Hey all! I'm surprised at how quick I got this done, but it was pretty fun looking up all the stuff involved with the characters in this chapter ^^
Great big thank you to Platrium for sending in this one! I hope I did her justice!
03 - The Quartet's Chemist
While Daphne has always been an early riser, it's probably the first time she's gotten up so early with all of her friends present. It's not every year that all four of them gather together the night before a Reaping to have a sleepover, but this year felt particularly foreboding, in a way. Like the inclusion of Capitol kids would make everything outside of the arena just that little bit more tense.
So, with a night of games and reading planned out for all of them, Daphne called the other three members of their quartet to her house for dinner and breakfast.
Kamela had been the first one to wake up, despite all the trouble she had the night before going to sleep. Even as Daphne began to fall into small bouts of microsleep in her attempt to stay up with Kamela, Kamela was still wide awake and studying the material of her sleeping bag by the time sleep had taken over. She must not have gotten more than five or so hours of sleep, but Daphne knows it'll be enough to last Kamela the day.
After Kamela had been Zinnia, and it hadn't taken them long to fish out Zinnia's tablet to pass the time with chess. They'd kept the light low enough that Daphne and Gretel could still sleep, but soon the soft sound of tapping against the surface of the device was enough to rouse them.
It's still too early for her parents to be rising. Daphne runs a hand through her hair, tries to brush out the tangles with her fingers, and watches as Gretel moves to Kamela's side for a better vantage point. Kamela's the only one out of them three who doesn't look as tired as Daphne does, and the intense look of concentration on Zinnia's face quite possibly makes her look as though she'd gotten the least sleep. Never mind the fact that Zinnia was out like a light shortly after ten the previous night.
Daphne's arm flings out into the empty space around her. Kamela glances at her, but her attention quickly goes back to Zinnia's careful hand moving a bishop down the board. Had it been anyone else with them, they'd ask if Daphne was swatting a fly or lost her balance—but the quartet doesn't need to ask her anything. As she stands she lets out a quiet yawn—a small squeak interrupting her midway—before deciding to explore the quiet house for a moment. It'll still be some time before her parents get up, wanting just at least another hour of peace before the Reaping comes around. Daphne's used to this—and, on occasion, she's gone as far as attempting to cook breakfast for them to eat in bed.
She covers her mouth with her hand as she peeks into her parents' room. Her tics aren't the easiest to keep silent, but at least they won't hear her if she covers her mouth. They're still snoring away, blankets thrown about by their no doubt restless night. Vector and Disney always stress more than Daphne does over the Reapings. All of her friends' parents do—though in Zinnia's case, their concern is directed towards her younger sibling more than herself.
It doesn't take long to find the key to the clinic's entrance. Her father always keeps it where he can find it, hanging up on the sole hook by the front door. She clenches it tightly in her hand as she creeps back into the living room. Zinnia looks to be losing the game of chess and chewing thoughtfully at her lower lip, while Kamela and Gretel take turns moving pieces.
Daphne smiles at the trio. It's a bit unfair, Kamela letting Gretel help her. Gretel's the resident math whiz among them, and Daphne knows all too well how she applies her knowledge to strategy games like this one. She crouches down beside Zinnia and reaches for the girl's hand with he index finger. As Zinnia moves her queen towards the middle of the board, Daphne traces C-L-I-N-I-C over the top of Zinnia's hand.
Zinnia breaks out into a smile immediately. She motions for Gretel to take her spot, and then she's pulling Daphne to her feet with a big grin on her face.
Zinnia loves animals just as much as Daphne does, if not more. It's one of the things they always bond over whenever she invites Zinnia over to stay the night, and it's fun seeing her enjoy herself with Daphne's parents when her own fail to accept her needs. They sneak out the back door and cross the yard with hastily put on sneakers, avoiding any rocks on the path as they practically jog in to the door. Once it's unlocked, Zinnia wastes no time checking on some of the newer residents staying at the Petheraph Clinic.
She whispers greetings and questions to the animals, poking a finger through each cat's cage and stroking their ears before moving on to the next. Daphne can't help be a little envious at how easily Zinnia can be so affectionate with the animals—if it weren't for her own allergy to their fur, Daphne knows for certain that she'd be doing the same thing. It is nice seeing Zinnia happy, though, especially since the animals love it when she gives them attention. The cats never seem to care that Zinnia has poor hearing, nor do they notice that she only seems to speak the most when she's around them.
