Teo Ramaigyan, 17
District 5
Teo hated to think it, but the Capitol was even more incredible than he ever thought it would be. Even before he got out of bed, he found that his clothes from the night before were taken and washed, and he could smell breakfast in the air. He did have to give them that; the food was incredible. He put on a simple pair of black pants and red shirt before entering the dining car and loading his plate with sausage, toast, eggs, and fruit.
"So, what's the plan for today?" he asked. He reached for the pot of coffee, but an Avox grabbed it before his hand touched it and filled his mug for him. "Thank you."
"We'll arrive to the Capitol at noon," Adam said. He ignored the Avox. "They'll take a long time to get you guys ready for the Tribute Parade tonight. It'll feel like hell on earth, but you need to trust them. They know what they're doing. The parade is at 8:00, and that'll take about an hour. Then we go to your suite and you can rest up for training tomorrow."
That didn't sound too bad. Teo had heard bad things from some of the girls in his class about painful hair removal, but it would be over quickly. He could think of worse things than spending eight hours at a spa. Plus, it wasn't like Teo to have stage fright. He looked over at Zezza to see if she had absorbed any of that information, and found her pressing berries into her bowl of oatmeal to make a smiley face. He sighed. He didn't know what to do about her. On the one hand, he felt as if he had a strange moral obligation to help her, since she was pretty incapable of handling herself in a life or death situation. But on the other hand, he knew that there was only one Victor, and above all else, Teo had to protect himself.
He didn't like that. It made him feel selfish. Who was to say that his life was really more important than Zezza's, or anyone else's for that matter? What made him more deserving to come home alive than any of the other 23 tributes that had the same bad luck as he did.
No, he couldn't think like that. He would try his best to form a small alliance- he already had a feel for a few of the kids from watching the recaps- but at the end of the day, he needed to prioritize himself, and he couldn't allow himself to feel bad about it. But if he was going to make a few friends, he might as well extend his hand to Zezza. At least then he'd know that he did everything he could.
When breakfast was over, everyone went their separate ways for the rest of the morning, with Teo and Zezza drifting toward the car where they watched each District's Reaping. The couches were overstuffed and made of what their escort had described as the finest leather District 10 had to offer, and the tables were laid out with snacks and drinks, even though the meal had just ended. Teo grabbed a pastry dusted with sugar and filled with whipped cream and fruit and turned it over in his hands several times.
"Zezza," he began. "I've been thinking a lot, and I definitely don't want to be alone in the arena. I was thinking about forming a small group, just kids from the outer Districts, obviously. And I was wondering… You know, if you'd like to join me?"
"Thank you, but no," she said. "I work very well by myself."
Well. That was easy. He was prepared to have to throw her a bone. He decided that he ultimately would have been happy to do so, seeing as she was his District partner, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't a bit of a relief that if anything bad did happen to her, he wouldn't have to feel like he was responsible.
"Okay!" he said. "Well, if you ever change your mind, the offer's open."
"Thank you, Teo," she said. She smiled and looked up over her left shoulder. "I know, I think so too."
"What?"
"I wasn't talking to you."
Teo and Zezza spent the last two hours or so of the ride to the Capitol sitting together quietly. Every once in a while, Zezza would laugh quietly or mumble something under her breath, but Teo didn't question her. People talked to themselves sometimes. No big deal. As for Teo, he just tried to make the time pass. It was strange being away from home with nothing to do. If he was back in District 5, he could always crack open a book or go running amok with Hanei or Jisai. He supposed the Capitol didn't have time for trivial activities, so he just had to sit there and think.
When the train finally began to pull into the Capitol, the adults came to collect Teo and Zezza and bring them up to the front.
"This is going to be the first time they're seeing you in person, so it's really important for you both to make a good first impression," said Zezza's mentor, Phoebe. "You want to appear friendly, but not weak. The biggest mistake you can make is to allow them to count you out early."
"How is it my mistake if they count me out?" Teo asked. "Sounds like it's their fault."
"Sure," Adam said. "But while it might be their fault, it becomes your problem when you're in the arena and relying on a gift that will never come to stay alive. So you're going to get off this train and smile and wave. And I don't care how scared or homesick you might be; you do not let that show. Understood?"
He hated having the upper hand taken from him. Because while Teo knew that what he said was true, that he was not in control of other people's feelings and actions, what Adam said made a lot of sense. As much as he hated it, Teo was going to be relying on people in the Capitol that he'd probably never meet in order to survive the arena, and it was his responsibility to make sure they liked him and that they believed in him.
