Chapter 9:
Artem Nobyl, 14, District Five
Eight Months Before The Reaping
Artem slows his pace as he reaches two blocks away from their apartment complex, struggling to compose himself and pretend to his fathers that everything went great today. He doesn't want their concern and to threat to go talk to the school, not after all the struggle they went through to get him there in the first place. He put up with this for a year at the old school…he can deal with it again to be around people, to actually have something normal in his life. After all they've done for him, he can't just throw away them doing this for him after the first day.
He just should have known that being him and the new kid was just going to be a recipe for disaster. Why would this school and its students be any different from that last one?
The bustling sounds of Five and everyone slowly getting out of school and work surround Artem as he walks the last two blocks, adding to the noise with the soft clicking of his crutch on the sidewalk. He keeps his head down, avoiding the stares from people passing him – stares he never thought were malicious until a year ago. But as he stares down at the uneven sidewalk, carefully placing his crutch each time, he can feel his eyes prickling as he struggles to hold back the tears that have been threatening to fall all day. He just needs to get a little bit further…get into the apartment and use the excuse of taking a shower and then he can let it all out without his fathers knowing. Because that's always worked in the past.
It rarely works.
Artem picks his head up as he approaches the front door of the apartment complex, letting out a sigh as he hesitates for a moment. What is he even going to say to them? Can he really pretend everything was just great and he loved school and made so many friends? Artem can only assume that middle school is literal hell on earth.
"Watch it, freak!" Someone yells at him as they bump into his shoulder and crutch, knocking him off balance and sending him to the ground. Artem cries out in pain as he slams against the harsh cement, feeling his hand and arm scrap against it and the deep pain in his hip from landing on the crutch, all while the teen that shoved him over laughs as they join their friends, pointing at him as he struggles to stand back up.
One starts walking over to him and Artem braces himself to get kicked – wouldn't be the first time it's happened – until the boy stops and starts backing up at the look from someone approaching. "Hey fuckwad, back the fuck off."
Artem sits himself up as one of his neighbors down the hall crouches down next to him. Two years older than him, Ingrid has every right to just ignore him, yet she gives him an apologetic smile. "Doing alright, Artem?"
"Just fine," Artem says under his breath as he slowly gets himself back up, with Ingrid thankfully not trying to help him without him asking like so many people try to do. She does hand him his backpack once he's standing and he gives a small smile at her, while his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at her seeing what happened. "Do you mind not mentioning this to my dads?"
"I didn't see anything," Ingrid answers as she heads up to the door and punches in the key code, Artem hobbling behind her and wincing with each step at his bruised hip and the torn skin pressing on the crutch. She smiles as she holds open the door for him to pass through first and once his back is facing her, he lets the pain show on his face. "Man, teenagers really are such assholes."
"We're both teenagers," Artem points out as he presses the button for the elevator and Ingrid laughs at this, making him flinch for a moment before realizing she's not laughing at him, but what he said. He glances over at her as they wait for the creaking old elevator to reach the ground floor, discretely trying to hide his skinned arm from her concerned eyes. He can feel his stupid face heating up at her looking concerned for him and his heart beating a bit faster, and he's quite happy when the doors open up and he can step inside and avoid looking at her. Damn stupid crush…he really shouldn't have a crush on the one person close to his age that's actually nice to him. It's just a matter of time until she becomes like everyone else and sees him for the crippled person he's been his whole life.
"We're exceptions, then," Ingrid responds to him as she leans up against the elevator as they move up to the sixth floor, too far for even a normal person like Ingrid to want to take the stairs. But right now he wishes she would have…because he thought he was on the verge of tears before but now it could take one comment and it will push him over the edge.
Artem silently urges the elevator to move faster than snail's pace, so desperately needing to get alone inside his apartment. Any other day he would be excited about this conversation with Ingrid, but not today.
"Make sure you clean out those scratches right away," Ingrid tells him as the elevator slows at their floor, and Artem just nods his head, not trusting his voice right now. "Never know what piss there is on the sidewalks."