Zinnia is still greeting each cat by the time Daphne has her glasses perched on her nose and a surgical mask over her face. She carefully measures each bowl of cat food before turning for Zinnia again. Zinnia takes notice of her, probably catching the movements out of the corner of her eye; Daphne waves her over, only for her arm to fling out and rap her knuckles against the wall. Daphne shakes her hand as Zinnia approaches. All she needs to do is point to the cat food and the cages for Zinnia to know what she's asking her to do. Normally Daphne would attempt it herself, feeling only a tad more safer with the surgical mask on, but she doesn't want to risk going into anaphylactic shock so early in the morning—and on the day of a Reaping, no less. If she survived and missed the event, there really would've been no point treating the allergic reaction.
Zinnia delivers each bowl to the cats while Daphne starts with the dogs'. They only have three extra large ones, the canines all sharing a large room that leads to the outdoor kennels as opposed to the cats' cages of solitude. Once she's done, she gathers up the box of bird feed and carries it through the clinic, to the furthermost room. The birds are a little easier to deal with, mostly because they're not really covered in fur. Daphne doesn't like to take chances, though, and still keeps the mask on her face as she unlocks the cage and steps inside.
Once she and Zinnia are done, they make their ways back outside and give each other satisfied high-fives. They've just saved Vector a whole lot a stress fretting over the animals at the last minute, and had a little fun themselves while they were at it.
Vector and Disney Petheraph rise at 7:30, much to Daphne's surprise. They're calmly escorting Kamela and Gretel to the dining room as they call out a good morning to Daphne and Zinnia. Daphne hadn't expected them to wake up for another half an hour. Really, she'd been hoping to surprise them like she normally does—maybe even make breakfast for herself and her friends. But maybe this is for the best, she thinks; Daphne can never make the pancakes fluffy enough for Kamela to eat, at least not the way Disney does.
They sit at their spots at the table, leaving either end free for Vector and Disney. Vector takes his place at one end, his small appointment book in his hand, and immediately jumps to asking questions about their night.
"How'd you all sleep?" he asks, and Daphne wastes no time tracing S-L-E-E-P-? onto Zinnia's arm. If she had her drawing pad with her, or even just a marker, it'd be easier to convey these questions to her. That's usually how Daphne and her friends communicate—providing visuals for Kamela and Gretel, while also serving to let Zinnia know what someone has said without forcing her to read their lips.
Kamela reaches for one of the sugar jars and pops open the lid carefully. As she dips her little finger inside, she reports, "We all went to bed before two."
Vector's eyes bulge. "Two?" And then he's hastily adding as she brings the finger to her mouth, "Ah, that's the raw sugar."
Kamela wastes no time wiping her finger clean and swapping the jar for the powdered sugar. "There was a very interesting new way to look at my sleeping bag," Kamela reports. Zinnia leans over to Daphne and spells out G-O-O-D on her arm. She almost doesn't make it to the last letter when Disney approaches with drinks, suddenly excited to have some juice with her breakfast.
"Zinnia had a good sleep," Daphne says. "I tried staying up with Kamela, but—" She squeaks, and it's louder than the one she'd woken up with. No one flinches, let alone bats an eye at her. "—I fell asleep before she did."
Vector nods and looks over to Gretel. Gretel is busily wiping her glasses on her pyjamas, taking her time to answer him. When she does, it's a simple, "I slept well, Mr. Petheraph. Thank you for asking."
The door of the microwave shuts loudly, muting another squeak from Daphne. All eyes move for Disney—for the whirring machine and the bowl of butter melting inside it. Disney has a worn out look on her face, doesn't seem to notice that the attention is on her. She's stressing, Daphne thinks with a furrow of her brows. The Quell has her more worried than usual. Disney moves from one end of the kitchen to the other, mixing bowl tucked under her arm as the microwave fills the silence. No one dares to ask her if she's okay—but Kamela does get the woman's attention at the very least.
"Is the butter for me?" she asks. Disney's shoulders hunch in surprise. It takes her a few seconds to put a smile on her face and set the bowl down.
"Yeah," Disney says. "Figured I'd get it ready while I start on the pancakes."
Kamela beams at her. While Disney does her best to return it, it still looks almost forced to Daphne. The woman turns away from the table and pushes all of her focus onto the breakfast just waiting to be cooked, and attention is returned to Vector once more.
