Chapter 17- Dexsia Greentree
Velvet gets up, still joking with Treasure, and leaves the dining hall. "What are you going to do?" I ask the table in general.
"Hey, trade secrets!" Cossus says, dangling a bun in front of my face. When I go to grab it, he whisks it away.
"No teasing, Cossus!" I say, laughing and trying to reach the bread.
Of course I'm doing sword fighting in my session; what else would I do? Aulus would be appalled if I tied knots the whole time. I'm confident I'm going to get a high score; I am one of the best students Aulus has ever had, after all.
It's funny; I always thought that the two and a half days of training would be boring or stressful, but I've had the most fun I've ever had with my new allies. Even Treasure, who isn't the brightest tool in the box.
"I'm looking forward to the interviews, aren't you?" Calypso asks. "I want to get all dressed up again."
"What were you in the parade?" Treasure asks, flicking her platinum blonde curls over one shoulder.
"My stylist put me in a mermaid costume and my district partner in an old-fashioned sailor suit. I was so pretty in the sparkly scales, but Mica looked like an idiot," Calypso says.
"Velvet better get a good score or else his mentor will kill him!" Treasure says, changing the subject again. "And his dad at home; winning's so important to his family!"
"Why?" I ask. "I mean, it's important in my district too, but why specifically to his family?"
"Don't you know who Velvet is?" Treasure asks incredulously. Her expression suggests that I've literally shocked her.
"Yeah, he's my ally," I say, a little cautiously.
"Oh my gosh! You really don't know! Velvet's dad is Garnet Dusksand!"
"Why does that name sound familiar?" I ask, finally grabbing the bun from Cossus and stuffing it in my mouth.
"Wasn't he a victor from the old times? Like twenty-five years ago or something?" Cossus says, stretching and yawning at the same time.
"Yeah! That's him!" Treasure says in her unusually high-pitched voice. Really, it rivals the Capitol accent. "That's why Velvet volunteered; his dad wanted him to!"
"Well you learn something new every day, don't you?" Cossus says.
"District 1, Treasure Lockwater," says the woman over the speaker.
"Looks like it's me!" Treasure says, getting up. "See you later!"
Once Treasure has disappeared around the corner, Cossus sets his head down on the table. "I couldn't take much more of that stupid voice of hers," he says, slightly muffled.
"She's not that bright, is she?" Calypso says, looking at the door that Treasure left through.
I shake my head. "I really don't think she is."
"Hey, Dex, how come you volunteered? Is your dad a secret victor too?" Calypso asks, plunking her chin into her hands.
"No victor dad; I've always been encouraged to volunteer and I really wanted to. How about you? I forget, did you volunteer or no?"
"No, I was just picked."
There's more banter back and forth, and a whole bit where Calypso and Cossus argue about which bread is better, the District 4 salty seaweedy kind, or the cinnamon raisin kind from District 2. Frankly, I'm leaning towards the District 4 kind, and I'm about to say so, when Cossus's name gets called.
"District 2, Cossus Underthorn."
"See you upstairs, Dex," he says, and leaves. I'm up next, and every fiber of my being is quivering in anticipation.
"Nervous?" Calypso says, watching me.
"Excited. I've been wanting to do this for a long time."
For the first time I'm really aware of just how calculating Calypso looks; like every time she looks at something or someone, she's measuring them with her eyes. She has very straight reddish-blonde hair that keeps falling in her eyes, but her green eyes are the most striking thing about her. I can tell just right now that she isn't a Treasure. I think I should keep an eye on Calypso in the Games. She might prove to be less of an ally than I thought.
"Did you see how dumb those two kids look with their arms painted up? They can't think that the Gamemakers will take them seriously like that," I say, looking over at the pair of twelve-year olds that have sat together for the past few days.
"Aw, let them have some fun with it; they're not going to get a good score whether they have flowers or not," Calypso says.
"But still, they can't be serious," I say. The smallest one with the reddish hair looks my way then averts her eyes quickly. I can see you looking at me, shrimp, I think. For some reason, she irritates me. The other girl she's with is the really pretty one from 3. I have a feeling she'll get a lot of sponsors, so she has to go too.
"We don't have to worry about them," Calypso says. "Or a lot of the tributes, really. Half of them are too weak to throw a knife or jump the obstacle course. Believe me, Dex, none of them are getting good scores."
There's a few that stand out for me that could get good scores; the two from 5, of course, possibly the two from 8, and even the boy from 12 could have a chance.
"District 2, Dexsia Greentree."
"Good luck in there," Calypso says.
"Thanks. See you in a few days," I say, getting up and walking through the door of the dining hall.
My heart is beating faster as I approach the gymnasium. I push open the door, which swings shut behind me, and walk out into the center of the room.
