Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M
It's been a long time since the District Five interviews ended, but I still feel shell shocked. I haven't even been paying attention to what the others had to say, mulling over Amelia's bombshell in my mind over and over again.
How is it possible that my father had another child? Let alone keep them a secret? He's always been devoted to my mother, with their only rocky point that I can remember being after Nina's death. And that eventually brought them even closer together.
If Amelia is sixteen, that means she was born two years after me. I don't remember what my parents' relationship was like then, but I know that my father would never cheat on my mother. I know it in my heart that it isn't true.
But then I glance at Amelia and feel my heart sink. Our stylists had guessed it beforehand, telling us we had the same nose and same hair, wondering if we were cousins. If I look really closely at her, I can see my father's eyes as well. I feel my breath start to come quicker as Caesar wraps up the show. I don't remember anything that he's said this whole time, even my own interview a blur of shock and confusion. The lights go bright before dimming considerably, and some Avoxes arrive to escort us backstage.
Everyone is mostly quiet, exhausted from the day's events, walking in a straight line back to our dressing rooms, where our costumes will be removed and we will return to ourselves again. Amelia doesn't meet my eyes when we reach our joint room, only staring at the ground as usual. We're taken into our own rooms and thet process of de-transforming me begins. I sit there in silence, wondering what I should say to Amelia. If I should say anything. Only one of us can survive, after all. There's no use in getting close to each other.
I wonder if she's been planning this since she was Reaped. What if this is all an elaborate plan to throw me off my game. It could be a huge lie. But it would surely come back to bite her if she won… the Capitol doesn't lightly accept tributes manipulating them for support, though that is arguably the entire point of the interviews. If she wasn't really my half-sister and she ended up winning, the Capitol would be very angry with her.
Once I'm changed back into myself, the stylists lead me out into the hallway again, where Amelia is already waiting.
"You two did so great!" the escort chirps, clapping her hands together once. "Family is very important, and now yours has double the chance of winning! How incredible is that?" She skitters away before either of us can react. Amelia's ears are bright red, and she's staring down at the floor. Her dirty blonde hair and freckle-covered face remind me of my own, but also of someone else. Nina.
"You wouldn't lie about something like that, would you?" I ask her.
She glances up at me and quickly looks away, shifting her feet. "I've been lying my whole life. I'm not going to do it anymore." She glances up at me. "Are you mad at me?"
I take a deep breath and shake my head. "No. How could I be mad? You can't choose who your parents are."
The corners of her mouth twitch upward. "So our alliance is still good?"
"Yes. We're still allies," I say, starting to walk with our escort down the hallway. We'll be back in our rooms in a few minutes, unable to sleep as the Games creep closer. "So what about this girl that you were talking about? You said her name was Elanor?"
Amelia giggles and ducks her head to hide her blush. "She's been my best friend for a long time. I never had the chance to tell her how I felt."
"Well, I'll try not to embarrass you on camera," I say, smiling. I try not to think about how the twinkle in her eye looks like Nina's. It's a punch in the stomach that I don't think I can recover from.
Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F
It's a shame that I have to take off my dress, but I suppose when I win that I'll be able to wear all kinds of pretty clothes. Thinking about all the famous Capitolite designers that will climb over each other to dress me makes me feel lightheaded with happiness. Once my silver dress is gone, I only take off some of my makeup, not wanting the other Careers to see what I look like without it just yet. It will be unavoidable in the Games, but I want to hold off as long as I can.
The others are waiting for me in the hallway, merrily chatting together. "What took you so long?" Willow asks with a suggestive smile. "Wanting to make sure you're still all pretty for us?"
"Not for you," I lie easily. "The Avoxes and everyone else. Do you want to be seen with a bare face yet?"
"My bare face is just as pretty as yours with makeup," Willow huffs, turning away.
"She's having a bad day since that Seb guy showed her up in his interview," Rufina informs me, tossing an orange that she got somewhere up in the air and catching it. "But honestly, who cares? So he killed a guy. Doesn't mean he's a great fighter."