Daphne squeaks. Her head rolls from shoulder to shoulder. "We have to be there by ten, right?" she asks. Gretel nods.
"The proceedings were moved ahead half an hour," Gretel reports matter-of-factly. "Mostly to accommodate the time it would take to travel to the Capitol from each District, but Lola Amos said yesterday that they didn't want to make the Reapings go on for more than twelve hours."
The appointment book is open in Vector's hand as he scans over some of the pages. Some people must be picking up their pets after the Reapings, Daphne assumes. "Makes sense," he agrees. "They'd probably riot if they had to sit through their own kids being sent to their deaths like we do."
"Vector," Disney hisses. He smiles over at his wife, an apologetic look in his eyes.
"We don't need to be concerned with it, though." Vector reaches over and ruffles Daphne's hair, tangling it back into the knots she'd spent so hard to comb out. "You're all just fourteen. All of the names in one Reaping Ball just lowers your chances—right, Gretel?"
Gretel nods vigorously. It's an obvious invitation to not only calm Disney's nerves with reassuring facts, but also exercise her brain first thing in the morning. Chess must not have been enough. There's a whole babble of numbers and recent census records, of how little tesserae people actually take in their District, before finally Gretel comes up with her odds.
A 0.0167% chance of being Reaped at their age. Had they only been in the female Reaping Balls, the odds would be doubled—but since it's all in one Ball, Gretel confidently tells Disney that none of them will be leaving this year.
"We can just watch and see how one of the older kids does," Daphne jumps in. She keeps her voice hopeful, definitely reassured by the odds Gretel had reported. "I've only ever seen what the Capitol dresses like through the escorts, so maybe we can take references from their Tributes."
Disney almost hesitates at the suggestion. Illustrating has always been a shared love of theirs, just like Daphne and Vector's love of animals. Disney had been the one to teach her to draw, had been to one to let Daphne watch as she finished panels for her comics, and they never failed to snag references for each other to use. As successful as she is, Daphne knows Disney has yet to go to the Capitol for even the smallest of visits. Morbid as it sounds, seeing the Capitol's children on TV might give her some inspiration.
Pancakes are shoveled onto plates as the butter is retrieved from the microwave. "Alright," Disney sighs dramatically. "I'll calm down. But no more talk about the Reapings at the table—you'll ruin your appetites."
"She looks really ugly this year."
That's the first thing Daphne hears when she walks into her room, brush in her hand and fresh clothes on to face the day. Gretel and Kamela are at the edge of her bed, barely paying much attention as Zinnia and Daphne swap places to get ready. Gretel's tablet is held by both of them, frowns on the two girls' faces as they glare at the screen.
"Who is?" Daphne asks. She pulls a portion of her hair over her shoulder and braces herself as she attempts to brush out the knots.
"Lola Amos," Kamela says. "What colour is she wearing?"
"Green and pink," Gretel sneers. Daphne cringes at the mental image. "All those feathers aren't helping, either."
"She's probably going for some sort of muttation look." Daphne reaches for the bandana behind Gretel. From this vantage point, she can see the vague image of Lola Amos herself reporting the proceedings for the Reapings. For a whole second she thinks she's looking at a ball of feather boas stacked on top of each other, or even some sort of intern, but the extravagant movements she makes are a dead giveaway that it's Lola. "Those pink birds from the Second Quell have been getting popular again, I hear."
"Looks more like a jabberjay, to me," Kamela mumbles.
Daphne can't help the laugh that escapes her, taken by surprise by Kamela's jab. There's a small smile on Kamela's face as she glances up at Daphne. Gretel merely purses her lips at the screen before putting the tablet into sleep-mode.
"I'll take the next shower after Zinnia," Gretel announces. She stands up and raises her arms above her head, stretching them with a strained expression. Daphne's just barely finished tying her bandana, not a piece of her scalp or fringe visible, as Gretel leaves the room in search of her travel bag.
It's just Kamela and Daphne left, waiting in silence as they double-check their Reaping clothes. They never dress up fancy like most others, preferring comfort and in-jokes to make the occasion feel lighter. There's no doubt that Daphne's shirt will attract more attention than one of the more well-dressed kids will, though, and she just hopes that those who read it will get the joke.
