Since I have two stories running right now I think I might have overlooked some alliances. In my notes I have the Careers and then Kjole's alliance and that's it.
Martin Jackman, District Seven male (15)
As soon as I found out there was a clinic in the Games building I got myself down there to get checked out. At last I could finally get a diagnosis for what I'd been living with for so long. I checked in at the front desk and requested a mental health screening.
"Depression?" the receptionist asked as he typed on his screen.
"Tourette's Disorder," I said. The man continued tapping without any reaction.
"Good morning," the doctor said when she came into the room where I'd been waiting for just a few minutes. "Martin, right?"
"That's right," I said.
"And you're having trouble with tics?" the doctor asked.
"Yes," I said, and my leg bounced just thinking about it. "It's been like this ever since I can remember." I didn't remember that far back into my early childhood but I was pretty sure I remembered some tics.
"Hmm. Any family history?" the doctor asked as she pulled up a screen on the wall and started swiping through it.
"No, it's just me," I said.
"How often would you say you experience tics?" the doctor asked.
"At least once an hour, usually- acorn- more," I said.
"Oh, you have verbal tics as well?" the doctor asked calmly.
"Just that one usually," I said.
"Just one moment and we can get this all figured out," the doctor said. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a little electronic contraption that looked almost like a laser pointer.
"Let me see your hand," she said. I held out my hand and she positioned the device over my left pinkie finger. "I'm just going to prick your finger and test your blood, okay? It will be a little sting."
"Okay," I said. She clicked the device and I felt a little pinprick that quickly went away. I watched a tiny drop of blood soak into the device and it started to blink. A minute later it chimed and the doctor looked at it.
"Good news! It's not Tourette's," she said.
"What? What do you mean?" I asked. That quickly? That easily? What do you mean it's not? I've had this for more than ten years! "I think there's a mistake," I said.
The doctor shook her head. "It's very unlikely. Tourette's has a genetic component and you came up negative. There are also associated abnormalities in the basal ganglia- that's part of your brain- and the device also scans for such things. You're entirely clean. You seem perfectly healthy from a neurological standpoint."
"Then what's making me do these things?" I asked, and my hand snaked out to tap the wall.
The doctor looked at me with a mostly compassionate expression, though I sensed a tiny hint of concealed amusement. "Do you feel overlooked a lot in life?" she asked.
I paused in surprise. "How did you know?" I asked.
"It's normal for someone your age to want to define themselves. We all want to be heard and noticed. Sometimes when that doesn't happen, we invent a reason to."
It slowly came together for me. "You think I'm faking?" I asked.
"Not faking. You just have a very human need and found a way to fill it," the doctor said.
"So I don't have Tourette's Disorder," I repeated, trying to digest it. Then I'm not... special. I'm just like anyone else. People were right to ignore me.
"Would you like a referral to a counselor? You might feel confused and even depressed. That's normal," the doctor said.
I shook my head. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Truth be told, I was mortified. I was a faker. I hadn't meant to be but I still was. Lark had seen right through me and now I wondered how many other people had. Were they laughing behind my back? I was a joke.
"I think you'll find the symptoms will clear up after today," the doctor said kindly.
It was true I didn't have any tics as I walked out of the clinic. Already I was trying to convince myself the doctor had been wrong. Didn't I know my own body? She couldn't tell me everything I knew was wrong just from one drop of blood. And if it wasn't Tourette's, wasn't there something else that could cause this? I kept coming back to one thing, though. In the end it didn't matter if I had Tourette's or not. Everyone already thought I did. If I told the truth now, everyone would hate me. Anyone who might sponsor an inspirational little disabled kid would look somewhere else. The Careers would see me as a target and not a crazy person. I was all mixed up just trying to put things all together but one thing was clear. It seemed like I'd been faking all this for fifteen years. I had to double down and keep faking at least until the Arena. I'd made my bed and now I had to lie in it.
Porsche Romeo, District Six female (17)
Of all the things I could get in trouble for. I could think of ten thousand stupid things I'd done in my life and I was getting in trouble for the one thing I did that wasn't stupid. Was this karma or something? Karma but for stupid things instead of immoral things?