"He scored a ten," Hadrian says, sounding frustrated. "Maybe he knows more than he lets on."
"He's probably just crazy," Tiger says. "The crazy ones always score tens. Doesn't mean they'll win."
Hadrian gives him a dirty look and I roll my eyes.
"We can't underestimate him, but don't presume to know anything about him either," I warn. " He and Nikki are our greatest threats as far as we know."
"Nikki is a greater threat," Willow says matter-of-factly. "She's with that Peacekeeper guy, and she has Career training. Seb is a nutjob with two twelve-year olds. We shouldn't worry too much about him."
"We need to talk strategy," I change the subject. "For tomorrow. I think Hadrian, Tiger, and I should take the Cornucopia while Rufina and Willow pick people off the edge."
"Why am I on the edge?" Rufina objects immediately, sounding outraged. "I can fight!"
"You're better with long-ranged weapons," Tiger drawls. "So is Willow. It's a good plan to take out as many people as possible."
Rufina grumbles under her breath. I try not to react. The truth is, I'm not sure if Rufina or Willow would survive in the middle of everything at the Cornucopia. It's usually mayhem, with the strongest tributes vying for supplies. Rufina's spear skills are superb, but she's not good with shorter weapons and she's very small herself. Willow would definitely not stand a chance with her lack of lifelong training, even if she is admirable with knives.
"I'll tell you who I'm going to take out no matter what," Hadrian says suddenly. "That Eight girl. Talking like she can kill all of us… she's starting to piss me off."
"Scared of a little girl?" Tiger asks mockingly.
"I said she pisses me off," Hadrian counters, but thankfully not rising to the bait. "As long as she's alive, people will continue to send her gifts. She could outlive some of us without ever lifting a finger."
"So will that Capitol girl and the pregnant one," Willow says. "We have to get rid of them."
"I call the Capitol girl," I say suddenly, filled with anger as I remembered her interview. Playing up her Capitol connections even though she's never been there, acting like she was some kind of victim, willing to have everything handed to her because of her heritage. It made me sick.
"Ooh, Tiffany is finally showing some malice, huh?" Rufina grins from ear to ear. "We'll let you have her if you can get to her in time."
"As long as I can have Miss Preggers," Tiger jokes, chuckling to himself. "Do you think the baby would try to escape if she's dying?"
"Do you know anything about women?" Rufina asks incredulously, our escorts starting herd us down the hallway.
As the two argue with Hadrian and Willow watching on in amusement, I can't help but feel sick at the thought of that woman's baby dying unjustly. The others probably don't care about a second accidental victim, but I do. I can't let there being a twenty-fourth death in these Games. It's just not right.
Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F
I'm still surprised at how well Attie's interview went, and how she managed to bring out that friendly persona so quickly. I've been thinking about it as my stylists undress me, and I've reached the conclusion that she must be a very good actress. I glance at her as our escorts herd us away to the tribute's tower. She looks like her normal self again, mostly expressionless, but then her escort looks back at her and she smiles pleasantly at her. She's never done anything like that to me.
Pixel is keeping his distance from her, trailing behind us. I know he's afraid of her, and maybe it's for a different reason than I originally thought. I know her own district partner doesn't like her either, ignoring him and his ally from Four, even though that would be a powerful alliance to be apart of. I wonder why she's choosing to ally with me instead.
Jason slos his step so that he's even with Pixel, talking lowly with him. I roll my eyes. Maybe Attie doesn't want to be with Jason because he's kind of an idiot, or too caring, which is going to be a liability. We reach the outside of the broadcasting building, where paparazzi is waiting for us. Luckily, our limousines are too close to the doors for them to trap us. I climb into the one with a Three on the side after Pixel.
"Bye, Tesla."
I look up in surprise to see Attie waving at me just slightly, then turning away. As the limousines speed away to our apartments, I realize I don't like Attie very much. Not at all, in fact. Her act is starting to get on my nerves, and I don't have time for someone who is going to bog us down with different acts for the camera.
