District 6! We're at District 6! I'm not sure if this chapter has as much going on in it as others, but it does give us a little bit of look at our host, Lola.
This young man was made by david12341, and I hope he came out like you envisioned him!
06 - Heroic Impulse
"Welcome back! For those of you who just joined us, we've completed the Reapings for Districts One and Two—and my goodness are they interesting Tributes!
"We started at nine in the luxury District. Unlike other years, they hadn't chosen a predetermined Tribute—they did, however, appoint a past Quell victor as their mentor. I'm sure we all recognise the Knight family's name by now as being exemplary students shown off to the Capitol, though it looks to me like this generation's offering is a bit… underwhelming."
The crowd chuckles as a picture of an angry dark-haired boy is blown up on the screen behind Lola. There's three different angles showcasing the position he's in—held up high by a boy almost half a foot taller than him, the look of a rabid dog on his face—as the audio clip of his declaration plays.
"Lovely, just lovely." Lola wipes at her eye as she breathes out a soft laugh. "I can't say he's the worst of them, though. Have some of you seen the new Academy students? I swear, one girl didn't even know what a strawberry looked like."
More laughter. Finn can't help the small giggle that escapes him, though he immediately feels bad once he realises that Lola's just insulted a poor child. Lola waits for the laughter to die down, looking over them with a proud expression. She walks just a few steps closer to the centre of the set, shielding the photos of Altan Knight.
"In all seriousness, though, it's a very bold declaration. How many victors have we had from District One that got cocky before they even arrived at the Capitol? Probably a lot," she adds with a small laugh, rolling her eyes. "Irony is a funny thing, folks. These kids have a week to prepare for the Games, form alliances, establish a power dynamic—you all know the process by now. To say he'll win before he even sees what he's up against… Well, it's just inviting an early death."
Finn tunes out the rest of her speech regarding the District 1 boy. He isn't really interested in the whole weigh in regarding first impressions, doesn't like hearing the odds for death based on the Reapings. He prefers looking at the outfits and hearing the stories from old victors and special guests, and seeing what sponsors like to look for in Tributes.
A hand smacks against his shoulder lightly. Finn startles, almost dropping the small screen as one of his earbuds are pulled away.
"Shove over, man," Noah sighs. He doesn't like listening to the Capitol programs as much as Finn does, but he can at least appreciate the hints to the previous five tributes so far. "How gaudy is she this year?"
"She's stunning," Finn corrects him, grinning. "She looks like a fancy bird."
Noah shoves the earbud into his ear, scooting closer to Finn to see the screen better. Lola's moved on from Altan Knight, now turning her audience's attention to District 2's Cetronia Livius. A gorgeous black girl appears on screen, delivering a speech while her escort tries to take the microphone away from her. There's no audio, and Finn can't help wondering if there'd been a malfunction at her Reaping.
"Moving on, we have District Two's actual best. Ahead of her year, from what I've heard, and she was home-schooled. Amazing, don't you all agree?" Lola smiles as the crowd claps. They've always loved the District 2 Tributes.
"Pretty," Noah observes. "Thought she was twenty at first glance, though. How tall do you think—"
"Dude, hush," Finn hisses. "I wanna see what she says."
"She's gonna insult her. It's Lola's schtick."
Schtick or no, Finn still enjoys the segment and the interesting Tributes the Capitol gets to see before the Games begin.
"Whew. Look at her. If this were a beauty contest, she'd have won already!" Lola fans her face with a sheepish smile. Noah scrunches up his nose.
"I didn't know Lola Amos liked girls."
"She doesn't. It's all for show—in her interview last year she admitted that she's actually—"
"You're such a fanboy, it's embarrassing."
Finn nudges Noah with a smirk. "Just because I know more about her than you do," he teases.
"That's the embarrassing part. Next you're going to tell me her dress size and who designs her clothes. Don't even say it," he adds loudly as Finn opens his mouth to answer both questions. It's entry-level knowledge to the world of Lola Amos: Size 6, her entire wardrobe designed by the biggest tailor to come from District 8—Jurich Velour. But he won't say anything, seeing the pleading look in Noah's eye at the idea of the lecture.
They turn their attentions back to Lola, who's spilling the beans on what went down at Cetronia's Reaping. Audio had been cut due to a "scandalous opinion," as Lola had put it, and Cetronia had left District 2 with less applause than anyone in the history of District 2 Reapings. Finn hisses sympathetically. He's been tuning into the network for the past few years, a guilty pleasure that only Noah and Lux know about, and no one has been seen off as poorly as Cetronia was.
