XIII. WORSE THAN DREAMS
THE NIGHT BEFORE AND THE MORNING OF
ARDEN GOLDENROD, DISTRICT 3 FEMALE (14)
One thought from first glance that all there was to Arden was an angry girl who hated the word. Some thought that was all to her.
And it wasn't.
Deiondra was a good friend, but when she knew about Arden, the district three girl wasn't sure if she'd be so anymore.
The interviews had been nothing less than exhausting, consistent grilling and Arden's stylists had changed her annoying choppy chin-length auburn hair into changing into luscious curls. Caesar certainly hadn't expected her to curse at him the whole three minutes, and the look on his flustered face was priceless, Arden thought with a sort of grim satisfaction.
Arden's stylists said the reasoning behind the orange dress the Capitol elitists had given her was that it matched her complexion. She supposed it did, since hers was relatively light and pretty freckled.
But Arden knew better.
Maybe it hadn't been intentional, but she thought they'd subconsciously dressed her in orange because she was fire.
The Capitol couldn't have her win- she'd even dared to curse at them in her interview right before they'd cut it short. They wanted her to die, and were counting on her to die.
And Arden was between a rock and a hard place.
While she wanted to die, she didn't want to prove them right either.
Because Arden Goldenrod was a fighter who did not listen to anyone. She even didn't believe in God anymore, even coming from a religious family.
The curls vanished and the makeup did too, and Arden changed into a soft, loose shirt and shorts. Hearing hushed whispers from the main room, Arden peeked around the corner to find their on the verge-of-retirement escort, Beetee, and the stylists who were just leaving. Arden felt glad- ever since the parade and even before she'd hated them, to be blunt.
"Arden, dear," Kendall, their escort, breathed, shuffling out of her seat and over to Arden.
"Can't sleep?" Beetee asked knowingly.
She nodded mutely, taking a seat.
"Ah, well, I suppose that's not uncommon," Kendall said awkwardly. Arden found herself grinning at the nature of the statement but her face quickly, involuntarily, formed back into a frown.
"Do you- do you think I'm going to die?" Arden blurted out.
Kendall smirked, "If you do, at least take Tesla down with you."
"And to do that, you'll need to get good sleep," Beetee added.
Encouraged by this, Arden made her way back to the luxurious, highly decorated room the Capitol had given her, the bed having sheets Arden swore were silk.
But it just didn't feel like home.
This thought occurred to the outspoken, awkward girl who smiled wryly. As if her home was a home. A small desk in the corner drew her attention for the first time since the Capitol had brought Tesla and Arden to District 3 from the trains.
Writing was one of Arden's passions, one of the only things that came naturally to her. Arden fiddled with one of the wooden drawers, realizing it was stuck. With a pull, she yanked out one of the drawers. It made a noise and she cursed loudly, then realized by cursing she'd only made more noise.
Taking a pen from the drawer, she took a seat at the desk and began to write. Her pen flowed, but when the words stopped coming, she rubbed the tip of the pen absentmindedly.
"Shit!"
Arden gazed at the pen for a second, a sly smile overcoming her face as she lifted her finger off the tip of the pen.
It was bleeding.
Arden examined the spike of the pen. It was much sharper than she'd thought.
A plan began to form in her head- a risky one, but they couldn't punish her anymore, could they?
Arden didn't have a token. Which was perfect.
And considering neither Beetee nor Kendall had asked her about her token, the pen fit right in with her story.
Arden was a good writer, and with that came the ability to lie with ease.
So she pocketed the pen.
I'm going to show them just what a girl from Three can do.
LEON KNOX, DISTRICT 9 MALE (17)
Leon knew his interview had gone well. Even though he hadn't been the crowd favorite, his mentor had told him Leon's sponsorship had gone significantly up in the few hours since the interview. His stylists had told him to be pleasurable and funny, but after Demeter's interview, Leon knew this had been overshadowed. This discouraged him, despite his relentless desire to return home to Julia.
Not his father, of course. Maybe if Leon did come home, his father would leave him after Julia alone. With being a Victor came riches. His father could have that, Leon didn't care, but as long as they didn't have to live with him anymore.
Leon had been trying his best to impress the Capitol, but was somehow only making a lukewarm mark on its civilians.
Of course, that wasn't good enough for someone, among twenty four teens, who wanted to go home.
