Chapter 28: Lunch Before Training

Daisy Jackson
District 6 Female, 15

All I know is the fierce unyielding hunger that is gnawing at my heart, and the intense fear. I didn't know what to expect, but this isn't it.

So, when we are pushed to the elevator, shut in it as progressively more and more people pile in, I almost freak out. But I don't want to scream again. I understand vaguely that these are the people I'm competing against, at least until someone puts me out of my misery.

We are ushered out, but the great aggregation of people only increases, as more and more groups arrive. Many arrive in pairs.

The weirdest part is that every minute that passes as I kind of just step from one foot to the other, my hands folded tightly across my midsection… it feels like an eternity just stretching and stretching until I feel like the rest of my existence will be spent in this soup of tightly packed people waiting for … something? Someone?

I instinctively start scratching at my arms, getting antsy.

I don't like waiting in one place for too long.

Leaves you exposed, and all that.

I just want to shrink into a particularly appealing corner of the room, and shake my head at the prospect.

I need to stay put because they might punish me for it.

They made it clear they would handle me like a rabid dog if I was to behave like one.

Instead of fidgeting too much, I try to get into my own bubble of peace, humming something under my breath and shutting my eyes closed to drown the nauseating feelings of anxiety and withdrawal. I'm vaguely aware of the fact that some of the other kids make a wider circle around me, more so than even around the big scary ones, but that's okay.

I don't really want to talk to them anyways.

I hear some commotion and open my eyes.

A tall and imposing woman stands in front of the entire assembled crowd, crossing her arms. She has intense features which are highlighted by bold makeup. She looks significantly older than any of us here, but somewhere at the back of my brain, I realize she's at most eighteen. Rules and all.

"…couldn't wait to get to meet you all," she concludes. I don't catch the beginning of what she said, but it doesn't seem to be particularly pleasant, because a few of the stronger-looking people around me scoff. The others just lower their eyes, and I follow suit.

At first glance, I am intimidated by her. I don't know her name, but I know her kind. While I was one of the regulars loitering the streets, girls like her always meant trouble.

They always had their red lips, their heels and their loud obnoxious voices that grated my ears whenever I had to seek shelter in order to keep warm. They'd have their stupid fur coats, but they were no better than the rest of us. They were just as dirty and disgusting, if only on the inside.

"Tributes. Enough commotion, listen up!"

My head snaps up towards the source of the authoritarian-sounding voice: a tiny woman with almond-shaped eyes and short hair that is cropped right down to her skull. It reminds me of the orphan kids in District 6, with their hollow eyes and protruding bones. They always shave their heads to prevent lice transmission within the community homes. As though that is really the worst thing they have to deal with. But instead of an air of pathetic helplessness, the woman stands proud and straight.

The small woman claps her hands, making the last of our batch look towards her.

"Welcome to the Training Center. Here, you will acquire the necessary skills to fight, defend and survive the Games that are ahead of you."

I see a few of the smaller kids swallow nervously, fiddling with their thumbs. They're scared of dying, I can tell. I'm not, but I'm scared of worse things. The older ones just adopt a defensive stance, or smile maliciously.

"But first, we will all proceed to a complimentary lunch, made possible through the tireless efforts of our benevolent President. This would not be possible, either, without the involvement of our Gamemaker team, and the cooks and staff that worked tirelessly to deliver this meal," the woman concludes tersely, and we are ushered to four great tables.

Some people are already mingling. A trio of boys sticks out like a sore thumb, and I stare at them hollowly. They get a lot of awkward glances, but they don't seem to be minding the attention in the slightest. The tributes from District 1 and 2 take up an entire table, and no one bats an eye. They don't talk, not yet, but I can already see the girl from District 2 mentally preparing herself to make the first leap.

I understand now, how these Games work. Those are the hunters, and everyone is afraid of them. That's why no one sits with them. I navigate my way to the table further away from them, seeing it already filled sparsely with kids. Tributes, I have to remind myself. We're all tributes in the Games.

I plop down, and stare at the empty plate in front of me. I'm so hungry, but not for this. I wish someone would understand. I still have to at least appear somewhat normal, so I put a few peas and carrots on the plate. Even for a second, I imagine how the people in charge might reward me, if they see me putting in the effort.

BANG!

I jump up, my eyes wildly trying to refocus on whatever made that noise right near my ear.

"Excuse me, I want to sit here," a high-pitched voice notifies me, as I scramble to get up and gather my sweater off the seat.