"Think she'll get sponsors?" Finn asks absently. Noah snorts.
"Who cares?" He taps the screen. The menu pops up, a list of channels available to select from. Noah absently taps the notoriously cheesy soap opera channel, removing the earbud once it flicks over. "You're gonna be seeing it all tomorrow. Besides, I thought you weren't big on those Career type kids. 'They're a bunch of bullies! How can anyone be so mean?' You literally said that all throughout last year's Games."
Finn scrunches up his nose and switches off the screen. He tucks it into his backpack, hazardously stuffing the earplugs after it, and slings the bag over his shoulder. "She seems different," Finn argues.
"She seems hot," Noah corrects him. Finn rolls his eyes and lightly punches the other boy on the shoulder. Trust Noah to immediately jump to the "Finn loves a pretty face" joke.
The bell to the school rings, three dull tones that signal the early end of the day. Children start to pour out from their assembly, homework tucked under their arms as they scuttle through the doors. Finn and Noah peek through the crowd of kids, waiting for Lux to emerge. They hear her before they see her, the twelve-year-old letting out a screech at the sight of her step-brother and his friend coming to meet her.
Lux crashes into Finn with the speed of a cannonball, knocking him to the ground with a loud wheeze. "You're here, you're here, you're here!" she chants at an impossible speed. Lux's bright blue eyes are full of excitement and glee, quite the opposite from what most kids her age show on a day like this.
"It's not a proper downtime without our resident gremlin," Finn teases. He ruffles her hair, effectively leaving it sticking out in all directions. Lux swats at him and jumps back to her feet.
As Finn gets up, Noah takes Lux's backpack and tucks her homework into an empty section. "Still think it's dumb that you had to come for an assembly and 'just in case you don't get Reaped' homework," he mutters. Lux nods in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest.
"No one even got an award for attendance or outstanding work," she complains. "It was all boring, boring, boring."
"Boring's the worst."
"Boring's blech!"
Finn pats the back of his pants in an attempt to get the dirt off of him. "Did I suddenly become the caretaker of two six-year-olds?"
They ignore his quip, immediately getting straight to what they deem business. The plan for today is to get an early lunch—brunch, if one felt so inclined to call it—before heading straight to the Reapings, and then after that… Well, after that the day will still be young. Anything could be on the table, now that their little trio is complete.
The diner they head to is a rather fancy one. It isn't very often than Noah and Finn can afford something for the two of them, but today is a special day. Some would see it as grim to celebrate Lux's first day in the annual lottery, as they like to call it, but to them it's the start of her own journey. Surviving that first Reaping brings so much relief, and they want Lux to feel as safe as they did when they were her age. The money they'd pooled together over the past few months, doing odd jobs and saving their allowances, is more than enough to afford whatever Lux wants.
They walk in a line, Noah taking the lead and bragging about his most recent activities. Lux is behind him, listening attentively and commenting how cool Noah is. Finn takes the rear, a small smile on his face as he listens to the exchange. Every now and then someone their age passes them by, off to relax before the Reaping like they are, but for the majority of the trip Finn sees bare streets. It's the one day off most people get here—unless, of course, they drive the trains that go to and from the Capitol—and it's no surprise that they'd all be indoors or spending time with their families. When Finn was younger, it was all he and Lux wanted to do; now, though, they don't feel as scared.
They cross onto Skipper Street, one of the longest streets in District 6 by far. A lot of services are available here, but just before the numerous workstations and mechanics stores begin is the diner Noah and Finn have claimed as their own. Finn digs around in his pocket for the money he'd brought with him.
Just as he pulls it out and starts to count, his gaze drifts. He no longer focuses on Lux and Noah as they walk leisurely ahead, nor does he focus on his grip on the money. Finn's eyes travel onwards, across the street and into the dimly lit alley separating a car repairman's shop and the small sandwich bar most workers frequent.
Dressed in rags and hair mangled to the point where Finn can't even tell if they're a woman or if they've just been sitting there for a very long time. He can see large red welts on yellowing skin, mostly around the forearms—signs of morphling addiction, which has no doubt left them there today.
Poor thing. They must be in so much pain.
"Finn," Noah calls. His tone is short and insistent, like he knows what Finn's thinking. Finn snaps to attention and looks over at his friend. Lux stares at him as well, curiously following his gaze.