Kamela inspects her braces in the mirror hanging on Daphne's door, and when she turns around to say something she completely loses track of her words. Her eyes narrow as they zero in on Daphne's shirt, the gears rotating in her head slowly. Daphne almost blushes out of embarrassment—if Kamela doesn't get the joke, then maybe no one will.
"In pursuit of…" Kamela scrunches up her face. "The skeletal formula for serotonin? Oh—!" Kamela's expression becomes clear and impressed, a good sign that she's gotten the reference. "In pursuit of happiness, right?"
Daphne nods proudly. It'd taken a while to help Kamela with some of the jokes on her shirts, but this is the first time Kamela's gotten it on her own.
"It was this or 'think like a proton', but I wore that one last year."
"I like it." Kamela nods decisively.
They don't have to wait long for Zinnia and Gretel to finish their own preparations. Gretel's bag is slung over her shoulder and her Reaping clothes are neat and tidy, while Zinnia tucks her hands into her pockets and glances between each girl. Gretel announces that she's going to go home and check in on her parents not even a moment after she comes back into Daphne's room.
"They might know the odds are low," she tells them as Daphne leads her to the front door, "but they'll worry if I don't go with them, you know?"
"Yeah," Daphne agrees. Mr. and Mrs Saga care deeply for their daughter. If that 0.0167% turned out to be against Gretel, they'd be horrified that they didn't get to spend more time with her before the Reaping. Kamela agrees and decides to go a few houses down the street to her own home and make sure her dad's awake. Mr. Wisdom would probably send her back and tell her cheerily to spend time with her friends instead, but Kamela is insistent she makes sure he gets out of bed on time.
Only Zinnia stays behind as she and Daphne watch the two girls leave. There's no point in Zinnia leaving—not when Mr. and Mrs Urkyztrum are more concerned about her sibling rather than Zinnia herself.
Daphne takes her friend's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Zinnia squeezes back, and is quick to let her own arm go limp when Daphne's swings forward. They have at least an hour and a half to kill before they have to get their names crossed off at the Justice Building, and Daphne knows exactly what to do to pass the time till then.
She keeps a spare tablet in her desk for whenever one of her friends stays the night and they have projects to finish. While each girl has their own specialised areas—Daphne's chemistry, Zinnia's biology, Kamela's astronomy, and Gretel's mathematics—they all share the same love of programming that living in District 3 had provided them with. The fact that they always wind up working together in school and that they always take on projects in their free time makes them pretty in-sync with each other; to Daphne, this is what makes programming fun half of the time.
They sit back to back on her floor and tap away at the screens as they read through the coding so far, and with a smile Daphne is quick to send Zinnia a small message. Working on the amateur AI they'd started as a group requires more than just a simple hour to make leaps of progress, but it couldn't hurt to test it out so far and see what new terms need to be defined. Daphne waits patiently for Zinnia's response, and then they're opening separate programs to give SIRIUS a test run.
It responds rather well, all things considered. Daphne chats animatedly with the AI, discussing arguably unremarkable topics and making sure it can keep up with her own speed. Where SIRIUS lags and hesitates, searching its coding, Zinnia gives it a push and makes tweaks to temporarily fix the problem. A good twenty minutes has passed before both girls decide to test it with puzzles, just like they always do whenever someone makes alterations.
Daphne inhales deeply and gets a squeak out of her system. "Are you ready to play some riddle games, SIRIUS?"
There's a pause before letters begin to appear under the image of the low quality, 3D dog head. I would love to, it says.
"Alright. Let me know if any of these don't make sense." She pauses, letting the words register. Then, "What's harder to catch the faster you run?"
SIRIUS is quick to respond. Your breath.
"Good boy!" she praises. In response, the sound of a single bark emits from her speaker. "What belongs to you but others use it more than you do?"
Another quick response. Your name. Daphne almost wonders if Gretel tested a few of these on it last time they worked together.
"Okay, here's a hard one. Two fathers and two sons go fishing together. They each catch one fish to take home with them. They don't lose any fish, but when they arrive at home they have only three fish. How is this possible?"
Daphne watches the screen as the head moves back and forth, a visual representation of SIRIUS "thinking". It stays in this state for a good ten minutes, most likely running through each word in its dictionary to see if the answer lies there. One incident had proven to require the dictionary, but this one shouldn't.
She opens the small chat window and sends Zinnia a quick message: Have we taught it more than just basic familial terms?
