Caramel LeClerc, District 1
"You showed me how to hold my sin
And kiss the bad ways I had been."
Big Thief, Shoulders
Recently, I've been thinking a lot about how I'll be buried.
Death is just part of life for an Elite. From an early age, I learned that death could be just around the corner. Some things freak me out a little, small things that I can't control like germs, poisons and strong acids. I suppose I have the acid-throwing girl from Coco's games to blame for that.
Even fear used to overwhelm me. But when I learned to control my fear, it saved my life.
I wish that it could've saved my best friend, somehow.
I know that there are two reasons why my thoughts have been so morbid recently. The first is that my best friend, Queenie, died in second place in the Fifty-Fifth Hunger Games. The second is that my arena was one massive underground tomb. There were a few passages just lined with skulls, while most of the other ones had closed coffins.
There were rats everywhere. It wasn't very nice.
But it did mean that I never got complacent. That's probably the biggest reason why I won.
I've been seeing a lot of District 1's tribute graveyard lately. It's a nice place. The academy puts a lot of effort into honouring the fallen. Most of the tributes' graves are clean and well-kept, carved out of the finest marble. There are a few trees planted here and there, providing some shade. A breeze rustles the leaves as I find Queenie's grave and sit down beside it.
The academy puts more effort into a tribute's grave the better their performance was. A tribute who dies in the bloodbath gets a simple marble headstone. Tributes who came second, like Queenie, have pedestals for carved statues of themselves, inlaid with precious metals and stones. The statue of my best friend looks like she did before she died, beautiful and deadly. There's a trident in her hands.
We'd both had a good laugh about it when Queenie had started training with a trident. Most academy students had just accepted it as District 4's weapon. I'd laughed again when it'd been the only weapon in the Cornucopia, though for a different reason.
I lay a bouquet of fresh flowers on Queenie's grave.
"Hey," I say, quietly. I know she probably can't hear me but I imagine it must be pretty lonely being dead. "Remember when we made that plan to win the Hunger Games in consecutive years?"
Queenie and I were born only a day apart. Her birthday was reaping day. Mine was the day after. It meant that the academy hadn't had any problems with signing us up for different games. I'm the oldest victor of all time, turning nineteen the day after I volunteered. Nobody can take that away from me. They can only manage a draw.
"I won my games!" I say to Queenie's grave. "My arena was awful. It was this massive underground tomb. There were all these rats and a lot of people got sick. I didn't. I guess the gamemakers wanted more fighting than the Twenty-Third Games. It turns out that it's pretty easy fighting sick people. Even easier than fighting regular people. Who knew?"
I can imagine Queenie laughing. "I told you it'd be easy, Cara."
The empty void where my best friend used to be hurts more than ever. Queenie was always the carefree one and I was the worrier. Now that she isn't around to reassure me, I can feel all the worries building up, threatening to consume me. I had doubts about volunteering after Queenie died. I looked around and saw a class full of girls who were much prettier, stronger and more confident than me. But Aunt Amber and Coco both convinced me that I was good enough.
"So, now I'm a victor," I say. "Do you think I'll be able to get a boyfriend now - or a girlfriend?"
"You could've had one before the games if you'd just asked. You're hotter than you think you are, Cara."
I smile to myself. The worst part about being attracted to both boys and girls is that I got nervous talking to boys and girls. And, since most students in the academy were hot, I found that Queenie was the only person that I could really talk to. I'd been friends with her for too long to think of her as anything more.
Maybe, now that I don't have her anymore, I should come out of my shell.
"Thanks, Queenie," I whisper. "It was an honour being your friend."
I climb to my feet and begin my walk back to the world of the living. On my way, I walk past the plot of land set aside for victors' tombs. We're unfortunate to be one of the only five districts to have lost a victor. Rarity Belcourt's tomb was built twenty-eight years ago, when she'd been missing for ten years. Her body was never found. The tomb is empty.
I know that, when I die, my body will be laid to rest in a victor's tomb. Although, hopefully, I won't be the next victor to die. The first generation of victors is getting older. Our first two victors, Jet and Emerald are both in their late sixties. Jet might have a decade or so left to live but Emerald's always had heart problems and he says he's getting to the point where it's not worth fighting them. I think he'd rather die having fun than spend the rest of his life monitoring his health as his body slowly falls apart.
I'm not sure when I'll have to think about that. I'm only nineteen. My dad tells me I should make the most of my youth rather than wasting it thinking about death but my fellow victors have all accepted it. Next games, I'm going to the Capitol with an eighteen-year-old girl and the likelihood is that she'll occupy the grave beside Queenie's.
But, for now, I shake off my thoughts about death and start thinking about the life I'm going to live.
Caramel's victory makes it two legacy victors in a row. Every Career district has one now. Caramel changed a lot from my first draft. She was originally a lot more confident but that changed. Now she's more quiet and introverted - someone who Amber would feel a lot more comfortable allowing to volunteer for the games. Since she's an Elite, it's likely that Caramel will be affected by victor prostitution but she's not famed for her beauty like Amberso it won't be as bad. Also, Amber can retire from backup mentoring, which means that the Capitol will finally leave her alone.
I made a lot of changes during the fifties because I ran out of steam a bit when I was writing my first draft. Next chapter, I'm planning to do something completely different to my first draft so I have no idea how long it'll take.