The Gamemakers are clearly having a party; they have a full banquet table, and half of them are holding glasses of some liquid I suspect is liquor. I'm lucky to be near the beginning, I realize. Once they get further down the districts, they'll be too drunk to care what the tributes show them.
"Dexsia Greentree, District 2," I say, presenting myself, then I turn to the swords. There's a whole sea of practice dummies, and I think it's time to see them lose their heads. Once I pick up a sword and see it balanced in my hand, I go into my training frame of mind, where the only things that exist are me, the target, and my sword.
I slash the first dummy's head off immediately, then stab the next in the stomach. When I pull the blade out, sand runs out of the dummy's torso. I make my way through the models, slicing in half, stabbing, delimbing, and decapitating, in a furious frenzy. I parry, spin, roll, duck and stab over and over again, losing myself in the moment. This is why Aulus chose me out of all those kids ten years ago. He saw promise, and now I'm showing the Gamemakers, the people who really matter, just how good I am, and how good I will be with a real opponent in the arena.
I'm showing them that I could be, and will be, a victor.
Finally, I stop, out of breath, and look behind me to see the sea of destruction I've left in my wake.
"You are dismissed," says the man in the uniform that designates himself as Head Gamemaker. I take a small bow, return my sword to the rack, and leave.
On my way to the elevator I hear the next person being called.
"District 3, Copper Hawkgrove."
Dove Rosestar
Cabel and I sit quietly, watching the other tributes get up for their private sessions. "Do what you're best at for the Gamemakers; impress them!" That's what Fabian said this morning before we headed down the elevator.
I know what Cabel's going to do; he's going to throw some spears. He found out that he's good with them yesterday after we split ways.
Lexa and Fabian asked a few days ago if we wanted to be trained together or separately.
"We have no secrets; together of course," Cabel said. Fabian only grunted. I think he thinks our alliance won't end well. I'm determined to get both of us home, though. I don't have a choice.
"District 5, Alyss Overhorn."
The tall girl with blonde hair gets up and goes out the door. "You're next, aren't you?" I ask Cabel. He nods.
"Hey, we get the night off!" I say, poking my brother in the side. He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Oh, come on, we'll be fine. Go have fun," I say.
"None of this is fun, Dove," he says.
"I climbed the ropes again today; that was pretty fun."
"You know what I mean!"
"I miss home too, Cabel. We'll get through this, and we'll win together."
"There's only one victor, Dove," Cabel says, and his eyes are pained when he looks at me.
We sit in silence until his name gets called.
"District 6, Cabel Rosestar."
"Good luck," I say. He finally smiles like Cabel, then he gets up and goes out the door.
My brother hasn't been acting like my brother ever since we got to the Capitol. He was always serious, but he's gone completely quiet. It's funny, even though he's with me, I miss him so much.
I've got to go in and get a good score. That way he'll see that I'll be alright in the arena, and maybe he won't worry so much about me. We'll be fine, I know we will! I just worry about how Mum will take it at home.
I miss Opal too, my best friend. We liked to take walks around after school sometimes, and talk about everything. Now, with both my friend and my brother lost to me, I have no one to tell my secrets to.
I come back from being lost in my thoughts when I feel someone looking at me. I glance over and it's the District 12 girl again. What's her name? Mara? I think it's Mara. Well, if she's looking to team up, I'm not accepting anyone else into our alliance. When she sees me looking at her, she whips her head the other way.
"District 6, Dove Rosestar."
Automatically, I get up and move out the door as if in a dream. I ignore the other tributes who are watching me go, waiting for their own turns.
My lace up boots sound heavy on the tile floor of the hallway as I make my way to the gymnasium. I push the grey swinging doors open, and walk in to see the Gamemakers up on a stage having a party.
The man in the uniform that says he's Head Gamemaker is holding a turkey leg as I stand there and look up at them.
"District 6, Dove Rosestar," I say. He nods at me, and I turn to the knife rack, fingering the blades gently. Of all the things I've tried, I like the throwing knives best. I pick up two, one in each hand, and face a target about fifteen feet away. I position myself like the trainer told me to, grip the handles, and with my right hand I throw the blade with all my strength.
The knife hits and vibrates for a second at the edge of the board. Switching the knife from my left hand to my right, I throw again, hitting closer this time. I repeat it with four more knives, each one hitting closer to the center of the target.
I take my eyes off the target with the red center and look around the room. There's a stack of practice dummies in one corner that have been mangled and destroyed, probably by a previous tribute. There's still some standing, however, and I pick up one of the remaining knives on the rack. Positioning my feet, I lock my eyes on the dummy's head. With one breath out, I send the knife flying, and it lodges in the dummy's face. The knife buries itself deep within the head, and sand pours out around the blade, making a small pile start to pool up on the floor.