The response is immediate. Not in this context, I think.
Another five minutes passes before SIRIUS finally gives up. Daphne likes to refer to its response as this at least, because what other way is she supposed to interpret big red letters declaring "0 RESULTS"? She smiles sympathetically at the screen and gives it a small tap, dismissing the block letters.
"That's okay," she tells it. "You'll learn the answer in a few minutes."
The rapid tapping starts from Zinnia's screen almost as soon as Daphne says it. All she has to do is wait and keep an eye on the time until either the Reaping or Zinnia finishes—whichever comes first, at this point. There's only twenty minutes left until they actually have to start walking to the middle of town and get in line. SIRIUS might have to wait until lunch for the answer.
Daphne stands up and stretches while Zinnia continues to work. She cleans her glasses, checks her braces for the upteenth time, and even redoes her bandana for the sake of it. It's a slow process at times, but the payoff is worth it. After all, how many other kids their age started an AI program for extra credit? They'd all learned the hard way that just keeping communication levels functional is a daily task, but it's what keeps them all going when they're not preparing for contests or working on other school projects.
Her bedroom door opens, and in pops Vector's head. There's a bit of fur stuck to his shoulder—a sure sign that he's had to deliver some pets back to owners this morning—and a lint roller in his free hand as he announces that it's time to head out. Daphne squeaks and taps Zinnia on the shoulder, and all Zinnia can do is wave goodbye to the image of SIRIUS and leave the tablet in standby-mode. Poor thing will have to wait.
Vector leads them out as he collects the fur from his jacket. Other children in the street are starting to walk towards the Justice Building with their parents, a mixed bag of ease and nerves varying among their faces. Before Vector can shut the door behind him, he says, "Both of you have what you need? Daph—inhaler?"
Daphne reaches into her back pocket and shows him the small inhaler. Vector looks to Zinnia, and there's no need to specify what he's asking for; she simply gives him a thumbs-up and tucks her hands back into her pockets.
The house is locked up and they join the crowd walking towards the Justice Building. No one's smiling, Daphne notes as she glances left and right at the other children around them, but no one's crying hysterically like they do most years. There are no parents looking grim and on the verge of tears—not openly, at least. From what Daphne can see there's just barely a shimmer of hope in their eyes as they walk with their children. Hope that the odds won't be against them this year.
Daphne keeps her hand in Zinnia's as they start to enter a more congested area. The streets are narrowing just a little, the way it always does to thin out traffic that enters the city centre. She glances around to make sure her father is still with them, keeping her pace with Zinnia slow and deliberate. Her gaze flits past a few older kids—lingers on one girl in particular that walks in the opposite direction of everyone else—before finally it locates Vector just a few yards behind them. Daphne moves to call out to him, halting Zinnia and linking their arms so she can properly cup her hands around her mouth; but then the older girl walks straight for Vector, a cheerful expression on her face as the colour in his own slowly drains away.
Daphne's never seen her father like this. He's been wary before and spoken in hushed tones in case something he says comes off as anti-Capitol, but he's never looked outright scared. The girl reaches into the clutch she has in one of her hands and pulls out some money, holding it out to Vector as she begins to talk. Curiosity nips at her. Daphne nudges Zinnia and is quick to trace L-I-P-S D-A-D onto Zinnia's arm. It's cruel of Daphne to ask her to eavesdrop, let alone see if she'll overcome her difficulties with verbal communication, but Zinnia's the only one in the quartet who can—albeit shakily—read lips.
She leans over to Zinnia's face and waits with a held breath as Zinnia's hand cups around her ear. The words come out in a mess of mispronunciations and whispers, but they're easy enough to follow once she processes them. "Hold on to my bird a few weeks longer," Zinnia says slowly, voice rising with the lilt of a question. She's doubting what she's seeing is what's really being said. "Are you sure. I am going away after the Reaping. Are you the mentor. Even if I'm not, I still want to go on a holiday. I'll see what I can—"
Zinnia moves away from Daphne at breakneck speeds. Vector glanced over in their direction, almost absently, but now he's staring at them with a concerned look as more children pass them. The older girl turns around as well, expression becoming sickly sweet as she meets Daphne's eye. Daphne tries to smile back and wave, but the expression on Vector's face and the small shake of his head stops her mid-wave.
