I've always seen the crowds that greet the tribute trains on TV, but nothing prepares me for the sheer roar of sound as I step onto the platform. Usually we see maybe fifty or sixty people in the TV shots, maybe up to twice that if there's a particularly interesting tribute. At a first glance I count at least two hundred, mostly girls, a large knot of them chanting something over and over.
It takes me a minute to realize it's my name they are yelling and for a moment I want only to hide behind Anita until they stop making such a fuss. But I can't do that, and if I want them throwing money at me because they like me I have to actually make them like me first. I quickly tousle my hair and step into the centre of the platform, smiling and waving, trying to catch their eyes.
"Show off," Anita mutters behind me, and I grin at her and pull her up next to me, quickly letting go of her hand. She manages to slip on her smile and waves along, and the chant slowly turns to "Four".
Off to the side there's a row of camera-wielders filming and snapping away. We pose individually, together, with Mags and Gabriela, and then with Acanthus, who seems to enjoy the attention. Reporters yell out questions, or at least I assume they do, but I can't hear them over the roar of the crowd. I'm not too worried; I'll get my chance to talk later, and I want to check with Mags before I say anything wrong.
By the time we get into the waiting cars I realize my legs are a bit shaky and my head is spinning. Anita beside me looks just as dazed, though Acanthus doesn't seem bothered. I assume our mentors are in the other car, and spend the short journey staring out the window trying not to gape at the surrounding city. All my life I've grown up beside the enormity of the ocean, its endless waves rolling from the deep uncharted waters beyond the allowed zone.
The Capitol is just as powerful and huge in a different way, though I can't help but picture the colorful crowds we zoom past as schools of strange fish, all swimming along together taking turns being the leader and moving as one. At least until a shark turns up. Then they all scuttle off their own way, worried only about protecting themselves, until the shark eats its fill and moves on. Then they go right back to sticking together like nothing has changed. Sort of like our district does every year that their volunteers don't come back. I wonder if the sharks in this case are the other tributes or the Gamemakers. Probably both. No matter how many we kill the sea never lacks for sharks.
I look up as we hop out of our cars, and for the first time since the reaping stage am truly unnerved. Somehow there aren't any stars in the sky. I can see the moon bright enough, about half-full, though somehow dull and distant but clearly not covered by clouds. It should be surrounded by all those little pinpricks of light that make up the familiar constellations I've known since I was little. No bear, no fisherman, no sea-serpent. Not even Polaris, the North star.
Anita comes over to me and nudges me with a sharp elbow. I point upwards and watch as her eyes widen in surprise too.
"It's the city lights," Gabriela says from behind me. "Nothing we have in Four is enough to do more than dim the stars a bit. Here in the Capitol though..."
She trails off when she sees the press of people heading towards us from the surrounding streets, apparently having recognized us.
"Come on you two, let's get inside. Unless you want another round with the horde?"
That's enough to get both of us moving, Mags and Acanthus following in the rear. The Remake Centre lobby is filled with gaudy colored sculptures and has a golden spiralling fountain encrusted with gems standing in the middle of the brightly lit room. Water trickles down over the rippled surface causing the gems to sparkle in multicoloured flickers. Another elbow nudges me, Mags this time, and I follow her and the rest into the lift. We follow a woman dressed in Games colors—red and gold—to a small apartment which will be our home for just tonight.
Tomorrow is for getting prepped for the parade, and also for all our training and interviews to come. Tonight however is for sleeping, and I drop off almost as soon as my head hits the strangely soft pillow.
~xXx~
I dream of the storm. It's not uncommon and I've learned over the years how to ride it out without it being too bad, though this time I'm attacked by a school of brightly colored sharks who flicker with rainbow sparkles as they try to knock me off my wooden crate. In reality there were only a few sharks that came, and that was only after the storm ended. They went after the bodies in the water and pretty much left me alone. It didn't take much longer after that for the rescue boats to find us, or what was left of us so I was only on that wooden crate for maybe a day in total.
In my dreams it always seems much longer. There is always lightning and the pounding rain. The roar of the water around me and the strange cries that don't quite sound human (I think it was Corrly screaming in pain some distance away, his words mangled by the swirling winds), and the creaking and grinding of the bits of wood and plas-glass as they collide in the churning waves.
