II
I'm jolted awake by a stiff hand to the shoulder.
"Wake up, kid." A gravelly voice speaks out at me.
"Woaah, wooooah!" I blurt out, my tics starting the day off strong. The shadowy figure shuffles over and switches on the bedside lamp revealing it to be Sergeant Wilson. She was void of her Peacekeeper body armor, wearing only a white tracksuit with grey piping emblazoned with Panem's emblem. Groaning, I rub the sleep out of my eyes while easing up against the bed frame.
"Jeez Louise Sarge, how'd you get in here?"
"Peacekeepers have their methods..." she chimes dubiously, ripping the covers from off my body. Grumbling, I glance over to the other end of the bed where my foster sibling, just one of many - Mallory - sleeps like a rock. A nuke could go off and the eight-year-old would still be content. She's a newer member of our 'family'. Judging by how clingy she is, her life before the community home must've been rough.
Sgt Wilson's eyes roam my body, seemingly content that I planned ahead in terms of dress. "Good, I see you're pretty much ready to rumble."
"I missed you for two days, so I figured today was the day." I chirp, swiveling my legs over the bedside.
She smirks, raking a hand through her cropped hair. "After Wednesday's PT, I thought you could use the respite."
"I still could..." I murmur, caressing my lanky, caramel legs. Ten reps of thirty pushups, squats and burpees and flutterkicks were an absolute killer! I think she forgets that I'm not one of her privates or that the killer factory - the "Academy" I mean - was back in District Two. I glance over to my letterman jacket and various ribbons and medals I've won over a two year span. But I mean hey, I've been smoking my competition in every event I participate in since we started two years back. Still, my point still stands! Even though I've more or less gotten used to our PT sessions, I can't help but question my existence halfway through them.
Wilson seems to notice my apprehension, a coy grin on her face when she says "What's the key principal in the victor's guide?"
I sigh, glancing over to where the self-help book resides on my dresser. "Carpe diem - seize the day."
"That's right," Wilson replies with a nod. "Rather than wasting away like most of these shlebs. One day, you'll thank me - hah, shit, you should be already. Now sort yourself out. Do you have any injuries...or anything else that might hinder you?"
Humming in thought, a spasm causing me to crick my neck at an odd angle, I consult my tracking calendar. Nothing yet. "Nope and nope."
"Good shit. Now get up and let's seize that day."
After a ten kilometre run along the lake shore, I return to the apartment sweaty and sore. In the back of my head, my conscious squeals out for my bed, but sleep can wait just a bit longer.
Today was Halloween after all.
After taking a quick shower, I slide open my closet and reach out for the very first garment bag while discarding the contents onto my bed - a black circle skirt and a striped turtleneck black and orange. Slipping on the turtleneck I take the time to study the skirt, running a thumb over the jack-o-lantern design I had sewn on. It was strictly a do it yourself project, prompting me to save every penny I earned at PMC to source the finest fabrics. Adding the knee-high socks and sliders to the affair, I slide over to my vanity and give myself a twirl.
Sure, a lot of people will be dressed up in a costume, but dressing festively will be just as good!
I turn my attention back to my closet, retrieving a Carmichael's bag I had hidden as far back as I could put it. Besides, as long as she's happy, I'm happy.
As soon as I step into the den, Mallory's eyes twinkle with glee. "Good morning Izzy!" she calls out to me, hissing in pain as our guardian, Audrey, combs back her unruly ginger locks from in-between her legs.
"You look nice, Isabella." Audrey remarks, eyeing me with a gaze I can't exactly get a read on.
With a cigarette dangling from her lips, Audrey was still dressed in her pink robe, her brunette hair housing a plethora of rollers. You see on TV all the time these dutiful housewives and mothers, seeing their kids off with a kiss on the cheek and a bagged lunch. She wasn't that at all. Well, a lie, she doesn't have too much time to bother with the 'sugar on top' parts of being our foster parent. What, with an entire floor of children to take care of with staff to aid her. She used to be doting to me, but now that I'm almost at the end of my tenure as a ward of District 6, she has grown far stricter with me, almost like how Sgt Wilson constantly on me.
"You'll thank me once you enter the real world," Audrey constantly tells me us she hovers over me while doing a task at hand. "At least by the end of your time here, you'll be somewhat valuable...instead of peddling your ass on the street."
I mean, Lucie does that but she's still here...so I dunno.