Jules was waiting for him.
Back in District 9, a poor district, creating a makeshift school was bold by an adult and audacious by a kid who was only a few years older than his students. And, by the judgment of Leon's father, it was unacceptable not to charge for it.
The thing was, Leon knew most of his students wouldn't be able to afford a real school. Their families were poor, like his, so kids were employed in the grain fields at an early age. The Capitol complained nothing big ever came out of District 9, but if its kids never went to school and became literate, not much would come out of it.
So then again, it was the Capitol's fault like almost everything in the districts.
Hearing a slight sniffling from down the hall, Leon stretched out of the bed, standing up and opening the door, peeking out to see a figure into herself curled against the window.
Once Demeter spotted him, she hastily wiped a few tears away from her face, and her signature glare she always directed towards Leon returning.
"Yes?"
Leon froze up, but came up with a lame response. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"Excuse me, but I'm not a child," Demeter sniffed, "I don't go to bed at eleven."
"It's the night before the Hunger Games," Leon was exasperated, "Going to bed early doesn't make you a child."
"It's not like you'd know," his district partner sneered. "You teach children."
"And you're allied with one."
"So what?" Demeter said carelessly. "You realize that you're not asleep to begin with?"
"Because I heard you crying," Leon pointed out.
Demeter shrugged. "I have a more tragic backstory,"
"I don't really care, but again if you need a hug…" Leon drifted off.
"Shut up!"
"No, seriously, do you want to talk about it? I'm here to help," Leon concealed a smile.
Demeter huffed, "I'm going to bed." She stood up, brushing back a sheet of blonde hair, then freezing.
"I win," the district 9 boy smirked.
"Again, shut up," Demeter said breezily, but a sharpness was placed at the end of the sentence.
"Whatever you say."
"You're wearing a hairband on your wrist," Demeter pointed out.
Leon glanced at the thin scrap of fabric he'd taken as his token before muttering, "It's my sister's."
Regret showed plainly on Demeter's face, showing she hadn't meant the jab as personally as Leon had taken it. His district partner was an enigma to him- never seeming to care, then actually giving a crap away from the cameras.
He supposed that was what a good sponsor magnet did.
So Leon was glad he wasn't one.
ANGELO MARRIS, DISTRICT 4 MALE (18)
Both of the District 4 tributes were in high spirits the night before the Games. It was probably because every single one of their topics of conversation didn't have to do with it.
And then again, the District 4 tributes found solace in each other since they were both from home in a city where the Capitol couldn't care less.
"So, how do you feel about Merlot's consistent flirting with you?" Tempest asked slyly.
Angelo blushed. On one hand, it felt like he was betraying Otto somehow, but on the other hand, it wasn't like they were dating. And then again, Merlot was cute. They definitely had an on-and-off relationship, especially since Merlot's interview.
Tempest's demeanor shifted a touch, but she didn't say much. "I mean, it's not that much of a big deal now, I guess. It's just making me feel replaceable."
One thing Careers weren't supposed to do: open up to each other. And since Tempest was so smart, her emotions could be a ploy for all Angelo knew. But Angelo did pride himself in being able to read people decently. Of course, that came with getting lost in a case. Yet another reason why Angelo had to win. The Marris mystery couldn't die with him.
Maybe if he won, he'd have a better chance of solving it.
Angelo shrugged. Not having any siblings made him indifferent to Tempest's statement. All he had was his father, of course.
Tempest seemed to get this. "Drained of blood is an awfully bad way to go," she said seriously.
There it was, circling back to the murder. Yet another reminder of how much Angelo needed to find the solution to the riddle.
He shrugged again, uncomfortable, but was saved by the arrival of the District 4 escort and her trademark blue high heels.
"Get some sleep," Harbor blearily peeked her head into the room. "It's late."
"So you're not going to go out to bet and get drunk with the Capitolites?" Angelo asked wryly.
"I can't bet, plus I want to be perfectly awake while you both go into the arena, should sponsoring be needed," Harbor smirked.
The topic that only one could win once again reappeared in Angelo's mind and he released a heavy sigh. For his victory, Tempest would never meet her sibling. Yeah, it was definitely upsetting to think about, but if he didn't maybe the nausea would pass.
"She has a point," Tempest admitted.