"Understood."
Roxanne Teff, 15
District 9
Roxanne could think of few things more excruciating than lying on a cold metal table while three weirdos from the Capitol used hot wax to yank out all of her body hair, but here she was. She didn't understand why she had to undergo all of the supposed beauty treatments that she was being subjected to. Sure, it would make her more appealing to sponsors, but if she refused, she'd only be hurting herself. So why wouldn't they let her?
"Do you know how much longer this is going to take?" she asked. She winced as they tore off yet another strip of hair from her leg. She might have been losing her mind, but she could have sworn that that was the third time they had waxed that particular spot.
"You still have quite a ways to go, sweetpea," one of the ladies said in her stupid fake Capitol accent. She was at least six feet tall and wore her hair in candy pink ringlets. Her dress and stockings were both pink as well, but they were both slightly different shades from her hair. Roxanne wondered if she had done that on purpose. It gave her a headache if she looked too long. "After you're waxed, you still need another bath, then we have to wash and style your hair, do your makeup, and get you into costume. You're not going anywhere anytime soon."
"Why do I need another bath? I just took one."
"I don't know what your standards for hygiene are in District 9, but it's not going to fly here," another woman said. She was completely bald and had roses and daisies tattooed on her shiny head. She wore a bright red shirt that exposed a pierced belly button, metallic gold pants, and black heeled boots. "You see that dirt in the lines on your skin? It won't come out."
"Does it matter?" Roxanne asked. "It's not like anyone will be able to see it from that far away."
"It's disgusting, dear," the last of her team said. This one looked the most normal, with the underside of her white-blonde hair dyed an icy blue. She wore a simple black jumpsuit and a ton of silver jewelry. "We want you as clean as possible before you get to the arena. Who knows what that'll hold for you?"
"I've heard a few rumors about the Games," the tattooed one said, her upper lip curled into a smug smirk. "The arena, the Quell…"
The Quell? Roxanne thought that the twist was supposed to be that there wasn't one. Was she missing something?
"Rumors?" she asked, as she squirmed to make eye contact with one of them. "What rumors?"
"We can't exactly discuss that with you, honey," the pink one said. "It would be improper. Christabelle, would you fill us in when we're done here? I'm dying to know."
"Excuse me, but I'm literally dying to know," Roxanne interjected. "As in, I will die if I don't know."
"Yes, I'll tell you both later," the bald one- Christabelle- said, completely disregarding Roxanne. "Are you going to the party at Amberhorn's mansion after the parade?"
For what felt like days but was actually just a few hours, the prep team yammered on and on about the party; what they were wearing, who would be there and who was bringing who, what kinds of food and entertainment there would be. Roxanne tried so hard to tune them out, but there was nothing else to focus on, so she couldn't help but hang on their every word. She wondered what it was like to live with no critical thinking skills. These women seemed so happy.
After hours of bathing, waxing, combing, straightening, curling, and applying, the strange trio finally deemed Roxanne worthy of getting into her costume. They handed her a peach-colored satin robe with a large 9 made of rhinestones on the back, and she quickly put it on and tied it at the waist just in time for her stylist to walk in. He was an eccentric man with hair colored to look like fire, and Roxanne didn't bother to learn his name. He was holding a giant garment bag and spoke almost too quickly for her to understand.
"Listen up gorgeous," he said. "This costume is revolutionary. This costume is going to change the way Panem views District 9. They're going to question everything they thought they knew about you. Are you ready?"
Roxanne was slightly taken aback by his energy. Most people weren't so excited about Panem's breadbasket.
"Sure?" she said. She hated the way her voice squeaked. "I mean, yes, let's do it."
The stylist opened the bag slowly and deliberately until the costume, in all of its glory, was revealed. Roxanne didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a giant ear of corn. Not an artistic interpretation of corn either. A six-foot-tall ear of corn with a hole cut out of it where her face would go. It wasn't even campy and "luxurious" like most costumes were. The corn was bright yellow, and the husk was true green. No sequins, jewels, or accessories could make this costume anything other than what it was.
"Isn't it brilliant?" the stylist asked. "I was simply beside myself when I came up with the idea. It's perfect!"
"It's corn."
"That's the point! We're feeding right into everyone's expectations. It's a commentary on how District 9 is always the most overlooked and underrepresented."
