Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F
I keep my face neutral as the Peacekeepers shepherd us out of the Justice Building. Photographers immediately start rushing toward us with their cameras flashing in our faces, making me frown a little in annoyance. I quickly recompose myself; I need to show that I'm not bothered by anything that the Capitol can throw at me. Those tributes always go far.
We're ushered into a vehicle, where the escort is waiting. I sit uncomfortably between her and my district partner. I don't remember his name, nor do I think it's necessary for me to know it. He'll be dead soon enough.
Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to have the same idea as me.
"Hey, I'm Pixel," he says shakily. He already looks terrified. No one in the Capitol will want to sponsor him; that's for sure.
I do my best not to roll my eyes. "Tesla."
"I already introduced you to each other onstage!" the escort says shrilly, clearly irritated that we don't remember her calling out our names.
"Oh, s-sorry," Pixel says, eyes wide.
This time, I really do roll my eyes, keeping them straight ahead as the car finally starts to move. The escort is even more difficult to look at up close, with her pupils dyed a bright pink that makes her look sick, and eyelashes as long as a centipede's legs.
Outside the car, the photographers run alongside us, still trying to get that perfect shot for the Capitol. The flashing hurts my eyes, so I close them and hope the Capitol gets a good glimpse of me sleeping on my way to the train.
Jason Sparks (18)- D6M
The interior of our train is unbelievable. After spending so long passing out food and clothing to starving children, it's a shock to see how the Capitolites live. Gourmet food covers the crystal tables, chandeliers hang from the ceiling, plush couches await us with a flat-screen TV that takes up the entire wall.
"Holy shit…" my district partner whispers. She darts to the table and picks up a crystal glass, holding it up to the light. Next her fingers itch toward the silver cutlery, but something holds her back. She turns around and scowls at me.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," I say cooly, taking a seat on the couch. I know I'm not what's holding her back; she's realized there's no use in stealing anything here. Either she wins and becomes rich beyond her wildest dreams, or she dies. There's no way to bring stolen goods back home to Six.
Our escort comes bumbling in, along with our mentors, two morphlings that look as high as the sky. The dark red rings around their eyes are easy to distinguish. They both stare right at Antonia, who is now caressing the thick blankets that decorate the couches. I know why; I know who she is, and it concerns me. If the morphlings are close to her, they will likely devote much of their attention to her. No one will want to help a Peacekeeper win.
I retire to the window and stare out as District Six starts to fly past. The buildings whoosh past us faster and faster until everything seems to melt away. I sigh and sit at the chair closest to em, wondering if I'll ever get to see it again.
Suddenly there's a familiar sounding bark from somewhere inside the train. I lift my head up and look around intently, but no one else seems to hear it. Great. If I'm going insane already, the mentors will take even less interest in me.
Grizelda "Zel" Weaver (18)- D9F
My district partner is quiet. I expected him to be raging and screaming like his sister when he was Reaped, but instead he's enitrely silent, no evidence of tears on his cheeks. When we enter our train, he stares blankly at the luxurious interior, then suddenly disappears through the door on the opposite wall. I take a deep breath, keeping myself back. It's not his fault, but this child will have to die so that mine can live. It's just as simple as that, and I can't risk getting attached.
"Oh, Grizelda!" the escort calls to me from the television. "Don't you want to come see your competition?"
"Call me Zel," I say. "I'm going to sleep."
With that, I follow my district partner into the next car. It's another leisurely room filled with velveted furniture, but after that come our bedrooms. I ignore the first one, whose door is labeled with an "Albert Anderson", and proceed to my own.
Inside is the largest bed I've ever seen, piled with comforters and even a draw-around curtain for privacy. I have my own TV and bathroom, and a large window that shows the fields of grain passing outside. I rush to it and press my hands to the glass, hoping I'll fall right through and escape. Tears fill my eyes. I press a little too hard on the glass and the image changes suddenly, to a surreal forest with sun shining through the canopy.
"No, no, wait!" I try to press it again with my fingers, but the screen only displays more fake scenes of nature. First a beach, then a desert, then a frozen pine forest. I fall to my knees against the glass, hoping I hadn't squandered my last chance to see District Nine.
Eryn Winters (15)- D12F
The escort convinces us to sit and watch the Reapings, which actually is somewhat comforting. This is what everyone does after the ceremony back in Twelve with their families. Everyone sits down and watches because they have to, eager for it to be over so that they can dig in to the food they have prepared.
Today is no different. Rooker and I are constantly looking back at the table where our meal is being prepared. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sugary fruit wafts over to us with every breeze, making my stomach growl. It seems like forever since breakfast.