The sudden slosh of cold water that makes even the little cuts all over me sting, the ache in my arms as I cling on, shivering as the wind tugs again and again at my wet shirt. The loud thump as a body bangs against my crate. It was face-down so I never saw who. From the back it could even have been my mother. I never looked, just put my face down against the wood and hung on, praying for it all to end.
Once or twice an hour the waves wash me off despite my desperate hold and I scramble through the water to climb back on. I know if I get stuck in the ocean for too long I'll freeze and definitely die. Or maybe drown once I get too tired from keeping my head above water. Every time I manage to get back to that bit of floating life and clamber back on top, clinging on with frozen fingers once again.
In the dreams everything is always even more surreal. Giant monsters rise up from the waves, or sail down from the clouds to attack me. Sometimes I have my fishing spear, my trident, and I fight them off. Sometimes I win, other times they eat me. Sometimes a bolt of lightning strikes and my whole body feels like it's on fire. The last time that happened I fell out of bed yelling and gave myself a bloody nose when I hit the floor.
This time there's no monsters (besides the sharks) and the lightning doesn't come near. I hear the bump of the body and look down, expecting the usual dark figure. This time it's face up and it's eyes are open. Oris, screaming as the sharks stop attacking me and go to him, tearing off chunks while he screams and writhes. All the time I stay frozen on my crate, just high enough to be safe while I watch him die.
I wake with a gasp, and shiver as the smooth sheets sliver away from me, like water rippling from my body as I slide free of the water. After I got back with the rescue boats, everyone seemed to think I would be scared of the ocean. They all seemed surprised how keen and eager I was to get back out there whenever I could, to submerge myself beneath those rippling waters again.
None of them understood that it was where I felt most alive. After all the terror and horror of that day and night, the normal days always felt dull and lifeless around me. Sometimes I'd feel a bit of a buzz when I fought someone at training, or went climbing from roof-top to roof-top across the neighbouring houses. But in the water, especially under the water I could feel whole again. My Mom and Dad and Aunt and Uncle and cousin Marni and Grandma were all buried at sea, and when I'm underwater I can feel their spirits swirling beside me, giving me strength.
I just hope there's water in the arena. If it's anything like Wade Anderson's arena I have no doubt I could win. Even a standard forest with lakes and streams would be ok. I wouldn't want a desert though, or one of those rocky canyons that they sometimes throw in. Or something man-made like the junkyard from a few years back or the swinging rope bridges that ran from tree to giant tree.
No matter what, I guess I'll just have to adapt. At least I'll probably have allies, for the early Games anyway, and I'll definitely have sponsors. There's usually spears at the Cornucopia (I hope they won't repeat last year's experiment with just one type of weapon), and I'm not too bad with knives. I can make a net out of any ropes or kelp or vines or grasses. I'll manage, and if anything is going to make me feel alive it will be having to fight for my life against other people trying to kill me.
No, not other people, just sharks. They might circle for a bit, or swim passes but eventually they will all attack in the end and I'll have to kill them anyway. Might as well get the jump on them, and there's nothing wrong with killing sharks.
I repeat this over and over in my head until a knock at the door startles me.
"I'm up," I yell.
"Good," Acanthus replies. "Breakfast, now. Your stylist wants you in half an hour."
I groan and push myself out of bed, dropping to the floor for my morning set of push-ups and sit-ups before I find my shirt and wander out to the kitchen, not bothering to do up the buttons. Anita is just sitting down, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She gives me a sleepy grin and says "Morning Finn. Nice chest, pity it doesn't have any hair yet."
I stick my tongue out at her in reply and grab a plate, loading up with sausages and bacon and scrambled eggs. Treats like I normally only get when we eat up at Mags' place in the Village. There's fresh fruit too, and some candy nuts which Mags seems to be hoarding. I steal a fist-full when she turns to say something to Gabriela and crunch them down, licking my fingers to get every bit of sugar.
