This is basically a retelling of Heathers set during the Hunger Games. I chose the 89th Games for purely aesthetic reasons and it's not very relevant, but in universe the revolution never happened, Katniss didn't volunteer and, about 18 years before the fic takes place, everyone started giving their kids names popular in the 80s... for some reason. I have tried my best to stay accurate to what happens in the Games in the books, but have taken some dramatic liberties on occasion.
Also all the thanks to the lovely Alexandra_dAutriche for making this fic's cover!
Please do not attempt to replicate anything in this fic in real life. I do not endorse stabbing, punching, murder or standing within 2 metres of people outside your household bubble.
It's just like high school.
It's an odd thought given the circumstances, but the 24 teenagers are acting no differently than they would be in their school lunch hall.
They've only had half a day's training, but the cliques have already clearly formed. Looking around, she can see a couple of, decidedly unmuscular, guys describing made-up battle techniques that they're not going to live long enough to use, next to them two girly girls are unable to resist gushing over the outfits in last night's ceremony, while the two youngest tributes are huddled together like terrified freshmen. There are a few loners dotted around the outside tables and even a table of stoners in the corner, looking very sulky without access to their usual supply.
Loudest of all is the Career table. They care nothing for the sombre atmosphere that unintentionally permeates everyone else's conversations – instead, they are laughing raucously, piling the richest foods onto their plates and taking great advantage of the alcohol they have (perhaps unwisely as they're training in the afternoon as well) all been provided with for lunch.
But this ain't no high school; this is the Hunger Games. 23 of them will be dead in a matter of weeks.
Brad has long since abandoned her for trying to make nice with the Careers (he's doing surprisingly well considering she's always thought him an overconfident idiot, but she supposes the Careers don't tend to recruit on winning personalities), so she's standing around aimlessly trying to work out where to sit.
A kind looking girl, who she vaguely recognises from one of the televised reapings, smiles and beckons her to her table.
"Betty Finn, District 3," she says, grasping her hand and shaking it before there's any chance for awkwardness, "and here's Peter, he's my district partner," Peter looks slightly more cautious than Betty, but smiles and nods nonetheless, "And this is Rodney from District 5 and Dennis."
"District 10," says Dennis, "and you are?"
"Veronica, Veronica Sawyer."
Betty nods, enthusiastically, "You're from District 8 aren't you? Your midnight blue dress in the parade last night was amazing! I was so jealous of the way it sparkled! I don't think could ever look as beautiful as you did."
Veronica accepts the compliment with a shrug, "The benefit of being from the fabrics district. It's a shame sewing won't be of much use in the Games."
There's an awkward silence.
Betty is small and skinny, but in a way that makes her look gangly rather than sporty, Rodney looks like a particularly strong wind could blow him over and none of the other guys at the table have much to boast of either.
None of them are going to win the Games. Perhaps that's why they're ok with acting like friends.
"So tell us," says Rodney quickly, "what's it like in District 8?"
"Grey," says Veronica, honestly, "mostly there's a lot of factories. There are nicer parts, where the designers live and where they make things more interesting than uniforms, but where I am it's just cramped houses and smoke. I think I saw more green on the train here than I ever have in my life."
Dennis chuckles, "Count yourself lucky, when you raise livestock all you see is fields, slaughterhouses, and very smelly sheds."
"It's mostly grey in 3 too." Says Peter, before nervously glancing at the camera in the corner of the room, "Not that that's bad, we have some cool technology too, high tech labs for the engineers and flat screens on many buildings so we can see TV even when we're outside."
And they slip into conversation about the differences between their districts. It's genuinely interesting and almost pleasant. Maybe in another life, they could all be good friends.
Maybe if she keeps talking and laughing it won't occur to her that none of them will ever see the places they're describing again.
A dessert cart is rolled into the hall. Veronica may not have spent her life particularly well-fed, but after the rich lunch, she cannot fit anything in. However, this does not appear to be the case for most of the other tributes, there is a series of loud squeaks as half the room, and most of her table, push back their chairs and run over to see what delicacies are on offer, leaving Veronica and Betty alone.
Veronica snorts, "Boys."
Betty grins in reply, and shuffles her seat closer the moment she's certain they can't be heard, "Sooo, now it's just us girls… which of the guys here do you think is the cutest?"
She laughs, "Really?"
Betty nods eagerly, a little too eagerly to hide her nervous energy, "There must be someone, I swear they're way more handsome than normal this year."
Let's hope they're not better at fighting than normal too, "Is now really the time?" she says weakly, somewhat taken aback at the absurdity of the notion of choosing which of their potential murderers they'd most like to bone.
