm really lost as to what I should do to mediate the animosity that is reaching me in waves from across the table. I think the worst part is that she's on edge, but she at least seemed to loosen up a little bit for the Chariots, but closed off immediately after, even though I tried talking to her and congratulating her on getting so many cheers from the crowd.

"Hey, uh, Aderyn, we weren't able to talk strategy yesterday, because you stormed … you sped away to your room yesterday, but I think now's as good of a time as ever," Glenn attempts, giving me a quick 'let me handle this' glance.

"Sure," she says, in between spoonfuls of chocolate pudding that she is shovelling into her mouth as though her life depended on it.

She looks up at Glenn, and adds, "y'can call me Addie."

"Cool! So, Val, you wanna catch Addie up, about the stuff we talked about on the train?" Glenn says and Addie glares at him.

I swallow again.

"Yeah, okay, so we discussed strengths and weaknesses, and what potential allies we wanna have," I say uncertainly.

"I've worked on a cow farm my entire life, and I'm uh…pretty disciplined and hardworking and I guess I can lift stuff?" I venture, and she looks up, her eyes flashing up to mine quickly.

"Yeah, no shit, have you seen those arms?" she blurts out, immediately looking as though she simultaneously wants to swallow her tongue and get struck by lightning, and averts her eyes back to her pudding. She starts aggressively making swirly patterns in the mushy substance and I see her tanned cheeks become a deep shade of red. She scrunches up her nose, as though silently admonishing herself. That gesture reminds me so much of Alessio.

I continue as though I haven't heard.

"I could wield something fairly heavy, and a sword probably. Glenn also said I was friendly and pretty uh…." I pause, because somehow it just feels goddamn awkward saying it out loud about myself, "charming."

Addie gets redder and practically disappears in her big fluffy sweater.

"So, what about you, what kind of skills you've got?" I prode, hoping to get something other than stony silence and a progressively combustion-looking face from the girl in front of me.

"My mom's a butcher, so I guess I've done a lot of… butchering," she mumbles into her spoon.

"That's really good!" I encourage her, trying to get her to open up a bit. "I've always lived on a farm and killing the animals is the worst part, really hated it, so you must handle blood pretty well, that's useful."

Her eyes flicker up to mine and I see something like gratitude and hope in them, before she drops them back, biting her lip. She retreats back into her shell and I realized I must've said something wrong, again.

"Never killed, just cut up the meat, that's what a butcher does," Addie deadpans, shutting down any good-natured comment I could've made.

Glenn coughs, trying to save the situation and I look at him wide-eyed, like, 'please save me wise mentor, I'm clearly a lost cause.'

"No but I see you've got a build of someone who can stand their own in a fight," our mentor offers, and without a word, Addie dumps the rest of the content on her plate and stalks away back into her room.

Alright then.

"You should consider the Careers," Glenn tells me point-blank when we hear Addie's room door slam behind her.

"What about Addie," I ask right away. I know she's made it very clear she wants nothing to do with me, but I can't just abandon her like that. She's younger than my brother, and she might be someone's little sister. I frown when I realize I don't even know that.

Glenn just shrugs. "She makes her own decisions and I'll do my very utmost best to keep both of you alive as long as possible. But I'll always respect her decisions because they're ultimately hers to make. And my recommendation to you is to get on with the Careers."

"They're not fans of outer District kids joining," I counter, really not on board with the idea of being held to the same standard as the brutal-looking girl from District 2, or the sly boy from District 1.

"Besides…" I take a deep breath, "My parents were famous rebel warriors. They'll probably know my family name. They'll be more likely to skewer me on a stick and feast on my corpse than to let me into their team."

The fact of the matter is that I don't trust Addie. I don't know anything about her, and so far, she's been pretty adamant to not talk to me at all about anything so no, I don't trust her. But the same applies to literally everyone else, and at least she's a small piece of home in this hell fest. And she's probably going to be flying under the radar, more so than the agglomeration of psychologically challenged murderers which the Careers are surely going to be.

So, if I had to pick the Careers or Addie for alliances, I know who I'd rather go with.

"Nah, you severely overestimate the way information travels between districts. I might know your parents because they were kind of a big thing when I was younger, kinda my idols really, but that kind of information is pretty much archaic. For better or for worse, everyone is pretty much ignorant of that stuff now," Glenn says. "As long as you're not going to advertise yourself as a rebel, which I really recommend you don't do, you should be more than fine."

"Thanks Glenn, I appreciate it," I answer, rubbing my chin thoughtfully.

I'll really have to mull this over and if I'm being completely honest, the idea of me making the kind of decision which might mean life or death at the end of the line, is making the dread creep into my heart.

I glance at the clock and it's barely 8AM.

"Think it over, Val, you've got plenty of time. In the meantime, I'll go talk to Addie, see if she's gonna be more cooperative once this," he gestures at my entire body, "is out of the equation."

He smirks, as though he made some private joke, and I'm still just as confused as before.

"Let me know what you decide," he calls from the hallway.

"Thanks man," I yell back, shoving another croissant into my mouth.

I have no clue what I'm going to decide, but Glenn's probably right. And I've got three hours to figure this shit out and make a choice, Addie or no Addie.

Notes: Here you have it, my friends, the clueless heartthrob from District 10, Valentino Ricci! Let me know what you think of him and if you didn't like him, just picture Ricci Granny aggressively screaming at you in broken Italian…I'm sure that'll change your mind real fast.

Next up, Addie! We'll touch base with the post-chariot events from her side of things, see what's up with her being so anti-social towards Val.

Other cool news: Last weekend, I went ahead and hiked 22Km on a hill, and let's just say I've gotten firsthand experience as to how it feels to have your knees be completely obliterated. Will this be useful information for when I write the arena? Only time will tell.

Peace and love.