"You want me to go out in front of the entire country dressed as an ear of corn?"
"I don't want you to," he said. "I need you to."
Annabel Buff Tenor, 15
District 12
Buff was thankful that they hadn't complained about their outfit right off the bat. It was definitely drab and wouldn't win them any sponsor points. They were obviously dressed as a coal miner, but a more childish version. Their black overalls were cuffed at the ankle, and they wore a black cropped t-shirt underneath, rather than the thick long sleeves that would actually keep a real coal miner safe on the job. Their headlamp could be turned on and off, and sent bright shining beams wherever they turned their head, showcasing the black dust that had been artfully smeared across their face. Their prep team had concealed a small jar of the black powder in the front pocket of their overalls just in case it needed to be reapplied throughout the night. The only pop of color in the entire ensemble was a scarf with a flame print on it. The whole thing was a bit baggy, but Buff couldn't complain. All things considered, baggy was preferable to too tight.
"What do you think?" Buff's stylist asked once they were dressed. Albany was the fanciest woman Buff had ever met. She had silver hair, but she was clearly not an old lady- Buff figured she was no older than 35. She wore a white ball gown covered in crystals that sent off rainbows when the light hit them. Buff wasn't completely sure that it wasn't a wedding dress.
"It's fine," Buff said. "It doesn't really feel like it's going to catch anyone's eye though."
"Darling, nothing about District 12 is or should be eye-catching. I've never styled a Victor before, and I ever will until I get moved out of this hell hole and over to somewhere respectable."
"Excuse me?"
"Look, kid, you seem nice enough. But face it; you're ordinary. I'm not going to invest a ton of my time and energy on someone who probably won't make it past day one. It's not personal."
Buff had the urge to take the fine black powder out of their pocket and dump it all over Albany and her stupid white dress. Who was she to say that Buff wasn't special? That they deserved to die just because of where they were born? They couldn't do that, though. As much as they hated it, they had to rely on Albany, at least for the next week, to make them palatable to the Capitol citizens.
While overall uninspired, Buff's costume was nothing compared to Bramble's, and Buff vowed that they would never complain about anything else that their prep team dressed them in for as long as they were in the Capitol. Nothing could have prepared Buff for the costume that their District partner was wearing- or lack thereof. When each of the District 12 tributes exited their rooms and met each other in the hallway, Buff found their partner wearing absolutely nothing, but powdery black dust covering his body.
"Bramble!" Buff said, squeezing their eyes shut. "You're-"
"Don't say it."
"But you're-"
"I know."
"It's just that-"
"Buff!" he shouted. "I know! They were going to do it to you too, but Haymitch and Donica made them not."
"Why?" Buff asked. "I mean, I'm definitely not complaining, but why?"
"They said you were too young. They tried it for me too, but they'd only give in for one of us. That's why your costume is used. It was the girl's from last year."
"Okay, well you're at least taking this."
Buff removed the scarf from around their neck and tied it around Bramble's waist, trying their best to not look at anything straight on. They tried hard to find beauty in everyone, but there was something undeniably icky about the naked male body. One time during one of Buff's family's performances, a man ran onto the stage piss drunk and wearing nothing but his socks and hard hat. Buff was only eight at the time, and they remembered being unable to look away as the man danced to their family's music. Donica Jade had had to run onto the stage and cover Buff's eyes. They knew then and there that they would never look at a man the same way.
"I'm never going to marry a man ever," Buff said to their mother that night.
"Don't be silly, Annabel," their mother said. She was running the comb through their hair, back when it was still long enough to braid. Buff had asked for red ribbons for their braids, but their mother went with pink instead. "Someday when you're a big girl, you'll meet a man that you love and you'll get married and have babies. Just like me and your daddy!"
"There," Buff said to Bramble. They clapped their hands together once. "Now I don't have to look at you."
"What's wrong with looking at me?" Bramble asked. He made his eyes wide and fluttered his eyelashes in false innocence. "What, am I ugly or something?"
"Yes," Buff said, without missing a beat. "Yes, you're hideous. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."
"Damn," he said. He clutched his heart with both hands and took a deep, labored breath. "Nobody's ever called me ugly before."
"Well, you're just gonna have to get used to it."