The older girl hands him the money and pats him on the shoulder, and then she's joining the crowd once more. She weaves her way through, avoiding most collisions waiting to happen, until finally Daphne loses sight of her. Vector catches up with the girls, face still pale as he ushers them back in the direction of the Justice Building.
"Dad," Daphne starts. Vector doesn't respond. "Dad, who was that?"
He inhales deeply. "A customer whose pet I'm holding on to." His words are careful and slow, a long unheard tone to drop the subject hidden beneath his caution. If she's just a customer, then why is he so high-strung over seeing her today?
Vector's quick to change the subject when Zinnia and Daphne glance at each other nervously. "Disney said she'll meet us on the way to dropping off her script," he tells Daphne. "When it's all over, how about we go look at some upgrades for those tablets?"
"Sounds good," Daphne says cheerfully. And it really does—new installments have been developed, and after a Reaping is probably the most free time Vector or Disney would get to take the quartet to look at them.
The atmosphere feels less tense by the time they reach the Justice Building. The smile is back on Vector's face and Daphne's long since forgotten the customer. There's lines—lots and lots of lines—but it takes them a few minutes to find which one they need to get behind. One line consists of adults wanting to find a spot outside the Reaping area, to see their children and reassure them, while the two lines for boys and girls to check in fork out as more kids approach.
Zinnia tightens her grip on Daphne's hand. Daphne squeaks as she wedges them into a shorter section of the lines.
It could just be nerves, but her tics start to spike in frequency the closer they get to the Quell official. Zinnia's in front of her, still holding her hand as her leg kicks out to the side, as her her snaps back and forth. The only thing Daphne can do is roll her shoulders every minute to keep from suddenly ripping her hand from Zinnia's grasp.
Kamela and Gretel are a little further up from them, slowly merging into the single line and rubbing their hands. None of them enjoy the pain of having their fingers pricked—last year Daphne's arm had even jerked up into the air the second her finger was punctured—but it at least helps to mentally prepare for it. Soon she loses sight of them as she and Zinnia enter the single line as well, and then it's only a matter of time before it's their turn.
Zinnia goes first, called over to a free desk that's set up between the two already-established ones. There looks to be little issue with her identification, the official immediately pointing to a general area for her to go to. Zinnia lags in her footsteps as she scans the crowds for Kamela and Gretel, looking for where girls her age have to stand. Daphne's called up to the table with a dissatisfied, "Next!"
She gets straight to her greeting when she comes face-to-face with the man. "Hello!" Daphne says with a wave.
He simply motions for her to press her finger onto the machine in front of him. When the prick of the needle hits her finger, Daphne squeaks and quickly clamps her free hand over her mouth.
"Daphne Petheraph?" he says with a raised brow. She nods. "Third section to the left. Next!"
That was a surprisingly short exchange.
She lines up with the other girls in the P section, smiling toothily when she sees that Gretel is still standing next to her this year. Most of the kids between P and S are older than them, which means Daphne and Gretel are always going to be next to each other with each passing Reaping. It's reassuring in a way; not even the identification process separates the quartet completely.
More kids start to line up before the Justice Building is crowded by teenagers. It's suffocating and overwhelmingly warm, but at least she's not in some uncomfortable frilly dress like some other girls are—she can't even imagine how much heat would be gathering between the folds, roasting the girls alive.
The mayor is onstage before anyone else, announcing that the Treaty of Treason will be read aloud before the Reaping. She holds her cue cards in front of her, flipping through them as the children quieten down and wait; then, with absolute calm and un unwavering voice, the mayor recites the one piece of text every member of Panem has known since birth.
It's barely even a few minutes past ten by the time she's done. People clap out of obligation as she takes her seat and tucks the cue cards into her jacket's inner pocket, and it becomes quite obvious who's going to take over from here. The huge yellow hat most definitely didn't come from District 3, and by this point everyone knows the four-eyed face of Iris the escort.
One of the girls ahead of her leans towards her friend, whispering just barely loudly enough for Daphne to hear, "Mom said that Iris had surgery to insert prosthetic eyes under her cheekbones. Heard she has to eat everything through a straw."
Her friend scowls. "Disgusting. Is there even a practical use for it?"
"It's the Capitol. Nothing they do is practical."
Daphne giggles. The girl has a point, but who knows? Maybe they've got some cool new fashion statement going on that involves eyes.
