But not all the broads. And also Argent's not a broad.
Argent Ore- District Twelve male
It was awkward meeting my mentor. Nubu won forever ago, but since he was our only Victor, everyone in Twelve knew about him. We saw how he stayed strong through his whole Games and stuck with his allies and stayed with Alinta right until the end. I felt even more like nothing compared to him.
"So kid, why'd you volunteer?" he asked. There was an edge to his voice and a standoffishness to his face. He thought I wanted to fight and kill, I realized with horror.
"So someone else wouldn't die," I said.
Nubu's face softened, and his voice went from cold to mournful. "But now you'll die."
"That's no big deal," I said.
"How can that not be a big deal?" Nubu asked, like he knew the answer but was too repulsed to say it.
"Because I'm not really anything. I'm kind of worthless," I said.
Nubu's face broke. He looked at me with the pain I'd been feeling for so long but never let out. I never imagined someone could feel that on my behalf.
"You're priceless," he said. He almost whispered the first word, and his voice caught on the last one. His fingers clenched the edge of the table we sat at with more ferocity than I'd ever seen from him.
"I never did anything special," I said.
"You don't have to," Nubu said. "You're priceless just because you are."
"You really think so?" I asked. It didn't make sense to me. Why would Nubu Sanders, Twelve's first Victor, think anything at all about me, much less that I was special? Why would he cry over something as insignificant as me?
"Yes," Nubu said immediately. "You're valuable just for being alive, and you're a hero for wanting to save someone else. You look at me like I'm a big shot, but I just got Reaped. I didn't volunteer. And I won. That means I didn't let someone else live, like you did."
Wow. Is it really like that? Nubu probably thought that about everyone. He was just that sort of guy. Maybe he was right, or maybe he was just a nice person. I was pretty sure I wasn't all he thought I was, but having someone as important as Nubu think so did make me feel a little accomplished. I didn't think I was worth much, but Nubu Sanders did.
Jezzebell Fern- District Seven female
As soon as I heard about Yttria, Paloma, and Othella, I marched right up to give them a piece of my mind.
"Hey!" I said, leveling a finger at the three of them sitting at a cafeteria table. "I hear you're making a strong female alliance!"
"Uh… yeah," Paloma said, hesitating between the first and second words in case she had to make a retreat.
"That makes me pretty mad!" I said.
"Why?" Yttria asked. She and Paloma wordlessly scooted closer to Othella, ready to shield her.
"Because you didn't invite me!" I said.
Paloma and Othella glanced at each other, then looked at Yttria.
"I didn't think you'd be interested," Yttria said. She set her hamburger down on her plate like she was so surprised she'd forgotten she was eating.
"Why not?" I asked.
"You just seemed so strong," Yttria said. "I thought you wouldn't want allies tying you down."
"That makes some sense, but you've left out a few things," I said. I ticked them off on my fingers. "One. Fights are more fun with multiple people. 2. I'm very fond of women and like to surround myself with strong specimens. 3. I'm an extrovert. What can I say? And 4. I'm kind of crazy."
"Well that sounds pretty good," Othella said. The three of them shared some glances and declined to make a little pow-wow.
"Would you like to ally with us?" Paloma asked.
"Well, I'm so glad you asked!"
Wisteria Rose- District Eleven female
That wasn't a baby. It was just a doll.
I knew the bundle I held in my arms was a baby. Eight hours after she was born, I finally got to hold her. She came early, and they wanted to check that everything was in place. They said everything was, but I couldn't believe them. This couldn't be my daughter. The baby was… wrong. When you have a baby, you're supposed to feel it come to rest in your arms and have this life-changing rush of the most amazing love you've never imagined. I looked down at the baby and felt nothing. It might as well have been a swaddled potato.
"What's the name, sweetie?" a nurse asked. His hand was poised over a tablet.
"What?" I asked. I'd barely heard him. "Oh. Name." I wished he'd leave me alone. I just gave birth and he kept pestering me. All the nurses and doctors kept pestering me- cooing over the baby, trying to pat me reassuringly, asking me little questions about things that could wait. I went to blurt out a name to get him to leave, but my mind went blank.
The only name that came to mind was my mothers. Heather, I almost said. No. I shouldn't give her the same name as my mother. What was her middle name? I fished around in my head.
"Marie," I said. The nurse squealed and wrote the name down.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked.
"Yes. Can you take her?" I asked, shoving the baby at him. "I want to take a nap."
The nurse chattered something about mothers and needing rest as he took Marie and finally left.
Everything in the room kept me from falling asleep. The walls were a sickening baby blue color, painted by Capitolites who thought they were so clever to paint a maternity room baby blue. The machines hummed and made whining hisses that made it impossible to sleep. There was a sterile scent that mingled with the last bits of nauseating blood and fluid. I was sore in places I shouldn't be sore.
What's wrong with me? I thought. Why don't I like the baby? My baby. Marie. Her name is Marie. Why is she so ugly? Is it because she's premature? She'll grow out of it. What kind of mother am I that I wish she could stay in a preemie incubator until she's cute?
I don't want to deal with this. I don't want to deal with her. I'm tired, and everything is going wrong, and I want to just go to sleep and not wake up for a long time. Maybe things will be right when I wake up.