"Good morning Mal, good morning Audrey...wicked witch bitch! What a bitch!" uh-oh. I offer a smile towards our foster mother. "C'mon Audrey, you know how I really feel about you."
Mallory cups her mouth, stifling a snigger all while our mom quirks a brow and exhales her drag. "Oh yeah," Audrey drawls, her tone playful. "They say that your condition tends to voice off things subconsciously - you mean to say it but it's suppressed."
I've done some reading too...there's some truth to that. "I'm not thinking that, honest!"
"Alright...I take your word for it," she replies evenly, placing the cigarette back in her mouth. "Maybe you picked it up from your more...unruly siblings. There's some food in the oven for you, scrambled eggs and sausages ready to go."
"Yum, sounds swell." I chime back.
"Iz, what's that in your hand?" Mallory asks, reaching out only to be put back in place by our foster mother.
"Why...this is for you!" I beam, handing her the bag and watching as she rips out the dress and accessories to make the perfect vampire costume. "I bet the others are gonna be pretty jealous once you get all gussied up!"
She bleats out a high-pitched squeal, wrapping her arms around my waist in a way that feels so...great.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she chirps, intensifying her grip on me.
"No problem, Mal." I reply, caressing her back. Audrey watches on with a faint smirk on her lips.
"Hmph, and here I thought I'd scrounge something together for the big night." She quips. "Go get your food, Isabella."
I do just that, claiming my still-warm plate while taking a seat on the couch, beside her. A spasm nearly causes me to drop my plate, thank gosh it doesn't. Mallory asks if she could watch cartoons, but as we know, Audrey likes her morning national news with PBC's Chad Blakely in the Capitol.
"Good morning, people of Panem. Today is a very spooky Saturday, October 31st. We'll have reports on how various Panemians across the nation plan to spend the day throughout the day. Who needs a wheelchair when you have a cybernetic leg? Victor of the Ninety-Eighth Hunger Games, Elizabeth Verano has passed her clinical trials regarding her injuries sustained during a very heated finale - more on that very shortly. Meanwhile President Kane begins his tour of Panem, accompanied by First Lady Cruella Kane, starting in District 1 for a four day soirée before moving down the list. He should be due in Helena by 2PM...Numerous policy implementations are on the table throughout this tour, including electoral reform in preparation for nationwide presidential elections..."
"So, are you ready for that dance Isabella?" Audrey asks, her eyes not leaving the holovision.
"Oh yes," I reply, my spasm causing me to clamp down hard on my spoon. "...It should be swell I look forward to it."
I mean, it's not every day that Panemian Bandstand ventures out of the Capitol and into the districts - especially Six of all places. It's always the lapdogs - Snow Island, One and Four. What better place to hold a Halloween bash than at Coriolanus Snow Collegiate Institute? "Will we get to see you on TV?" Mallory asks, wide-eyed.
"Maybe, before you go trick-or-treating." I reply with a wink.
Everyone was talking about it. Who knows who we'll see? The Dynamettes, Frank Zucco? I'm prepared to dance the night away and then some.
But before we could hit the dance floor, we would need some good eats to break the ice. That's where the home economics department comes in. Mr. Miles was the main teacher in charge of the subject, and just so happened to teach my course as well, on top of coaching the various bake-offs we'd have against other schools within the area or District at-large. Mr. Miles refuses catering altogether, "We have the most perfect caterers right here!" he told Principal Fitzpatrick. So, here I am with dozens of other girls and the occasional brave boy who dared sign up for home ec, baking and cooking for tonight's main event. I have the bubbly Mr. Miles to thank for kindling that fire under my belly, putting me on the Grade 9 bake team which then allowed me to branch off to other avenues. It's weird having a pie and crossed fork and knives sewn on my letterman, but hey, cooking tends to keep my tics away.
"Yum, yum, yumm!" Mr. Miles chimes, fluttering down the aisles of teal-colored appliances and checkered tiles as he checks his datapad and sniffs out the wares. "You ladies are cooking up quite the storm! I wonder if it'll taste as good as it smells...I wonder, I wonder...How is your cake coming along, Izzy?"
"It's coming along a-okay, Mr. Miles." I grin.
"That's what I like to hear."