"Yeah," Artem mutters as Ingrid steps out first, using her arm to keep the doors open for him. He hobbles past her, avoiding looking at her face as he stops in front of his door – thankfully closest to the elevator. He can see from the corner of his eye Ingrid hesitating a bit nearby, and he quickly mumbles, "Thanks."
Artem steps inside his apartment before he can see the pity on her face – it's always pity or disgust on faces when people look at him. He slams the door and leans against it, taking a few breaths to steady himself, before realizing he should have been more subtle shutting the door to not notify his father that he's home.
"Hey Artem!" Boris calls out from the next room, his voice way too cheery and making Artem feel guilty that he might ruin that for him. "How was school?"
"It was fine," Artem answers as he hobbles over to his room, leaving the crutch by the door and choosing to get around the way he always has in this small apartment. He doesn't need to make his fathers upset with him too by knocking over something with his crutch on accident…that was what started all of this, bumping into Damask's desk as he tried to get to the one open desk in the back. He can still hear her insults as Fino snickered next to her before going back to praising his girlfriend, who just stared Artem down as if she was trying to pull back each layer of him and learn everything she could about him.
He can hear his father's footsteps behind him as the tears finally start to fall down his cheeks, making him pick up his one footed hopping through the hallway to get to the bathroom faster. "Artem?"
"I'm fine, Dad," Artem calls back, most definitely not fine at all. He does his damn best to hold in his sobs as he reaches for the bathroom doorknob, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Artem mutters a curse under his breath and turns his head down towards the floor. Of course his father caught up to him. Any normal person can probably walk faster than his run – if he could even call it that.
"You don't sound fine, kiddo," Boris tells him, before letting out a noise of concern as he grabs Artem's arm gently. He tries to tug it away, but Boris keeps a gentle but firm grip. "What happened?"
"The same thing that always happens," Artem mumbles, feeling his tears finally starting to slip out when he looks at his father and finds concern in his eyes. "It will be fine. I'll be fine."
Boris frowns at this, clearly not believing him, but doesn't protest just yet. "Let's at least get these scratches cleaned up, okay?" Boris says before gently leading Artem into the bathroom and sitting him down on the closed toilet seat. Artem keeps his head down as he tries to stop his silent tears as his father rummages in the medicine cabinet while letting water run to warm up. "Did this happen at school?"
"Not that part," Artem says quietly, before realizing he admitted to more happening than he wanted to. He quickly continues, trying to distract his father by focusing on the scratches, but he can see on his face it's not working. "This happened on my walk home. It's just a scratch because I…fell…"
Boris raises an eyebrow at him as he gentle moves Artem's arm and starts wiping away the dirt, making Artem cringe at the sting. "Artem, you've been walking the sidewalks around here your whole life and haven't fallen on your own in years."
"I was shoved, okay?" Artem bursts out at him in frustration as more tears fall down his cheeks. "Is that what you want to hear? I was shoved to the ground and called a freak because of how I look!"
"Oh honey, you're not a freak," Boris tells him as he sets down the bandages to put a hand on his cheek. Artem just feels guilty when he notices the pain in his father's eyes at this, knowing it's his fault. He's just such a burden on his fathers, always has been… Why did they even adopt him? No one else wanted to, for good reason.
"Look at me, I am a freak," Artem says bitterly as he raises up his left arm, bringing attention to the fact that his arm ends before his wrist, before using that arm to point down at his right leg that ends just past his knee. And that's just the physical signs…who knows what else there is internally from the accident his birth mother was in. "It's clear as day."
"You're different, yes," Boris answers quietly as he runs the washcloth under warm water again. He gently uses it to wipe the tears on Artem's face, but there's new tears quickly falling. "Being different doesn't make you a freak. Your father and I love you for exactly as you are. In fact, we love you more because of all your differences that make you special."
"I don't want to be different, I just want to be normal!" Artem bursts out at him, no longer able to hold in his anguish anymore. He puts his head in his hand, shaking it as he lets out a sob. "I want to walk down the street like anyone else and not have everyone stare at me like I'm a freak because I use a crutch and am missing part of my leg. I want to be able to go to school like everyone else and have friends and just be treated like a normal person."