"Thank you, Miss Rosestar," says the Head Gamemaker. I walk out without a look back, but I know that I've succeeded in what I came to do.
Terra Coppersmith
Fletcher sits across the room, tapping his fingers on the table. He looks nonchalant but I know he's nervous, just as nervous as I am.
The redheaded girl from 7, Cedar, just got called back. It's only a matter of time before Fletcher gets called, and then me. The thought makes my hands shake, and I can't have that. Not now.
I don't know if I'm good enough with a bow. I worked all this morning, getting my arrows closer and closer to the center of the target. Is it enough? I realize I'm biting my nails and I put my hands in my lap.
I keep my eyes on Fletcher for a little bit more; the way he drums out a rhythm that I can't hear, how easily he keeps his face relaxed, his easygoing nature. The way he runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end.
Fletcher notices me watching him and he winks. How can I not like this boy? And how will I ever be able to kill him in the arena?
I put my face in my hands and rub my eyes, trying to clear my head. Remember who you're doing this for, I think. Iry. Deecey. Mrs. Underfall, even. Fletcher is not in the cards for my survival. I need to get home to my family, need to keep Iry with me and not in the community home.
"District 8, Fletcher Wellrock."
I look up to see Fletcher get up. He winks at me again, gives me a giant grin, then leaves through the doors. I can't like him, I can't do that to myself, or to Deecey. Not fair.
Of course, nothing in the Games is fair.
To keep my mind off Fletcher and my upcoming test of skill, I look around the room at the tributes who are left. There's the tall dark-haired boy from 9 on one side of the room, and on the other is the really tiny tribute from 9. Her arms are covered in painted flowers. She looks so small and innocent. She's so young…
Truly, my heart breaks for her and her family. Surely she knows that she won't go home.
There's the tributes from 10, the boy who looks unassuming, and the plain girl who is strong. I've seen her throw weights across the room over the past few days. She's sitting alone, looking around the room with an alarmed look in her eye.
Sitting separately are the boy and girl from 11. I doubt either of them will last long in the arena. Neither are strong, and the boy doesn't look particularly healthy. And the two from 12, the strong boy and the frightened girl, are sitting together for once.
I want to know all their names, and I could if I bothered to pay attention when the television is showing them. But I don't really want to know who they are, because it will make it so much harder to kill them. And I'll have to, if I'm going to get home.
I keep my head in my hands for the next few minutes, picturing Iry's face, Deecey's face, and the center of the target that I'm determined to hit today. Breathe, Terra, I think.
"District 8, Terra Coppersmith."
I jerk my head up, still seeing stars from when I was pressing on my eyes. All the tributes are looking at me, like I've looked at all the other tributes when they got up to leave. Slowly, I swivel from my seat and stand up, moving through the tables and the dining hall and through the door.
Down the hallway and into the gymnasium. I've spent all of three days in this room, but this time it feels different. For one thing, there's a raucous party going on the stage where the Gamemakers sit. There's lots of laughter, some are singing, and I can tell they've had altogether too much to drink.
I walk in, letting the door shut loudly behind me. Shuttle told me to announce my district and name, even though they called me in by it. I suppose she meant that the Gamemakers would be too drunk by the time I arrived to pay attention to who is called and when.
"District 8, Terra Coppersmith," I say in a loud, clear voice. Some of the Gamemakers look over at me with interest, but the others keep eating and drinking. I have one shot to keep their attention. Walking over to the rack with bows and quivers of arrows on it, I pick a bow up and select a single arrow from the selection. I take my place before the target I've been trying to hit the center of for days.
Keep watching me, you fools.
I notch the arrow and pull the string back to my shoulder, aiming carefully at the large target on the wall. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus, Terra.
I let the string go, and the arrow flies across the room, thudding into the target.
Bullseye.
Catalina Nightwind
My name is finally called, almost exactly fifteen minutes after Ornam was called back. I twist the beaded bracelet Challah gave me around and around my wrist, clutching my one remaining piece of home.
Are the others as scared as I am?
The walk down the hallway seems so much farther today, and I notice every step I take. My arms, so prettily decorated with Summer's flowers, are held stiffly at my sides, even though I try to keep them relaxed. I'm so nervous.
The door is heavy and I take a minute to push it open, then I step inside the gymnasium. Nobody on the stage takes any notice of me, even when I stand in front of them and announce, "District 9, Catalina Nightwind."
When they ignore me and carry on with their festivities, I go to the knife station, where I've been working. My hands are shaky and too small for the knives, but I throw one anyways. It lands far away from the target, and I hear someone laugh behind me. I stare at the grey blade lying on the hard floor.