As Doris McKenzie's Halloween hit, "Midnight" plays on the radio, I hum along while slipping on a pair of mitts and removing the various levels of cake out of the oven. I couldn't help but notice as I was fastening the various decks together, Aisha Ahmed was hovering close by with that typical look on her face. That look as if I had twelve heads - usually when I blurt out a tic or have a spasm. I hated that look and the fact that she was one of Susie's lackeys made me hate it even more.
Just as I force a smile and turn to meet Aisha, my savior in the form of Ramona Keane steps in arms folded.
"Is somethin' the matter, Aisha?" she asks with a quirked, pierced brow. The two girls are nose-to-nose.
"I don't want her ruining the cake." Aisha replies dryly, shying away from the lighter-skinned girl.
I gently poke Ramona's shoulder while raising a tentative finger. "She does have the highest ma-"
"Be quiet, Izzy. She's doing pretty well so far," Ramona snaps back, her ponytail jostling. "Why breathe down her neck?"
Aisha's eyes squint. "She-"
"I don't care. Are you her mother?" she presses harder, ignoring the multitude of eyes that turn our way. Mr. Miles glances up from his desk but says nothing. I swear you could see him smirk a tad. "Go fuck off back to your gaggle and let her do her thing."
The brown-skinned girl shakes her head, her eyes shifting from the eavesdroppers back to us. She scoffs. "Whatever...If she drops it, it's all on you." With that, Aisha stalks back to her circle consisting of Susie and co, chucking like a bunch of scheming harpies.
"Gee...thanks Ramona," I murmur sheepishly, giving her a gently slap on the shoulder.
"You're good, Izzy..." she replies with a sigh, running a hand through her blue hair. Her brown eyes roam my body from head to toe. "Look at you, towering over all the girls here - heck even some of the guys - yet still take their trash."
"I don't think it's worth it to talk back." I reply lamely. Lie. I hate it so much! I mean, their constant ragging on me has simmered a tad since Wilson got involved, but they still do it in their little corner. I wonder what my limit is and once that's reached, how I might react? Opting to ignore what just happened I gesture to Ramona's eccentric choice of dress.
"I see you've 'dressed up for the day." I remark with a smirk. Although Coriolanus Snow doesn't have uniforms, we do have a strict dress code. Ramona Keane teases the fine line between "upstanding youth" and "troubled deviant" - as per the public information films they shove down our throats. On days where it was absolutely necessary, the blue updo would stay, but the overalls, chains, black lipstick and piercings that decorate her lip, eyebrow and ears would be shed away, replaced with a blouse and skirt or slacks if you're daring.
"Yeah, for once I get to be myself...on Halloween nonetheless, la-de-da..." she replies back, eyeing me in return. "You look as festive as can be."
I give my skirt a playful ruffle. "Thanks. I did it all by myself. I guess the community home system is good for something after all."
"You give them too much credit." Ramona remarks with a scowl. "Let's say you and me decorate this cake and take a breather...before I eat this place down."
I giggle. Then I bare my teeth in a full blown smile. "Sure thing."
"Say cheese. . . There we go, perfect! Everything looks spectacular, yearbook material -"
"Cheese! Rats! Rats! Cheese!" I cry out. I bother saying sorry. If I had a dollar for every time I said sorry, I'd be a victor in my own right. I ignore the startled glares. It's been four years...you'd think people kinda got used to it.
"...For sure!" Mr. Miles finishes with a smirk. "What say you, Mabel?"
Principal Fitzpatrick, her blue eyes twinkling in awe, continues to glance around in awe before coming back to reality. My eyes are fixated on her ensemble. The black of her suit and the orange of her shirt go hand-in-hand with her ginger hair. She motions for everyone to come a little closer, bakers, decorators and all - so we do.
"Good job everyone," she praises. "Tonight we'll solidify Coriolanus Snow Collegiate as an exemplary example of a modern Panemian school! Please, enjoy the night."
"You're dismissed!" Mr. Miles adds on, please go gaggle and do stay out of the AV club and the TV crews' way!"
"Wow, they really fixed up the place..." Ramona mumbles aloud. I join her in marveling. Yeah, they sure did. The crews were just finishing up now, turning on some festive music over the speakers. This gymnasium was already big, as it typically hosted our home games, homecoming and other events. Now that they gutted all the hoops and stuff, it seems a million times bigger. They managed to fit in so much stage equipment you'd think this was a studio rather than a school gym. The Panemian Bandstand logo stood prominent where the original stage stood, as well as additional platforms on top of the stands we already had.