Iris greets District 3 with a flourish, and some of the kids actually call a greeting back to her. She's been their escort for a few years now, grown on some of the older kids. The younger kids still find her to be a bit strange, though, and Daphne's noticed a few adults sighing and rolling their eyes whenever Iris speaks. The woman talks excitedly about how only one child will be Reaped this year, how she looks forward to getting to know this year's Tribute and help them through their pre-Games proceedings. Unlike most other escorts who act condescending and scold their Tributes, Iris dotes on hers.
An interview with Lola last year showed just how much Iris loves District 3. She names every Tribute she's met, every interesting new thing she learns during her short visits. Iris has even shed a few tears over children who'd wound up barely making it beyond the bloodbath.
Daphne likes Iris. She hopes that Iris can stay their escort even after they get another victor—whenever that happens, at least.
"There's been a bit of a delay with our mentor this year," Iris announces with a nervous tone. Almost like she's worried they'll be disappointed that they won't see the mentor before the Tribute. "She's asked that we go on with the proceedings, and that she should be here shortly before the farewells begin."
Gretel leans towards Daphne. "Only four percent of our victors are female," she whispers. "Shouldn't be hard to guess who it is if we don't see her."
Daphne nods in agreement. District 3 doesn't win a lot of Games, but when they do it's mostly the boys who survive through some stroke of luck.
"So!" Iris motions for her assistants to carry over the Reaping Ball. It's set down with a loud thump beside her, almost shaking the stage. Daphne chokes on a squeak, trying to keep herself from interrupting. That's a lot of names. "We'll get started with the Reaping!"
And with that, Iris's hand plunges deep into the Ball. Everyone seems to be holding their breaths—even Gretel, who'd proclaimed not even three hours earlier that their chances of being Reaped were close to zero. They sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, when when Iris's hand emerges with a slip of paper tucked between two fingers.
Gretel's hand clamps down on Daphne's. Daphne stamps her foot onto the ground as she feels a surge run through it.
Iris reads over the name once to herself before finally, she says it.
"Daphne Petheraph?"
A mass of held breaths are released all around her, but Daphne's is stuck in her throat. 0.00167%, right? That was what Gretel predicted, right?
She supposes the odds weren't in her favour this year.
Her cheeks hurt as the smile forces itself upon her face. This is fine, she thinks. Iris is a nice person, she shouldn't be afraid to go onstage. Maybe someone will volunteer before the Reaping finishes. Who knows what will happen?
Gretel won't let go of her hand—a Peacekeeper has to forcibly remove her from Daphne, her shrieks that the odds were too low for Daphne to be picked ignored by those around her. Whispers break out among a few teens as she gets closer and closer to the stage. She can hear crying coming from the adults, but who?
Iris helps her onstage and gives her a comforting hug. Daphne still won't let the smile fall.
"You're very brave to smile, Miss Petheraph," Iris says proudly. Daphne nods—her cheeks hurt so much.
"Thank—" A loud shriek of a squeak tears its way out of her throat, and Iris jumps back in horror. Daphne's face flushes red, her smile finally falling as her hand clamps over her mouth. "I'm— I'm so sorry— It's my Tourette's, I didn't mean to—"
Another squeak. It actually hurts when it comes out, like it's clawing at her throat as it rises.
"That's fine, dear…" Iris keeps her words slow. There's no longer pride in her expression or voice now—only fear, concern, hopelessness. Iris must think Daphne is going to be another name to mourn. Even the prosthetic eyes, glassy and dead-looking, seem to have that negative edge to them. "E—Everyone give Miss Petheraph a hand."
There's slow claps through the crowd, stunned expressions on everyone's faces. Disbelief litters most of the crowd, and none of the adults clap—only the children. The adults merely watch with horrified expressions and hands covering their mouths as they shake their heads at their Tribute. And why wouldn't they? Daphne may be fourteen, but she's as small and fit as a twelve-year-old; beneath her shirt, a small, pudgy belly has been left behind from years of sitting in front of computers and tablets. She's not the ideal Tribute. Not to them or the Capitol.
She's given the chance to give a speech, but the loud squeak she lets out as her arm jerks to the left is enough for both her and Iris to agree she doesn't need to. She can barely breathe without her vocal tic cutting her off for more than five minutes, so why bother risking talking? Iris begins her conclusion of the Reaping and says almost hesitantly that she looks forward to working with Daphne. Before even the final goodbye can be said, someone actually bothers to interrupt Iris.