I look up, and a tall girl with long beautiful black hair is staring disapprovingly at me. Why are they all so tall?

"S..sorry," I stammer, at a loss of words, and try to skitter away as quickly as possible. I don't want any drama right now. I just want to be left alone, because the pain is coming back. The girl raises her eyebrows, and blocks my way.

"Oh, it's fine. More than fine actually. You're one of the other volunteers," she remarks, but there's no appraisal in her voice. There's only scorn and bitterness, and I don't even know who she is and why I offended her.

"Yeah, I'll l-leave now, if that's okay," I manage, but she interrupts me, tapping her perfectly manicured fingers on the table. She stoops down, her face practically a few inches away from mine. I can smell her peppermint fresh breath and it makes me recoil. There's something so off-putting and commandeering about the way she stands there.

"No, I'd like you to stay. I want to know why you volunteered," she spits, and I can hear the anger in her tone. "There's too many girl volunteers this year. I was supposed to be special."

"So, you're gonna antagonize her, because you're not special? Grow the fuck up."

I turn around, and see the girl in full makeup. The one who was late, my brain supplies helpfully. She's got her arms crossed, and she's smirking at the other girl.

"Orla, from District 4," the black-haired girl offers confidently, but the other girl interrupts her.

"I don't give a fuck who you are, can't you see she's tired and upset and she wants to be left alone?"

"I don't care," Orla interjects petulantly, taking a step closer and casually flicking a pea off my plate, for effect. I don't really mind it, but the other girl is getting more annoyed by the second.

"Oh I know you don't. And I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I shatter your pretty little face, right before the interviews, hm?"

Orla seems to be taken aback. "You're not allowed to do that!"

"Yeah, I'm not. I wasn't allowed to arrive late to this useless lunch either, and here we fucking are, forty minutes later. Do you think I give a shit?"

I try to shrink in on myself, caught between these two forces of nature.

Orla doesn't seem scared of this girl, but she backs off, nonetheless. She flips her off for good measure and stalks away, bearing the air of someone incredibly offended. I sigh in relief.

"I'd suggest you get a new plate," makeup girl says, and I take a fork and play around with the remaining peas. Even though I don't invite her, she sits next to me. She's clearly confrontational, but she defended me from Orla, so that's nice, I guess. I don't immediately leave, even though the proximity makes me a little more aware of where I am and of the shivers and tremors that run through my body periodically.

"Why?" I finally ask her. I don't even bother thanking her. She laughs, loud and clear, and from the corner of my eye, I see Orla giving us the evil eye.

"Because you don't know what that bitch has touched, with her tentacles," she clarifies, and I stare at her dumbly.

"Because she's from District 4? Sea-district and all?" she adds, and looks more exasperated by the second. "You really don't seem all there. You alright?"

"Yeah, just tired," I respond mechanically, surprised at the fact that I'm even talking to this absolute stranger.

"No offense, you look more than tired. Your eyelids look like golfballs and your face is all blotchy."

"Thanks?" I answer, more confused by the second. I play around with the three remaining peas on my plate, avoiding eye contact and fully prepared to be antagonised once again.

"It's not a compliment hun," the girl says, and sighs, but then perks up and introduces herself. "I'm Sparkle, from District … 12." I'm glad she told me her name because I couldn't pay attention before, and had no idea who she was.

"Oh that's a nice name, I'm Daisy." I hug my waist harder, and can see Sparkle's mouth form a thin line. She disapproves of this.

"Hey, don't worry too much. I come from a fucked up place too. Eat a bit, it'll make you feel better."

I obey, just for the sake of ending this conversation that is making me uncomfortable. But I see in her hardened eyes that deep down she understands what I'm going through. It's as though she's seen it a billion times before. And maybe she pities me, but as I actually shove a mouthful of weird but delicious beans, I look at her and realize that a bit of company makes the pain dull, if only a tiny bit. The tremors don't go away, but she doesn't seem weirded out by them, so I don't comment on it.

We sit in silence, and I'm grateful that for once, someone stood up for me.

Geoff Windsor
District 9 Male, 16

We all sit together, me, Jean and Logan. From what I can tell, we're the only ones to form that immediate bond. I'm pretty sure everyone is suspicious of that, but they're too afraid to ask.

What can I say, I like to keep people guessing.