Nothing could halt this night.
"Wooow, woooah!" I cry out, causing cameramen to glance my way. "Things are shaping up to be quite eventful!"
We gravitate toward the food, watching as other students begin to trickle in. I don't know about Mr. Miles, but the eats sure do taste as good as they smell. Sergeant Wilson manages to appear, I mean she is our truant officer among other things.
As we watch people enter, a lot of people are dressed up for the affair in various costumes. I spot a couple of characters from Dragnet, such as Lieutenant Styx McKay one of his many love interests, Felicia Ngo. I see a couple of Hunger Games hosts - Caesar Flickerman, Jay Pennington and Marceline Devereaux. Both girls and boys could do her justice. I'm not surprised when I see Susie and her pals dressed up like Helena Cessna dolls - named after the District 1 victor who started the toy line. The gargantuan bouffants and Capitol-inspired clothing fits them well, given how fake and superficial they are. When I lay my eyes upon Chevy Anderson and his crew, I can't help but gawk. I excuse myself from Ramona and her friends and skitter over to the punch bowl Chevy hauls onto the food table.
"Dead tributes, really?" I deadpan. I mean, look at them! They look so realistic, everything from the torn uniforms and mottled skin to the 'spear' in Cooper Asbury's stomach. Oh, and don't get me started on the 'cleaver' fastened into Chevy's cute - I mean dumb head. He and his group of idiots are known for their pranks but this takes the cake for sure.
"Cut out, Izziot!" Fender Iverson snaps. A glare from Chevy puts him in his place. Chevy knows better because I've seen him around before, outside his gaggle of greaser pals and school popularity.
"Hey Wilkinson, you're lookin' good." Chevy greets, securing the punch bowl to the table. "It's Halloween, if there was a time for shock and awe, today is that day."
"I'm surprised you were let inside the building." I cringe, playing with the 'cleaver' in Chevy's head.
"Hey, we're supporting a treasured Panemian pastime." Chevy defends, although you can hear it in his tone that it was a mock-serious defence. Still, it earns a goofy giggle from Cooper and a fist bump. "Anyone who says otherwise is a dirty rebel."
I grin, raising a brow as he pours a cup of punch and places it in my hand. "Even though you're always wired, drink up anyway."
"Stop smelling it and drink, Wilkinson." Fender chides.
Mmok. So I do, gulping down the drink and immediately recoiling at how strong these guys spiked it. It triggers a spine-tingling spasm that causes the entire group to double over in laughter.
"Gods, that was something!" I mewl through scrounged lips.
Chevy smirks. "This shindig was way too vanilla so we thought we'd liven things up a bit."
Before I could answer, the clicking of heels alerts me to Susie's presence as I'm practically shut out from Chevy and his crew. "Heey Chevster, I see you brought some special punch of your own!"
I take that as my cue to leave before they say anything else to me. A nervous tic causes my hand to spasm. Ramona meets me halfway, linking her arm in mine.
"Do I have to toss someone into the punch bowl?" she asks.
"Nah, everything is fine." I chime back. I offer her the same cup of Chevy's special brew. I cackle as Ramona gives the same eyebrow-raising response. Our laughter is cut short as all eyes turn towards the main stage and the gym falls into silence as Horn of Plenty is blared through the speakers. Like the upstanding citizens we are, we stand straight-backed for the national anthem. When the hymn concludes, it's immediately replaced with the upbeat tune of every teen's favourite after school show, Panemian Bandstand.
The gym, naturally, becomes a hive of activity as kids run to grab the closest seats. Ramona and I were already ahead of the pack, snaking our way to the edge of the stage.
"Welcome to a spooktacular episode of PBC's Panemian Bandstand! Brought to you by Pep-Cola Soft Drinks - add some pep in your step! Live from Detroit, District 6 with Panem's oldest teen - Clarke Dickson!"
From behind the curtains, Clarke emerges and is greeted with ravenous cheering - and my ticking, but who notices due to all the hubbub? Of course, he's dressed like a vampire.