"Who's that?" Lux asks.
Noah's quick to come up with a clean version of the poor person's story. "They're just resting while they wait for their sandwich," he tells her.
Lux grins. "Wonder what kind they got," she says. "Do you think they like ham?"
"Everyone likes ham," Noah scoffs. "Unless they don't like meat in general." He starts to guide Lux back in the direction of the diner, an impatient nod to Finn that demands the boy hurry up.
Finn waves halfheartedly. "I'll catch up," he calls. "Just wanna check and see what kind of sandwich they got."
"Finn," Noah hisses. Before he can say much else, Fin is already crossing the street and jogging in the direction of the beggar. He hears Noah sigh tiredly as he leads Lux into the diner.
The beggar doesn't look up at him when he approaches, almost as though stuck in their own little world. Finn does his best to look welcoming and friendly, hands tucked leisurely into his pockets and a warm smile on his face. He crouches down in front of them, looking for any signs of life, as he says, "Hey, there."
Ever so slowly they lift their head. Tired brown eyes look up at Finn, dimly register his presence. "I'm Finn," he says. "What's your name?"
The beggar looks him up and down. It's a slow movement; Finn can't see how they've survived this long with morphling withdrawals and the constant temptation of food beside them.
After what feels like an eternity, he gets a reply. A wheezing, husky voice that sounds drier than a desert, begging, "Please…"
Finn frowns, the pity practically open for all to see on his face. "When was your last hit?" he asks quietly. The man running the sandwich stall loudly slams his knife into a block of cheese. Finn jumps, surprised, as he meets the man's gaze and discovers that their conversation is being listened to.
"She ran out about four days ago. Took so much she couldn't stand for two days," he says gruffly. "Damn thing won't eat until she has that crap offered to her."
Finn's hand comes up to cover his mouth, horror in his voice. "She'll be in too much pain to eat," he mutters. The sandwich maker merely huffs.
"There are worse things," he dismisses.
All the man gets in reply in a frown and a glare. The fact that he won't help relieve her pain is horrible. Finn turns back to her, finds her staring dreamily at the ground in front of her. Who knows when he'd get a chance to help her again? The question flits through his mind as he pulls some of his money out and counts a small enough amount to leave Lux with something to buy with; the woman just watches the ground with a blank look on her face, almost doesn't even notice him slide the money into her hand and curl her fingers around it.
When she looks up at him, he quickly tells her, "It probably won't get you a lot, but it'll help with the pain."
She stares at him for a moment. Looks down at the money. With a speed Finn wouldn't have assumed her capable of, she shoves him away from her and rolls to her side; the further she makes it into the alley, the closer she gets to standing on her own two feet. She hobbles down, getting further and further away from Finn.
"Barb," she howls harshly. She gets no answer. "Barb."
Finn watches in bewilderment. His arm hurts a little, having softened his tumble, and his shoe is partially off of his foot. The woman is almost gone from his sight when he stands up again, but he can still hear her howling, "Barb."
The sandwich maker sets down his knife, an almost curious look on his face. Finn won't look him in the eye, too ashamed by how she'd reacted to his help.
"How on earth did you envision that ending, boy?" he asks. Finn doesn't answer him. "Think she'd hug you, all teary-eyed as she thanked you endlessly? Think she'd look at me and ask for a sandwich?"
"I don't know," Finn sighs. He pats the dust off of his pants. "I just wanted to help."
"Word of advice: Morphling addicts like her don't need heroes. You're better off using your 'help' on someone who wants it."
Finn frowns at him childishly. "You're a very cynical man."
The sandwich maker barely hesitates with his reply. "And you're a very dimwitted boy."
He doesn't have an argument for that. Not that Finn likes to argue, anyway. He looks at the man with a dejected pout, almost as though trying to convey without words how hurtful the man sounds. The man simply scoffs at him.
"Go back to your friends, kid," he demands. "You've done your so-called 'civil duty'."
A feeling of dread makes itself comfortable in Finn's stomach. It remains as he walks across the street, festers as he opens the door to the diner. Even the sight of Lux and Noah downing bottles of juice doesn't help him to ignore the uneasy feeling. As Finn sits down at the table with them, dropping his bag to the floor, he feels almost as though he's ready to go back to bed.
