Those of you who have read my previous stories, The First Annual Hunger Games, and Phoenix Rising, will recognize a familiar character in this chapter! Let me know what you think!
Chapter 63- Terra Coppersmith
I really don't think much of District 3, with its tall decrepit buildings and stinking factories similar to the ones at home. The people here too are underfed and downtrodden, similar to the people I saw in District 12. I learned in school, long ago, that District 3 was once a wealthy district, but after the Dark Days the standards have fallen.
I give my standard speech from the cards, with no elaborations this time. I didn't know either tribute from 3, both of them very young. The boy's parents stand almost shell-shocked through my speech, while Summer's parents cry openly. From watching the recap of the Games, I know that their daughter didn't meet a kind end, and it hurts me to see them. The little girl was so pretty, too.
I'm given the standard tour by last year's victor, a quiet boy named Beetee. He's about my age, and seems nice from what I hear from him. I remember that he electrocuted a bunch of tributes at once, and that's how he won. Really, we're both unlikely victors.
I don't think much of the dirty and depressing city like district I see, even with Beetee explaining each building's function. After the supper at the mayor's house, I'm happy to leave District 3 behind me.
In District 2, the atmosphere is different. I can tell the people here are different too; better fed, happier as a whole. Of course, 2 is the Capitol's pet, and a Career district.
"They're all bloodthirsty," Shuttle says, looking past me at the crowds. "I see them every year, and they can't wait to get in the arena. It's the old victors, they train the kids and have them volunteer, you know."
"It didn't work out for them this year," Woven says.
"No, it didn't," Shuttle says, and she looks at me with pride.
I can't help but feel guilty for coming home alive, though.
"Let's go!" Postumius says, popping up behind us. Someone gave strict instructions to the assistants on the train to not give him any alcohol, and I'm hoping that he won't drink tonight either. He's an idiot sober, but he's far worse drunk.
The first thing I notice when I get out on stage is how elegant the buildings are in their town square; made of white marble that looks freshly polished. As for the crowd below me, some are crossing their arms and looking up at me with boredom. Others are chatting with each other, not paying me any attention.
"I would like to thank you all for welcoming me so warmly to District 2; it is a beautiful place that is unrivaled anywhere else," I start out, reading surreptitiously from the cards Postumius handed to me right before I came out here. "I would also like to pay my respects for your fallen tributes, who fought so valiantly to bring honor to their district."
I look at the tributes' families. The boy, Cossus, has nobody to stand for him under his picture. The girl, Dexsia, on the other hand, has her whole family representing her; her father, mother, a man who appears to be her brother, and a young woman who holds a baby. The brother looks stern, while the others look grim.
As a Career, they expected their daughter to come home, and instead they have a seventeen-year-old District 8 girl giving a speech on their stage. Me being here was not in the cards.
"You have honored Panem by giving your children, and in turn Panem thanks you for your sacrifices. Thank you, District 2," I finish, reading off the last card and stepping back. My audience applauds, but I doubt they really want to. District 8 is never a popular one with the crowds.
I'm pulled back inside after the mayor says his part. "Oh, splendid! Wonderful job!" Postumius says, beside himself. "We must have a drink to celebrate!"
"If anyone gives him a drink, I'll kill them on the spot, is that understood?" Woven says, uncharacteristically savage. Everyone freezes, then the assistants nod and scurry off somewhere else. Postumius scowls at Woven, but says nothing.
"Our escorts have always been competent," a man says, coming in. He has shaggy blonde hair that comes to his shoulders and an unshaved face. From the looks of him, he's never stopped training.
"We can't all be that lucky, Aulus," Shuttle says.
"Go off, you idiot," Woven says, waving Postumius away. He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it, storming away.
"Good riddance to him. Terra, this is Aulus Buteo; Aulus, this is my victor," Shuttle says, gently giving me a push forward.
"You weren't one I had pegged to win, I'll tell you that," Aulus says, looking me up and down.
"Don't be rude, Aulus," says a tall woman with dark hair coming in behind him. She sticks her hand out to me and says, "You can call me Victoria; I won four years ago."
"I remember watching you," I say, shaking her hand.
"Memorable, am I?" she says, and laughs a little.
I smile at her; Victoria is quite memorable; she's one of the tallest victors I've met on this tour. Both she and Aulus failed to bring a victor home this year, and I can tell that it has affected Aulus more than Victoria. While she smiles and laughs, he stays solemn.
I don't think too much of District 2 either, while the two victors give me a short tour around. Generally, the people look happier here, but I don't like them. There's something about the Career districts that make me hate them, with District 4 mostly excluded. I can't see Mags drilling her tributes and making them volunteer for death.
"They're hard to stomach there, with that built in warrior mindset," Shuttle says after we're on the train and leaving District 2. "All Aulus would talk about in the Capitol was how he had trained his tribute, Dexsia, since she was eight, and that she was sure to win. He was devastated when she died."
I don't say anything to that. In the dark glass of the window I see myself dimly reflected back; me, Terra Coppersmith, the victor. By all rights I should never have been the victor; it was only by chance that I killed Calypso. I hid most of the Games, and only appeared at the last. As Aulus said, I was not the most obvious candidate for victor.