"Of course I do," Harbor said incredulously.
"Well, then, see you both tomorrow," Angelo rose out of his seat on the couch.
"Good luck, both of you," Harbor said, her tone worried.
"You can tell us good luck tomorrow," Tempest pointed out.
"With sleep, darling. It's not going to come easily."
Staring at the ceiling over an hour later, Angelo had to agree.
Then again, he didn't have that much longer to sleep, so he flipped his pillow and tried to capture the last few hours to be well-rested enough.
It still felt unreal he'd volunteered.
Even on a night like tonight, he pondered, hearing the excited cries of Capitol citizens outside of his window. Even on a night so close to the beginning of the end.
TESANDRI RAMIREZ, AVOX (23)
If there was one thing an Avox missed, it was their voice. Especially Tesandri.
She was only seventeen when they took her away and the worst part she couldn't even scream. Her voice had been everything. Since she was four, Tesandri had big dreams like every Capitol kid but everyone told her she had something and to lose it was devastating.
She'd had nothing to do with her parents conspiring with rebels to save Avoxes. Tesandri had been so gloriously naive, so caught up in her own rising singing and acting career she didn't notice what was going on behind her back. Mother and father had to watch their daughter lose her only dream before they were murdered too.
Even Panemiam kids put on plays. She'd been so naive back then, priding herself in always being the lead and beating more than capable kids with ease.
Only one time, when a kid related to the previous president had beat her at an audition, and Tesandri knew she had by far been the best attendee. It wasn't an arrogant thought- okay, it was. But she had been proud of herself, sure she'd snagged the lead female she'd wanted to play.
Only when Catile Ravenstill had stolen Tesandri's role, she'd begun to question if she really had talent. Or if all of the roles she had been proud to play had just been because of her father's status.
It was a depressing thought, to think you had something. To train for that, and then to find out too late that it could just be a delusion.
As far as Tesandri knew, the organization her parents belonged to had shattered after losing its figureheads. Having waited for years upon years for help, she was eventually promoted to wait upon the Gamemakers. A few of the younger, lower-position Gamemakers had been in her class years ago. It was strictly written by the Capitol that kids of high-ranking, richer parents attended a single school.
She waited on the Gamemakers now, but she had picked up chatter that they were transferring her to waiting on tributes. One of the things her parents had tried to prevent, the Games. Now their own daughter serving the ones in charge of it.
The irony was humiliating, to say the least.
Her father had been a Gamemaker himself, and her mother a seamstress. They hadn't needed the money provided by the latter's job, but wasn't it good to feel accomplished?
Tesandri wasn't sure anymore whether she was right or wrong.
The night before the Games, the Gamemakers were always drugged up on caffeine, working out the final details to their criminal plans. Or at least for the three years Tesandri had served them it had been that way. Tonight was especially chaotic, what with the uproar the tribute had caused at the interviews.
To be fair, the pre-Games nights were always crazy. Now the Gamemakers were murmuring about a certain mutt, but when Tesandri caught a glimpse of one of the many bright screens in the room that they normally shielded her from.
There were no mutts, only the tributes. Displayed on one screen was the face of the boy from 12, and on another his blonde district partner. But neither were smiling, like Tesandri had seen in their days of training.
The tributes always forgot that the Gamemakers sat in on all of their days of training, as did their Avoxes. And Tesandri, having never been a particularly good listener, now prided herself in that skill.
She couldn't speak, of course, and they hadn't bothered to teach her sign language (maybe that was on purpose) so listening was her form of expression. Even though it wasn't self-expression, at least it was better than nothing.
The screen with the boy from 12's face displayed was zoomed out, and Tesandri's heart quickened- not only because if she was caught snooping it'd be bad. But she knew what they were doing to the arena.
The only thing was, how could she tell anyone?
Powerlessness.
Something she was used to feeling by now.
NICO BENEITEZ, DISTRICT 5 MALE (15)
Never before had Nico felt such relief like hearing he'd exceeded the Careers's expectations, getting an eight in training. An eight! To outer district kids, obviously this concept was rare. Yeah, a few other kids like Tesla from Three and Bailey from 11, but that just meant Nico was evermore challenged to impress the Careers.
Of course, ultimately he'd need to kill them to win and he would have no regrets when it came to it, despite the fact some of the kids in the Games were genuinely sweet and naturally good people.
