Chapter 37: Geneva Cooper
A/N: So here's Geneva, the girl who gives District One the lead in terms of Victor count! I've given her scattered mentions here and there but here she is, finally in the spotlight and ready to shine! So, all of the previous District One Victors have defied the spoiled rich kid cliche and are generally disloyal towards the noble cause when they first entered the arena, so here's the exception! Will she remained spoiled all the way, or wake up and realise just how horrible the Games actually are? Read on to find out more!
P.S. Pls review to give your thoughts and complete the poll on your favourite Victor on my profile page! There's a second poll on which country would make a good arena setting, but I can't embed it on my profile, so if you would rather have that poll embedded instead, feel free to PM me!
P.S.S. The arena is loosely based on Chamarel, Mauritius. I randomly found it when I was researching for potential arena locations and knew it had to be in there! If you know of any beautiful places from your country that might make an interesting arena, feel free to review/ PM me!
Katniss raised an eyebrow, eyeing Geneva. "Wasn't she like a spoiled, pampered girl?"
Peeta nodded. "Yeah."
"Then how come she's friends with the Fishers? No offence to them, but Iris and Rafael don't exactly sound like the type of friends spoiled, snooty nobles would have," Katniss remarked.
Peeta shrugged. "The arena changed her, I guess. Like it did with all of us."
Katniss shuddered. "Yeah, I guess so. The arena's a terrifying place. Even the strongest don't exactly come out the same."
"Exactly," Peeta agreed. "But I wonder, what was the turning point for Geneva?"
Geneva Cooper
District 1
Aged 17
8 Kills
"Oi, you!" Geneva shouted, pulling one of her numerous maids by her hair. The maid flinched from Geneva's rough pull but Geneva didn't care. This was her house! She reigned supreme over those lousy maids! Geneva pushed the maid towards her room, causing her to fall over and land on her bum. She threw a broom at the poor maid, who was only sixteen, but she managed to dodge it in time. "Get to work!" Geneva ordered, kicking the maid girl's back.
The maid girl flinched, wincing as she lay in a hopeless heap on the ground. "Yes, Miss C-Cooper..."
"It's 'Your Highness', you little bitch!" Geneva shrieked, slamming the door shut. The maid girl groaned in pain as she lay sprawled on the ground, clutching the broom in her hand tightly. She had exactly one hour to clean this messy girl's room up, or Geneva would get her dog to chase her again. She winced at the memory, touching the scars on the skin of her harm tenderly. And to think that she had to go through all this for the meagrest of wages, while Geneva sat pretty as a picture in her high throne of a palace, doing absolutely nothing except train for those stupid Games and bask in her wealth. Life wasn't fair. It never was, not even in the luxury District, supposedly the pinnacle of District wealth, where everyone was meant to look pretty and shop all day long. It couldn't be farther from reality, though. Life here was often just as tough as in, say, Three, or Seven. It just wasn't on the cover page of the District's image. All the Capitol ever showed was the grand lifestyle of the spoiled noble brats. The maid girl sighed. She just wished that one day, someone, anyone, would remember her and bring her out of this noble madness. Her name was Glisten Irvine, the girl who would one day give birth to two Victors, but that's another story. For now, all she could do was put up with Geneva's constant screeching.
Glisten watched as Geneva continued to harass her fellow maids, servants and cooks, all of whom were between the ages of fourteen and thirty. She'd known them all for ages, forming close bonds with many of them, especially the younger ones. Many were weak, struggling to make a living. They had water, shelter and a meal a day, more than many of their poverty-stricken counterparts across Panem, but that didn't mean they had to enjoy their lives. Not when Geneva was running the torture and abuse show. Glisten grimaced as Geneva hauled a young, trembling fifteen-year-old cook to his feet, slapping him relentlessly. Glisten knew him well. He was one of her closest friends among her barrage of slaves. Tsar Maddison, the son of a cook who had once worked here, but now worked for a different branch of the Cooper family. But it was still the same family, with the same levels of cruelty. At least the Carmichaels had some sense of decency but the Coopers definitely wouldn't let her go there. Geneva would have her hanged for treason. Geneva grabbed an iron rod. Oh, gosh. Tsar must have royally screwed up. Geneva only saved the rod for the offences that angered her the most. Glisten had to squeeze her eyes shut and cover her ears as the rod whacked Tsar furiously, the screams of agony of the poor young cook boy echoing through the room. Once the beating was done and the slaves were dispersed, Glisten immediately rushed over to Tsar. "You okay?" she asked, gasping at the sight of blood pouring out of his arms and rear end.