I swipe another hand-full as I stand up and wander over to the window which overlooks the city. In the distance I can see the Training Centre, which they always show on TV during the Games amongst the other tall buildings. On the streets below there's a slight ripple of movement as people begin their morning business. I've never thought much about what sort of work people in the Capitol do, beyond stuff like the fashion designers and celebrities we see on TV. I'm sure there are plenty who work for the government and stuff, but there must also be people who sell food and drinks and who take out the trash. There's a few reporters hanging out, though I guess most of them are around the front near the entrance, waiting for the morning tribute trains to get in from the outer districts.
Another knock on the door catches all of our attention. Acanthus confers with whoever it is for a minute, then waves me over to where Anita is already waiting.
"Finnick, you follow Pelagius here, he's going to take you to the prep rooms and start getting you ready. Anita dear, you go with Xenia."
"See you later pretty boy," Anita says, nudging my shoulder as she walks past.
"Hey," I call to her retreating back, "no matter how much they clean you up, you'll never be as pretty as me."
She flashes a rude gesture over her shoulder and I laugh, before turning to the tall, skinny Pelagius. He has a few inches on me, though not nearly enough weight to beat me in hand-to-hand, and he stands flat-footed as his eyes roam up and down my body, taking in my sleep-messed hair, unbuttoned shirt and bare feet.
"This way," he says, his accent sharp and slightly lisping. He leads me in towards the same lift as Anita, up two floors and along to a room with a huge tub, already sloshing with scented water.
"One thing I do like about you kids from Four, at least you're mostly clean," a woman comments from the other side. She has bright yellow hair teased out from her head and dotted with metallic beads that glitter as she moves.
"I'm Euthalia and this is Theodorus. We're going to get you all cleaned up for your stylist. Not that you need much work, a gorgeous thing like you."
"Thanks," I say with a grin. I figure now's as good a time as any to dust off my charm. "You're pretty gorgeous yourself."
She's wearing enough make-up that I can't tell if she blushes, though her ears look a bit red.
"Well now, why don't you just hop into the tub and we'll get started. Just toss those old clothes over here for now. And this is your token? Yes, well we'll look after that, you just hop in now and let us do our jobs."
I untie my necklace, which she puts on the bench by a line of serious looking brushes and combs and toss my shirt in the corner. I feel like it should be strange to strip naked while three strangers watch, but I've spent enough years swimming naked or near-naked with all sorts to feel comfortable nude. I jump in the tub, sighing as the warm silky water sloshes around me. Euthalia nudges me forwards and starts scrubbing my back, while Pelagius starts on my feet and Theodorus on my hands.
Once they're done scrubbing they empty out the water and rinse me off with a shower head, then re-fill the tub with a new batch of water. More scrubbing and rinsing, this time with a sweet-smelling soap, and finally Euthalia lets me up to move to the bed. Theodorus has me lean my head back into a second smaller tub and he rinses out my hair for a third time, rubbing in some sort of sweet-smelling goo, then runs a razor over my chin though I don't really have much growing there. Pelagius scrapes away at my nails with some sort of file while Euthalia takes some quick measurements with a knotted piece of string.
She disappears briefly, and when she comes back she has a small case that opens to reveal a little syringe, already filled with a dark yellow liquid.
"Just a quick shot sweetie, to make sure you don't get too rough looking as the Games go on. And it will stop you getting...ah...distracted by things. Don't worry, the dose only lasts for a month and you'll be done needing it one way or another by then."
She jabs the point in my upper arm before I can reply, and I feel the effect almost instantly. My body, which had quite been enjoying having hands rubbing all over me suddenly seems a whole lot less interested. Now it's my turn to try not to blush.
"All the boys have one sweetie," she says as she packs the case back up and it on the bench beside my necklace. "It stops all sorts of problems and prevents nasty things from happening in the arena."
I guess it's good that I won't be too distracted by any of the girls I have to fight, but I still don't like it.
I don't get a chance to complain though, as Theodorous finishes fiddling with my hair and orders me up and standing. I'm told to close my eyes and shiver as a sudden cold spray hits my bare skin, as though I'm on the prow of a boat slicing the waves. When the spraying stops, they all jump in to rub in the liquid, which, when I sneak a quick peek, makes my tanned skin glisten as though I've just stepped out of the sea. All the while, the three of them chatter away, commenting on the tone of my muscles, on the color of my hair and, especially, my eyes.