Unfortunately, watching the Reapings on this screen doesn't hold quite the same connotation as they did in the candy shop's kitchen. These are my competitors. I quietly watch each of their reactions as they climb the stage. The Careers are as confident and refined as ever, though there is a slight problem in One when a boy is Reaped without any volunteers.
"What happened to the Career?" Rooker asks, eyes wide.
"He is the Career," I say matter-of-factly. It's pretty obvious with the way he introduced himself and the way he glares at the crowd.
"Oh…"
Poor boy, I think. He hardly stands a chance at thirteen years old. If this was any other situation, I might have liked him. He reminds me a little of Dussie, who is his age and always needs me to clarify things for her. But now I can't afford to get close to him. He's too young to make a valuable ally.
I bring my knees to my chest when the second twelve-year old from Eight is Reaped. Watching their tiny faces makes me realize just what I will have to do to survive. I glance at Rooker again. Am I capable of killing people like that?
I must.
Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M
I laugh hysterically as the boy from Eleven knocks the Reaping bowl off the stage. His whole first impression had been a disaster… falling and then getting angry enough to destroy Capitol property? Everyone would either hate him or love him, and those polarizing tributes never went far. The victor had to be at least liked by all.
"Oh my god," I gasp, wiping tears from my eyes. "That was a good one."
Tiffany's arms are crossed, her piercing blue eyes fixed on me. "You shouldn't laugh. That was incredibly rude."
"Me laughing or that idiot knocking over the Reaping bowl?"
"Both!" she snaps, making me snigger. I can practically see the hair standing on her neck, like a bristling cat. She's been on edge since the girl from Nine was Reaped, a large pregnant woman that had shrieked like a banshee when her name was called. Tiffany had gasped like it was an atrocity that she should be allowed to compete.
"Pregnant girls should be exempt," she had hissed at me after I snorted at her reaction.
"Are you kidding?" I had asked her incredulously. "If they were exempt, every girl in Panem would be getting pregnant just to avoid the Games. Then there would be overpopulation in the outer districts, where people can barely eat in the first place. Is that what you want?"
Tiffany was silent, watching the terrified boy get Reaped. She does the same thing now, turning away, apparently deciding I'm not worth the trouble. She rewinds the Reapings. I'm guessing she wants to really size-up her competition, which is a good strategy that I should probably be following as well, but I can't stand being around her any longer. She's fun to mess with, but she's not afraid of me like most of the kids that we trained with at the Academy. Instead she just yells right back and then ignores me.
There will be plenty of time to acquaint myself with the competition later. I head to the table, where the Avoxes are almost finished preparing our food. My mouth waters when I see a whole lobster ready for me to devour. I need a pick-me-up after that debacle at my Reaping. I've been dreaming of the moment I would volunteer ever since I was a little kid, and our stupid escort took that away from me by picking my name. I resolve to ignore him for the entire coming week before the Games. I don't need anyone but myself to win these Games. Even Tiffany will be gone soon enough.
Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M
My father has always provided for my family, but never to this extent. The food that covers our ornate wooden table seems to good to be true. Surely people in the Capitol don't eat like this all the time.
"Oh, no, my dear," our escort shakes her head when I ask. "This is the height of luxury, darlings. Only the richest and most honored have meals like this."
It's hard to think of myself as being honored for heading to my death, but I'll take it at the moment. I remember how Nina had said in her interview with Flickerman that she loved the food in the Capitol, and now I realize why. I feel closer to her than ever as I dig in to my roasted pig that's glazed in honey.
A woman dressed in all red serves us our drinks, and even picks up a napkin for one of our mentor's after he drops it. I try to ignore her presence and focus on the food, not talking to anyone as the escort and our mentors converse cheerfully. I assume the chipperness from our mentors is somewhat forced, but maybe not. Neither of them have permanent injuries from their Games, and if they get to eat like this during every Hunger Games season, they probably don't have much to complain about. I carefully eye Brunswick as he chats animatedly with the escort. He's our only male victor who's still alive, and won when he was only fifteen by avoiding the other tributes as much as possible. With only a knife to protect himself and a bow and arrow to catch food, he had ended up killing only two tributes and winning the Games. Doesn't sound like such a terrible strategy to me.
As my district partner, a quiet girl named Amelia, reaches forward to grab the pitcher of rich grape juice, her hand knocks over her own glass and spills the juice all over the plush white carpet. I jump away and hear the escort shriek loudly, "How could you? This carpet costs more than everything else in this room combined!"
Amelia blushes a dark red, getting out of her seat as the red woman bends down to clean up the mess. She doesn't meet anyone's eyes as she tries to help the woman, but even this elicits a reproach from our escort.