Bramble was a confusing person for Buff and had been ever since they had both boarded the train after the Reaping. Buff was under no delusion that they would be friends with Bramble under any other circumstances. Truthfully, their paths had crossed a few times back in District 12, and Buff had never been a fan. He always came across like he thought he was better than everyone else. Whenever Buff ran into him at the Hob, he always seemed to be high-balling the price of the meat he was trying to sell, as if the meat was of better quality simply because Bramble Hawthorne had been the one to kill it.
Regardless, their dynamic was different now. Buff wasn't sure how, or why, or how long it would last. But at least for the time being, the tributes from District 12 were a team.
Everett Knox, 18
District 7
Maybe it was really just nerves about the upcoming weeks, but as Everett stared at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel excited to go out in front of the country. For the entire train ride to the Capitol, he dreaded the moment when he would inevitably be dressed as a maple tree just like almost every other year, and become the laughing stock of this year's tributes. But the stylists had honestly outdone themselves.
Everett wasn't a tree. He was something mystical and other-worldly that had come out of the trees themselves. His prep team had scrubbed his body, spiked his hair, and waxed all of the hair off of his chest. His stylist dressed him in tight-fitting brown pants and boots, with a bow and arrow slung over his shoulder and a pair of silvery wings on his back. There was a crown on his head made of silver branches and small pink tulips. He was also given makeup for the first time in his life; just enough to make his eyes appear bigger, his cheekbones higher, and his skin softer. He could honestly get used to looking that good. He hoped that in spite of everything, Linden could at least appreciate that he looked better than he ever had.
They hadn't given Everett a shirt. He was normally insecure about how skinny he was- growing up as the child of two lumberjacks (not to mention his two baby sisters), he didn't always have enough to eat to keep meat on his bones. He couldn't remember the last time his ribs weren't showing, and now was no exception. But he knew that people in the Capitol liked skinny. There was something special in the wealthiest area of the country about being able to refuse to eat while other people were starving. So while his displayed ribs might scream "Poor!" to everyone in District 7, he knew that the wealthy Capitolites who refused to eat anything deep-fried or covered in chocolate would view him as a sex object because of them. In a sick way, he didn't mind that. At least, he knew it would help his chances if they found him attractive.
Ophelia didn't seem as pleased as he did. As a matter of fact, she seemed like she was on the verge of a panic attack. She was dressed with the same wings and flower crown as he was, but she was wearing a forest green dress covered in leaves and flowers. The skirt was floor-length and flowing, but the top barely covered her chest and had a large cutout for her waist and ribs. Her arms were on full display as well. If Everett was delicate, Ophelia was ethereal. She couldn't stop staring at herself in the full-length mirror in the hallway, and Everett could see that her eyes were tearing up. He was afraid that her makeup would smear.
"You look beautiful," he tried. "Really."
"I look…" She used her hands to cover the bare skin around her torso, but her hands weren't big enough to cover her completely. She took a deep breath. "My parents… They've never let me wear anything like this before."
"Aren't you, like, 16?"
"17."
"And they're still telling you what to wear?"
Ophelia turned around to look at Everett directly, but quickly shifted her focus to the wall behind him. She didn't seem to like making eye contact with him, even back when they were on the train together. Her eyes were wide and her lower lip trembled. He had seen that kind of behavior before, when he and Linden had volunteered in District 7's small orphanage. But Ophelia wasn't a little kid, nor was she an orphan. She wiped her palms on her dress and spoke slowly.
"That's their job, right? Protect their children?"
"Honey, look at you." Everett reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched, so he dropped his hand. He didn't want to touch her if it would make her uncomfortable. "You're almost grown up, and you're terrified about showing a little bit of skin. Who's that protecting?"
"My mother is 35 years old and I've never seen her dress like this."
"Maybe she's just never had the opportunity! Besides, there's nothing wrong with looking good."
"Good? I would never-"
"Ophelia, listen," Everett snapped. Ophelia looked startled, but she did stop talking. "I understand that you're not comfortable. You have that right. But this is just how things have to be right now, and freaking out won't fix it. You look incredible."
"Maybe I don't want to look incredible," she whispered. She trained her eyes on the floor, and Everett willed her to look at him again. "People… Look at me, no matter what. I don't want to give them any more of a reason to."
"Whether or not people decide to look at you is their business, not yours. The sooner you realize that you're not responsible for other people's actions, the happier you'll be."
"I guess… You don't think there's any chance of them giving me a cardigan or anything?"
"Not a chance," Everett said. He grinned. "Can I give you a hug?"