His mind wanders a bit. A small glass bottle of juice is pushed to him—Noah says something about guava being the "new flavour rage" this year—and Finn merely toys with the lid as he thinks about the woman. He doesn't see what he's done wrong in the sandwich maker's eyes, though he supposes even those who want nothing to do with morphling won't even know the terror of going cold turkey. People have died from the withdrawals—District 6 knows it better than anyone else, even the Capitol—and weaning off of it is the only effective way to come clean.
The woman, though… He can't help wondering if Barb is the name of her dealer. If Barb has access to morphling where she does not. He must've given her enough for even a small amount of the stuff, because why else would she stagger about, calling for Barb like a child that's lost their mother? Finn wonders how long she's been in such a state, how long Barb's known about her addiction; part of him wonders if he truly did right by the woman by helping her ease the pain.
"What kind of sandwich did she get?"
Finn startles. He blinks and looks to Lux with wide eyes, spotting a bright blue pair staring back at him. It takes a moment for the question to process properly, for him to remember what he'd told her before he'd gone after the woman.
"She, uh," he starts. "She didn't."
Lux blinks in surprise. "Didn't buy a sandwich?"
"No—the owner said she was just resting there for a bit."
It's not a lie. Then again, it's not the truth. If Lux doesn't ask more on the subject, Finn might just be able to hold his tongue for once. He's terrible with secrets, no matter how hard he tries not to blurt them out to the wrong people.
Lord, Noah's been right about watching Lola all the time: He's starting to become an accidental gossip.
"We got some eggs and bacon," Noah announces loudly. Adept as ever at changing the subject, subtle or no. "Said they got a crate from Ten this morning, 'round five. We are the first ones that'll be sampling the delectable hogs."
"Groovy." Finn grins toothily. "Let's hope it tastes as delectable as they claim."
A loud sizzle sounds from the kitchen. Within moments of it hitting their ears, the scent of fat and meat being cooked in oil reaches their noses.
Noah sinks into his chair and downs the rest of his guava juice. "Something tells me it will be," he says, satisfied by the smell alone.
Finn pops open the cap on his bottle. The juice smells sickly sweet, but oddly enough it leaves an almost bitter taste in his mouth. He's never been one for sweet things, his sweet tooth being practically nonexistent, but this is odd even by his standards. He squints at the label, then at Noah.
"Trippy, huh?" Noah chuckles. "It's really guava—they just did something to it to make it not-guava."
A small squeak comes from Lux. She finishes sipping her juice, waving her arms about wildly. Lux motions for Finn's bag, eyes wide and excited.
"Isn't District Three doing their Reaping now?" She practically yanks the tablet out of his hands as soon as he pulls it from his bag. Finn can't help laughing at the sight of her energy. "After them should be Four—don't you wanna see who gets Reaped?"
Finn jumps up out of his seat with a loud gasp. "I almost forgot!" he yelps. Noah rolls his eyes dramatically, spinning his bottle on the table lazily. Lux just giggles at the two boys, tapping away at the screen and selecting the channel airing the live coverage of the Reapings.
Ever since he could remember, Finn's always adored District 4. It wasn't the people or the rumours of extravagant food that got him excited over the place—no, it was the water. His near-unnatural love of water paired with a strong desire to travel to the nearest beach brings questions to people's lips. "Are you sure you were born here? There's nothing special about travelling to a bunch of water. C'mon, it's not really that great, is it?" He'll always simply smile and nod, tell them about his dream and show them pictures he has of the beaches in magazines.
District 4's Reapings are the closest Finn's gotten so far to seeing the ocean himself. The way the sun reflects off of the waves, the various jewellery made from fish bones and corals; it's heaven compared to the District he calls home, where everyone is cynical and a realist, so tired of transportation that they refuse to leave the place even once in their lifetimes.
He moves closer to Lux's chair and leans over her shoulder once the sound of Lola's voice starts to play out of the small speaker. She's talking about her recent interview with District 3's escort, bragging about their choice in mentor for this year. A "controversial" choice, given the reputations of most victors from the District—the mentor apparently won out of nowhere, showing a strength other than technological knowledge in the final eight.
Finn just barely sees the escort move onstage before the door to the diner opens. He catches sight of Iris's four eyes just as someone clears their throat behind him. Finn looks over his shoulder with wide eyes as District 3's mayor begins to read out the Treaty of Treason. He doesn't expect to see a five-nothing woman with half of her face swallowed up by sunglasses, cherry lips tugged in a frown—yet here he is, looking down at her with a bewildered expression.