"Thank you, thank you so much for the Capitol welcome you've given me!" he greets joyously. Chuckling, he begins sauntering around the stage. "I knew I was onto something when I chose District 6 for this year's spooktacular episode! Coriolanus Snow Collegiate Institute...It's a fitting name for such a grand-looking place! Even though there might as well be a zillion schools named after the gent from the Corso, I hear you guys are quite a competitive bunch! That's good, that's good...because we have some friendly competition going down tonight! A 'best costume' vote is currently underway with a prize trip to Marquette on the line - we'll introduce the contestants shortly - as well as a dance competition in which there are a bevy of prizes to be won. But first...I wanna hear some of that DTown sound that they say is so choice, I'm sure you guys do!"
This earns thunderous cheers.
"Sounds mint," Clarke replies. "I've come with a few special guests as you all know. Some of which have placed on our weekly top ten hits!"He flashes a pearly white smile while moving over to a flashy holoboard numbered one to ten. The opening flutter of the song already has all the girls - me included - in a tizzy. "Coming in at number ten - and rising - 'Volare' by Six's very own Frank Zucco!"
The curtains rise, revealing local teen idol Frank Zucco and his ensemble. I swear I couldn't hear myself tic given how loud the gym was.
Volare, oh oh
Cantare, oh oh oh
Let's fly way up to the clouds
Away from the maddening crowds
We can sing in the glow of a star that I know of,
Where lovers enjoy peace of mind
Let us leave the confusion and all disillusion behind
Just like bird of a feather, a rainbow together we'll find
Volare, oh oh
Cantare, oh oh oh oh
No wonder my happy heart sings
Your love has given me wings...
We all join in from start to finish, clapping and singing along as he joins us in the risers. The urge was there to reach out and touch him but unlike one girl who reels back in bliss as he cups her chin, I still have my bearings. Or at least I think. Frank Zucco was just a scrumptious appetizer to the rollercoaster that was the hit list. Even during the intermissions, everyone was still buzzing, only to rush back to our seats again. For the number nine spot, the gym breaks out into a gender separated sing-along of "Clumsy". They even slipped in easy listening by way of Snow Island's "It's now or never" by Enrique Colón. It wouldn't be a 'spooktacular' episode without a few festive songs in the mix. "The spook", "Midnight"...they weren't exactly songs that got you up on your feet. I didn't care too much for them.
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ooh, mm, da-ba-da-ba-do, do
Brrr, doop-doop, bee
Mm, da-ba-da-ba-do, do
Ramona and I trade glances, teetering to the center stage with our hands straight to our sides - palms outward all while lurching our heads from left to right. She and I really cared for Doris McKenzie's "Crazy in love", however. Hells, everyone launched to their feet for this one - a big band swing feel mixed in with a 'now' beat, what wasn't there to enjoy?
Got me lookin so crazy right now
Your love's got me lookin so crazy right now
Got me lookin so crazy right now your touch's
Got me lookin so crazy right now
Our toes go forward, back, back and then forward all in a fluid motion as our arms and heels do the same. We even turn to meet each other, grinning like idiots while the other kids give us a wide berth. The cameras pan to us but I don't have a care in the world!
Got me hoping you page me right now your kiss's
Got me hoping you save me right now
Lookin so crazy your love's got me lookin
Got me lookin so crazy your love!
At the end of the number, Ramona and I exchange bows before plopping in our seats in a huff. Thank the gods I'm not wearing bright clothes, they'd probably be soaked all the way through.
"And that was "Crazy in love" by Doris McKenzie! How she balances being a pop star and escort to District 3 I simply do not know..." microphone in hand, Clarke saunters ever so closely towards me, causing my heart to race faster than it already was. It doesn't help that he continues to make passing glances at me while addressing the cameras. "Coming in at the number two spot is Leto Bell's rendition of "1-2-3!"!"
As the crowd cheers in response, Clarke turns to me, a handsome smirk on his lips as he tilts the microphone my way. I catch Ramona's grin as I turn my attention directly toward the host.
"Hello starlight, I like the way your gem sparkles," he purrs. "What's your name?"
"Oh...thank you," I chime back in response. I feel a tic coming on but I suppress it, causing me to grimace a tad - ball my hands together in a fist. They don't seem to notice. "I'm Isabella Wilkinson, seventeen. You can call me Izzy."
"Amazing, those dance moves were Capitol tier and your outfit is as well. Come, come..." he motions for me to stand and I do. I'm used to all the eyes gawking at me while I have a "spaz attack" but on national television? Gee, I feel like I'm floating...
"I made it myself," I say, stifling another tic with a closed lip smile. "I would've worn a costume, but put my savings towards buying one for my sister, Mallory, who's watching tonight."