Tesla hated Nico. When Nico had approached the District 3 boy on terms of peace, hoping to find some similarities since they were the only two Careers who were actually not Careers, Tesla had given Nico a snotty look and called him outer district trash.
Nico pretended that wasn't hypocritical at all and left him alone.
So now, instead of making an ally he could trust within a group Nico had deteriorated into making inquiries on the Careers's limits masked by the delusion he was just asking on terms of friendly concern.
While none of the Careers showed their confidence degrading because of Nico's remarks, the district 5 boy hoped he was getting there. In the end when all the Careers started backstabbing each other the danger was Nico could go down with them too, and he was going to try and prevent that from happening. Obviously- who wouldn't?
After the interviews, they'd all returned to their rooms. Ayla was beyond panicked, which was shocking to both Nico and Rettie after they'd seen her calculating every move of every tribute. The poor girl had almost had a panic attack, barricading herself in her room. Nobody could really blame her for that, because planning and observations only got you so far.
Quick, bloody violence was not Ayla's forte though Nico was fine waiting, if just as anxious as the Careers for the bloodbath. While Ayla had taken to telling him that there was a very low chance of Nico dying which was why he had no right to panic, that little bit of chance was the matter of life and death.
His stomach turned unpleasantly as he glanced at his clock. 1:21. Rettie and their escort had suggested he and Ayla go to bed early, and Ayla had been more than happy to comply, but Nico couldn't sleep. The excitement was too great, especially since it was today when he was going into the arena.
His time in the Capitol, though delightful, had passed too quickly.
Nico understood there was a good chance he'd win, but the nerves were too much.
As it was for Ayla, because his district partner had gone to bed at only eight, and yet here was Nico at 1 AM rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
The sun began to stretch over the horizon as hours ticked by. To Nico, they felt like days. Months. Years. Even centuries until it was go time.
The anxiousness began to shift into something else. Sure, Nico was nervous, but that began to turn into a delirious excitement. Just an hour more. Just a half an hour-
Nico caught less than a wink of sleep before he was awakened by Rettie and Ayla. The latter looked just as exhausted as Nico felt, even though he was sure she'd slept the best she could. However, though Nico tried to chat with her on their way to their launch rooms, she silenced him with a heavy glare. Nico supposed her intentions made sense, because everyone knew only one came out in the end. Still, he wasn't the type to backstab. With the Careers, sure. But with his district partner who didn't mean any harm in the end, being all plotting and no doing, he was sure he didn't want to hurt her. District loyalty was highly valued.
Then again if it came to it, Nico would kill her.
It was the Hunger Games.
Survival of the fittest was the rule, if you could count it as that.
Then again, there were no rules in the Games.
District 5, be ready. You're getting a victor soon.
DEIONDRA ASHEZ, DISTRICT 11 FEMALE (17)
Ten minutes.
Ten minutes till the launch.
Deiondra had never been so anxious.
It wasn't because the threat of imminent death, it was the paranoia that kept catching up with her.
She hid and hid, but it was never enough. And to have the shadowy figure of death keep approaching, getting closer and closer each time before she picked up and left, was horrifying.
At least going down this way, she knew Amber wouldn't come down with her.
No. Scratch that. Amber still had to hide if Deiondra died, and she could die too if the Peacekeepers found them. That day always seemed to get closer, and Deiondra was relieved with every minute that it didn't.
But the sisters weren't only sisters, they were best friends too. It wasn't like Deiondra had many opportunities to make friends, what with the constant packing up and moving that never seemed to end.
And then a slip of paper had said her name.
Looking back on everything, Deiondra supposed this was an opportunity. The cost of losing would obviously be terrible- was there much worse than death?- but belonging to Panem itself if she won wouldn't be a too steep price to pay.
Ozora, their escort, stopped them before they left the hub that Deiondra considered the safest place in the Capitol now. Ozora respected them, and while she could empathize with the pair, she sympathized. She'd done the best she could to help them out, and Deiondra would miss her enough.
Her dark eyes were panicked as she breathed, "Please, I know you both can do this."
That was the farthest she got before Deiondra and Bailey were yanked away by their stylists to go to the launch rooms.