He assumes that from her greying hair, she's older than thirty. The wrinkles peeking out from under her sunglasses and sticking to the corners of her mouth support this. Finn wipes the confusion off of his face as soon as possible, wanting to be respectful in addressing the woman.
"Can I help you with anything?" he asks politely. The woman simply tilts her head, her frown making an annoyed twitch. Finn barely gets to ask again if she needs help before she grasps him tightly by the arm. It's a vice-like grip, her fingers digging in so painfully that Finn starts to worry he'll bleed.
The woman drags him to the door. She pulls him outside and away from prying eyes, making sure to look up and down the empty street as he practically goes limp in her grip. He doesn't want to pull his arm back, scared she'll trip and fall.
Once she throws him up against the wall of the diner, though, all thoughts of accidentally harming her come to a startled halt. Finn's a tall boy—five-eight without shoes—and she just lifts him by the collar of his teal button-up like he's nothing to her. His toes scuff the ground beneath him. From this angle, he can see one milky, clouded eye and one dazzling green eye.
"You the one who gave Astrid the money?"
"A—" Finn stares down at her in horror. "Astrid?"
"Morphling addict," she snaps. "Long hair, sounds like shit when she talks."
The addict at the sandwich stall! Finn blinks, finally able to put a name to the weak face. The recognition in his eyes only serves to make the woman more annoyed. She presses him harder against the wall.
"Who gave you the right," the woman snarls, "to decide what's best for her recovery?"
"I—I—" Finn's hands shake as he looks down at her with newfound horror. She's gone from a small, middle-aged woman to a powerful beast within the span of milliseconds. He doesn't know how she found out about him giving Astrid money—the sandwich maker? Astrid herself?—but all he knows right now is that he's in just enough trouble for Noah to yell at his generosity. "I'm sor—"
She pulls him off the wall. In one swift movement, he's flung further into the alley. Finn knocks into a bin, toppling it over and landing on top of a half-eaten muffin. He doesn't even complain as it sticks to his shirt, but he does let out a disgusted whimper when some of it clings to his arm.
"'Sorry' doesn't fix her habit!" the woman bellows. He actually flinches back at the shrillness of her voice, at the pure rage mixed into it. "'Sorry' doesn't make her learn!"
He doesn't know what overcomes him—Finn's never been a confrontational person, not unless someone else is being attacked—but the way she talks about Astrid "learning" from her withdrawals triggers something in him. If it had been Lux in the same situation, he'd beg on her behalf for help.
Finn clenches his fists tightly, so much that they hurt as he yells back, "Why are you people so heartless toward her?"
The woman freezes, if only for a second, before she scowls down at him. His question had caught her off guard—but also angered her further. "Heartless?" she scoffs. "I'm heartless? I'm the one who wants her clean the most in our Goddamn family!"
"You're killing her, is what you're doing!" Finn glares up at her. Tears are burning in the backs of his eyes—he hates speaking so harshly, feels terrible when he mimics her snarls. It feels so unnatural. "Dropping the drug suddenly can kill you—I was trying to make sure she could just get enough for the pain to stop!"
They glare at each other. Silent seconds pass, giving Finn time to calm himself down and stop his resolve from wavering. The woman doesn't move an inch, her stance half-prepared to tackle him if he gets up again. The conversation is far from over; Finn wishes she'd just accept his apology.
She makes the first move. Finn flinches as she raises her hand. It rises to her face, fingers the rims of her sunglasses. Silently, the woman raises the sunglasses until they rest on her scalp. Two mismatched eyes stare down at Finn with disdain—but something else is there. He just can't place it in the shadows of the alley.
"There are worse things," she mutters.
He's speechless. Mouth opening and closing frantically, Finn tries to find an argument. But like with the sandwich maker, the horror he feels at the dismissal is too much to think rationally through.
The woman takes advantage of his silence, continuing, "Rivet told me you were with two other kids—one of them quite younger than you. Tell me, boy: Are you close?"
Finn's first thought is that she's referring to Lux, and he doesn't even stop to think about whether she's threatening Noah and Lux or not. He just blurts out, "M—My sister and my best friend. We're always together."
"Cute," she says dully. "I want you to imagine something for me. Imagine one day, while living so comfortably for so long, that sister of yours just says out of the blue, 'I can't bare to look at you as human anymore.' How would you feel?"
The scenario runs through his head. It's painful and makes his chest hurt, imagining Lux's loving, comforting voice saying such a thing. He purses his lips and glares at her feet, refusing to meet her eye.