"Stop that, Amelia!" she snaps. "That's the Avox's job, not yours. Just be more careful next time."
Amelia stands back up without a word and sits back down. She doesn't try to apologize or even look at anyone. In fact, I don't think she's said a word to me all day. It's strange, but maybe she just doesn't want to get close to anyone. I return to my meal with gusto. I shouldn't be getting acquainted with anyone either.
Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F
I'm used to luxury, but nothing like this. The food is exquisite, and the furnishings are nothing like I've ever seen. My bedroom is completely covered in softness, from the plush carpet to the comforters that are piled on the bed. Even the curtains in front of the window are soft. I run my hands over them as I look around. I like the effort, but there are far too few plushies. The only one I have now is Sir Hoot, still in my arms. I haven't let go of him all day.
I feel stuffed from our first Capitol meal, and normally I would be ready for bed, but surprisingly I don't feel tired at all. Instead I feel jumpy, my eyes constantly filling with tears from too many emotions at once, but not just from fear. I'm determined to win this and show everyone what I'm capable of.
I'm not a princess, I'm a warrior. I remind myself firmly as I set Sir Hoot onto the bed and head to the bathroom. I'm a warrior. I can leave Sir Hoot alone while I take a shower.
The bathroom is huge, bigger than my bedroom at home, which is already large by Eight standards. The shower itself takes up about half the room, with a large sink and mirror closest to me. I lean down and open one of the cupboards underneath the sink to reveal an enormous array of makeup and hair-care products, evidently for our own use. I rush back into the bedroom and open the closet, overjoyed that there is also a supply of amazing clothes for me to wear. I pick out a gray dress and check the size. It's not my exact size, but it will probably fit me. They must have several kinds of wardrobes depending on a tribute's body type that are ready to be implemented after the Reaping.
Underneath the size, the dress' tag says Handcrafted in District Eight! And the name of my family's competitor manufacturers. I look down at my own dress, pink and princess like. This can't be what I show the Capitol. I quickly take it off and stuff it into the closet. I probably won't see it again, but I don't care. I take the gray dress into the bathroom and prepare to shower.
The actual showering is more complicated than I imagined, involving hundreds of buttons and settings, but afterwards I feel so much better. I use the hairdryer and spray under the sink to give myself smooth, flowing locks that go past my shoulders. I look much more adult like this, more like a tribute. I know the older tributes won't take me seriously, but I can at least try.
Still not tired, I explore the rest of the train, creeping past Tag's room and back into the leisure car. I'm surprised to see that Tag is there as well, staring at the television.
"What are you doing?" I ask suspiciously.
He jumps up, then gives me a sly smile. "Nothing."
I glance at the screen. He's watching the Reapings again, of course. "Looks like we both had the same idea," I lie easily, sitting down next to him on the couch. We watch together in silence. When our own reaping comes along, I can't help but wonder what changed in the past couple of hours in my district partner. Onstage, he was sniffling and frightened like me, and now he's sizing up the competition. I guess I shouldn't judge him, though… such a change has happened in me as well.
Tomas Fields (15)- D11M
The escort is both afraid of me and angry with me, I can tell. He avoids even looking at me for most of the evening, directing all comments toward Marjorem, or "Jo" as she gently corrected him. What's more is our mentor Seeder is clearly biased towards her as well; my worst fear is already coming true. The Capitol girl is getting all the attention while I fall to the back, unnoticed. It's maddening, but maybe if I can slip past everyone's radar, I'll surprise them and win. It's not an unheard of strategy.
As Seeder and Jo chat in the leisure car about their angle for the Capitolites, I quietly head to the bedroom they've given to me. I don't want to sleep, but it might be the only thing I have to cope. I know I shouldn't have knocked that ball off of the podium, but the Capitol deserved it for sending us to die.
I sit on my bed and roll the black pearl my mother gave me in my palm. A gift from my father, she'd said. The only thing I have of his. I know that he was originally from Four, but that's it. I wonder if he's a Hunger Games enthusiast. All of the brutes from Four seem to be. The Careers from Four this year seem particularly nasty; the guy is blind in one eye and yet he still volunteered for this?! I can't imagine being so thirsty for blood.
I decide to go to sleep, changing out of my clothes until I'm wearing just my underwear. I don't bother putting anything else on, just crawling under the covers and closing my eyes. I keep the black pearl close to my chest, listening to the sounds of the train moving steadily onward...
Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M
"Why did you do it?"
Rufina ignores me, her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her. As the guy from Six mounts the stage, she scribbles something into her notepad.
"You think he's hot or something?"