"You two did very well," our escort tells us sweetly, like she's trying to comfort two children after their first day at school. "Everyone loved you! I didn't know you had a twin sister, Tesla."
I know she's overreacting; neither of us made any real impression on the crowd, probably. But I don't care, I don't need anyone but myself. I don't answer the escort's questioning look, turning to peer out the window. It's very dark out, the scene lit up with fluorescent lights from the buildings and other cars flying by with their headlights on.
"And Pixel, you were so cute!" the escort continues to gush. "It was smart bringing up your grades. You're a very smart boy, and the Capitol will see that."
I can tell she's preparing for the worst tomorrow. She knows that Pixel doesn't stand a chance, and she thinks that I don't either. I feel myself bristle, all the events from today making me feel… which I really don't like. Attie constantly playing me, the escort lying to us, me having to think about Nora of all people… it's pissing me off. And it's known in my family that good things don't happen when I'm pissed off.
Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M
The apartment is darker than it's ever been when Willow and I return to it. Whenever we came back from training, it was always lit up with food ready on the table and Avoxes waiting on our every whim. But it's already night time, and the lights of the city are the only thing lighting up the room.
Willow stays behind to talk to the escort and Johanna, but I leave immediately to my chamber. I change into my pajamas and watch the forest scene that is playing on my window. Not for the first time, I wish that the arena will involve a forest or trees in some way. I miss the sounds of birds singing in the early morning as Alexis and I walked with the other lumberjacks into the woods. The work was hard at first, but after a while, you learn to love it. The window's sounds of the wind and insects aren't real enough for me.
After a few minutes, I reckon I've waited long enough before sneaking out of my room, hearing Johanna's laugh echoing down the hallway from the plush living room. She and Willow have been getting along almost too well over the past few days.
I creep towards the end of the hallway, where I found the staircase yesterday. The door is hidden in between two wall panels, but I open it easily enough. I think the Avoxes use it to easily move from one floor to another, but I can't be sure. I slowly walk up the stairs, which spiral around a few times, until I reach another door marked with an Eight. I open it and am pleased to find myself in the Eights' apartment.
Sock and Tag are waiting for me in Tag's bedroom, whispering together on the bed. The room is dark except for the light from the window, which is showing the Capitol in all its murderous glory. I notice Sock is hugging a small plushie of some sort, but she drops it as soon as she sees me.
"Hey," Tag says. We thought you weren't coming."
"I had to wait. Didn't want to seem suspicious." I sit down on the bed beside them."So, before anyone says anything, let me give you my two cents. We're not going anywhere near that Cornucopia."
Sock gasps dramatically, and I can imagine her face scrunching up angrily. "You two are crazy! How are we going to survive without weapons?"
I glance at Tag. "I'm better empty-handed anyway. And you two are too small to do any real damage. We're good at making traps, so that should be our plan to stay alive."
"No one survives without weapons," Sock hisses, clearly not convinced. "No one."
"The sponsors will give us supplies, Sock," Tag says pleadingly. "Seb scored a ten and we have high scores for our age. Our main objective for the bloodbath is to survive."
"Our main objective should be to kill as many Careers as we can," Sock says stubbornly. "Not hide away. We have to take what we can and destroy everything else. We can set fire to-"
"No fires!" I say incredulously. "Do you hear yourself? I know you want to prove that you're a warrior, but we need to be smart!"
Sock grumbles under her breath, and I know she's not convinced.
"Before the gong goes off, we have to see where everyone is. Sock is a faster runner than you, Tag. I think we should run towards Tag and then away from the Cornucopia. We'll need to get to a water source as fast as possible to stock up, then figure out what to do from there. It's going to depend on the arena. Okay?"
I look pointedly at Sock, who mumbles a quiet, "Okay."
Marjoram "Jo" Paella (17)- D11F
With my hair let down and changed into my plain black pajamas, I feel like myself again. Not like a cheap, knock-off version of a Capitolite. Seeder says that this is the best way to go in terms of sponsors. They will all identify with me and pity me, even though they won't admit it to themselves that it's because they think it's wrong for me to die. It disgusts me how they can send other children to their deaths without so much as a second thought, but not their own children.