Ophelia hesitated. "You said you like boys, right?"
Everett smirked. He had told Ophelia all about his relationship with Linden on the train that morning over breakfast. She seemed a bit apprehensive when he first mentioned that he was in a relationship with a man, but it didn't take her long to warm up to the idea that love can take different forms than what she might be used to. Everett got the impression that there was a lot about her upbringing that was different from his. He couldn't imagine having parents that dictated what he was allowed to wear and who he was allowed to spend time with- at least past the age of about ten. He wasn't sure how long their friendship would last, but he did genuinely want her to be happy. At least then if she died before him, he would have a clear conscience.
Clementina Romanesco, 18
District 11
If there was one thing that made Clementina feel better about being dressed as a sunflower, it was the fact that Reese was dressed like one as well. She'd always hated sunflowers. People always told her that they were supposed to represent happiness, strength, power, and a bunch of other bullshit happy things like that. But Clementina Romanesco knew better than to put the fate of her entire life in the metaphorical hands of a stupid yellow flower that was taller than she was. The only good thing about sunflowers was that you could eat the seeds, but even then, you got whipped for poaching if anyone caught you trying.
There was a lot that Clementina could say to Reese if she wanted to. She could ask him what ever happened to dressing the tributes from 11 up as farmers or birds, or even costumes that whispered "flowers" rather than screaming it. She could make a snarky comment about how the stylists had chosen to dress the two cloudiest tributes in the Games up as flowers with "sun" in the name. Most of all, though, she wanted to know why he volunteered, and why, since he did, he seemed so unhappy to be there.
But Reese didn't seem like the kind of person to want to talk to a stranger in a stressful situation, and that was fine with Clementina. She didn't know his motivation for volunteering, and maybe she never would. But she was smart enough to know that no matter why he volunteered, he wasn't someone that she wanted to make an enemy out of. He also wasn't anyone that she could trust, even if he was the only one around the place that was from home. So what if he was the only one who might even begin to understand her on what might be her last days left? If he was stupid enough to value anyone else's life over his own, there was very little that could happen that would make Clementina want to talk to him.
"Excuse me?" a sweet-sounding female voice asked. Clementina tensed up before turning around with her eyebrows raised. She couldn't remember from the girl's face which District she was from, but judging by the pencil skirt, blazer, and neck scarf, she went out on a limb and guessed District 6. She had big brown eyes that almost sparkled when she smiled, but Clementina wouldn't let herself be charmed by the girl. Everyone here was an enemy, at least until they proved otherwise. "I just wanted to say I loved your costume. I think sunflowers are so pretty."
"Thanks." Clementina knew it was ridiculous for her to be trying to act intimidating while she was dressed as a giant flower, but she'd do anything to get this girl to leave her alone. The girl's smile faltered a bit, but she fixed it quickly.
"I'm Lumi," she said. That was right. Luminara, the other non-Career volunteer, this one from District 6. Yet another tribute whose motivations Clementina already couldn't begin to understand. She cleared her throat. "And you are…?"
"Clementina. Did you have a point to this conversation, or are we done here?"
Luminara seemed taken aback. Her fake smile faded and she didn't bother replacing it. "I just wanted to introduce myself to a few people. There's power in numbers, you know."
"No thanks," Clementina said before Luminara even got the chance to make a real offer. "Actually, maybe. I'll let you know at the end of training if no one better has asked me. I just don't want to take any chances."
"I'm sorry?"
"Why don't you go bother my District partner? I bet you two would have plenty to talk about."
Clementina wished that she could feel bad for Luminara as she walked away with her shoulders slouched, but she couldn't. This was literally the Hunger Games, and Little Miss District 6 was trying to make friends. It was important to have allies, sure, but those alliances should begin in the training center after figuring out the other tributes' skills. What if Clementina had agreed to team up with Luminara only to find out that they had all of the same strengths and weaknesses? If the two of them could both forage for edible plants and create traps to catch bugs, who would be the one to take down an enemy if they were invaded. Besides, she was not willing to team up with someone who volunteered. Nobody in their right mind would volunteer for the Games.