Jean is clearly still nursing a hangover, but Logan is smiling and I'm glad we got a head-start on the others. From the looks of it, our district partners all prefer to eat in silence, in separate parts of the lunch hall. I extended an invitation to Mona who politely refused, and I am tempted to ask the other boys whether they offered the same option to their district partners, as well.

"Quiet somber lunch, eh?" I ask, swallowing a delicious clam-chowder soaked piece of bread. I never even dreamed of eating this stuff, let alone gorging myself with it. Logan nods enthusiastically, while Jean smiles tiredly, wincing at the pain between his eyes.

"Guess we found the alcoholic," I tease him, nudging him and he snickers quietly.

"Guess so," Logan chips in, and I turn around to him.

"I was talking about you, buddy. You're holding your liquor way better than you have any right to," I tease him, as he mocks offense. The three of us laugh conspiratorially, and get weird looks from the others.

"Don't you think everyone is suspicious of why we're talking, while they're all sulking?" Jean whispers, and I shake my head. He sounds so unsure and achingly young. It's scary to think we're the same age and I'm past the point of caring about what others think of me, when Jean's main concern seems to be exactly that.

"It doesn't matter. They won't know, and it's better to keep this interesting. And who knows, maybe it'll finally feel like this ain't our collective funeral."

The two boys frown, and I realize my morbid humor might have taken this conversation in the wrong direction. I change subjects before they can dwell on that distressing thought for too long.

"What do you guys want to do once lunch ends?"

Logan shrugs, and Jean looks perplexed.

"I think we should go for the books first, and survey what kind of materials are at our disposal," Jean says after thinking it over, and I nod.

"It's smart, because we might get an indication of what the arena is like."

I look around, and realize at least half a dozen tributes are listening in on our conversation. In the back, two girls are sitting together, and discussing something quietly before focusing on their meals, paying us no attention. The girl who tried causing trouble looks like she's ready to set them both on fire with her mind.

But at the table we are sitting at, I can see a few pairs of eyes on us. Their expression ranging from curious to annoyed.

They want to know where we are going to get shipped off to, as desperately as we do. They probably think that since we're already sitting together, we know something they don't.

"I think we should also take advantage of our individual strengths and work on those. Maybe not today, but tomorrow we can separate and each build on what we already have. I know we didn't talk about this yet, but what are you guys good at?"

I look at them both encouragingly, because I want them to open up. As much fun as we had last night, it's hard. It's normal to not trust people you met less than twenty-four hours ago.

Logan only thinks about it for a few seconds before answering.

"I'm uh… good with axes?"

He raises his hands defensively before either me or Jean can interject.

"I know, I know it's stereotypical, but I had to do quite a bit of work, so I can swing a weapon around, no problem. I didn't have to do it, for the past few years, but I'm sure I can get a hang of it quickly, if I practice in training."

That's good. We can get wood for our fires, and… other stuff. We'll see when we get there, but having someone competent with an axe is definitely an asset.

"I can also climb trees, and I'm a fairly decent runner, and I've got good endurance," Logan adds.

"Couldn't ever tell from the way your lungs wheezed yesterday," I blurt out smiling, and bite into an apple, for maximal effect. I try to keep my tone low, so that people don't overhear.

"Hey man, you were literally poking me in the ribs like a maniac, what was I supposed to do?" Logan retorts, and this feels so natural that I forget we're talking about skills that might potentially save our lives. It's so easy to forget.

"What about you Jean?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You must be good at something?" I continue.

"Not really, I was never really all that smart or fast. Our district isn't the greatest for that. All I love is fashion but I doubt that'll be much use in there," Jean replies sadly, and I instinctively put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry dude, we'll find something for you. And worse comes to worst, we'll pray that the arena is some fucked up clothes-making factory, and we can make good use of your sowing skills."

Jean blushes, and piles up another mountain of mashed potatoes, busying himself with creating a twirl on his plate.

"Hey you guys, we'll be fine, we just need to stick together, and stay the hell away from the big guys," I say, and both of my friends nod.

It's weird, calling them friends, but that's kind of my whole thing.

I get involved in things too quickly, but I like where this is going so I'm not questioning anything too much. And both Logan and Jean seem to be enjoying it.

We all come from different backgrounds, but in the direst of circumstances, we found each other and that's what counts, right?

Now, I just need to make sure we navigate these Games to the best of our capabilities.

In a strange way, even though we're all approximately the same age, I feel some weird responsibility towards them both. They look capable and competent, but they lack the drive I have, and I think that's why I'm the unspoken de-facto leader of our trio.