"Ack," Tsar groaned. "Need. To. See. Medics!"
Glisten didn't need to be told twice. She rushed him over to the two slaves who knew medicine well, the family medics, who were generally treated a lot more humanely than everyone else in the household. Glad and Refresh, the twenty-four-year-old twins, were the experts at patching people up. When they saw Tsar, their faces grew dark with concern. Glisten gulped. Something was wrong. "Broken arm. That's the main issue," Glad told them, her face etched with worry. "Alongside numerous other injuries. He needs surgery now."
"You can do it, right?" Glisten asked warily.
"Oh, sure," Refresh assured her. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?" His eyes darted to the door, in a fit of fear. Even they weren't spared from Geneva's tyranny. Glisten promised that she wouldn't and left them to it. They didn't need to know, but she had grown to kind of, maybe, well, like Tsar, as more than a friend. That was why she was so worried about him.
"Hold on, Tsar," she muttered under her breath. "It will all be over when Geneva dies in the arena. I hope so, at least."
Crystal was not keen on mentoring another spoiled noble tribute. This year, Geneva had chosen her, her of all people, to be her mentor. Why did it have to be her? Luxe got her snooty, proud brother Sceptre, but at least he didn't slap him. Crystal, however, got the Geneva Cooper four-slap-treatment, which would have been a painful ordeal had she not experienced the arena. The flashbacks still haunted her to this day. Crystal rubbed her cheek, wishing she had some of that Capitol aspirin. There was none on the train, unfortunately, so she would have to wait until she could get to the nearest Capitolian pharmacy. Geneva glared at her, hands on her hips, a fiery expression on her face. Even for a noble kid, she was insufferable. "So?" Geneva demanded, clicking her heels. "How do I win this thing?"
"Maybe start with treating me nicely?" Crystal suggested. That only got her another hard slap. "Ouch."
"Hey, be serious now!" Geneva scolded her.
Crystal sighed. What had she done wrong to get herself into this mess? She had mentored Luxe to victory, shouldn't she be treated as a hero for helping to break their losing streak? Apparently not. "Go to the survival stations," Crystal told her. "And be nicer to everyone. You don't want them ganging up on you."
Geneva rolled her eyes, snorting like a pig. "Yeah, right, whatever. You know what? You're useless! You didn't even win properly! You're a disgrace to the District! I'm switching mentors!" The insults meant nothing to Crystal. She had heard them all her life. All she could feel was bliss as Geneva shoved her out of the room and dragged in a shocked Franc, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but near Geneva.
"That girl's dying sooner or later," Crystal predicted, rolling her eyes. "No way she can be a Victor!" Crystal would be proven wrong soon enough, though.
Rafael was miserable. His life was in shambles, his career as a Victor utterly meaningless and his voice nearly lost forever. He sighed as he stood to one side, watching his fellow mentors give Cody and Swim their final instructions before the parade began. He was useless here, without much of a purpose. Draco would surely soon come by to torment him again, he was sure of it. He didn't expect though, that this year, his tormenter would be the girl from District One. Geneva marched up to him, a nasty sneer plastered all over her classically beautiful face. She was exactly his age but he was clearly at least ten years more mature. Geneva grabbed him by the collar. He yelped, trying to brush her off but she was too strong. Jolien and Marina rushed forward and yanked her away. "What the heck?" Jolien growled.