I hadn't known what to think when my escort Felisha requested a meeting with me. Right away I went through a hundred possible scenarios. It's because I wiped my hand on the tablecloth. Or maybe because I swiped some makeup from the stylists? I thought I looked good. Maybe by Capitol fashion I look like a clown? But THEY all look like clowns. Takes one to know one...
"Oh, Porsche! Glad you could come," Felisha said when I sat down across from her at the table she'd laden with various Capitol horse durves. Whore Durrs? Those little snacky things. There was a Capitol-looking guy sitting next to her. I guessed that the problem wasn't that I looked like a clown, since the man had bright orange feathered hair and rainbow eyes. I'd never thought of clowns as freky before but he was starting to change my mind.
"I just got a message from the Gamemakers. They say your token is too useful so they have to take it," Felisha said.
"My token is a cane," I pointed out, more confused than offended.
"Yes," the man next to Felisha said. "Since it can be used as a weapon it can't be allowed."
"I use this to walk," I said. It's an unfair advantage for me to be able to walk?
"But mightn't you also use it to hit someone?" the Capitol man pressed.
"If someone lets me get so close that I can hit them with my cane, and in the process probably fall over, isn't that their problem?" I asked. Better look out, Granny Cripple is coming for you! If she gets to you before you mosey away at a leisurely pace, you'll be in trouble!
"Maybe try doing some exercises to strengthen your leg," the man said.
Wow, thanks, I'm cured! I thought. Luckily I was so bewildered and honestly kind of impressed by his stupidity that I wasn't mad, since I wasn't known for holding my tongue, no matter how powerful the other guy was. "Can the Gamemakers give me a really light cane that couldn't hurt anyone?" I tried to compromise.
"We don't know about situations like this. In the Capitol, we have proper health care," the man said.
Wow, I'm sorry I'm poor. At least I'm not so stupid I can't make a stick.
"Don't worry, you can find a cane in the Bloodbath. We'll be sure to add some," the man said.
"How am I supposed to get to it if I can't walk?" I asked.
"You're a smart young lady," the man said. Well that's where your wrong, I thought.
"What if the Careers take it?" I ask.
"No one else needs a cane but you," the man said. Say that again more slowly, I thought. You're so close to getting it.
"So there will be a cane in the Games. So I can have a cane in the Games. But I can't bring a cane to the Games," I summarized.
"Rules are rules," the man said brightly.
"This is some..." Felisha's eyes went wide as she anticipated what was about to happen. Somehow I managed to stop myself before I got my tongue cut out. "Really good-looking food."
Connor Merlyn, District Five male (18)
Nailah was learning poisons. I knew that because I wanted to learn poisons but Nailah was there. I kept circling around at other stations trying to see when she was done without looking like I was looking at her. The last thing I wanted was the Careers thinking I was trying to scope them out. We all were trying to scope them out, but we all didn't want to get caught.
When Nailah left to practice archery I was finally able to start. I looked over the various substances on the table, from pieces of plants to vials next to photos of the animals- mostly insects- that they came from.
"Do you know what kind of Arena it's going to be?" I asked the instructor. He was a tall man with black skin. Not dark skin- his skin was literally dyed black. I wondered if he also taught at the camouflage station.
He smiled. I expected his teeth to stand out sharply against his skin but they were also dyed black. "Looking for a little insider information, are we?" he asked.
I shrugged. "It was worth a try," I said.
The man took a quick look around the room. "Let's just say this is a good station to be at," he hinted.
So it's outdoors, then, I guess, I thought. Unless it's a poison control center or a hospital or something. Seems more likely it would be outdoors. Maybe somewhere with lots of plants and insects? Maybe it's a rainforest.
I knew I couldn't guess the exact location, so I turned back to the items on the table. The day before I'd been at the knives station and now I was confronted with the same dark truth. If I learned about these poisons it was because I wanted to kill people.
Can I kill someone? For years now I'd worked toward being a doctor. It was a sacred and burdensome profession. For so long I'd been working toward the moment when I'd take an oath to do no harm. But I haven't taken it yet, I argued with myself. At once I saw my own hypocrisy. If the only thing that mattered was taking the oath then it meant nothing. Words are just words. It's someone's honor that determines if he'll keep his vow or not. What did my honor say about this?