I don't mind it though.

I don't let any kind of doubt obscure my positive outlook, because I can't afford to do that.

I just hope that this works out for us.

"What arena you guys think it will be?" Jean asks quietly, because a few whispers are heard here and there across the different tables.

I quickly look for Mona, who is still sitting alone. Her eyes are puffy and downcast, but she is aggressively poking at something on her plate as though it personally offended her, and I leave it at that.

You can't help everyone.

"I don't know… I mean, do you guys remember what arenas were there, recently?"

"Last year was pretty focused on wildlife and stuff, so I guess they might go for something a bit more urban, this time around?" Logan ventures, unsure.

"I think it might be some sort of weird road. I don't know, I've had a dream that we're all stuck on this giant unending cement path, with trees on either side," I say, and Jean visibly shudders.

"I really hope it's not that," he mumbles, and I have to agree with him. After sneaking back into my room, half-drunk half-tired off my ass, I collapsed on the bed. And despite me keeping a cheerful front, dark thoughts came, unwanted, as soon as I closed my eyes.

I don't want to expose the guys to that.

"Hey, with a cool and extravagant lot like us, I'm sure they cooked up something at least mildly more interesting," I say instead, and the tension disappears.

I just hope we are as 'extravagant' as we think we are, and that the Gamemakers' definition of 'interesting' is aligned with our trio's strengths.

I just hope I'm right.

Addie Klossner
District 10 Female, 15

I'm sitting all alone, at a safe distance from a very-relaxed-looking Valentino, minding my own business. As far as I'm concerned, the fewer interactions we have where I can make a fool out of myself, the better.

As much as the talk with Glenn helped me straighten out my thoughts, I'm still not ready to dive into chatting and fraternizing with my district partner. There are limits.

Some tributes are getting accustomed to the hall and exploring. However, the majority of people, like me, just chose a spot and rooted themselves there, protecting their territory.

The pair from Five sat down closest to the Careers, and the girl is quietly whispering to the guy who is listening and eating. From what I can tell, he really is blind, and she's describing our collective behaviors to him.

It comes off pretty pathetic, but I'm sure I don't look too hot myself. The guy, at the very least, seems to be taking the whole thing in stride. The strong-looking District 7 girl is also at that table, eyeing the Careers with such intensity that even the blind guy can probably tell what she's envisioning.

A few other people keep migrating around, looking at the different foods and selecting the ones they like. Some, like the boy from District 3, decided to sit along the wall, preferring that to being within reaching distance to anyone else.

Awkward spurts of chatter erupt and then abruptly stop. It almost sounds like whining of the cutting machinery within our butcher shop that I used to operate with my mother. It all feels so long ago.

A dark-haired girl with tanned skin approaches me, tray in hand. Her entire plate is covered in food, and from the way her arm muscles strain under its weight, it looks like she's determined to eat herself to death before the Games even begin.

I don't find the strength in me to smile, so I just wait for her to initiate. I don't want to be that awkward person who tries too hard, even though this girl strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn't mind.

"Hi, I'm Jessamine," the girl introduces herself, and I vaguely remember her from the chariots, now. It's all so new, even though it feels like a million things have happened. I have to remind myself that I've only been out of District 10 for a little over twelve hours, so it's a lot to take in. And it's not like I did all that much effort to socialize and learn about these people, since I was so consumed by the implications of being reaped and the whole Valentino-drama-thing.

Not that not socializing isn't normal, under these circumstances. The real weirdos are the ones talking to the people that might kill them, in the long run.

I don't remember her costume or what she did, but I recall her face somewhat. It looks a lot more natural and youthful, without the intense makeup they caked on us. I figure she thinks the same of me.

She nods enthusiastically, as though encouraging me to tell her my name. When I don't, she doesn't seem to take any offense.

"You're Aderyn, right? From District 10? I really loved your dress yesterday, you pulled it off like a legend," she gushes, and I can't help but smile a little bit. Is it a tiny bit disconcerting that she knows my name? Yes. But, I mean, it's not like it wasn't televised for the entire country to memorize.

So, it's not that weird. Not in the context of absolute fucked-upness we are both stuck in. This is totally normal, I try to convince myself, even as I try to control my facial features.

Instead of staring at her as though she grew a second head, which is what I would normally do if a total stranger came up to me knowing my name, I do the one sensible thing I can think of.