In truth, Clementina hadn't given much thought to who she would like to form an alliance with. She'd compiled a pretty extensive list of people that she absolutely did not want to join (the first eight were easy), but the others didn't really have any attractive qualities other than not being on that list. She didn't think there was any sense really in getting her hopes up about anyone before she saw what they were capable of. All she knew for sure was that the eight volunteers could definitely not be trusted, the girl from 5 and the boys from 3 and 8 seemed weak-willed, and the boy from 10 seemed loud and obnoxious. As she looked around the stable, she also noticed that the pairs from 7 and 12 also seemed like package deals, and she didn't want to put herself into a situation where she would be immediately outnumbered. So, that left her with seven possible allies.
It was almost a relief when someone instructed the tributes to get ready for the parade. Anything to snap Clementina out of her growing dreads was welcome.
Risso Copeland, 18
District 4
All in all, Risso had to say that she didn't love the fact that her first time meeting the rest of her allies, she was dressed as a fish, with a blue top and a skirt made of scales. It could be worse. Her prep team could have decided to take the "sexy" route with her, or she could be dressed as something stupid like other Districts usually were, so maybe she should feel lucky. But next to the gorgeous pair from 1 or the ever so grown-up team from 2, it felt as if she and Hudson, who was dressed as a fisherman, were simply playing dress-up.
District 1 was waiting for Risso and Hudson when they walked into the stable. They were dressed as the old-time royalty that Risso had read about in fairytales, both of them decked out in gold and emeralds with crowns on their heads. It wasn't the most original idea for the luxury District by a long shot, but it was always a crowd favorite. If they hadn't been a sure thing for allies, Risso would have been worried about them taking away all of the sponsors on appearances alone.
"You must be District 4," the girl said, eyeing their costumes. "I'm Donnie. This is my partner, Amos."
"Risso."
There was a pregnant pause before Risso gently elbowed her District partner in the ribs. He flinched, seeming to come out of a trance. Risso followed his line of vision to find that he had been staring at the girl from District 7. Her leaf-covered gown had a large cutout that displayed most of her chest and midriff, and she was tugging on it as if trying to create more fabric. She noticed him staring and promptly crossed her arms over her chest and leaned in behind her District partner who gave Hudson the stink eye.
"What's up?" he asked once he snapped out of it. "Oh, sorry, I'm Hudson."
"Nice meeting you both," Amos said. He grinned widely, and Risso noticed that his teeth were almost perfectly straight and white. "Has anyone seen District 2?"
Before anyone had a chance to respond, the double doors swung open and the last of Risso's allies walked in. She was preparing for Peacekeepers or gladiators like usual, or maybe even stone quarry workers. What she wasn't ready for was a soldier with his shirt unbuttoned and a rifle over his shoulder and a battlefield nurse wearing what seemed to be as little clothing as humanly possible.
"Hello," Hudson said. He reached out and shook the boy's hand, and when the girl extended hers, he took it and kissed her fingers. She smirked and batted her eyelashes, letting out the fakest giggle Risso had ever heard. She risked a glance over at Donnie who was biting down on her lower lip to keep from laughing.
The pair introduced themselves as Hera and Castor, and it was immediately clear that if anyone in the group was going to be dressed as a princess, it should have been Hera, not Donnie.
"Is it just me, or is the Capitol not as fancy as you thought it would be?" she asked. She twirled a loose strand of red hair around her finger, and Risso wondered if it was that shade naturally, or if she'd had it dyed. She couldn't remember it looking that vibrant when she was watching the Reapings. "I mean, our rooms don't even have individual kitchenettes."
"You can press a button and get any food you want at any time," Donnie said.
"Still," Hera said. "What if I wanted to cook for myself?"
"They probably think it's too dangerous," Amos said. "Knives, open flame, raw meat. A lot could go wrong."
"Whatever. I just think we should be able to do whatever we want since we're the most special guests in the country."
The rest of the tributes began to trickle in for the next ten minutes or so, and Risso couldn't help but laugh as some of their costumes made her feel better about hers. She almost felt bad for the pair from District 9 who were dressed as what she could only guess were an ear of corn and a silo, or the two from 11 whose frowning faces were about as far from the sunflowers they were dressed as as possible.
"Hey, check her out," Hudson said to Castor as he gestured to the girl from 10. She was tall and slim with heavy makeup and seemed to be dressed as some sort of colorful bird. Risso couldn't place the name of it.
"Dude, gross," Castor said.
"What, are you gay or something?"
"No," Castor said. "I just know how to keep it in my pants."
"Yeah, I bet you have a lot of experience with that."
"Can you guys stop?" Donnie interrupted. "It's super weird. Leave her alone."