"You're not a Victor," Geneva snickered cruelly. "You're a disgrace! You're just a weak little kid who should have died horribly in that arena!" She whipped out a locket with her free hand that wasn't clamped by Marina and showed it to him. He gasped.
"N-no..." It was One Girl from his Games. He backed away but there was nowhere to back away to, just the chariot.
"Hey!" Timmy shouted, the anger rising in his voice. "Beat it, B-tech Crystal!"
"She was my sister you freak!"Geneva screeched, pointing an accusing finger at him. "And you killed him! You will pay for this!"
That was all it took to trigger all of Rafael's horrible memories. The pain, the guilt, the grief all flooded to him in one big go, like a huge tsunami wave crashing upon him at the speed of light. He let out another long scream.
Octavian should be relishing the moment. This was his dream ever since he was a child! He finally got to compete in the arena and kill those useless shrimps just like Draco, Freya and Hercules! But he wasn't even enjoying himself one bit. Not when that snob Geneva was the leader of the pack! She screeched constantly at them, ordering them around to do her bidding. Her brother seemed pretty chill with it and the Fours, well rather, the girl from Four, the boy was a thirteen-year-old wimp who was excluded from the pack, didn't seem too bothered. But he, Octavian, he was a strong, powerful brute! He demanded and commanded respect back home in Two! He hated this new upstart little princess from One! Gnashing his teeth, he sulked as he rubbed his cheek, having been on the receiving end of the four-slap-treatment, surprisingly painful even for someone practically immune to pain like him. She would get her judgement, feel this pain in the arena. As Geneva showed off her pathetic shooting skills, Octavian vowed to make her death the most painful one possible. He never quite got around to carrying that out.
Franc wished that Geneva had just stuck with Crystal. He had handled annoying tributes before, it was pretty much the norm these days, but Geneva took it a step further. Her four-slap-treatment and shoe-wallop-treatment were simply awful to have to deal with. He had tried to instil some respect in her by telling her off but it hadn't worked one bit. She merely wailed like a big baby and dished out several false accusations about him to the Peacekeepers on guard. Franc was lucky he had enough money to bribe them into keeping everything a tightly-kept secret. Still, it only served to prove that this Geneva girl was rotten to the core and wouldn't last a day in that horrific place known as the arena. Her score of nine meant nothing. The Hunger Games wasn't just a physical battle, it was a mental one too. In fact, the mental struggles were often tougher than the physical ones. Ask any Victor other than Draco and Freya and they could tell you just that. He slunk in his seat as Geneva rambled on and on about her mansion back home and how she would steal all the tokens of the tributes she could and display them in her new home along with the new blood stains she would collect from their corpses and blah blah blah. Even worse, she tried to flirt with Caesar, touching his arm and giggling at his every word. Caesar seemed flustered and tried his very best to resist her advances. Franc, though, could barely suppress his laughter at the incredulous look of jealousy on Iris Fisher's face. Her face was scrunched up and her fists were balled as if she were ready to take down this new challenger for her boyfriend. Franc had to admit, at least during her interview, Geneva brought some entertainment quality. But he still firmly believed she was likely going to die of a mosquito bite or food poisoning or something like that. He was wrong.