"Yep, that's me. I liked your costume too," I lie, having no recollection of what she wore.

Having elicited a response out of me, Jessamine takes that as a green light to keep up the conversation. She doesn't seem to have picked up on the fact that I have no idea what I'm saying. I take a quick look at Valentino, who is happily munching on his salad. He seems to be focused on someone at the other table, so I look back at Jessamine.

"Figuring as you're looking like the normal one of the bunch, mind if I join you?" Jessamine says brightly.

I motion to the empty space next to me, by way of offering to sit near me.

"So, what's your story?" I ask, feeling awkward for not prompting the direction of the conversation thus far. Chatter is picking up in the previously near-silent training lunch hall.

"Eh, ain't really got one. From District 11. Got really screwed over with this Games thing. And I'm starving," she adds while chuckling and showing me her huge plate full of colorful food.

"So, while I eat, you tell me what's up with you," she says, shoving a leaf of lettuce in her mouth. I must be frowning, because she apologizes immediately.

"Sorry, I meant, like, if you want to talk, you can talk. Or we can just sit in quiet, that's fine too. Just didn't want to look like a total loner," she adds, rolling her eyes dramatically, but with that twinkle in her eye that lets me know she's on my side.

Jessamine looks happier than she has any right to be, but right underneath her confident demeanor, I can see the cracks. The girl is practically vibrating with nervous energy, but she's interacting with me, so I don't comment on it.

There's no harm in idle talk, once in a while.

She's a great active listener too, contrarily to literally anyone I've ever known back in District 10. She met me two minutes ago, and yet I see in her eyes that she hears what I'm saying, she is truly processing what I'm trying to explain to her, even though it's all banalities and food-talk for now.

All the while, she devours her entire plate, and serves herself seconds.

I smirk a little at that, and she explains herself.

"I was way too stressed out and upset to eat anything this morning," she says, waving apologetically around her food.

"Ah no problem, everyone is still eating anyways," I answer softly, looking around quickly for what feels like the billionth time. For the first time since I got brought here, my knee-jerk reaction isn't to make a biting remark or be a spiteful dick to the person in front of me.

That's progress, I guess?

I find Jessamine looking at me intently, while chewing with such gusto that I almost feel like laughing.

She picks up on my amusement immediately, and smiles.

"Totally not forcing anything on you, but if you're down, I think I'll be hitting the survival stations first," Jessamine says, and I nod thoughtfully.

I don't tell her this, but I appreciate immensely that she's not pressuring me into anything. I'll definitely think about it, but I don't want to jump into anything too quickly.

"Yeah, I'll see. Thanks though," I answer her after a few moments of deliberation on what to say. I've never been the most skilled at meeting new people, but Jessamine doesn't seem to mind. Instead, she gives me a thumbs up.

"Sounds like a plan… and while you're at it, think about introducing me to your district partner, damn," she whispers while winking, and I stifle what is most certainly an undignified huff.

My eyes instinctively flicker up to Valentino, who is now staring directly at us.

Great.

My face does its thing, and Jessamine giggles quietly. I just let the comment slide.

"Don't take me too seriously, Aderyn, I'm just really freaked out and I'm one of those nervous people who just starts spouting bullshit," she says after a bit of time.

It's funny. I … I feel incrementally better, having someone to talk to that is my age.

Her offer becomes all the more tempting when I look back at Valentino and as though rehearsed, he echoes Jessamine's thumbs up. He approves in his own weird way, so why the hell not?

Seeva Andino
District 2 Female, 18

More than anything right now, I wish that Imari was here. I would have loved to show my best friend the sheer variety of food that's in front of me right now! I didn't think of myself as being capable 'giddiness', and yet here we are. I struggle to not grin from ear to ear at the sight of the various dishes in front of me. Best of all, there's no limit here, no one can stop me, not the nutritionists at the Center, not anyone. It's not like I won't expend that caloric intake during training in a few hours.

Never had I ever dreamed of being able to have access to something like this, and that's what I decide to focus on, instead of terrified glances that are thrown in my direction.

Imari and I… we both starved for a good part of our childhood during the war, and even though we clawed our way out through Career training, there's still something that stays with you from that. I think all of the kids here have some of that, to varying degrees. We're all war-children here. That's partly why I consider every single one of them dangerous. When war becomes you, you become war, they repeated to us at the Center. Not that it made any sense to me back then.