Seeder has made some green leaf tea for us, a reminder of home. Vendors at the Market made the most delicious and relaxing tea, but my mother's always sucked, not having grown up with it. That's the way my parents have always been, fascinated with the culture of District Eleven and desperate to fit in, while simultaneously trying to destroy it.
Tomas isn't talking much, staring into his cup of tea with his eyes drooping shut. It's a shame that we met this way. He's a sweet kid, and I know he doesn't deserve what's happened to him. But if it came down to just the two of us, I would kill him in a heartbeat.
That being said, I don't think he's going to last too long with that Drew guy hanging with him. If they make it past the bloodbath, his blindness will surely slow them down. Maybe Tomas is starting to realize that as well.
"The two of you are very strong tributes," Seeder says, cupping her tea between her hands. "You'll both do well." Despite her words, she looks nervous, her wrinkled face covered in concern. I've seen it before, when the plants in her garden aren't doing very well, or the Peacekeepers are cracking down on the poorer citizens in the District. I never thought I would see it in this kind of situation.
"I'm very proud of you both," she continues, and I can tell she's struggling. I can't imagine what it's like to watch tribute after tribute fall prey to the others year after year. It must take everything she has to mentor them each year.
"Thank you for everything, Seeder," I say, reaching out to touch her hand. She gives me a strained smile.
…
Later that night, I lay awake in my bed, waiting for sleep to come. I knew it would be hard to sleep, but I didn't expect thoughts of my parents to keep me up. I find that I'm not afraid of tomorrow any more than I have been since the Reaping; I'm just afraid for my parents. How will they live without me? My brother Sage is too young to go through this, but old enough to understand what's happening. What will happen next year when the Reaping rolls around? If I don't survive, he will be terrified to meet the same fate. If I die, will my parents still think my participation is an honor? Or will they grow to hate the Games? Do they even realize that my life is on the line?
I toss and turn until I simply can't anymore, sitting up to change the scene on my window from the city to a sparse forest. It reminds me of the orchards in Eleven, at home. I never had to pick in the orchards, but Marigold had to work year-round to support her family. I wonder if she is grateful that I volunteered for her, or if she wishes she could be released from her painful life. For the first time, I wonder if I've made a mistake.
Jason Sparks (18)- D6M
I'm surprised that I managed to get any sleep at all. When I wake up in the morning, I actually feel well-rested, though my stomach feels full of butterflies. I try to get ahold of myself as I dress in my training clothes for the last time. My stylist will change me into my outfit for the arena once we reach it.
Attie and I eat a small breakfast on our way to the roof, where the hovercraft will pick us up. I nervously take a bite of my apple, trying to ignore Attie's presence in the elevator. My stomach is starting to feel a little unsettled, like I might vomit. I breathe in deeply and the feeling dissipates. Even if I never get to use my Peacekeeper training in the field, I can use it for this. Focused thinking is the key, removing all worries from my mind.
We arrive on the roof in no time, most of the other tributes already there. Peacekeepers are loading us into the hovercraft one at a time, ensuring that everyone is secured in their seats. Attie and I wait our turn, the escort giving each of us a hug. The mentors are as high as a kite and nod to Attie as we enter the hovercraft. I can only hope they'll remember to gather my sponsors and send me gifts at the right time. Surely they must know that I will be receiving lots of them due to my training score. Of course, it's all contingent on if I survive the bloodbath.
I catch Nikki's eyes as she's loaded into the hovercraft, followed by the Fives and then us. She looks just the way I feel, her jaw clenched and eyes determined. The Peacekeepers sit us down in our assigned seats and pin our arms down with metal bars, another Peacekeeper coming around to inject our trackers into us. As the rest of the tributes are strapped in, the hovercraft starts to take off.
