CHAPTER 12 – Money Shot

JOHANNA

My knife is on the girl's neck before I even register who she is.

Truth be told; I'm pissed. Today has officially been the worst day in a week of increasingly shit ones, staring when Cosima called my name at the reaping. I lost my rabbit in the struggle with the birds, even thinking about my wound sends pain shooting up my arm, and without my jacket, it's been fucking freezing. The last thing I need today is for some stupid girl to try to kill me.

It takes a moment in the dwindling light, but I feel a flicker of recognition when I spot the amber eyes and curly hair. My grip on the knife is loosening; I'm cold, weak, and the snow makes the handle slippery, but I do my best to keep it steady. Twine's pupils dilate in fear.

"It's me! Twi!"

"I know," I say, my voice coming out breathier than I intend it to be. My arm seizes in agony, and I'm painfully aware that I can't hold it up for much longer. "Did you follow me?"

"Not far! Only about ten minutes – I was camped by the juniper bushes. Johanna, please. Don't kill me."

I pretend to spend a moment deliberating, but my grip is already loosening. Twine doesn't stand a chance against me once we actually come to a fight, but for now, she's a lot more useful alive than dead. Two tributes together equal more camera time for both of us, and I need as many sponsors I can get. Bitterly, I shiver and look up at the darkening sky. Surely someone must have sent some money.

"Thanks," Twine breathes, when I drop the knife to my side. She eyes the one at my belt, with half fear and amazement. "Where'd you get those?"

"Cornucopia. I was lucky that I was on the very end and I only had the boy from Five to fight with. What about you?"

Twine gestures to the bag she dropped a few metres before entering my clearing. "A sleeping bag and a first aid kit. A few protein bars. Oh, and some matches."

I eye the bag, feeling a wave of bitterness at its size and contents. "How'd you get it? Did you go in?"

"Oh no," Twine's eyes widen at the thought. "I ran straight for the woods, but I'm not used to snow, or trees, so I tripped. I was just getting back up when the boy from Three ran through with the bag in his arms. He got shot with an arrow. Whoever shot must have been distracted, because they didn't come after him, and I managed to pull the bag from him. Got out without a scratch." She grins a big, toothy smile, apparently proud of herself.

"Must have been Love."

"The girl from One?" Twine rubs the back of her head with a shaky hand. She must be freezing here. "That makes sense. She's one of the scary ones."

"They're all scary," I say. "That's the point."

"What happened to you?" She asks. "You seem far more confident than you did back in training."

I decide there's no point keeping up an act around Twine – it's not like she can do anything about it – but admitting deception doesn't feel like the best course of action. Instead, I change the subject, and fill her in on what's happened; the scrap with the boy from Five, the geysers, and the birds. Once she sees the ugly wound on my arm, Twine runs to fetch her first aid kid.

"You don't have to," I say, though I eye the disinfectant and bandages with fervour. Twine only shakes her head. "No really, they're yours."

"And before they were mine, they were the boy from Three's. Listen, I know I asked you before, but it feels a little different now. Allies?"

I sigh. I don't want to say it out loud, at least, because I'm sure allying with Twine will lose me a few sponsors, but sharing the pool with Eight may not be a bad idea, and in order for an allyship to be official, it needs to be agreed verbally by the tributes. And, as much as I don't want to admit it, I've been feeling a bit lonely. "Allies."

Twine gets the work on the wound. She's not particularly adept at the task, but any amount of bandages and disinfectant is better than none at all, no matter how sloppy the application is. As she cleans the wound, we begin to talk about the other tributes.

"Who do you think's strongest, out of the ones that are left?" I ask. It's come to mind that I haven't really spent time learning about the others – though I should have. That was one of the things Hazel had told me to do.

"The Careers, obviously," Twine starts. "The girls from One and Four in particular, those are Love and Circe. I wouldn't be surprised if they betray the other three or split off on their own at one point."

"Really?"

"Yeah – from the look of them at training, they don't really like the others. Circe killed her district partner, so she's definitely able to betray someone."

"Who else?" I'm listening intently. Perhaps Twine can be good for something.

"Winnifred from Ten. I think she killed someone at the Cornucopia, but I'm not sure. And Titus."

"Titus?" I frown. "Who's that?"

"The boy from Six."

"Really? Him? I can't remember anything about him. Was he the one who talked about hovercrafts in his interview?"

Twine nods, but shudders visibly at the thought of him. "I know it's stupid, but there's something about him that just feels off. I can't quite place it. We have a term back in Eight, for people like him. It's like he's a fraying thread, about to snap, you know?"

"Like Annie Cresta?" I think of last year's sobbing victor. "She couldn't kill a fly if she tried. We'll be fine."