"Perfect!" Euthalia announces. "I'll go fetch Phineas. He's so happy to get such a gorgeous tribute that he's been working all morning!"
I just smile and hope that working means I'll be wearing more that the fishing net our tribute had on last year. Theodorous goes back to tweaking my hair, sometimes moving single strands at a time before he steps back to examine his handiwork. Pelagius nudges him aside at one point and uses a small and very fancy looking camera to take several pictures of my eyes. Apparently for color matching my interview outfit.
My stomach rumbles loudly as he shuffles off muttering about turquoise versus sea green, and I realize it must be past midday. The door bangs open and Euthalia scurries in carrying a large box, followed by my stylist Phineas Pyne. He's been around at least the last seven or eight years for Four, the left side of his face distinctively tattooed in swirling patterns in various shades of blue and purple.
Mostly he dresses our boys all right I guess, though the outfits never seem to involve much material. Probably because the Capitol thinks we all go about nearly naked working out on the water. He circles me twice and I make myself stay still, not covering what I feel I should when his gaze lingers on my body.
"You really are a fine physical specimen. Good muscle tone, superb lines. And those eyes. Oh yes I can definitely work with that."
He reaches out and runs a finger down the side of my face. I clench my fists and try not to shudder.
He turns away with a flourish of his arm.
"Euthalia, fetch the second box of pastels, we will be needing something a bit more delicate. Theodorous, the diamond flecks. Have them ready to dust at the last minute. And some highlight strips. I want at least three shades in there. Pelagius, start on the box."
They all scurry to obey. I am relieved when the first thing Pelagius pulls from the box is underwear, followed by a long white cloth that he wraps around my waist and pins so that the longest fold covers my privates completely. The next thing is a circular piece of clear plastic that sits over the top. He grins and points me towards one of the side tables, where there is a bowl of soup and a tray of breads piled up with colorful vegetables.
"Eat up," he says. "Don't take too long though. We still have plenty of work to do. But don't eat too fast. We don't want you bloating. It would completely ruin your image."
He scurries back over to the box to fiddle with what I assume is the rest of my outfit. I look around for Phineas, but he's vanished, so I tuck in. The soup is very good, thick and creamy, nothing at all like the seafood chowders we make back home.
My stylist returns just as I'm brushing off the last few breadcrumbs from my plastic covering over my lap.
"Sated?" He asks, and beckons me over before I reply. "Well then, let us begin in turning this raw beauty into an artwork of refined perfection."
Apparently this means more stuff sprayed and rubbed onto my skin, followed by painted designs on my back, hands and feet. Euthalia wields some sort of tiny metal wand that sprays fine mists of paint, drawing out fish scales in shimmering blue-greens. Over this Pelagius drapes a cape of sea-shells on strings of line, tied at my shoulders and ending just past my thighs so that plenty of skin still shows through the gaps.
Theodorous wraps bits of my hair in silver foil, checking against his watch and pulling them out over staggered intervals. When I get a glimpse in the mirror I see that wherever they were is a slightly lighter color, like Oris' hair goes when he spends time in the sun. Mine never does it naturally.
Finally he dusts the tips of my hair with a fine sparkling powder, like salt from the water that's baked dry in the sun. They all stand back to admire their work, and when I see myself in the mirror I can't blame them. I do look pretty, and not nearly as young. Which is good for getting in with both the pack and the sponsors.
We head downstairs, all four of them chattering around me to the basement where the other tributes are waiting. Anita is just ahead of me, her hair arranged around a netted veil. She is also wearing sea-shells, though at least some of her chest is covered. I glance around at the other tributes. Most of them seem to be wearing more than us.
"Because we all spend our days naked and swimming," mutters Anita, channelling my earlier thoughts. She snorts loudly. "My family makes nets. I haven't been out on the water for months."
Just behind her the girl from District Five giggles. We both turn to look at her and she ducks her head and blushes, but finally decides to speak up.