Sujax cracked a few genuine smiles during the train ride at the food amounts I consumed. Athena didn't look impressed, but she rarely looks impressed by anything and there's nothing I can do about the fact that she can't see past my ancestry.

If I win the Games, there will be plenty of time to change that.

It's not like I'm a sloppy eater, unlike some of the lower district kids, who seem to be scarfing down the food at a higher rate than even yours truly over here. If that doesn't serve as a remind to us higher districts that we were fortunate even in our misfortune, I don't know what will.

My eyes linger on the small girl from District 9. Mona. Blond with a pretty braid, and bony elbows sticking out of her blue T-shirt. More likely than not, one of the four people at this table will be the person to deliver the final blow, ending her life.

But again, even though at least three of us will die, we're still more fortunate because we chose this, in a way. We got training when little girls like Mona can do nothing but be led to their deaths like sheep for slaughter. It's a shame, for them.

I finish my meal, because I've got bigger concerns ahead of me. I'm mentally preparing to make conversation with the other three Careers, and it's harder than it looks. Neither of them look particularly ready to talk.

Luther is fine, somewhat, but the other two, I'm not sure about.

They don't seem particularly friendly with each other. They aren't openly hostile either, so I count my blessings there.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Morgana from District 7. She seems… chill, for a lack of a better word, giving off better vibes than three quarters of the people sitting at the table with me. Which isn't a high number to start with, considering everyone is avoiding the shit out of us. It seems that she's at war with herself, debating on how to approach us. I can almost see the little gears turning in her head.

I've got the same thoughts going through my own brain at neck-breaking speed. We're anxious about different things, granted, but the ever-lasting anxiety about screwing up, starting off on the wrong foot… I'd wage my entire trainee stipend that we're cycling through familiar territory.

I almost wish I could come up to her first, and see how things go with the others.

It seemed so easy during the Chariots.

But I can't do that. That'll destroy my whole 'loyal to District 2 and the Capitol' image I've fought so hard to uphold. I have to let Morgana come to us and act as the ever-benevolent and accepting leader. Already, Athena seems ready to explode at Luther's antics.

I don't want her on my case, with her other problems brewing at the back of her mind. That can only spell disaster for me, and I'm already on fragile terms with her.

So instead, internally praying Morgana will finally get her shit in order to come talk to us, I get up and walk towards Ambrox Linden from District 1.

"Hi, I'm Seeva from District 2," I announce to the whole table, smiling warming and opening my arms. I need this to go as smoothly as possible. It's all on me, because none of them tried anything.

I am relieved to see Ambrox respond immediately.

"Hey, I'm Ambrox, this is Cira. We're from District 1," he answers pleasantly, but scoffs internally at the end. I almost miss it, but I don't.

I'm not offended though, I get it. These introductions are formalities because we all know each others' names. The pair from District 1 probably dissected us just as much as we did them, yesterday.

On television, they always made the Career alliance to be something that formed naturally, obviously. Not like this, with an awkward conversation to confirm that everyone's on board. They don't show you everything on the broadcast, after all. Or maybe we're just fucking debilitatingly awkward, this year. Just my luck.

But I'm determined not to let that phase me.

"So, I think a good strategy would be to stick together for training. Is everyone good with that?" I jump straight to the point, not taking our potential allies as the kind of people that want their time wasted. I assume that unless they openly protest, we're in this together, until the final 8.

"I agree," Ambrox says, and makes space for me and Luther. "You guys can join us for the remainder of the lunch, and we can get to know each other better. Sorry, we didn't think about that earlier."

His apology sounds anything but sincere. We both know they were sizing us up, but it seems that at the very least, we have passed whatever internal test Ambrox subjected us to.

I enthusiastically bring all my stuff nearer, sitting close to Ambrox as Luther slides up to Cira. Her smile is watery, and a little nervous.

"How are you guys liking your stay so far?" I dive into pleasantries, smiling genuinely at Cira. She seems a little lost, and doesn't look like she touched any of the stuff on her plate. She's small, by Career standards, and her features are soft and fragile-looking. I wonder what her deal is, but I guess I'll know soon enough.

We keep chatting, Ambrox and I leading the conversation at first. But Cira and Luther eventually join in, and it's actually fun. It feels like the way it's supposed to.

I sit back a little bit, letting the conversation go its course, no longer needed as the provider of the main thread of topics.