She doesn't respond, but rolls her eyes in annoyance.
"The Hunger Games aren't the best place to hook up, you know."
"I don't want to hook up with anyone," Rufina finally snaps, turning to look at me. The expression in her eyes cements my opinion of her as a worthy Career. She was always great in training, but her sister Drusa was a better with weapons, better at running. But we both know that's not what wins the Hunger Games. It's the determination, the ferocity, the bloodlust.
"He looks like a competitor, doesn't he?" Rufina continues, nodding towards the screen. The guy does look buff, but I can tell he doesn't have what it takes.
"Working out isn't the same thing as training."
"He doesn't look like he just works out, Hadrian," Rufina says impatiently. "Look at him. He's been in combat training, for sure."
I squint at the screen. "I guess you're right…"
"Of course I am." Rufina goes back to her notes. It's a little exasperating. After our first watch-through, I could tell who is going to be a problem and who won't, and even if I'm wrong, I'll gather more information as the week progresses. There's not much we can tell from these few shots of each tribute right after their Reaping, while they're in shock.
Whatever. If Rufina wants to spend her time on a pointless endeavor, so be it. I plop another grape into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"You didn't answer my first question."
"And here I was, thinking you were going to be quiet for ten seconds," Rufina says sarcastically, finally turning off the TV and turning to face me, placing her elbows on her knees like a little kid. "Yes, Hadrian? I am at your service."
"Shut up," I say contemptuously, shoving another handful of grapes into my mouth. "I was just asking why you volunteered instead of your sister. Having an argument with her or something?"
"No, we decided it together," she says defensively. "She didn't want to leave home, and I always wanted to prove myself."
"Hmm." Drusa was talented, sure, but someone unwilling to compete is someone unable. "Fine. I accept you as my partner."
"Thank God," Rufina rolls her eyes again, getting back to the Reapings. I sigh and eat the last of my grapes before moving on to the cheese.
Willow Whitebeam (17)- D7F
The Careers are just as I expected them to be, their eyes filled with resolve, their bodies held confidently. The girl from One seems a little ditsy if you ask me, but her training will make her a formidable opponent.
"That guy's half blind," Seb remarks as the boy from Four introduces himself.
"But look at the way he's acting," I say, pointing to his arms. "Not tense at all. He's completely at ease."
"That could be a drawback, though," Seb says lowly, obviously wanting the last word. "Overly confident people never win."
"What about Cato? Or Celia? The Two tributes are always arrogant and look how they've been doing."
Seb looks up at me from under his light blonde hair, blue eyes piercing into me. I raise an eyebrow at him.
"I'm just saying that it can get you killed."
I snort, returning back to the screen, where the tributes from Five are mounting the stage. The boy seems somewhat confident, but his fear is given away in his eyes. He looks like he isn't quite here, like he's thinking about something else. The girl looks terrified. No one seems like a great ally so far, least of all my district partner.
"What? You think that's funny?" he demands.
I feel the back of my neck start to bristle. "You're one to talk about arrogance! Just half an hour ago you were telling our lovely escort that you think you can win over the Capitol by playing the guitar during your interview."
"I just said it was an idea!" he shouts, taking to his feet.
"Whatever, Seb. What kind of name is that? You trying to sound cool?"
"Not cooler than, Oh I just live on my own with my friend, we do whatever we want and party all night," he mimicked my explanation of my life that I had given earlier to the mentors.
"Partying? What the hell are you talking about!? You don't know anything about survival!"
"I know more than you!" he shot back immediately
"Oh, I bet you do. Living with your girlfriend and her family in a nice cushy home. You must know all about survival."
"More than you," he sneers at me. Apparently ashamed for repeating the same comeback, he storms out of the room. The locket he wears around his neck swings back and forth. I contemplate stealing while he sleeps; it looks so stupid on him anyway, and I'm pretty sure it's for women. My blood is boiling, but I stay seated at the couch for a while longer to prevent myself from doing something rash. After watching the pregnant lady from Nine climb the stage, I'm not so angry at Shitty Seb anymore. The Capitol is the one that deserves my hate, the ones that put us into this situation in the first place.
Besides, I can tell Seb is faking his shitty cocky persona. He does live with his girlfriend's family, not his. Maybe I wasn't the only one who wasn't wanted as a child.
Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F
The train is too quiet to sleep. If I listen really closely I can hear the train itself moving over the tracks, but that's it. There's no mooing and baying of animals, no shouts from ranchers and drunken men out late at night, nothing. I miss Amber's distinctive whinny. I reach into my pocket and pull out the horsehair charm that Buck gave to me, made from her hair. At least I'll get to bring her with me into the arena. I rub the charm between my fingers pensively. It feels just like her.