"What a class act that is. You're one helluva gal, Izzy. Now before I get carried away, what say you about the song? Do you like it?"
"Mhm," I answer. "It's got a good tune and dancing to it is as easy as 1-2-3!"
He lets out a cackle that'd make Caesar Flickerman smile. "Need I say anymore?! Introducing our number two song live tonight, "1-2-3" by Leto Bell!"
The crowd once again begins to holler and applaud as Leto appears center stage in an orange suit and black accessories. The band beginning to play the opening instrumentals, Clarke quickly moves out of the way as backup go-go dancers move into the crowd and pluck people out of their seats. Of course after our display, Ramona and I are invited back centerfold. We're even given numbered and lettered signs to flaunt around as Leto sings. Rocking my hips from side to side while dipping downward and mashing my heels in, I do just that, all while others clap and sing along.
1-2-3, oh, that's how elementary it's gonna be
C'mon, let's fall in love, it's easy - it's so easy
Like takin' candy, like takin' candy, from a baby
A-B-C fallin' in love with you was easy for me -easy for me
And you can do it, too, it's easy - it's so easy
Like takin' candy, like takin' candy - from a baby
Baby, there's nothin' hard about love
Basically, it's as easy as pie
The hard part is livin' without love
Without your love, baby, I would die!
1-2-3!
1-2-3!
It's easy - it's so easy
Like takin' candy - from a baby, yeah!
"That was Leto Bell, everyone!" Clarke gives the young man a clap on the shoulder while he dips behind the stage to thunderous applause. Leto Bell, probably one of the only Capitolite artists I'd put on my top list alongside Doris McKenzie's electro swing. The last song on the list was on the horizon. What would it be? The Capitol Shuffle? The Islander Ska?
I don't care. Nothing could ruin this evening.
"What an afternoon it has been. The votes for 'best costume' and 'best dancers' are being tallied as we speak...Now, in terms of best dancer, I'm sure number one on the list will serve as quite the dealbreake..."
What...What's wrong? Confused, I lean forward as Clarke's face scrounges into a concerning frown. His hand rises to his earpiece while one hand rests on his hip. The murmurs grow now as the cameramen move from their stations. I think of myself as an observant person, so I find it odd that the red lights that were prominently lit on top of the cameras were now off...as in maybe they were off air - not broadcasting.
"What's going on?" Ramona hisses into my ear. I shrug in response, watching the host as he tries to formulate a sentence. This is a sharp contrast to the ever so sharp man we just saw a minute ago.
"As you know...Panemian Bandstand is parented by the PBC - who also hosts a state broadcasting network..." Clarke begins as his voice cuts through the chorus of murmurs. "...Erm, when there is important news to be heard, it is common to interrupt programming to deliver said news. That has just happened to this program. I have just received word of something very, very terrible, uh...Hey you, up in the AV booth, do you have a holoprojector? If so, please put activate it and put it on the news..."
"What's going on?!" someone cries out, earning supporting cries of agreement. What was going on? Was the Capitol bombed by that Oceania Confederation I hear about on the news sometimes? Did an earthquake happen someplace, what, what the hells was going on? Clarke ignores them, arms folded as crewmembers join him on stage now and watch as the projector takes up the entirety of the downstage - like a theater screen.
The first thing we see is a flustered Chad Blakely on top of the flashing headline "PRESIDENT KANE SHOT, SUSPECT(S) STILL AT LARGE"
If someone were outside the gym, unaware of the screen we lay eyes on, they would think it was haunted given the sharp intakes of breath and racket of exclamations that rock the room. Out of pure instinct, my hand meets Ramona's as she scoots closer to me. She watches me with complete shock in her eyes. I imagine my expression mirrors hers perfectly.
"How though?"
"How is this possible?"
"Multiple people shot at him? Where did they get the guns?"
"They still float around after the war, I mean just look at Six..."
"Who would do such a thing?"
"Why, why would someone do such a thing?!"
"You know why..."
"...Abolishing the Games?"
"Foreign spies?"
"Keep it down!" an adult snaps, silencing the room enough to hear Blakely speak.