If I don't get home I'll never be a doctor. What if I would have saved some people? Do they matter, or only the present? How much is one life worth? If I killed two people in the Arena, just for example, and then later I saved hundreds as a doctor, did that mean anything? But did I have the right to peddle flesh like that? Whoever I killed, they weren't just "two people". They were two people. People who had as much right to be alive as I did. I couldn't say I was worth more because I wanted to be a doctor. Maybe I'd fail my exam. Maybe one of the people I killed would have been a doctor, or done something else where they saved hundreds of people. I couldn't hide behind lofty theoreticals. Whatever choice I made was my own and I bore my own consequences.
Am I going to kill people?
I knew my answer before I admitted it. Immediately I started laying out some rules. No one younger than fifteen, I resolved, quashing down my conscience's immediate protests about different developmental speeds and individual cases. Preferably only Careers. If I could make that work I didn't think I'd have much guilt afterward. No running after people to kill them. Only if they attack me or if they settle near me and use necessary resources. See, I have honor, I told myself. Sometimes things aren't black and white. Perfect morality is a privilege, really. In some cases you have to do the best you can. Sometimes there's no right answer, no matter how much you want to pick it.
I picked up a water hemlock leaf and turned it over in my hand. I'd made my choice. Whatever became of my soul, it was on me.
Desiree Redwood, District Seven female (17)
I could mess around in the training room with axes I'd already used for my entire life. OR... I could go check out the local scenery.
The local scenery was very colorful. I saw a pretty lady with pink hair, a pretty lady with green hair, a pretty lady with brown hair, and plenty of pretty ladies with multicolored hair. Also a pretty lady with no hair.
The young lady standing alone by a juice bar had black hair and green eyes. It wasn't either of those that caught my attention. It was that, unlike most Capitolites gawking in the Games center, she was off by herself and seemed almost morose.
"Hate to interrupt, but are you all by yourself here?" I asked. Maybe not that great a conversation starter but conversations were always awkward to start the first time you met someone.
"I came with some friends. They kinda all paired up, you know? Not on purpose or anything," the girl said, shrugging.
"Well today's your lucky day because I am also alone! You wanna make some mischief or something?" I asked.
The girl smiled and brightened up. "That sounds kinda fun. You're a Tribute, right?"
"Yeah, but I'm not looking for sponsors or anything. Just checking out the Games building. I'm Des," I said.
"I'm Jemimah," the girl said.
"So what's cool around here?" I asked.
"I did want to check out the menagerie," Jemimah offered.
I'd never seen a koala before. Neither had Jemimah, but she'd also never seen a squirrel. I told her they were all over in Seven but discreetly left out the part where we ate them. And the part where I was actually kind of scared of them. It was just their little teeth... they seemed so sharp and nippy. I preferred my squirrels in a stew pot.
"That's a big alligator," Jemimah said of the green fellow chilling in a fake pond.
"Wouldn't want to fight him," I agreed. I should have been more scared of his teeth, but... squirrels. Ew.
"Aren't you scared, going into the Games?" Jemimah asked as we sat in the food court drinking smoothies. She was kind enough to pay since I left my wallet in Seven.
"Oh, definitely. I'm super scared. It just kind of won't feel really real until I get there," I said. I wondered if Jemimah had ever been really scared. Just because someone was rich didn't mean they didn't have problems. Maybe Jemimah's parents beat her or something. Or maybe she'd been in a car accident.
"I really like the Games, but it's sad people have to die," Jemimah said. "I wish they'd do it with paintballs or something. Like the Tributes shoot each other but they don't die, we just see who would have been the last if it wasn't paintballs and then that one gets a prize.
"Do me a favor and become a Gamemaker," I joked.
"I don't know what I want to do after school," Jemimah mused, her gaze going distant as she thought about the future.
"I suppose I would have been a lumberjack," I said. "If I could have chosen anything in the world I used to daydream about being a matchmaker. Like I literally just help people get together and that's my job. I would have liked that."
"I kind of want to be an artist," Jemimah said.
"Go for it," I urged. "Go big or go home. If I win I'll buy your stuff."
"You better. I'll remember," Jemimah teased.
"It's a date," I said.