"Yeah." It comes out like a dull sigh, like all of her anger has melted away into a familiar tone of resignation. "It's like a part of you dies. Now take that feeling, and add the knowledge that your sister can't look you in the eye without being so doped up on morphling—that you have to pay for—to the point of barely being able to function like a toddler. How does that feel now?"
He doesn't want to imagine it. Finn bites his lip harshly, peeling at the skin and leaving it with a raw feeling. "I'm sorry," he croaks. The woman stares down at him, stern and frowning. "I didn't know—"
"No one bothers to," she growls. "For the last twenty years I've done everything to make sure Astrid can be comfortable around me, that she can tolerate me. When she disappeared this week, I felt relief. I didn't have to spoon feed my little sister a sedative just so I could have a one-sided conversation with her at dinner—I actually begged for her to be dead.
"And then she shows up at our house, your money in her hands. 'Barb,' she told me, 'I can be with you again.'"
Barb. Astrid had been calling for Barb—for this woman right in front of him. Not a drug dealer, not some sketchy person selling morphling to hapless people. Her own sister, who'd done it at first out of goodwill. But the way she's describing Astrid's state… It's almost like years of regret are flooding into the alley, pooling around himself and Barb.
"The fact that she thinks she can't even speak to me without the stuff breaks my heart." Barb wipes at her clouded eye. She sniffs quietly, but she looks less likely to cry than Finn is right now. "And that you supported it? I was insulted. You didn't ease my sister's pain—you just gave her the means to the end that kills what little pieces of her are left. You're letting her suffer more."
Barb inhales sharply. She glares at Finn as she lowers her sunglasses again. Behind her, he can see people starting to emerge from their houses to get a start in the day.
Finn really wants to crawl to her feet and apologise until he loses his voice. He hadn't wanted to cause so much pain in the small act of kindness. If he and Lux were in a similar position to Barb and Astrid, he wouldn't be able to live with the knowledge of how broken their family would be in such a scenario.
But he can't find his voice. He tries to say something, only for a pitiful wheeze to escape. Barb huffs down at him.
"Enjoy your time with your sister while you have it," she says stiffly. "And stop try'na be a damn hero. District Six doesn't need one—it needs survivors."
She turns on her heel and sprints out of the alley. Within the blink of an eye, she's across the street and running in the direction Astrid had, passing the sandwich maker with a curt wave. Through the thin rows of people heading out for breakfast, he can see the sandwich maker nod to him knowingly.
Barb mentioned a person called Rivet. Finn can't shake the feeling that the very man who'd told him the same thing—that District 6 doesn't need heroes—may be Rivet.
When he enters the diner once again, muffin leftovers cleaned from his shirt and arm, a plate of eggs and bacon is waiting for him alongside Lux and Noah.
District 4 turned out to have a volunteer this year, though not from their Academy. She'd apparently volunteered for a younger boy who'd been Reaped, and Noah had reported that her family owns a rather successful seafood business.
"Lola mentioned her old man by name," Noah says as they get in line. It'll be a long while before they get to the official's table, the line spanning multiple streets already. "It's the same guy who owns the company we get our products from. Didn't expect her to be in the Games, honestly."
"What was she like?" Finn's eyes practically shine as he tries to imagine the District 4 girl.
"Kinda pretty. Had the kinda build you see on strong swimmers in movies. Nice rack," he adds as an afterthought.
Finn kicks Noah's heel. Noah punches his shoulder in retaliation.
"I meant the kind of vibe she gave off," Finn sighs. "Was she like, a really confident Career girl? Timid?"
"Normally I'd lecture you on how all Careers are the same…" Noah nods his head to either side thoughtfully. "I dunno. She looked really out of it when she walked onstage. Like she wasn't all there. Never left the mentor's side, either."
Finn looks at him with surprise. He'd never thought the day would come when Noah sounded uncertain of a Career and their abilities.
"She just looked like she regretted volunteering the moment she looked at the cameras," he decides. "You had to see it."
"I'll take your word for it." They shuffle forward as the line moves on.
After what feels like a few minutes of silence between them, Noah says softly, "Do you think one of us might end up going this year?"
Finn blinks at him. "Why do you ask?"
"Three got me thinking," he says idly. "You missed it but the girl who got Reaped was only fourteen. The girl next to her was yelling something about there being a less than one percent chance of them being Reaped. What if we're unlucky like that?"