"Not like Annie," Twine's eyes narrow off into the distance. "Different. More ominous."

"You're being stupid," I say. "There are plenty more dangerous tributes to worry about than the boy from Six."

Twine appears to open her mouth to speak, but she's cut off by the anthem. Above us, the sky flickers with the Capitol emblem, and then the face of the girl from Five. She looks down on us with unblinking green eyes for what feels like hours.

"Wonder how she died," Twine breathes, when the anthem has faded, and her face has disappeared. Of course, they won't show us. That would be unfair. It's a rule I'm very happy is in place right now.

"Doesn't matter now. Come on; we better set up for tonight. It's gonna be a cold one."

HAZEL

"So, do you want to tell me why you kept this a secret?"

Ah, so Blight's sobered up. I wince at the words and turn to my left, where he's sat down next to me. His appearance is about as shabby as it is year-round, meaning he's at least made some kind of effort, even if he smells like he hasn't showered in a few days. Across the table, I see Cecilia look up, and then back down. Allies tend to sit together, but she knows this conversation isn't for her.

"She asked me to, Blight. What was I supposed to do?"

"Not listen to her? Tell me? Fuck's sake, Hazel, you really think I couldn't have helped you?"

"You had your own tribute. Need I remind you that while we're on the same team now, we were still at odds yesterday. You could have told Ainsley. Where would that have put her?"

"I wouldn't have," Blight says, seeming to stiffen at the boy's name. "He was a lost cause from day one. Hopeless."

"Well, Johanna isn't. Listen, I'm sorry – okay? It's not that I don't trust you as a mentor, god knows I would have died without you having my back. But I need my tribute to trust me as well."

He leans back. "Well, whatever, cat's out of the bag now. Just don't get me wrong, I will be bitter if it only takes you three years to bring back a victor."

I crack a smile.

"Sorry to interrupt," Cecilia speaks up, and my smile disappears. Of course, it's no good to smile about winning when there's another district at the table. "But Hazel, your sponsorship request has gone through."

"It has?" I snap my gaze back to my screen, where I can see that, yes, the little green light is flickering. Immediately I press the button to accept and sit back and wait. On my other screen, I see Johanna and Twine sitting up a tree and talking in low voices. Twine frowns at points at the sky.

"Do you see that?"

They both turn their heads above them, to where the tell-tale silver of a parachute descends onto the snow with a satisfying thud. Johanna is the first to leap down off their perch and tears into the basket, eyes widening at the sight.

"What is it?" Twine calls.

Johanna holds out the jacket triumphantly. It's better than the standard tribute uniform one, made of real, thick wool, with a waterproof outside. Twine's eyes widen. "Good catch, huh?"

"You must have real nice sponsors."

"Apparently," Johanna pulls on the jacket with satisfaction, letting out a heavy breath. "Don't have to worry about freezing to death now. Thanks, Hazel."

"Hazel? Is that your mentor?"

"Yeah," Johanna climbs back into the tree. "She's alright."

Alright? I frown. I've been working my ass off for you.

"I like my mentor," Twine says. "Cecilia. Some of the girls at my Home used to babysit for her when she's away for the Games."

"You're an orphan?" Johanna asks.

"Yeah. What about you?"

"I've got my dad," she says. "Mum died when I was little."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"So am I," Johanna pauses, and then lets out a bitter laugh. "Sucks to be us, huh? Both of us have at least one dead parent, we're in the fucking Hunger Games, and it's bloody cold."

"Cheers," Twine says. "I'll drink to that."

"You got any alcohol, Hazel?" Johanna asks. They sit in silence, as if expecting my response. You bet your ass if I had money for booze in the arena, I'd have sent you every weapon in the catalogue first. "Eh, I thought not."

Twine giggles, and I see Johanna frown. She's going to have to kill her, at one point. I just hope she's ready for it.

Blight agrees to take watch for the night, since he slept through most of the day, so I'm allowed a rare reprise back to my room. It feels wrong, returning back to the Seventh-floor tribute-less, but I try my best to pay no mind and focus on showering and getting to bed. I turn the live feed on in my room, just in case, but the arena is dead, and the Capitol has apparently had enough action for today. I'm just about asleep when the little red envelope gets placed under my door.

I'm groggy enough to ignore it – another sponsorship I can deal with tomorrow – but there's a nagging feeling at the back of my head, and I can't fall asleep without it. I pull myself out of bed and onto the floor, not bothering with the letter-opener on my desk and tearing at it with bare hands.

The rose-scented paper and black ink jolts me wide awake. Head Gamemaker Faustus Cohen wants a meeting tomorrow morning.

A/N: Very sorry for the short chapter, I'm running late but wanted to post something tonight. More coming soon!