The Peacekeepers aided Deiondra and her stylist to their launch rooms (so we can't run). The silence felt suffocating around her, and she couldn't breathe. Her heart jumped to her throat, especially when they broke off from each other. No matter what happened, despite if she lived or died, she'd never see Bailey again.
Deiondra felt no connection to her district partner, but Bailey was a nice enough kid and represented something familiar: home. So to see them being taken away, and knowing the same thing was happening to her, was all too familiar.
At this point, she was tired.
But at least she didn't have to pretend with Arden.
The district three girl cursed and shot glares with less caring than anyone, even rebels who had given up, Deiondra had met.
Arden was mysterious as heck, and their friendship too. Deiondra wasn't comfortable with calling it a friendship, since so little had been determined, but she hoped she eventually could.
And then she didn't. Because she couldn't make friends and couldn't get attached if she wanted to save Amber.
Her friendship with Arden somehow had layers. The first was two girls being civil t0 each other, simply helping each other out- maybe one more than the other. Peel back that layer, then another, and you saw that it was equal in every way. Peel back another layer, and you'd see that it wasn't just a friendship.
It was much, much deeper than that.
Arden had given up, but she was still fighting.
Just like Deiondra.
AVVEN HERRO, DISTRICT 6 MALE (16)
It was time.
At six AM the district 6 pair was woken by their mentors Audi, though looking nervous, rubbed her eyes blearily as their stylists led them to separate launch rooms.
The hall felt almost like a hospital, which District 6 knew too much of with being notorious for its constant morphling epidemics.
"We'll run away from the bloodbath," Audi said frantically, under a slight spell of panic, "Maybe we can try and get some packs or something, but it's not worth risking our lives for. Right?" She looked to Avven, who was just as panicked, though he didn't show it. Plus, he'd never seen Audi like this, and it was shocking. "Right, Avven?"
He nodded absentmindedly, robbed of humor for once like Audi had been robbed of her boldness, "Yeah."
The stylists interrupted the last minute conversation, Avven's pulling him into a bleak room on the left. Considering it was the last of the real world almost all the tributes would see, it was pretty bleak and miserable. Probably intended to rob them of all hope.
Theodosia attended to Avven in a sort of brisk manner. Avven's stylist had never paid him any attention, and to be honest, Avven didn't care. Theodosia expected him to die in the bloodbath, and he couldn't blame her. Most kids from District 6 couldn't or didn't stand up and fight.
But Avven wasn't going to.
It wasn't necessarily an anti-Capitol statement he and Audi had made at the goodbyes, more of
Avven felt his plate rise. Darkness began to greet his eyes as the arena enveloped him. The street artist gulped, knowing that he may never use any spray paint again.
It was a stupid thought, but he thought of it anyway as he greeted the sight of the arena.
He admitted to himself he wanted to go into the thick of things. The Careers would go for the stronger prey-
Then it occurred to him he was the stronger prey.
The Careers always went for the tougher ones, thinking it would save them in the aftermath. To take out the ones who could kill them basically eliminated all competition and made the going easy.
And while being unwilling to succumb could bring about his death, he prided himself in being able to fight.
He fought from the moment he'd been reaped. With fondness he remembered the moment he and Audi had resisted the Peacekeepers, and it hadn't even been begging. At least, if he died, he'd be able to say he'd had more time with his family than anyone else.
Superiority. Avven almost laughed, because it was just the opposite in retrospect.
The Careers had training, whereas an extra minute of advice couldn't influence your placing.
So in reality, they were the ones with superiority and every time a kid who was from an outer district made it out, it only increased the chances of a deadlier Career coming in the next year.
As Theodosia nodded for Avven to step into his tube, not bothering to give him a word of advice, he took a deep breath.
Stepping into the tub, he felt his heart race faster and faster.
The glass sealed him in, and he looked to find Theodosia, but the silent stylist was gone. The fact only panicked him more as his tube rose higher and higher.
He wasn't high enough to see the arena yet, but the sight was nearing him as the plate slowly ascended.
How long did such a thing take?
It's alright, I can do this. Audi and I just have to run.
Was the fact he didn't want to run going to cost him anything?
—
A/N
Alright, here's the second to last chapter before the bloodbath! I'm so excited for the launch, and hopefully it'll come sooner than a week. There will be 12 POVs in it- one kid from each district.
Not much else to say, but the popularity poll is still open! Please vote by the bloodbath!