When Geneva first saw the arena, she thanked her lucky stars that it wasn't another ancient temple of doom. But did the sun really have to shine so brightly? The ground was hotter than an oven. It was a relief that she was wearing boots, otherwise her delicate feet would feel the heat. The sun glared into her eyes like a rebellious slave, one she could so easily dish out her famous four-slap-treatment to, but the sun was untouchable, immune to her anger and protests. She used her hand to shield her eyes and looked around. The Cornucopia was in a small, flat clearing of dry, brown earth. It was the ground beyond that awed her. Stretching far and wide were multi-coloured sand dunes, shining brilliant shades of red, brown, violet, green, blue, purple and yellow. The colours were surreally striped and coloured across the entire stretch of dunes, forming a brilliant landscape. Beyond the dunes was a large, expansive forest, the ground it stood on sloping upwards to form a hill. In the distance, there was a river that cascaded down a mighty waterfall, forming a small pool below. Geneva wondered if that water was safe to drink from. Beyond the waterfalls and forests was a beach with several seemingly harmless tortoises. Little did the tributes know, those tortoises were one of their biggest threats in this arena. The arena, overall, for the tributes at least, was a huge improvement from last year's temple, which was filled to the brim with traps and was designed to inject fear into the hearts of even the Careers. This one at least seemed safe to walk across, without fearing a jaguar popping out of nowhere or a punji stick trap showing up underneath their feet. Geneva got ready. The run of her life was about to begin! The moment she had longed to experience ever since she was a tiny toddler, the moment she had watched so many others before her go through in awe and fascination, the moment when she could unleash her killing prowess. The gong rang and she was off in a blast of speed. Her eyes drifted towards her favourite set of knives. Those would be her ultimate advantage in the arena! Scooping up the knives, she took one in her hand, examining it briefly. Smiling in sadistic satisfaction, she flung it at the boy from Four's chest. He let out a choked gasp and fell to the ground like a rag doll. She grinned. The look on his face when he died, the way he had fallen, it was simply brilliant! Adrenaline coursed through her and she was intent on making as many kills as she could. She spotted Sceptre cornering the meek boy from Seven and smirked. Time to steal her brother's thunder. One flick of her wrist and he was dead before Sceptre could land the final stab. He glared at her, annoyance written all across his face. She shrugged playfully. "Early bird gets the worm!" she reminded him, quoting their instructor at the Career Academy. Behind her, the girl from Six was grappling with the girl from Seven. Geneva chuckled to herself, eager to see more blood spilt. She skewered them both with one hard throw of her knife, cackling like the wicked witch that she was slowly becoming. Geneva had no regrets, she was finally doing what she was meant to do: kill! Just as she aimed her knife at the trembling boy from Ten, who was struggling to climb through the dunes, Sceptre shouted her name. Turning on her heel, she saw Octavian, that brutal, ever-rebellious and frankly rather pudgy boy from Two charging at her. "What is this betrayal?!" she shrieked, stunned at his sudden attack. He pulled her to the ground but she was quick and wriggled out of his grasp, giving him a well-executed kick that sent him tumbling face-first into the colourful earth. With one stab, she ended the rebellious Career boy's life, grinning broadly. "That's what you get for betraying our alliance," she sneered, spitting at his corpse. Meanwhile, across the Cornucopia clearing, Sceptre and Swim were taking turns stabbing Portia, his District partner. She cried out in pain but neither Career listened to her drawn-out pleas, calmly torturing her to death. Geneva smirked, finally getting the chance to kill that boy from Ten, whose fat ass couldn't drag him across the dunes in time. Less competition for her meant she was one step closer to winning the crown.