It's a strange feeling, being in the sky. The hovercraft is very loud, and the knowledge that we're floating in the air makes me uneasy. I can feel the girl from Five squirming next to me. She must also be uncomfortable squeezed into her small seat. I look past her, hoping to see Nikki again. A Peacekeeper is giving her her tracker, but she doesn't so much as blink as he injects it. The guy from Five has a similar reaction, though he looks tense. I realize he's probably had a lot of the same training that I had since he's the son of a Peacekeeper as well. His eight in training is surely impressive, and it seems like he and his sister have made up. I'm sure he would do anything to protect her. I'm suddenly aware of how much competition I'm up against in these Games. How many people will I have to kill to see the world outside of the arena again?
Nikki is prepared to kill whoever she has to in order to win. She doesn't have to tell me; I can see it in her eyes. As for me, I'm not sure. I would kill a Career for sure, those murderous bastards. But a small child? Even an older tribute who never thought of harming anyone before they were Reaped? I'm not sure if I could do it.
The tracker hurts as it's inserted into my arm. I breathe in deeply as to minimize the pain, trying to ignore the tiny device now inside me that allows the Gamemakers to track my every move. I know the pain of this will be nothing compared to what I'll have to endure in the arena.
Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M
I feel Rufina's legs jumping up and down with excitement beside me, and I while it's annoying, I also feel like I can't contain my eagerness. I've waited ten years for this; a chance to prove my worth to my country, show my strength and prove District Two is the best in Panem. I grin as I remind myself of my goal for the bloodbath: kill more than three tributes. Killing four people in the bloodbath is a grand feat that's hardly ever accomplished, maybe only eight times in the history of the Games. But Cassius killed three in his bloodbath, so I need to beat his record. I'm sure that I can beat his overall record of five kills for sure, but four in the bloodbath will be difficult. I need to focus and gather all my strength for the coming hours.
The hum of the hovercraft keeps me somewhat in the present, otherwise I would already be fantasizing about my Victory Tour. The Capitol will love me just like they love all victor families. Cassius and I will be the biggest celebrities Panem has ever seen.
I can feel the bloodlust beneath my skin, my fingertips itching to get around some of these pathetic tributes' throats. Cassius said that the first time killing another human being is exhilarating, and it only gets better each time. Holding human life and death in the palm of my hand sounds better than any dummy I've sliced open, even any of the squirrels that we killed at the Training Academy. For the next few weeks, I will be a menace to these other tributes. They will fear me like children fear the Big Bad Wolf, and will run from me like piglets who will be inevitably caught and devoured. The edge of my sword will be the last thing they feel.
Rufina's leg bumps into mine again. I glance over to see she's frowning slightly, staring at nothing. She doesn't look very excited anymore, in fact, she looks nervous. I don't know if what she said during her interview, about wanting to prove herself to her family, is true, but I suppose we each have our own reasons for fighting. On my other side, the girl from Three is emotionless as always. I've noticed that about her recently. I wonder if she will finally scream with fear when her killer plants a blade into her fragile body.
Tiffany and Tiger also don't look as excited as I am, though I'm sure they're just as eager to get their hands bloody as I am. Tiffany's lips are moving silently as if reciting something. Probably one of her mantras about the Games. Tiger, on the other hand, simply looks brooding. It's probably just an act to scare the others, but I imagine he's also thinking hard about his duties for the bloodbath. It's a shame that he's so determined to hate me; I have nothing against the guy. Despite his careful planning and calculating about the Games, he can't seem to rationalize his own behavior.
Not that it's going to matter when it comes down to it. Everyone knows I'm the strongest tribute here, scores or not. I could take Tiger or anyone else and come out on top every time. I have nothing to worry about except staying focused. It's time to get my hands dirty.
Rooker Holm (13)- D12M
My breath is coming quickly, and I'm starting to feel slightly faint. I wouldn't be the first tribute to faint on their pedestal, but it's a sure death sentence. The mines buried in the ground would blow me up immediately. At least it would be a short, painless death… but my insides twist at the thought of death, no matter how it comes to me. I have to see my parents again, hug Flint and maybe work up the courage to tell Gaia how I feel. I can't die yet, I just can't.