There's a knock on my door and cuts through the silence like a knife. I sit up in my bed suddenly, heart racing. "Who is it?"
"It's me."
I sigh and lay back onto the bed. "Come in."
My district partner, a tiny boy with ginger hair and white skin that betrays he's never been in the fields, peers into my room. "Hey."
"What is it?" I ask somewhat impatiently.
"It's just…" he shuffles his feet. "I can't sleep."
"Oh. Me neither."
"Really?" he steps in, walking over to the bed. "Honestly, I thought you would be asleep and wouldn't hear me."
"Nope. It's too quiet, isn't it?"
"Yeah. That's why I changed the window setting."
I raise an eyebrow at him. "The what?"
"You don't know? Look."
He strides over to my large window, which is nearly pitch black with what are clearly the silhouettes of passing trees. Who knows where we are right now. The escort said the train traveled up to 250 miles per hour. We'd be in the Capitol by morning.
Denver touches the glass lightly with his fingertip. The window immediately changes into a snowy hillside, alive with the sounds of wolves howling and squirrels racing through the snow-ridden pines.
"Whoa," I breathe. "That's incredible."
Another touch and we're back in Ten, or something that could be Ten. The large, open field reminds me a lot of the pastures that we use to feed our animals. Along with it comes the sounds of wind rustling the grass, birds chirping in the distance, a sky full of stars twinkling above it.
"Wow, thank you, Denver."
"You're welcome," he says with a smile. Maybe I was too quick to judge him as a townie. He's only thirteen, after all, and he told me he loves animals during dinner. And he seems smart.
"Do you want to hop in?" I ask, holding the covers up for him.
"Oh, thanks!"
It's been a long time since I shared the bed with someone, but it's nice. Denver is careful not to get too close to me, both of us turned to watch the fake field that's been provided for us. I hope we'll be able to see a real one again soon.
Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the smell of luxury. It's a very distinct smell, like leather and fake fur and usually impersonality. It smells like the boats my parents design and build. I snuggle the toy moose Fiona gave me closer to my chest. There's a strange pulsing feeling in the middle of my forehead, where my original token, my fancy ring, had hit me in the forehead when Fiona had threw it at me. I sigh at the thought of my terrible, wonderful sister and sit up, rubbing at my eyes.
I open them and see nothing. Strange. I blink a couple of times. Am I dreaming?
I close my eyes tightly again and lay down. I open them. I should see my ceiling, but it's like I never even opened them. My left eye has been like this for years now, i'm quite familiar with blindness. But my right one has never failed me.
You can see. I tell myself firmly. Just open your eyes. You're just not opening them right.
I open them again, panic starting to set it as I realize I still can't see. Some sort of strange sound leaves my throat. I reach out for Fiona's moose and hug it tightly to my chest, letting out choked noises.
This can't be happening. The doctors said there was practically no chance of the cataracts moving to the right eye! Let alone so quickly. This has to be a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.
"Drew!" I hear Nikki pounding on the door for me. "We're in the Capitol! Wake up, will you!"
My breathing is coming out too quickly. I feel like my vision is swimming even though I can't see. I can't see. I can't see.
"Drew?"
"Just hold on!" I choke out, sitting up again. I shakily get to my feet, clutching the moose tightly,my other hand outstretched in front of me. I walk into the bedpost, hurting my knee and making me wince, but eventually my hand hits the door. I open it without much issue and hesitantly step out.
"Nikki?"
She must not be here. I continue on my path down the hallway, using my limited memory of the layout. I still bump into nearly everything, including a person who squeaks indignantly but doesn't say anything. An Avox. I think miserably. Now I'm running into Avoxes.
"Nikki!" I call out again, hoping she's somewhere nearby. The train is getting louder and louder, freaking me out even more. Suddenly there is a large whoosh of air followed by shouts and applause. The Capitol. We've arrived.
"Drew, what the hell are you doing?"
I make another strange noise as Nikki pulls me over to what I assume is the window, for all of the Capitol to see.
After a few moments, she asks, "What is up with you? I thought you've always wanted to see the Capitol."
"I did," I say miserably.
The Capitol has doctors that will fix you. I tell myself But I still feel panic rise in my throat.
Hey everyone! Here's our first chapter where the tributes are interacting and reacting to each other. It was so much fun to write!
There are only two more weeks this semester, but they're the busiest of the year. I hope I'll be able to get one chapter per week up for you guys to read. The next chapter will be at the Remake Center and the Parade, and the one after that will be at the Training Center.
Please review/follow/favorite if you enjoyed reading! Thank you guys so much.