"We don't take tesserae," Finn reassures him. He pats Noah on the shoulder softly. "This place may not be ideal, but we're not in the most unfortunate situations."
Noah chews at his lip as a dark look passes over him. An uneasy feeling settles in Finn's stomach. "Noah?"
"My family had to take it this year," he admits. "I lied to them about how much money I had leftover for food—I wanted to make sure we had enough for Lux today. So we took it."
"Why—"
"Dude, come on. You two are like family to me." He nudges Finn with his elbow. "Can't let Lux be scared on her first day."
It's hard to smile gratefully at him. Even if the odds are lower this year, Noah and Finn still have one more year in the Reaping Balls. If Noah gets Reaped, Finn can't help feeling like it'll be his fault.
Noah notices his hesitation, crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Here I thought I was the worrywort," he teases.
"We really didn't have to go all out today," Finn mutters.
"Think about it like this: If one of us winds up leaving, we'll have had one hell of a meal before being sent off." Noah winks. And then just like that, he looks as concerned as Finn feels. "You ever wonder how we'd do, though? Like if we did go?"
"You're a spitfire, if I ever saw one," Finn laughs. The line moves further a few feet. "You'd probably make a really good impression with the Gamemakers in training."
"Think I'd get a good score?"
"Seven."
"Dude. That's average as hell."
Finn smirks at him. "What about me? Think I'd do any better?"
Noah lets out a loud laugh. The kids in their line look over their shoulders at him. "You can't even hold a knife to butter your bread properly!" Noah guffaws. "Unless they like sweet talkers, you'd be lucky to get a six for how fit you are."
They're a little closer to the official's desk. As lighthearted as they try to make this conversation feel, a lingering awkwardness remains. Finn and Noah have never liked the Hunger Games much—he'd even go so far as to say it's the one thing he hates due to all the killing that's required of it. As much as they can try to joke about how they'd do and how the strict Gamemakers would rank them, it's still painful to think that either of them won't be free of the danger for another year.
For all the times Finn watches Lola examine the Tributes, he hopes to see some shred of strength left in each child. Some form of hope that they'll come back home, that Lola won't slander them too much and sabotage their sponsorship chances. He likes Capitol fashion and soap operas, but he hates that the most extravagant of them all come out during the Hunger Games.
Too many kids have died over the past hundred years. He hopes just a little bit that maybe this year will be the last. A punishment can only go on for so long.
It's close to eleven twenty when Finn and Noah reach the official. Noah goes first, letting out a loud groan when the prick pierces his finger. He's directed towards the front of the town square, and then it's Finn's turn. The official looks him up and down once as Finn silently sits through the blood sampling. He looks down at the screen and reads out, "Finnegan Styx?"
Finn nods. "Second row from the front, left side," the official tells him.
He winds up a short distance away from Noah, and Lux is practically out of sight. Finn rocks back and forth on his feet; after a good three minutes of that, he begins to loudly tap his feet against the concrete. Boys either side of him glare at him, but Finn takes no notice. Unlike some, he just can't sit entirely still.
It takes a while for Ambert the escort to arrive, and it takes Fiin a moment to actually process what she looks like this year. At first he thinks she's some other official here to observe, but even through the layers of hideously botched yellow skin dye he can tell it's her. Her hair's been dyed bright orange, her dress made from shimmering orange material. Even the hat she wears has orange slices decorating it. He can't help wondering if she has a particular theme she wants to follow that didn't quite fall through this year.
She clears her throat daintily and leans uncomfortably close to the microphone. What he thinks is supposed to be, "Good morning everyone," comes out as a garbed mess of lips smacking together through the speakers.
It's the usual deal: Ambert tries to promote the Capitol and praise the Games, everyone ignores her and has a small conversation of their own. Treaty of Treason, awkward clapping, and a misplaced "welcome" to the twelve year olds whose names will be in the Reaping Balls for the next six years. It is, quite frankly, a little uncomfortable for Finn.
A boy beside him yawns loudly. Finn chuckles at little before clearing his throat.
"We'll now proceed to the drawings!" Ambert announces. With a flourish of her hands, she claps for her assistants to drag the Reaping Ball over to her. They do so reluctantly, exasperated expressions on their faces. It drops with a loud clunk beside her. Finn can see an orange slice fall from her hat and into the Reaping Ball.