"Last district tomorrow, and then the Capitol, and then we can go home," Shuttle says.
"Yeah."
"District 1 is nice," she says.
"I think I'll go to bed," I say, then leave my mentor at the window.
My room is the same one that I had when I first was reaped, and it's bittersweet. It's familiar surroundings, but the room also reminds me of before, before the Games happened. I miss those days.
I take off my prosthetics, laying them beside me on the bed. I never look at my legs when the prosthetics are off; it hurts too much to see. I climb under the covers and pull them over my head, blocking everything out. And, for once, I fall asleep.
"Up, up, up! We're nearly there!" Tiffany says, pulling the covers off of me. I blink in the sunlight that's streaming through the windows. I had no dreams, a rare occurrence.
My prep team pulls me out of bed and begins putting my makeup on immediately. Woven wanders in after a few minutes and hands me a bagel from the breakfast table.
"You'll need your strength for the last day," she says.
"Don't smudge it!" Lem cries, holding a brush that's been dipped in some sort of powder.
"Calm down, I won't," I say, taking a bite of the bagel. Outside the window there are very few trees now, and in the distance there's a mountain range covered in snow. It's pretty here, more so than in any of the more industrial districts, my own included.
"District 1 is the most beautiful district!" Postumius says, waltzing in with a drink in hand.
"It's first thing in the morning, Postumius; where did you get that drink?" I ask.
"They make all the luxury items for the Capitol, and they're my favorite!" he continues, ignoring my question.
"Can you get him out of here?" I ask Woven.
"Let's go, go get drunk somewhere else, we don't want you here," she says, pushing the escort out the door and shutting it in his face.
"Of all the nerve!" he says on the other side of the door, then wanders away to accost someone else.
"Is he coming back with us to District 8?" I ask, looking at Woven. Lem lets out a sound of annoyance as he misses my cheek with his blush.
"Will you sit still?" he says in his high-pitched accent.
"He'll get shipped off right after the Tour concludes," Woven says. "Then, hopefully, he'll get reassigned somewhere else next year."
"If we're that lucky," I say, then allow my prep team to finish their makeup.
A half hour later, I'm standing at the door with Shuttle by my side. "Where's our esteemed escort?" I ask. I'm wearing a gold dress with a shawl of white fur around my shoulders; appropriate for the cold weather that I'm about to go out in.
"Somewhere else with a drink in hand no doubt. Here's your cards; I got them away from Postumius this morning," she says.
"Hello, hello, Miss Coppersmith," a man in a suit says, coming over and shaking my hand. He's a rather short and round man, but appears very friendly. "You can call me Royal; Royal Shortwith. I'm District 1's mayor, and it is a delight to meet you."
"Thank you, I'm happy to be here," I lie, shaking his hand then stepping back.
"Are we ready, then?" Royal asks, and I nod. The Peacekeepers that are guarding me open the doors to the stage, and I step out in front of the crowd. These people look very much like the ones in District 2; well fed and relatively happy.
The families of the tributes aren't happy, of course; for Velvet there is an older couple and a boy a little younger than me. The father is familiar, and I realize why; I've seen him on television my whole life, on and off. He's Garnet Dusksand, the victor of the 12th Hunger Games. I do the math quickly in my head, trying to remember who won what years. If I'm right, he would have won in between Mags from 4 and Aulus from 2. Career districts.
On the other side is Treasure's family. I don't have an attachment to either tribute, and I try to keep my feelings neutral as I speak. I pretend that I didn't know them, that it's just a Hunger Games I've seen on the television, not concerning me at all. If I pretend anything otherwise, I think I might break.
My speech is simple, like the others I've given on this tour. I hold myself together until the very end, and that's when I remember how I'm connected to Velvet, the tall brutish boy whose father was a victor. Velvet killed Fletcher. I choke on my words as I realize this, garnering a confused look from Royal. I try to gather myself together, to make a proper exit off the stage.
Garnet Dusksand looks directly at me, and he looks so much like his son. His son who drove a knife between Fletcher's ribs, Fletcher who is now cold and buried in the District 8 cemetery with only a simple headstone to remember him by.
"Get up the mountain. I'll hold them off. Only one of us can win this thing, and I want it to be you." The snow falls harder and harder around me and Fletcher, and I'm looking into his dark brown eyes, knowing he's serious about me running. I don't want to run, don't want to leave him!
"Go. Hide. And win, Terra. Win for me. Okay?" They're going to kill him, the Careers are going to kill him, but I'm too much of a coward to stay and fight beside Fletcher, so I run, I run away and I'm climbing up the mountain when I hear the cannon shot. He's dead, they've killed him, and I'm alone, alone in the wind and the snow, and…
I'm somewhat aware of being carried backwards; I scream and thrash, kicking out and meeting flesh. My captor groans but doesn't let me go. I scream louder, fighting with all my strength; then I'm dropped on soft ground. A loud slam makes me jump; it has to be a cannon. Somebody's dead, which means there's a tribute out hunting me now. Where's my bow? Where's my bow?