I glance quickly at Morgana, and find her staring directly at me. I smile imperceptibly and she responds similarly, adding a lazy little wave, punctuating the fact that she's still getting ready to approach us.

"…a lot of strong competitors this year," Luther remarks, adding on to whatever was said before and rubbing his hands together in anticipation of what, according to him, is probably going to be a great time.

"A lot of volunteers too. I was actually thinking, if you guys are open to the idea, that if we're approached by a strong tribute, we can let them in. I don't know, I think expanding the Career alliance makes us seem a little less like assholes, and I've got a hunch a few people here want to get in on the advantages of being a Career," I add, getting nervous again.

I'm suggesting something novel, a new approach to the Games, and while it's been done before, it's not the standard, strictly speaking.

"Yeah, I've noticed the chick from Seven staring at us," Luther answers, but there's no maliciousness in it. He's just stating a fact, and I'm grateful my idea isn't met with automatic scorn and disapproval.

"I'm open to new recruits, as long as they're… capable," Ambrox shrugs and I mentally high-five myself. He was the one I was most worried about, but if he's on board, I'm sure I can sell them on the idea of bringing in strong tributes like Morgana. Maybe even Valentino from Ten.

The truth is that I'm a little apprehensive to face this year's contestants with only 3 people at my side. Strength comes in numbers, especially in an unpredictable year like this.

Sujax seemed to agree, so at the very least, I know I'm not completely coming out of left field.

We keep chatting, and I hear a deliberate rustle behind my back. I turn around, and see a few heads bob down into their plates, avoiding my gaze. That's nothing new.

But of course, things couldn't be that simple.

Orla from District 4, the one that was stirring up shit on the other side of the room about half an hour ago, approaches our group from behind. She discards her leftovers without even a glance spared for the wasted food, and beelines towards us as I openly stare at her.

I've heard from Sujax that District 4's mentor asked him to extend an invitation for her female volunteer, in the previous months. But this girl… she doesn't look like the volunteer that was promised. And as far as Sujax knows, Mags went radio-silent about any alliance-making, ever since the Reaping. From the way Orla volunteered, I am certain she's one entitled delusional spoiled brat, if I've ever seen one.

The four of us, we're sitting closer, laughing louder, and I'm hoping that will dissuade her from whatever she's about to do. She literally smells of trouble, so as soon as she opens her mouth, I steel myself for the shitstorm that is about to hit.

Ambrox interrupts whatever she was going to say.

"Can we help you?" he asks slowly, his mouth forming the thinnest line I've ever seen.

Orla stares and we all stare back.

Cira chuckles nervously, clearly affected by the thick tension that is almost palpable, in the air around us. Orla waits a couple of seconds, before starting.

"Well, now that I won't be interrupted…Hi!"

The quiet that ensues in the lunch hall is so absolute that one could hear a pin drop. Even the younger boys at the back stop their chattering.

Orla doesn't seem to notice the shift, and continues on.

"Instead of beating around the bush, I'm going to dive right in. I'm Orla, and I want to join the alliance."

"Hi, nice to meet you Orla, unfortunately applications for Careers are closed, at the moment. We will let you know, if ever we need an airhead to pad our team," Luther deadpans, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table.

Orla glares at Luther, and even I'm taken aback by the absolute lack of fear in that girl's face. Only annoyance and indignation taint her features an ugly pink color.

"No one asked you, Two, I'm talking to the one in charge."

Ambrox shakes his head.

"Sorry, you clearly didn't understand. She," Orla points at me with her index finger, almost stabbing me in the forehead when I don't even move an inch, "said you'll be taking on other district tributes."

"She did," Ambrox concedes calmly, his voice dripping of honey and poison. Orla doesn't even bat an eye.

"I volunteered, and my mentor asked yours for an alliance, even before I was on board. I want in," Orla enunciates to the four of us, as though we're stupid.

She looks me directly in the eyes, ignoring every single other person in the alliance. I can only gawk at the audacity.

"So, I'm joining?"

Fuck me sideways, it couldn't just be simple, for once?

Notes: This is it, after all these introductions, the children are finally interacting! The next couple of chapters will be focused on training, so a lot of exciting potential there. Please let me know what you guys think! Is there any particular character you really want to see, during training? Any special skills you want showcased?

Have a great week, and I'll try to stay on a relatively stable schedule. However, your homegirl is immersed full-time in graduate studies, so these 7k chapters might come out a little slower. Or maybe not. Reviews give me inspiration.

Peace and love.