I feel my eyes start to tear up, my face turning red. The hovercraft jumps up slightly from turbulence, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto the arms of my chair. My arm throbs where my tracker was injected. I can't imagine how it would feel to be impaled on someone's weapon. The instinctual terror of death fills every part of my body until I feel it in my bones, my limbs seizing up. Last night I convinced myself I was brave enough to vy for supplies at the Cornucopia, but now it's obvious that isn't the case at all. I have to run away to save my own life. That's all I can do.
The hovercraft bounces again, and I let out a little whimper. Thankfully, no one seems to notice, too caught up in their own thoughts. My ears start to pop the same way they did when the craft began its descent, which means we're probably on our way back down. The knowledge makes my stomach swoop suddenly, making me feel even more faint. I can't tell how long we've been in the air; it could have been ten minutes or two hours and I wouldn't know. And now there's only maybe a half hour before the Games begin.
My ears continue to pop until he craft finally stutters to a halt and jolts as it lands. The noises and jarring movements make me even more wound up until I can hear my blood pounding in my ears. The Peacekeepers start unloading us from the craft one district at a time, meaning Eryn and I are last. She looks just as scared as me, her eyes wide and glassy. The Peacekeepers release us from our confining seating and stand us up, then bind our hands together behind us. They start to march us off the hovercraft and into the underground of the arena, in which the hovercraft has landed.
My heart is beating faster and faster, and my limbs feel slightly numb. I feel my grandmother's bronze brooch knocking against my chest as I walk, reminding me of what I have to come home to. I can't let my fear get in the way of my survival. I have to keep my head on my shoulders. My mom always said that I have the most creative ideas about the world, even though most other people thought they were stupid. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. It's the only chance I have.
Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F
My arms burn from how harshly the Peacekeepers have them pushed together. Spool and I are led into a hallway with a few others, and once the doors close behind us, they let our arms go.
"Remember the plan," Spool whispers to me as I rub my wrists. "Don't do anything stupid, okay?"
"I'm not going to do anything stupid!" I hiss back. It's foolish to talk about our plan in front of the others, even if they probably can't hear us. "I'll see you in a half-hour or so, alright?"
He continues to stare at me in doubt as the Peacekeepers lead us in opposite directions. Eventually, I am the only tribute in sight, completely isolated from everyone except my two guards. I feel the reality of the situation sink in once the lights start getting dimmer and dimmer the farther we travel. I'm under the arena right now, the place where I will either die or kill others. Either thought is terrifying, but I keep my jaw set firmly. I am willing to kill to save myself. I will kill to save myself, along with Seb and Spool if they are threatened. I am a warrior now, and warriors are never afraid.
We eventually reach a dark door with my name and district number printed on it. One of the Peacekeepers knocks on it, and my stylist answers a few moments later. He grins when he sees me, shooing away my guards and pulling me inside.
"It's almost time, darling!" He says cheerfully, sitting me down a plush couch in the middle of the room. I run my fingers over it absently as my stylist pitters around the room, babbling nonsensically. I glance around to take in my surroundings; the room is bigger than I thought it would be, complete with a large locker to hold my clothes, a few soft chairs to rest in, a large TV screen, and, of course, the tube that will carry me up into the arena.
I kind of want to get a closer look, but I'm immobile at first, somehow paralyzed by fear like a child. I'm a warrior, I tell myself firmly, and gather enough courage to stand and inspect the tube. It's clear for the most part, with a gray platform at the bottom for me to stand on. It's much longer than I expected, stretching up several meters before stopping an another gray circle. I swallow hard as I make my way back to my seat.
"Eager, huh?" my stylists asks me, his eyes twinkling. He's holding my outfit for the arena, small like me and colored unflattering orange. "You're not the only one. You should know that everyone in the Capitol adores you. We're all rooting for you!"
He winks, laying the outfit down on the couch.