"That's a yes then…"
Veronica smiles, honestly this is the best distraction she's had all day, "Perhaps… but you first."
Betty looks a little disappointed but is happy enough to comply. "Well not any of the Careers," she says, "none of them are my type this year. I prefer…"
"Please don't say Brad, if you say Brad we can't ever be friends," Veronica says, glancing over to her district partner, who is guffawing mindlessly at every joke the Careers make.
She laughs, shaking her head, "No, not Brad. Over there," she nods at one of the nerdy guys miming swinging a sword the way one would if they had never touched a sword in their lives, "his name's Al. He's from District 6."
"You going to go talk?"
"I can't, he's got a girlfriend, he was telling Keith that she was super-hot."
"Well, it's not like she's ever going to know."
Betty looks at her reproachfully, "I've been entered into the Games. I've lost my chance at a long fulfilling life not my morals."
Veronica thinks that Al's (potentially non-existent) girlfriend probably has bigger concerns than worrying about him having a fling during training, but she doesn't pursue the topic.
"Anyway, you promised me some gossip…"
Veronica sighs, a touch melodramatically, "Do I really have to?"
Obviously, like any hormonal teenager with a time limit, she's been eyeing the pickings, but she feels she'd rather be a tad more subtle than Betty. Biologically, finding someone sexually attractive means they'll be better at protecting you or good at throwing a spear through their enemies. The latter worries her a little.
If Betty picks up on any of her misgivings, she chooses to blatantly ignore them, "Oh tell me, tell me! I promise I won't tell anyone, I'll take it to my grave…" she pauses awkwardly.
Veronica feels that sudden onset of nausea she's been getting a lot since she was reaped. She babbles to make it go away.
"Him, over there, District 12," she nods towards the guy sitting in the corner on his own, making no attempt to socialise, just watching the rest of the lunch hall. Observing. His eyes flick over to her, she looks away.
"Ooooh," says Betty, impending certain death apparently forgotten with this important piece of information, a knowing smirk on her features, "you like bad boys then?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh come on, tall dark and mysterious… plus you must have seen District 12's reaping?"
"Yes, obviously. He volunteered." It had been the first thing that had piqued her interest in the boy, followed quickly by Wow, he's hot.
"Then you see my point! District 12 never volunteers! And it wasn't even like he was doing it to save someone else, the boy he replaced looked just as bewildered as the rest of the district."
"So I saw."
"Come on, you can't deny you mostly want him because he's mysterious and you want to sate your curiosity."
"He's hot too, but that might be part of it," she laughs. Honestly, she's impressed at how intuitive Betty is, but she's not quite right; it's more than simply the insuppressible need to have her questions answered that draws her to this boy, so different from the other tributes. There's something dangerous but compelling about him, something that she can't quite put her finger on, something that makes her feel like maybe their stories are meant to be entwined.
xxx
Betty joins her at the afternoon training stations. The Careers are still busy showing off in the weapons area so they weave their way around the soft skills; learning basic survival techniques, the best way to camouflage themselves, how to fish and light a fire. She's supposed to be focusing completely on the training at hand, but it's so nice to have someone to talk to and to help when something goes wrong. It's the first time since she was reaped that she hasn't felt completely alone.
She's just mastered how to make a shelter out of branches (well, mastered is a strong word, it doesn't fall down unless she pushes really hard) and is looking around for another activity when she catches sight of the boy from 12 again. He's over at the edible and poisonous plant station, carefully studying each leaf and berry the trainer shows him.
Betty follows her line of vision, and smiles knowingly, "I heard his district partner talking to him earlier, his name's Jason Dean. Shall we go over?"
She considers, but some rarely listened to instinct for self-preservation kicks in, "No, let's try out the climbing wall now, it's free."
Betty looks disappointed but dutifully follows.
xxx
He's by himself again as training ends, he sits in the corner of the room, simply watching as everyone else interacts. And damn it if that doesn't make him even more interesting.
"He's looking at you," says Betty, re-joining her as they wait for their escorts to arrive.
"He's looking at everyone, there's nothing else to do if you sit alone like that."
"He's definitely been checking you out all afternoon."
"He's been observing his surroundings, a small part of which is me, that's how eyes work."
Betty shakes her head affectionately, "You should just talk to him you know, you want to know why he volunteered and if he likes you just ask."
"I'm not going to just go up there and be like, 'training day poll, do you like me? Check yes or no.'"
Her entire love life has consisted of a kindergarten boyfriend, she hardly wants to embarrass herself in the art of flirting in front of a bunch of cameras.
Betty shrugs, "What have you got to lose?"
She has a point there.
"Go talk," says Betty, lightly pushing her towards him. Veronica makes sure she can see her rolling her eyes, but obliges.