"...About ten minutes ago I hear, ahem, from our correspondents on the ground in Helena, District 1, a multitude of shots have pelted the limousine carrying President Kane, Governor and former victor Westenfluss and First Lady Kane." Blakely says, adjusting his eyeglasses while reading off a datapad. "According to eyewitness accounts, all passengers including the guardsmen were hit, causing the parade car to crash into a guardrail in which...They were peppered again. Furthermore, it was noted that passengers were wreathing in pain - as if they were trying to escape the onslaught."
I simply shake my head in confusion. Who would do this? I mean, the other kid said it already - I know why. An end to the Games after the one hundredth was all anyone ever talked about when he announced it. Maybe it was some angry Careers. But where would they get guns? Does District 1 allow guns or something?
"...District 1 Civic Hospital, Linus?"
The screen cuts to a slightly disheveled young man in a brown suit and bowtie with glasses slightly askew.
"Hello Chad, please forgive me as...uh, the situation is very fluid," Linus man pants, adjusting his glasses. "I'm here at the hospital in which the occupants are being treated. Originally we were quite close to the emergency wing of the hospital and uh...the limousine in which they were occupying has seen better days. It was literally pocked with bullets and the windshield...on the driver's side...I..." the man trails off.
"You're doing good work, Linus." Blakely says. "I hear that you had an eyewitness lined up?"
"Yes. Yes I do. Perhaps he could shed a proper light..." The reporter nods. The camera cuts out to a man cradling a baby while his wife stands by. "I have here a Mr. Topaz Markowitz. Sir, you were on the Prospect Avenue overpass with your family while the shots rang out?"
"Yes, I think I saw everything go down." The man replies. He motions for the wife to take their baby, which she does. "The car was driving fine no problem, but once it got closer, I heard something like a firecracker go off. I was watching the front of the car as you know and I saw the windshield...y'know, crack. The driver must've got hit because there was so much blood..."
"And then what happened?"
"The engine roared and they crashed into a median...It was like they were getting stung by tracker-jackers."
"The passengers you mean?"
"Yeah...The way they kept jolting up while they were getting hit." The One man continues unevenly. "The gunfire...It sounded like construction on a fence. Bang bang bang bang bang! It was consistent."
"There are other accounts coming in, but...I think it's too much to decipher at the moment, Chad." Linus says as the One family is cut out of the picture. "We'll relay you any significant pieces as they come."
"That's quite alright Linus, we have information here in the Capitol to look at." Blakely says. "PBC reporters have questioned the Defense Department, in which a representative can firmly state that no intrusions could have possibly happened on One's border into the Northern Wilds or other ports of entry without being flagged. MININT - the Interior Department, concurs. Although discontent in the Career districts against the President was high, MININT believes that there were no credible threats against his life in District 1. Vice President Viondra DeWynter is currently being pulled from a social call and is en route to the Presidential Manson to preside over a meeting of officials there."
Like everyone else, my eyes remained glued to the screen. It was like a movie for sure. Besides the occasional sob, it was so silent that any sudden movement felt like a mutt tearing through the room. Like a movie, we watch for what felt like eons as President Kane's limousine moves down the highway, only for shots to ring out and for it to crash. I try to see if I can catch anything off myself, but I can't. We see shots of the hospital under heavy Peacekeeper and security guard, Capitol bigwigs being escorted into the Mansion until lastly, Chad Blakely confirms that President Kane passed away alongside his driver and a Peacekeeper they found in an apartment hallway.
"It is half past three, Capitol time and although not officially stated by any official or medical personnel, yes, President Kane has passed away due to multiple. Gunshot wounds." Blakely announces. His voice terse while placing his datapad onto his desk. "Who would've thought District 1 of all places would harbor such hate. We'll have to see what transpires as the days go by."
I take the time to read the room. The sobs are louder now throughout the gym now. A good many people have their eyes wide and their mouths agape. I even manage to spot Chevy and his crew in the upper stands. It seems a national tragedy is their limit.
"Might I add that there hasn't been a shock like this since President Coriolanus Snow's abrupt passing some twenty-five years ago, as well as President Roland Pearce's death some thirty days into his presidency during the Eightieth Hunger Games. As is protocol, Viondra DeWynter is slated to take over the presidency on an interim basis until the National Assembly reconvenes. We will bring you footage of that swearing in shortly as sources indicate that..."
My eyes find themselves drifting over to a portrait of President Kane that presides over the stage. Just like the still in the library, he wore a warm and proud smile.
So much for a "new way" of doing things, eh President Kane?