"Thank you," I say softly. He's right. The Capitol might send us supplies since Seb scored so high, but how can we rely on that when the Careers are hoarding the Cornucopia's treasures? I can't sit by and let our biggest enemies get the easy way out of the Hunger Games. I'll meet Seb and Spool at Spool's pedestal, sure. But I might be taking a little detour first.
Albert "Triple A" Anderson (13)- D9M
I carefully inspect my outfit as my stylist fits it to my body. It's a strange thing, baggy in the pants and arms, but covering most of my body up to my neck down to my ankles. The material is almost shaggy in the way that it hangs off of my body, but luckily it's pretty easy to move around in. I swing my arms around in a circle, both to warm myself up and get used to my new clothes.
My shoes are heavy-duty boots, tan in color and a little harder to run in than my beat-up shoes from back home. I also have a jacket that's the same tan as my boots, which is also baggy and made of reflective material on the outside.
"It's made to reflect heat," my stylist informs me happily. "And it's water-resistant! Lucky you."
"Why is it so baggy?" I ask, moving my legs around and doing a few squats. "It feels weird."
"Also made for heat," she says, digging through my other clothes. "Gives you some air while also protecting you from sunburn. Oh, it sure sounds like you are in for a treat! I can't wait to see what arena they've cooked up this year!"
She finally finds what she was looking for, my token that was in the pocket of my pants. She hands it to me with a genuinely warm smile, and I can't help the affection that rises up in me at the kind gesture. She may be a psychopath like the rest of the Capiolites, but she isn't a complete monster.
"Thank you," I say, folding up the picture of me and my family and gently placing it in my pocket. "For everything."
"Oh, dear, it's my job!" She gives me a small hug, then turns away to send a message on the screen that's hanging on the other wall. I'm guessing it's the "ready to go" message for the other stylists and Gamemakers. I feel a sudden spike of adrenaline and have to sit down for a minute.
"Am I going up soon?"
"Oh, in a few minutes."
As she continues to busy herself with the screen, I remind myself of the plan. I have nothing to worry about as long as I can get to Eryn. She wanted to grab a backpack for supplies before running away, but I convinced her that was a bad idea. We can survive on the arena alone, I know we can. We're both very well-versed in survival, and we'll be able to find our own food.
As long as I can look Eryn in the eyes on last time, I will be beautiful eyes that change color depending on what she's wearing… I gulp as I think about it, feeling a small, impossible smile appear on my face. No matter what happens, as long as I can see Eryn again, I will be okay.
Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M
This is not at all what I expected from my Hunger Games.
I can feel my heart pounding furiously, and my hands clamming up from nerves. I can hear my stylist tapping on what I assume is a screen, and feel the itchy material of my arena outfit on my skin. But I can't see anything. Unless I win and fix my sight, I will never see my launching room, a place I have fantasized about for years. I will never see my arena. I won't even see my clothes.
My stylist had gently described them to me as she helped me get changed, but I can tell she is disappointed in me. One works with Career tributes for a reason: to see them conquer and kill and hopefully win. Now she's stuck with me, the blind kid.
I try not to focus on her and instead on my training. A heat-resistant outfit means the obvious: I'm looking at (well, not exactly) a hot-climate arena. If I was still in the Career alliance, this wouldn't be too much of a problem. There is usually plenty of water and iodine at the Cornucopia, and shade inside it. Now, who knows what this means for me and Tomas. At the very least, we'll have to find a water source and a place to hide me while Tomas searches for food. It's not like I will be much of a help.
The only chance I have in the bloodbath is to run, and hope there isn't a cliff right behind me. There usually isn't around Cornucopias, but I haven't been having the best luck recently. From there, Tomas will find me with the supplies he managed to grab, and lead me to a safe place. If someone tries to kill us, then I'm afraid we won't stand much of a chance. Tomas isn't exactly a terrific fighter, and my own skills are a little rusty, to put it lightly. Not only that, but… I don't know if I could kill anymore. My stomach twists at the thought. My family would be so disappointed in me if they knew that. Gregory is training hard to be where I am, and hopefully will be in four years. And yet here I am, second-guessing myself. Tomas is only one year older than Gregory, and younger than Fiona. And yet if I hadn't lost my sight, I would have murdered him without a second thought. How could I have been that way? How have I changed so much in only a few days?