The Careers wandered through the woods. It was sweltering hot, unbearable for Geneva. She constantly moaned about the lack of moisturiser or air-conditioning. Sceptre rolled his eyes. Sometimes he was almost ashamed to say that they were related. She was a spoiled brat, even by his spoiled standards. How on earth could she possibly win? Sceptre had known it ever since Portia's cannon rang, he was the new favourite to win the Games by a mile. Now all he had to do was maintain his momentum. His sister might have stolen the show with her six Bloodbath kills but his tally of four kills was respectable too. At least it was better than Swim's count of two. Not to mention, when they had found the girl from Twelve, he had thrown his spear first, to claim his fifth arena kill and edge closer to upstaging his enraged sister, until of course, they had run into the boy from Five. Geneva had claimed that kill, forcing Sceptre back to square one. They were slowly approaching the waterfall now, one he hoped would give them a reliable source of fresh water. Geneva that pampered idiot had drunk most of their supplies, giving anyone who tried to stop her a shoe-walloping and a seven-punch-treatment. Sceptre had known her long enough not to push it. Swim, however, hadn't. Sceptre had barely managed to save the fisher girl's life after she endured Geneva's eight-kick-treatment. Just then, he heard a rustle amongst the bushes. Readying his spear, he was a little bemused to find a fat duck-like bird with brownish feathers, black claws and a big beak. It dawdled around noisily and Geneva that hot-tempered girl squashed it to death in no time. Sceptre barely remembered those birds from an old children's book about legendary birds. It was called the dodo, a remarkably stupid name, in his opinion. The only description it was ever given was that it was frankly a pretty useless creature that was often used as target practice by heroes and heroines in Capitol lore. He sighed. At least it was harmless but did Geneva really have to kill it that way? It was a fascinatingly useless specimen, they shouldn't have killed it. Besides, squashing a dodo would make it inedible for them. Nice going, idiot, he thought, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. Suddenly, out of the blue, an entire flock of dodos, at least a couple hundred of them at once, burst out of the woods, squawking and charging angrily and awkwardly at them, bumbling their fat bodies forward. Many of them tripped and got themselves killed in the oncoming rush but more popped up in their absence. It was like one huge, monstrously hilarious, self-killing killing machine. "RUN!" he yelled, feeling a little silly that he had to run from dodos of all creatures but that was the situation at hand. The dodos charged at them, squawking and bumbling about like relentless roast turkeys. In the distance, a cannon boomed. Sceptre couldn't see it, but the dodo swarm had trampled the girl from Nine, crouching behind a bush not too far away. He sprinted fast as he could, cursing as more dodos appeared to pop out of nowhere, closing in on them from nearly all directions.
"How many are there?" Swim yelped.
"Don't care, just run!" Geneva roared.
"This was your fault to begin with!" Swim shrieked, slicing a dodo that had come way too close to her. Sceptre secretly agreed with her. If Geneva hadn't squashed that poor dodo, they wouldn't have been provoked to attack. But he wasn't going to say that out loud, of course. Not when Geneva had thrown her knife into Swim's leg, causing her to fall over in searing pain and before Sceptre could save her, she was gone, trampled by the onrushing dodo army. Sceptre glared at Geneva, who didn't look even the slightest remorseful.
"What was that for?" he barked, slowing down a little. His legs were getting tired.
"She was insulting me!" Geneva complained, her voice an irritating whine. Sceptre knew his sister was a bitch but that was just too far. He couldn't act on it, though. If he killed his own sister, he would be stoned to death upon his arrival back home in District One. He had to put up with it, at least for the time being. They neared the waterfall. Sceptre cursed, realising there was nowhere else to run. They were cornered! He glanced around frantically as the dodos closed in, searching for an escape. Geneva, that pampered bitch, was whining about mud in her shoes. Like, seriously? That was her top priority? Sceptre was humiliated to even be remotely related to her! He'd heard about what had happened to Tsar. He had beaten that wimpy boy up before himself, but he would never break his bones just because he added one gram too much sugar! Another cannon boomed in the distance. The boy from Nine, seriously injured by the dodos, had committed suicide. Sceptre's eyes laid to rest on a cave behind the waterfall. Perfect! He hauled Geneva, screaming as he yanked her hair, along with him as they burst through the cascade into a small cave. The dodos thankfully did not follow them. But Geneva's temper sadly did. She screeched at him for yanking at her hair, acting once more like a total bitch. All her screaming and agitation was the reason why Sceptre failed to pick out the looming shadows of the pair from Eight, creeping up behind them. Slash! One second he was shaking his head exasperatedly as Geneva pointed out all his faults, furiously trying to dry her soaking wet hair, the next thing he knew, his head was on the ground, severed from the rest of his body!