Ambert hurriedly tries to pull it out, only for a slip of paper to stick to the slice and drop to the floor of the stage as she shakes it loose. The mayor clears his throat, and Finn swears he can hear him say, "That must be counted as a draw, Ms. Viva."
Ambert flushes—her face turns an ugly shade of orange as the blood rushes to her face. Finn cringes at the sight.
"Dear me," Ambert says innocently. "I've gone and made a fool of myself. Oh well! We'll see who the lucky Tribute this year will be!"
As she pops open the paper, staining her fingers with the sticky juice left from the orange slice, a girl from the front of the eighteens group yells out to her. "Did you even introduce the mentor?" she hollers. The other girls around her laugh, and Finn can hear a few chuckles from the boys.
Ambert gives her a sickly sweet smile. "I'll have you know, sweetie," she says in a strained voice, "that the mentor didn't want to appear today. So zip your lips and let me do my job. Okay?"
More laughter. Finn can't help feeling bad for the woman, though he will admit he's a little curious to see who they chose for the Quell. Not a lot of District 6's victors are of sound mind, what with how many of them take morphling to cope with their own Games.
"Now," Ambert breathes. "Our lucky tribute is… Oh my, what a lovely name! Is there a Lux Styx in the crowd?"
The ugliest sound known to man escapes Finn's throat.
When Lux comes out of the crowd of twelve year olds lining the back, she looks more disappointed than upset. Less like she just broke her knee and can't play her favourite sport anymore, and more like she dropped some loose change into a gutter. Finn, on the other hand, isn't coping as well.
He knocks over about four other boys as he rushes to the ropes sectioning them off. He reaches for Lux as she passes, calling her name. Distantly, he can hear Noah calling out to him and Lux, and then eventually joining Finn at the ropes to reach out to Lux. The Peacekeepers knock them back, causing Noah to stumble and fall on his behind. Lux simply calls out, "Are you okay, Noah?"
"God," Noah groans back.
She's getting closer and closer to the stage, now shaking as the weight of the situation lands on her. Finn can't even contain the loud, heavy breaths that crawl out of him.
He's going to lose Lux. In some messed up twist of fate, Finn is about to lose Lux in a similar fashion to how Barb lost Astrid. He's watching her wither away, and then he'll see the last remaining pieces of Lux die before his eyes on TV.
He's not sure what happens as the thought races through his mind, but he's aware of a coarse pain in his throat when he falls back into reality. Seconds, maybe even minutes, must have passed. But all eyes are on him now. Finn looks left and right frantically, at Lux's still form onstage next to Ambert. Dimly, he can feel tears running down his cheeks.
With a nervous smile, Ambert says, "It looks like we have a volunteer, then."
When the Peacekeepers come to his side, they don't push him back in line. Finn looks in confusion down at Noah, but all he gets in return is a mixture of horror, fear, and distraught from Noah's expression. He still can't figure out what's happened. Who volunteered?
Lux is taken offstage as Finn is guided up. Up close, he can smell the sick citrus scent from Ambert's hat. She holds the microphone out to him and asks, "What's your name, young man?"
Finn blinks, still trying to find his bearings. He feels almost like an outsider watching himself from a distance. "F—Finn. Finnegan Styx. Finn Styx," he babbles. Ambert looks down at him with her mouth forming a perfect O shape.
"Are you related to young Lux, Finn?"
"My…" He feels lightheaded. "My sister…"
"Oh, how sweet! We don't get volunteers often here—" His chest hurts. "—but I'm sure your heroic act will be appreciated." His fingers keep trembling, but he's not cold. "Give it up for Finnegan Styx, everyone!" Was it always this hard to breathe? "Mr. Styx? Mr—" Two Amberts enter his field of vision. Finn feels almost weightless as he looks blankly up at them. "Mr— Heather, get the smelling salts—"
He's unconscious before he even hits the stage floor.
There he goes! Not gonna lie, I couldn't stop making jokes to myself about how Barbara was a cryptid throughout this whole chapter pfft. That means that yes, the very Barb who threw Finn onto a half-eaten muffin was the Barbara Thisbe he's set to train under hehehe
This chapter also marks the first use of a Quell Question! I'll be counting up all the reviews left as points, and five extra points will be added for every Quell Question answered - so a total of six points that you can use for later sponsorship! They'll be starting fairly standard, since we've only met 6/24 Tributes.
QQ #1: What was your first impression of Lola Amos, now that we've seen how she runs her show?
With all that done, we're moving on to District 7! I'll see you all there soon!