"Only a few more minutes, Drew," My stylist's voice says.
For one of the first times in my life, I feel genuine fear crawl up into my throat. I only remember feeling it once before, before the operation on my left eye. My mother had held my hand as the doctors put me under, and I fought so hard against the anesthesia, even though I knew I shouldn't. I was just so afraid of losing the sight in my left eye that I couldn't help it.
But this time, I know I need to fight. I need to fight as hard as I can to survive, to restore my sight and see my family again. I need to fight harder than I ever have before.
Denver O'Casey (14)- D10M
I feel like I'm going to faint. I've been teetering on the edge of consciousness all day, but now it feels worse than ever. I blink rapidly and take deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, just like Filly instructed me this morning. At least the outfit is breathable, not constricting me like my training clothing and costumes for the Capitol. I'm too tense on the soft couch, my ears welling up with tears, whether from fear or sadness or anger I can't tell. I run my hands gently over the velvet material beneath me, sniffling so that my tears don't fall. If nothing else, I have to keep my dignity.
Most of that goes out the window, however, when I suddenly run to the sink in the corner of the room and vomit violently into it.
"Better to do that now instead of later," my stylist says matter-of-factly as I spit into the sink. "You could blow yourself up with it."
I whimper quietly as I wipe my mouth and head back to my seat, my body shaking all over. I try to remember what Filly told me before we were separated, but all I can think about are Daelyn's last words to me. Say hi to Daisy for me. I shudder as I remember Daisy's violent death in the bloodbath, her windpipe crushed under the strong hands of her opponent. I reach up to my own throat, where Daelyn's heart charm is hanging. I grasp it tightly in my palm.
"It's time, Denver!"
My stylist cheerfully whips me up and over to the tube that will take me into the arena. My breaths are coming even quicker now, and I can hear my blood rushing in my ears. My stomach is feeling unpleasant again, but I try to hold it in. I don't know the next time I will get to eat again.
The stylist adjusts my position in the tube and smiles at me, excitement glistening in his eyes. "You are a very sweet boy. Do your best, okay?"
I nod wordlessly, going over my plan with Filly. I'm going to run as fast as I can, and Filly will catch up with me with supplies. From there, we'll figure out where to go. I don't have to worry about anything, I just have to run away.
The tube's doors close suddenly and a countdown begins. My breaths are fogging up the glass as I watch my stylist watching me. He has a small smile on his face, giving me an encouraging nod. I try to stand up tall and control my shaking, but to no avail. He looks like a grim reaper that's happy to see me die. I whimper again and place a hand on the glass, desperate to get out. It was stupid of me to not run while I had the chance. I should have run as fast as I could away from this place and never looked back.
5...4...3...2...1…
The tube suddenly starts to move upward, slowly but surely taking me to my fate. I swallow my tears, determined to show a brave face to the Capitol, to Daelyn and the rest of my family. I have to survive, to show everyone I'm not as weak and useless as they think.
Hiya, everyone! I hope you had a great week. The next chapter will be the bloodbath!
Please remember to vote in the poll on my page. Not that many people are voting, and it makes me sad :( I just want to know who your favorite tributes are; I promise it doesn't change the outcome of anything in the Games! Anyone is welcome to vote, even if you didn't create any tributes.
I also want to say something about the bloodbath. It might seem obvious, but I just want to warn you that a lot of characters are going to die in the next chapter. I know that a tribute's creator is going to be disappointed no matter how their creations die, so it's unavoidable. But I want everyone to know that the decision of who to kill off was incredibly difficult. I planned out the bloodbath immediately after receiving the tributes, but mylist changed over and over again. I had a horrible time making up my mind, but I think I finally have the final list. I hope everyone is pleased with go it goes, even if your tribute(s) die(s).
That being said, please leave a review! What are your predictions for the bloodbath? Thanks for reading!