"I agree," Risso said. "Women aren't here for your viewing pleasure."
"You certainly aren't," Hera muttered.
"What was that?"
Hera opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a man with a clipboard blew into a whistle and instructed all of the tributes to get onto their chariots. Risso gritted her teeth as she climbed in next to Hudson. Every minute she spent with him, she liked him less and less. She didn't even think that was possible after the disgusting comments he had made about his mentor, Marina, on the train, but he continued to prove her wrong. She hoped someone else would get frustrated with him before her so she wouldn't have to be the one to kill him. It's generally frowned upon to kill your District partner. Maybe Donnie would do it, or she could strike some kind of deal with Castor. She'd kill Hera if he'd kill Hudson. Of course, he didn't seem quite like the type to agree to that kind of arrangement anyway. She definitely couldn't convince Donnie or Amos to want to kill each other. They definitely had a prior connection, and that would be dangerous if it came down to a two against one situation.
Maybe she'd just have to make it look like an accident.
Rouche Wilmington, 31
Victor of the 86th Hunger Games: District 8
Rouche always dreaded the President's party after the Tribute Parade. District 8 had never been known for making a good first impression, and it was always nearly impossible to style them. How do you make an outfit inspired by the concept of clothing? The stylists hadn't done a bad job with Gwyneth. They gave her a sort of eccentric seamstress look, with overalls covered in patches and ribbons, a headband with a pincushion attached, and a gold tape measure tied at her waist as a belt.
Aris was less inspired, to put it delicately, as they dressed him up as a Peacekeeper. Rouche could see where they were coming from, since District 8 is the District that makes the Peacekeeper uniforms, but it had historically been more of a costume for the tributes from 2. Not to mention, Aris was the second smallest tribute in the Games, next to the girl from District 3, so he looked ridiculous dressed as an officer. They hadn't even put an elaborate twist on the outfit to make it stand out in the parade. It was just a regular white uniform.
It was exhausting listening to the wealthiest citizens talking at length about every other District besides 8. The costumes were all either spectacular, like the royalty from District 1 and the sprites from District 7, or laughable, like the dissatisfied sunflowers, or the ear of corn and grain silo. There was little to no talk about the mundane costumes from the Districts who simply matched their occupations. District 3 dressed in metal and wires, 5 were both power plant workers, and 6 was a train conductor and a flight attendant. Rouche was just happy that nobody was laughing at his tributes like they were the boy from District 10. The girl was dressed in a stunning peacock costume, and he was wearing a white sweater and orange pants that made him look like a chicken.
Every year, it got harder for Rouche to be a mentor. District 8 hadn't had a spectacular tribute since… Well, since himself. He was by far the most attractive tribute to come out of District 8, at least in the past 25 years, and he was also the tribute from District 8 with the most ever confirmed kills. He thought at the time that killing six of his competitors would be worth it for all of the fame he would get when he returned home. But it took the Capitol a year to forget about him and to move onto the next year's Victor. Waldon Krona, the boy from District 1 had won the 87th Hunger Games and taken the entire country's attention for himself.
Rouche hated public events now. Nobody gave him a second glance unless he was the only Victor in the room. He was always overshadowed nowadays by the Victors who were younger, more attractive, or who won in more extravagant ways. If anything, it made him even more hesitant to want to bring home a Victor. Why would he actively try to produce someone who would take the last shred of attention off of him?
He hated the party. He hated standing there and pretending to laugh as he listened to people talking about how beautiful Celina looked, or how strong Hudson seemed, or how they just wanted to rip the rest of that shirt right off of Castor's back. They couldn't even do him the decency of pretending to care about his tributes. He downed glass after glass of sparkling wine until he couldn't even act like he cared anymore. He left before midnight, and he couldn't help but wonder if anybody noticed him go.
Hey besties! I took an intense three-week class in June and didn't have much time to write. Did you know that Introduction to Fiction Writing is a very easy class to take at the age of almost-21 when you've been writing Hunger Games fanfiction since you were 13? Funny thing about that.
Not a ton of people have voted on the poll, so if you haven't done that yet, please do! It'll be up until the chapter before the bloodbath, which is when I'll post the results of it.
We're gonna be rockin with the same questions for a while, so:
1. Which section of this chapter was your favorite and why?
2. Did this chapter change how you feel about any of the characters? For better or for worse?
3. Who are you most excited to hear from next?
4. Any predictions?