What am I doing?
I turn around, leave the knives, and head straight for the camouflage station instead, picking up the pots of dyes and paints. This is what I love doing best, so this is what I will do for the Gamemakers. Rolling up my pants, I start to paint my leg into a forest floor, complete with tiny violets. It's not the most accurate, but it is beautiful, at least to me. I will be beautiful a while longer.
I lose myself in the painting entirely until I hear someone clearing their throat.
"Miss Nightwind? You are excused."
I look up to the stage and it's the Head Gamemaker, looking directly at me. He makes me shiver. I hesitate, then paint one more violet. I won't have another chance to. Then I cap the jars and set them carefully on the tray. He's still watching me.
"Thank you," I say, my voice higher than normal. Then I push my way out of the gymnasium and head for the elevators.
I step out of the elevator onto my floor, my pant leg still around my knee and my arms covered in the paint that's slowly starting to itch. Arla is slumped in a chair when I walk into the living room.
"Don't you look ridiculous," she says, slurring her words. For once she isn't holding a glass, but I don't doubt that she was earlier. "What's the flowers for?"
"It was my talent. And my friend painted my arms."
"Friend?" Arla makes a noise that's half laugh, half cough. "There's no friends here, girl."
"Where's Ornam? Or Ripple?" I ask.
"Boy's in his room. Ripple?" She shrugs.
"You were supposed to be my mentor," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "Why won't you help me?"
"Frankly, girl, you don't have a chance in that arena," Arla says, pushing herself to a sitting position with a lot of effort. "If that's all you could show the Gamemakers, a few pretty pictures, you don't have a chance."
I clench my hands into fists. "You're wrong! I promised my family I'll get back home! I promised!"
"The faster you realize you're not going home, the better. Less pain involved." Arla pulls a little glass bottle out from behind the chair, uncorks it, and takes a long drink of it.
"I have to! I have to go home! I promised!" I say, my voice rising. I'm being threatened with the possibility of choking on my unshed tears that have gathered in my throat.
"Listen, listen to the strikes against you," Arla says, her eyes a little less focused. "You're the smallest, you're arguably the youngest and weakest, and no twelve-year-old has won yet. No thirteen or fourteen-year old, either, if you think about it."
"I don't believe you! I promised!" I shout, shaking so hard I sink down to the floor, putting my face in my hands. "I promised Challah," I sob. "I can't let her down."
"What on earth is going on?" Solara says, coming into the room trailed by the rest of our party.
"What the hell are you saying to her?" Ripple yells, coming at Arla like a bear. With one swift movement he has picked her up and pushed her against the wall with a crash.
"What are you saying to my tribute?" Ripple demands, keeping one hand on Arla's arm, the other on her collarbone. Even Ornam has come out to watch the scene.
"Your tribute? She's mine!" Arla gasps and Ripple drops her to the ground.
"You revoked your claim on Cat when you refused to help her the first day of training. She's my tribute now, same as Ornam. Now, what were you saying to her that has her sobbing on the floor?" Ripple says a little quieter, but still as fierce as ever. Miri Pola is quiet for once, sitting next to me on the floor and rubbing my arm.
"I was only trying to let her know her chances and get her prepared for not going home," Arla says meekly, reaching for the bottle by the chair. Ripple reaches down and grabs it away before Arla can pick it up, throwing it over his shoulder. It lands with a crash somewhere behind me.
"I don't want you to talk to Cat for the rest of the time she's in the Capitol. She has just as much a chance in the Games as anyone does, and if you could win, so can she. So can Ornam. I am having a victor this year, Arla, and I am going to do my damn well hardest to get one of them out of that arena. So shut up and go tell your nasty comments to the wall in your room. I don't want to see you."
Ripple picks Arla up off the floor by her arm and throws her towards the hallway. Arla totters a second, regains her balance, then she wanders off towards her room without another word. A door opens and shuts, and she's gone.
Ripple comes and kneels next to me, on the side Miri isn't on. I'm still shaking and crying, and I hate to be seen as weak, but I can't stop.
"I promised Challah. I promised my parents. I promised them I would come home," I say between gulps of air.
"I'm going to do my best to get you home," Ripple says, quietly. All his fire has burnt out and he looks at me with pity, and with compassion.
"Let's get you to your room so you can have a lie down before we watch the scores come out tonight. I'm sure you did just fine," he says, and he and Miri lift me up and take me to my room.
"You'll be alright," Miri says, her voice less affected by the Capitol accent than usual. She backs out and the door slides shut behind her. The day and the crying have tired me out, and after a few minutes I fall asleep in the last rays of the Capitol sun.