"Terra!" Somebody grabs my shoulders and shakes me hard, clearing my head a little. Slowly, I realize that I'm not in the arena, that there is no blizzard, no captor. Instead, I'm sitting on the carpet just inside the doors leading to the stage.
"What's going on?" I ask in a low voice. My gold dress has a rip in it, probably caused by being manhandled by somebody. Who picked me up?
Shuttle comes into view, forehead creased with worry. "What happened out there?" she asks.
"I don't know. What's going on?" I ask. My head's pounding and my vision is still a little fuzzy, threatening to throw me back into the arena in my head.
"You got to the end of your speech and you flipped out, that's what you did," says Woven, standing a few feet away.
"I- I'm sorry," I stutter, looking around the room. "What happened?"
"This fine gentleman," Shuttle says, gesturing to a nearby Peacekeeper who's trying to stem a stream of blood from his nose, "Picked you up and brought you in here, screaming your head off. Are you alright?"
I know now what happened, and I bury my face in my hands for what feels like the thousandth time. Letting out a sob I say, "It was the boy, the boy from here; he killed Fletcher."
"Shh, shh Terra. It's okay," Shuttle says, rubbing my back.
"I don't know what the Capitol is going to think about her getting carried away," Woven says.
"She's not the first one to have to leave the stage early," Shuttle says. "Don't forget Orna, when she started seeing those snakes in District 8."
"Yes, but that's Orna," Woven says. "Terra is-"
"Terra's not different, Woven. She's just a girl," Shuttle says, with iron in her voice.
"What's wrong with her?" a man says coming in; it's Garnet Dusksand. My breath catches when I see him.
"Nothing you need to worry about, Garnet," Shuttle says tightly. Coming after Garnet is a beautiful older woman with light blonde hair curled over her shoulder. I know her; she's the most famous victor in Panem.
"Is she alright?" she asks.
"I'm fine," I say, getting up to face the two victors.
"What was with your little scene on the stage there? Feeling guilty, girly?" Garnet asks, crossing his arms.
"I never even saw your tributes in the arena," I say.
"My boy got yours before he was killed, is that what it is? Still mourning your boyfriend?"
"Garnet, leave her alone," the lady victor says, placing her hand on his chest to hold him back. "Take a walk."
"You always have a soft spot for the girls," Garnet says, but he does leave. I'm not confused anymore, I'm angry, and I want to launch myself at him. I wouldn't feel any guilt over ripping him apart.
"Don't mind him; he's always been an idiot," the lady says, turning to me. "He's been a bit shaken up over losing his son, so please excuse him. He's not the best representative for our district. I'm Silver Bellcreek, by the way."
"I know you; I've seen you on television," I say. Everyone in Panem knows her as the victor of the first Hunger Games. Her eyes glaze over for a second, then she smiles at me, taking my hand and shaking it.
"I'd expect most people have at this point," she says. "Welcome to the victor's circle."
"Good to see you, Silver," Shuttle says, giving her a hug. I notice that the Peacekeeper that I hit has disappeared, leaving only a few drops of blood on the carpet. I'm sorry for attacking you, I think.
"Truly, I wasn't expecting to see you here this year. She did well," Silver says.
"She did," Shuttle agrees.
"Long time no see, Woven. How have you been keeping?" Silver asks next, shaking Woven's hand.
"Well enough I suppose. Worried about her," Woven says, nodding to me. I feel very awkward standing here in my ripped dress, running my remaining fingers over my missing ones.
Silver looks me up and down. "I don't think they'll go after her, but don't leave her alone in the Capitol, Shuttle. Especially not at the supper. Do you hear me?" Her eyes become wide and glassy. "Don't leave her alone."
"We know exactly what happens at those suppers, Silver," Shuttle says, and a look passes between them. I don't know what happens at the Capitol supper, but whatever it is it's not good.
"Good. Keep this one safe," Silver says.
"There, there, Silver. We'll look after her. Now, I don't think a tour is the best idea; keep her out of the cameras until supper," Woven says.
"What on earth happened?" Royal asks, coming back in through the doors I was just carried through. "The girl made me look like a fool in front of Panem."
"I'm sure you've seen worse, Royal," Silver says. "We're not doing the tour, by the way."
"That throws the whole schedule off," the mayor says, taking a clipboard from a girl standing nearby.
"No it doesn't; we'll still get to supper on time," Woven says in an annoyed voice. I've caused all this fuss, and I feel ashamed of myself for reacting like I did onstage. Not that I had a choice, but still.
"But-"
"Don't worry about it; I'll handle it," Silver says. With a scowl, the mayor wanders off, leaving us alone in the Justice Building.
"Just take her back to the train; I'll call for the car if you like," Silver says.
"Might be the best idea. Get her changed for tonight," Woven says, looking at Shuttle. Shuttle nods.
"I'll see you all tonight, then," Silver says, going off to call our car.
"You alright now?" Shuttle asks, holding my arm. I nod. "Right then, let's go back to the train."