Geneva walked around like a zombie, moaning and groaning to herself. She hadn't slept in ages. How could she, when only three days ago, she had witnessed her own brother, Sceptre, suffer a beheading at the hands of that bastard boy from Eight? The sight of his head, rolling about on the ground, his eyes blinking in a dazed manner once last time, his coarse hair smeared with wet earth, it shattered her to the core. No longer was she that stupid, pink princess, whiny bitch of a little girl, no, she came out of that waterfall something else. Something nearly equivalent to Gadget or Rafael. She had stabbed the boy from Eight but the girl escaped, only to be mauled by the tortoise mutts by the beach just two days later. At this point, Geneva didn't give a shit about the Games. She was starting to regret everything she had ever done in her life, all the times she mistreated Glisten and Tsar, all the times she screamed at others, and of course, all the times she killed a tribute or helped in their painful deaths. She just wanted it to happen to her too, just so that she could go up to heaven and apologise to everyone, to tell them that she was so, so sorry for everything, especially to Sceptre. If she just hadn't whined about her hair, he might have been alive! She cursed her actions day and night, night and day. Eventually, she arrived back at the multicoloured dunes. The girl from Eleven was on the ground, moaning in pain. Her leg was badly cut up and was bleeding blood stained with a sickly purple. She had been bitten by the tortoise mutts and suffered from the effects of their venom. She was already convulsing, not a chance she would last long. Her District partner was by her side, cradling her. His arm had been bitter by the mutts too, but the bite was shallow, the effects would take longer to kick in. Geneva crouched behind a purple dune, unwilling to come near. The boy had a sword, and all she had left was one knife. In his aggravated state, he would torture her to death. Besides, in her mental state, there was no way she could take anyone else down. It was in situations like this that she wished Sceptre was here, guiding her, fighting her battles for her, oh gosh, why did she have to be such a spoiled brat? She buried her face in her hands, weeping quietly, silently wishing the boy from Five showed up and killed her. At least he seemed somewhat merciful. But one thing was certain, Geneva Cooper the spoiled brat was no more. Miles away, Glisten and Tsar had shared their first kiss, right under the Hunger Games screen, as a big 'screw you' to Geneva. She didn't plan on punishing them anyway. Her mind was muddled with sorrow, she was in no mood to give any of her famous treatments or wallopings.
A day passed and the girl from Eleven was dead. The boy from Eleven had stormed off in the other direction as Geneva lay crouched on the dunes, shivering. The Gamemakers had blasted a current of freezing cold air her way and she was hardly grateful for it. S-stup-pid Game-e-mak-kers!, she thought, huddling her feet closer for warmth. The sky was blue as ever and it ceased to rain, despite the numerous clouds above, perhaps a tiny bit of mercy on the part of the Gamemakers? She looked down at the hazel-coloured earth, her matching hazel eyes desperate and anxious. "Please," she whispered softly. "I'm sorry."
Reaper wandered the forest, trudging up the hills, searching for that brat from One or that nerdy shrimp from Five. "Come on, where are you?" he grumbled, one hand on his sword, the other on his wounded shoulder. The poison was starting to kick in now and he was feeling the strain even as he walked. He felt as though at any given moment, he might faint or throw up. The bile scuffled about in his throat, a reminder that he was on a ticking clock, on borrowed time. If he didn't find and kill the other two tributes soon, he would be a goner, another dead tribute in the Hunger Games. And considering that he had a family to support, he wasn't going to let that happen. "Just show up already!" he growled, stomping his foot impatiently. Wrong choice of words, because not a minute later, he felt an explosion of pain in his body. It quickly vanished but Reaper was left stunned. How? Who? Where? When? Why? As a damp lump formed on his throat and he slumped to the ground, he was expecting to hear that useless girl from One's endless chatter. Instead, as the redness of the blood pooled beneath him, colouring the earth red, hauntingly similar to the earth on the dunes, he caught a glimpse of the boy from Five, a regretful look on his face. "No," he choked out, feeling his life draining away from him, little by little.
"I'm sorry," the boy from Five uttered, before dashing away and leaving Reaper to die, all alone and in searing pain.