Boris is silent for a while and Artem slowly picks up his head to look at his father. He realizes quickly the mistake he made in mentioning school as soon as he sees the cool look in his father's eyes as he is frozen in place, his hands tightening around the washcloth he holds. "What happened at school today?"
"Nothing," Artem answers quickly and tries to wipe at his eyes, but from the eyebrow Boris raises at him, Artem knows he's not fooling him. He doesn't want to make a big deal of this. All he wants is to just be in an actual school, around people his age, and not have to switch schools after a year again. It took so many years of begging to let him go instead of being homeschooled…even more begging to just switch to this new school instead of getting back to being at home. He can't ruin it now. "It was fine."
"Artem," Boris says, his tone warning him not to lie to him. "What happened?"
Artem turns his head to the floor, not wanting to tell him…but he can't exactly lie now, not when his father knows something happened. "Just more of the same. Teasing the new student because they're different and have to use a crutch to walk around."
"I fucking hate teenagers," Boris mutters under his breath and when Artem looks up at his father in surprise at his rare instance of cursing, Boris holds up a finger to him. "Don't tell your Dad I said that and don't repeat it. Do I need to go talk to the school?"
"I won't," Artem answers, both of them knowing Oswald is desperately trying to keep pretending that Artem is still ten and doesn't have quite the vocabulary of curse words. "But it's fine, Dad. Just dumb kids. Just let me deal with it, please?" Artem pleads with his father, more afraid of what Boris might do when upset compared to Oswald since it takes so much for him to reach this point. "I promise I'll be fine. I just…I want to feel normal."
"Being normal is overrated," Boris jokes with him, clearly trying to get him to smile and cheer up, but he sighs when it doesn't work. He pushes back Artem's hair from his face before putting his hand on his cheek. "Artem…I hope someday you realize you don't need approval from others… We've always tried to treat you like any other kid, but also protect you… Is going to that school really what you want?"
Artem nods his head quickly at this, not quite trusting his voice to not waver right now. "It is."
Boris gives a heavy sigh at this and steps back, staying deep in thought for a minute as Artem looks up at him with pleading eyes. "I want you to be happy… But you tell me as soon as anything like this happens again, okay?"
"Yes Dad," Artem answers right away, but he knows he won't be doing that. He knows it's going to continue and his fathers will take him out of that school right away… He'll just deal with the bullying and hopefully after a week or two, the novelty of him being the new student will go away. "I promise."
Iris Roseau, Escort for District Five
A nervous energy is bubbling inside Iris as she gets ready to take the stage, pushing down the wide-brimmed hat lined with flowers she wears before adjusting her pink curls so the blue tips are showing in front. Up until this point, she'd been enthusiastic about getting started as an escort for the first time and spent many hours asking Bee all sorts of questions about what to expect and what to do – so much time Mari started to joke she was spending more time with her parent than her. But she just wants to do her best right from the start, help her tributes to the best of her capabilities.
But now that she's standing in District Five, the excitement is mixing with anxiousness. She feels privileged to be in Five her first year, knowing that she could have been put much lower. Part of her wonders though if she was put here only because of her connections and not because of her enthusiasm and dedication towards the tributes… She just wants to do her best and help out the tributes, but also there's the concern that she'll come across as too excited for the Games to them. But she also doesn't want them thinking she doesn't care at all about them because that's far from the case.
Well she'll have to make sure she proves to them that she belongs here!
Iris is grinning as she steps outside onto the stage in District Five, but as she approaches the microphone – and cringes inside when her clumsy self trips a little on the way – her smile starts to falter as she takes in the children gathered in front of her. It's…not what she expected them to look like…she didn't expect the fear and sadness on their faces as they stare up at her. She's never had someone been afraid of her…she's not an intimidating girl, hell, just look at her appearance, she's wearing mostly pink! That's not scary at all.
Yet these children are afraid of her because of the power she has to pick their name.