Where was this person earlier? Daphne can't help wondering if they'd been running late or weren't expecting the Reapings to finish so soon. Their footsteps rush up the stairs and onto the stage, and then a young woman's voice is breathlessly saying, "Sorry I'm late! Lost track of time!"
It's the customer that had spoken with Vector about a pet. What's she doing onstage?
As Daphne stares up at her with her jaw dropped ever so slightly, the young woman steadies her breathing and moves for District 3's Tribute. Hands land on Daphne's shoulders lightly, almost as though afraid they'd crush her if she was grasped too hard. Before she can ask what's going on, the young woman pulls her into a hug that feels warm and kind, full of affection and positivity.
"You're gonna do great," the young woman whispers to Daphne. "I was just like you when I was your age, and now I'm one of the few victors we have to spare. I know you're gonna make it."
An overwhelming feeling of hope grasps at her heart, and Daphne can't bring herself to pull away from the young woman. Instead, she returns the embrace and stuffs her face into the material of the her mentor's dress, relieved tears threatening to fall as she chokes on each breath.
Everything after is a blur.
One minute she's hearing Iris thank someone named Synthia—the young woman?—and then the next she's sitting in the Justice Building, dazed and lightheaded as she feels the precursor of a movement tic flow through her legs.
The rest of the quartet bursts in before her parents do, and they all screech as they weep in unison. They throw themselves onto Daphne—even apologising for not volunteering in between their sobs—and she can only embrace them as she continues to regain her bearings. It feels like she's in a dream, like nothing's real. She know it isn't, though. Not even a nightmare is as cruel as this.
It doesn't take long for Vector and Disney to enter the hysterical scene. Both of them are babbling and pulling all four girls into an embrace. The group sinks to the floor with Daphne at the centre of them, surrounded by warmth and those she loves most. She'll miss this.
When they all pull away, Daphne smiles at them. She doesn't want to cry, doesn't want to make them worry. So she keeps smiling. Zinnia and Kamela have to pull Gretel away so Disney and Vector can properly say goodbye to Daphne; it's almost physically painful, hearing Gretel's screeches and sobs. It makes her heart break.
Disney is the first to crawl to her daughter, chess piece in one hand as she gives Daphne a tight, air-restricting hug. "I'm so sorry, Daph," she breathes out shakily. "If it were a regular Game I know someone would've volunteered—"
"It's okay, Mom." Daphne's voice is soft and soothing. It's the same way Disney would talk to her whenever Daphne struggled during hard times. "I'll do my best."
The hug gets tighter—impossibly tighter—before Disney pulls away to look at Daphne's face. There's tear stains on her mother's cheeks, her eyes red and glassy as more threaten to spill over.
"I—I know it might be helpful to take your inhaler as a token—" Disney cuts herself off as she reaches for Daphne's hand. The chess piece is pushed against her palm, and Daphne almost immediately recognises the feel and weight of it. It's not an ordinary chess piece. It's the USB designed in the shape of a queen—one of the four that the quartet each won during the last annual science bee. "I can't bear to give it to one of the others, an—and I know how much you give each other hope so I wanted you to—"
"It's perfect," Daphne whispers.
And then it's time for Vector to say his piece. There's confliction in his expression as he wipes at his eyes. He almost hesitates to move closer to his daughter, to take Daphne's hand, but he manages it.
"Daph, you need to be careful," he begs. Daphne continues to smile at him, but she does hum with interest over his request. "Synthia's not— You can't trust her."
"What do you mean?" Synthia had hugged her so tenderly onstage, though. Those kind words were everything Daphne had needed to hear.
"She can smile as sweet as you and be as polite as you—" The doors open, Peacekeepers storming inside to fetch her parents. Their time is up. Vector clutches Daphne's hand tighter. "Just don't trust her—she isn't what she seems!"
He's dragged away from her, pleading with her to not trust Synthia. Daphne can only watch on in bewilderment as her parents are escorted from the room. So many questions fly about in her head as the doors are shut behind them, so many conflicting viewpoints to look at as she processes it all.
One question stands out above the rest, though: Just what did Synthia do to make Vector beg Daphne not to trust her?
Fun fact: Because Daphne's tics were left up to me by her creator, I decided to give her the same vocal and movement tics as me!
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I'll be seeing you next in District 4