Geneva hadn't expected it to end this way, but it had. The boy from Five had sneaked up on her on the twelfth day as she lay behind a dune, asleep and in the midst of a nightmare. It was out of sheer, dumb luck that she had dreamed of a mutt edging closer towards her and punched the air just as the boy raised his knife. Her fist came into hard contact with his face. He yelped and Geneva woke up to a rude awakening. Not realising that she had in fact woken up, she started screaming, kicking about and flailing wildly and the boy did so too. Soon, a cannon boomed. It wasn't for her.
Iris and Rafael stood in the elevator, quietly waiting to arrive at the rooftop, their only safe place of refuge these days. Neither quite enjoyed the company of the Victors' Circle, since only half of them viewed them with a shrewd of positivity. Neither expected to find the newest Victor on the rooftop, staring forlornly out towards the Capitolian skyline, mumbling about the brother she had lost. Rafael gasped, backing away, his fingers shaking. Geneva turned around, a sad gaze lingering upon her beautiful hazel eyes. "Hi."
Rafael looked as though he was ready to skedaddle but Iris stood firm, giving Geneva a small smile, the memories of her arena never quite leaving her either. "Hello, Geneva. You doing okay?"
Geneva glanced towards the side. Blinking back tears, she choked out, "Sceptre, his head rolling on the floor, reminds me of her. Of Charisma." Her voice faltered.
Rafael gulped, twitching his fingers nervously. "I-I'm-m-m s-s-"
"Don't be," Geneva told him. "I get it now. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for saying all those things about you. Gosh, I can't believe we're both only seventeen and yet-" A sad laugh escaped her lips. "And yet we've already lost so much." She gave Rafael a hug, which he didn't return out of surprise. Iris patted her back.
"Look, Geneva. We're all in this together. You've got a new family now. Us Victors. And someday," she leaned in to whisper. "We'll overthrow President Snow and his regime."
Katniss and Peeta had their moment of silence for Geneva. "She may have been spoiled but not even she deserved the arena," Katniss remarked.
"Yeah. It really changed her for the worse," Peeta noted, sighing deeply. There was no reason to dwell on Geneva so they moved on. Peeta flipped the page. The next Victor was a tall girl with curly brown hair and a splash of freckles across her face. She laid one hand on her neck, as if in pain. Switch stood beside her, holding the microphone, an odd gesture since the Victors more often than not were forced to speak up. "Porter Tripp."
VICTORS
District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25), Luxe Carmichael(36), Geneva Cooper(37)
District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22), Hercules Nichols(28)
District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24)
District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11), Jolien Fisher(31), Timmy Fisher(32), Iris Fisher(33), Rafael Fisher(34)
District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19), Flash Morrison(27)
District 6-Ford Hamilton(20)
District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35)
District 8-Woof Casino(16)
District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18), Laurel Flamsteel(29)
District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23)
District 11-Orchid Bloom(12), Seeder Crue(30)
District 12-Axel Millar(3)
A/N: So there we have it! Geneva survives and we have our first spoiled, noble brat who wins the Games! Hope you liked her storyline and her arena, which I loosely based on Chamarel, Mauritius, specifically the Seven Coloured Earths, Chamarel Falls and Ebony Forest. Oh, and the dodo mutts, lol since I based it on Mauritius, I just had to lmao. Pls review or PM me for more and I still can't believe that nearly a hundred people read my story on a consistent basis! What started as a small, secret quarantine project to distract myself from injuries so I wouldn't have to tell my parents and hence escape a fourth visit to the ER in three years (gosh) and schoolwork has really exceeded my expectations! I honestly thought only about ten people from say, the US or Australia or some other Western country would read my stories, but over a thousand viewers from the States alone seems shocking, especially considering that I've never even been there and they've probably never been to where I'm from haha. Thanks to everyone who made this possible and on a side note, do check out cartierscrown's One Big Explosion fanfic and pls support my tributes, Olive and Rowan, haha! Thank you, everyone and I hope that unlike me, you'll have a good night! Cheers:)