He looks her up and down as she comes over, it makes her feel like he's interrogating her before he's even opened his mouth.
"Greetings and salutations."
"Jason Dean."
"Call me JD. And you are Veronica Sawyer, District 8." He smiles at her wolfishly, it somehow makes him more attractive and more unsettling at the same time, "Finally, some competition."
She laughs because it's such a ridiculous statement, "What are you talking about?"
He lets the silence run on for a few moments, looks her over with a strange mixture of excitement and detachment.
"Look around us Veronica, look at all of them, playing their roles even as they are fattened up for the feast. We've seen it every year since we were born. I can tell you right now who will die within minutes of the Games beginning, who will taper away after a day or two. I can tell you which contestants are so arrogant they think they were born to win, who have trained to fight and will most likely die on the final days with stupid looks of surprise on their faces when they realise that they are mortals, like everyone else in the districts."
Veronica looks over at the huddle of Careers, the boys' faces are now flushed red with alcohol from the minibar, while the girls let out brazen shrieks of laughter, not even noticing the discomfort of the tributes nearby. She doesn't disagree.
"And then there are those of us who understand what it's really about." He continues, "Not the strength or the speed, or the brutality. It's all about knowing what everyone else is thinking and planning. It's about knowing the other tributes, but also what the audience wants, what the Gamemakers want, what looks best for the cameras. If you rely on strength alone you'll always be playing at a disadvantage."
She raises her eyebrows, "Oh yeah, because I've never seen someone strong, brutal and stupid win the Games."
"Only because most Games don't feature anyone with basic intelligence."
"So you're going to win then?" she scoffs.
He cocks his head, never taking his gaze off her, "Maybe not, anymore."
The words stun her a little bit, "Uh, thanks, I guess."
"Do you think I'm wrong?"
Honestly? Yes, yes, she does. She's been sure of her death sentence the moment her name was read out in the Central Square and she had to use all her strength to make her way to the stage without shaking.
When she said her final goodbyes to her parents there were no words of comfort, just her father, who couldn't stop crying, and her mom repeating again and again how much she loved her. Then there was the gaggle of friends and acquaintances, who had bustled into the final meeting room going on and on about how they never thought that anyone they knew would be chosen, and how tragic it all was, as if it was happening to them and not her.
No one has ever mentioned the possibility of her winning. She doesn't think the thought has even crossed their minds and it's certainly not something she's dared think of herself. He's the first person to even consider her as anything but cannon fodder.
She's flattered, even if it's probably just a morbid way of flirting.
His half-smile is cocky, as he lets her take his statement in, and the jolt of attraction she feels gives her the confidence to smile coyly back.
"I guess you'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, maybe you'll tell me why you volunteered for this torture?"
He shrugs, "I don't want them to win." And doesn't elaborate.
She looks over at the Careers laughing raucously – pointing at JD's fat district partner, miming how they're going to kill her. She doesn't really want them to win either. Though she thinks volunteering to make sure of it is a little extreme.
"Veronica! Stop gossiping, we have tactics to discuss," shouts a voice from the corner. Recognising the shrill tones of her escort, she is jolted out of the odd conversation.
Veronica groans, Pauline Fleming's idea of 'tactics' so far seems to mostly involve positive thinking and meditation, "Uh, see you."
He looks her over once more, "Definitely."
She hurries away lightheaded, palms sweaty, her heart racing, and firmly ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that is screaming that she has just met her murderer.
The Capitol Presents: The Tributes of the 89th Annual Hunger Games
District 1 – Luxury Items
Heather McNamara
Ram Sweeny
District 2 – Masonry and Defense
Heather Chandler
David Remington
District 3 – Technology
Betty Finn
Peter Dawson
District 4 – Fishing
Heather Duke
Kurt Kelly
District 5 – Power
Shannon Lucas
Rodney Bulb
District 6 – Transportation
Cathy Stone
Al Springer
District 7 – Lumber
Tracy Hophead
Bobby Young
District 8 – Clothes and Fabrics
Veronica Sawyer
Brad Richards
District 9 – Grain
Courtney Chadwick
Keith Harrington
District 10 – Livestock
Shelly Little
Dennis Grundy
District 11 – Agriculture
Phyllis McCarthy
Dwight Archer
District 12 – Coal
Martha Dunstock
Jason Dean
So, like everything I write nowadays, this has been about 3 years in the making. I was just adding bits in non-chronological order, until about 6 weeks ago where I actually buckled down and started writing it every night.
But yeah, the whole fic is written, so the plan is to release a chapter a week.
All feedback, good and bad, is very much appreciated.