"I know what you mean. We live out by one of the solar power stations." She gestures to her costume, long and white with a propeller contraption on top of her head. "Never been in ten miles of the wind turbines up the coast, even on reaping day. I'm Maria by the way."
She gives me another side-long glance and Anita turns aside to pull a face only I can see.
"Nice to meet you Maria," I say with a smile. Can't hurt to charm the other girls. If it makes them less likely to attack me then it's my advantage. "But I think my mentor wants me."
Sure enough Mags waves and I wander over to her side so she can make a last-minute adjustment to my hair.
"Good enough," she says as she straightens two of the sea-shell strings. "Now go out there and smile for the people. No blowing kisses though. Just smile and wave."
I get up on the chariot, Anita beside me and we go smile and wave. We can hear the cheering as soon as the doors open and the kids from District One—Angelus and Citrine I remember—lead off the parade. Marcellus and Carla are next, both holding giant hammers and chisels in overalls covered with white dust. The District Three kids ahead of us scramble to balance when their chariot starts moving. Both are pretty small and wearing shiny black plastic. Then it is our turn.
I thought the cheering, chanting crowd was loud before, but as soon as we appear the sound swells around me to a deafening roar. I can hear my name being yelled from all directions, and forget Mags' instructions to do no more than smile and wave until I'm nearly half way along. I figure as long as I've been blowing kisses I might as well keep going, though I try only to aim them for younger, prettier girls.
By the time we get to the City Circle in front of the Training Centre my arm is aching from waving and my jaw hurts from smiling so much.
I try not to fidget too much during President Snow's speech and breathe a sigh of relief when we start rolling in to our new home, the Training Centre. The cries from the crowd seem to follow me in and I keep my smile up, turning and giving one last wave as we pass through the double doors.
I jump down from the chariot as soon as we roll to a stop and, remembering my manners, offer an arm to help Anita down. She takes it and reaches up to tousle my hair when her feet hit the ground. I hear an amused snort from behind and turn to see the pair from Two.
"So pretty boy," Marcellus sneers at me, "can you do more than smile and flirt with girls?"
To my surprise, I feel Anita tense behind me, ready to come to my defence as she promised. I just throw the bigger boy an easy smile, flicking my eyes to his district partner a step behind him.
"Of course. I'd be crazy to volunteer otherwise."
He backs off a bit when he sees I'm not intimidated, especially since I'm not much shorter, though he has me on brawn.
"At least we won't be lacking for sponsors," his district partner Carla says, giving both of us an appraising look before smiling. "Carla Evans," she adds, holding out her hand. "In case you weren't paying attention to the reapings."
I take it and shake firmly before raising it to my lips and laying a quick kiss on the back, like the romantics in the old movies do. "It would have been hard to miss you even if I wasn't paying attention."
Marcellus gives a disgusted grunt, but she just laughs, as does Anita, who also shakes her hand. The kids from One seem about to wander over to join us, but are redirected by a pair of Games staff in fancy red and gold outfits. Another pair seem headed over to us and I glance behind them where our mentors are waiting by the lifts.
Apparently Anita spots them too because she says, "See you in training tomorrow I guess. We can talk more then."
They both nod and head back to their team. I recognize Carla's mentor as Enobaria Cavera, the crazy woman who ripped out our tribute's throat with her teeth a few years back, then lay laughing in a pool of his blood while waiting for the trumpets. I hope my new ally isn't quite so psycho. I don't recognize Marcellus' mentor by name, a middle-aged guy with a darker tan than Anita, and long dark hair split with a gray streak.
Mags, Gabriela and our stylists have already gone by the time we reach the lifts, though Acanthus waves us importantly over and ushers us in. The apartment we step out into is huge and spacious, and full of ugly and uncomfortable looking furniture. I hate it.
My room is a bit better once I discover the shower, which has about a hundred settings, all of them good since I can close my eyes and sort of pretend I'm back home on or under the water. I make myself get out when my fingers start wrinkling and grab a random handful of clothes from the dresser, figuring they're all probably my size and toss anything I don't like onto the enormous bed.
I get a wafting smell of food as I open the door and my stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me I haven't eaten much today. Feeling much better I head down the hall for dinner.