Iris clears her throat as she stands in front of the microphone, trying to collect herself after getting a shock to her system about the sharp difference between the children of Five compared to the Capitol – some of which are the same age as her. With each passing second, her excitement starts to slip away, getting replaced with nervousness. "Hello, District Five. I'm your new escort, Iris Roseau. While I may be new, I have gotten lots of advice from Bee Morvay-Maxwell and I'm ready to do absolutely everything I can to help both tributes!" Iris clasps her hands in front of herself, trying to keep up the smile on her face as she looks at the children gathered in front of her, but it's hard when she gets fear in return. "I promise I'm going to do everything to get you another victor. Now I guess…I'll pick?"
Iris stares at the crowd for a couple seconds before nodding her head and making her way to the glass sphere to pick her first tribute, finding herself glad she took Bee's advice to not wear heels today. With how nervous she's starting to feel…she's almost certain she would have tripped in heels and that is not the first impression she wants to make.
She hesitates for a moment to pick a name, not wanting to further make the children of Five afraid of her, but soon picks one when she realizes that waiting around is just going to upset them further. "Okay," Iris says, clearing her throat at the microphone. "Our first tribute is…Margaery Fox."
The girl starts crying immediately at her name getting called out, making a pit of guilt instantly form in Iris. Margaery slowly makes her way up to the stage, brushing away the tears falling down her cheeks. As she gets closer, she sniffles a bit and tries to keep her held up and brushes back her hair, revealing big green eyes full of fear – and a little bit of hope. She wears a very nice white dress covered from top to bottom in black embroidered roses that Iris notices as she gets up to the stage. "Oh I like the flowers on your dress! It's very pretty."
From the look Margaery gives her, Iris realizes very quickly that complimenting her dress right now was not the right time to do that. "Right, sorry… Um, are there any volunteers for Margaery?"
No one steps forward – just as Bee had warned her of. Iris doesn't let it bother her, instead focusing on getting the next tribute picked before saying something else that will make District Five like her even less. She quickly picks the name, hoping to distract them from herself, only to bring more attention when she stumbles a little as she walks too quickly back to the microphone. "Um…Artem Nobyl. The second tribute is Artem Nobyl."
The boy who slowly makes his way up towards the stage is not what Iris expected and she puts a hand over her mouth in shock when she sees him, immediately feeling guilty that she picked his name. The boy has his head down as he slowly makes his way up, his long shaggy hair covering up his eyes from the crowd surrounding him. He uses a crutch to walk up to the stage, helping him since his right leg is amputated below the knee. No one steps forward to help him get to the stage, just watching in silence as this disabled boy heads toward the Hunger Games.
But when he looks up at the bottom of the stairs to the stage, Iris' heart breaks for the boy when she sees the numb look on his face and resignation as he makes his way up to her, seemingly accepting his death already.
Iris puts a hand on his shoulder gently when he reaches her, trying to give him a little bit of comfort. "We'll get you through this," she tells him, but from the look he gives her, it's clear he doesn't believe that at all. She turns to the crowd, hoping someone might be willing to step forward for him. "Are there any volunteers?"
Iris waits, hope slipping away with each passing second, until she has to accept that no one is stepping forward to volunteer. She straightens up and puts back her shoulders, recognizing that these are her two tributes and she will stubbornly do what she can to help one of them become the victor. "Very well, our tributes are Margaery Fox and Artem Nobyl."
And we have District Five! Artem is another one of mine, so thanks to LordShiro and HogwartsDreamer113 for Margaery and Iris respectively! I'll share more of my process of developing Artem later on as we learn more about him, but I will say that his name does have a subtle reference to the inspiration for him!
With this, we only have two intros left and then we will finally be out of intro hell! I love this group of tributes, I just am tired of intros and want to get to the fun stuff XD One plus side of the social distancing and switch to online courses has been the increased time available to write, so I've been making good progress on both stories and we should have consistent weekly updates for a while. Gotta have something positive during this time. But everyone stay safe and follow the precautions and guides being put in place!
RQ #9: How do you think Artem, Sasha, and Abel will react to tributes that are in similar boats to themselves?
Alright everyone, I'll see you in two weeks for District Seven, with the last of my tributes, and then the following week will finally be District Six (thank you Vr for being patient with having the last intro XD). See you all soon and stay safe!
