A/N
After a nice little holiday away, I am back and ready to dive headfirst into pregames! It felt really nice getting back into this, so I hope you guys enjoy reading!
Here we are first off with our train rides!
Cameron Alcatraz, 16, District Seven Male
Cameron could still feel the warmth that Livvy's hand in his had left behind as he paced up and down the small room at the back of the Justice Building. His other hand, however, stung as a redness began to swell on his knuckles from where he had sent his tiny fist into the crotch of the Peacekeeper. Of course, his feeble attempt to escape had been quelled before it had even really begun, and that had only made an already disastrous situation even worse.
Would they punish him for his actions?
It was an assault, really, regardless of whether actual damage was caused or not. And a Peacekeeper too; they often did not take assaults upon them lightly.
As Cameron's heart rate increased even more, his palms beginning to sweat, the door opened.
"Cam!" his best, and only, friend came rushing towards him, knocking Cameron off balance as he wrapped his arms around him.
"H-hey, Bax," Cameron greeted his friend with a wobbly bottom lip. "I'm –I'm ok."
Baxter pulled away, resting his hands on Cameron's shoulders, which were almost a foot below his own.
"Don't worry about what happened with the Peacekeeper," he said in an attempt to ease Cameron's concerns. "I'm sure it used to happen all the time at reapings. Besides, the guy didn't even flinch."
Cameron bit his lower lip.
"But it was a good punch though!" Baxter said quickly. "Just difficult to penetrate that armour, right?"
Cameron nodded slowly. "I guess."
"Aw man," Baxter squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and when they opened Cameron could see a slight glimmer across their surface. "I can't believe this is happening. I'm sorry I didn't volunteer for you –I just… it's scary, you know? I really wish I could have."
"It's ok," Cameron breathed in a shaky breath. "I wouldn't expect you to. It's my own problem, no one else's."
Baxter nodded, though it was clear he was trying to hold back tears. "That girl seems nice –the one who was reaped with you."
"Yeah," Cameron smiled weakly. "We're actually friends, well almost friends."
Baxter seemed intrigued. "You made friends with a girl? A pretty one as well? Nice one, Cam."
Cameron felt his cheeks flush. "Well we might not actually be friends, I don't know. She helped me once, then I made her cookies to say thank you and then she invited me to a rebel talk thing and then she-"
Baxter's chuckle cut off Cameron's rambling. "Sounds like you're really in there, my friend."
"We-we're just friends," Cameron insisted, his fingers entwining with each other nervously. "Well, almost-friends."
"Then make sure you stick with her," said Baxter. "You'll need allies in there, and she sounds pretty trustworthy."
Cameron nodded in agreement. "If she'll have me."
"Who wouldn't?" Baxter smiled, pulling Cameron in for another hug just as the door opened and a Peacekeeper called him away. "Give it your best shot, yeah? Don't go down without a fight."
Cameron opened his mouth to speak, but no words would leave his lips as he watched Baxter leave the room with a regretful slump to his shoulders.
He barely had a moment to breathe before the door swung open again and his parents walked in. At the sight of them, Cameron's muscles became rigid.
There was an awkward few moments of silence as Cameron stared back at his parents, who seemed unsure about what to do. His mother, Gian, was the first to break the silence.
"Make sure you do as you're told," were her first words. "You can't be punching Peacekeepers like that in the Capitol or they'll punish you."
Cameron's head dropped as his eyes shifted to the plush carpet beneath his feet.
"You should apologise before you get on the train," Gian continued. "And hope that they are forgiving. They should be, given the circumstances, but it looks better if you sound sincere. Also, listen to your mentor and do everything he tells you to do. He'll know much more than you do. Don't forget your manners either –I'm sure the Capitol will look kindly upon that."
"Gian," Cameron's father interrupted his wife. "I'm sure Cameron knows this. He's a smart lad."
"Hm, well," Gian moved towards Cameron. "I suppose goodbyes are in order."
For the first time in as long as Cameron could remember, his mother hugged him.
It wasn't much of a hug; his mother's entire body was as rigid as the trunk of a pine tree and she kept her head lifted away from the side of his face. It also only lasted for a few seconds before his mother promptly backed away, smoothing her blouse and retaining her stoic expression. Cameron wasn't even sure if it was really a hug at all.
"I'll be outside," Gian spoke quietly as she swiftly exited the room.
As the door shut slowly behind his mother, Cameron looked up towards his father, Marco, as he stood with his hands thrust into the pockets of his faded jeans.
"Your mother…" he started. "We, erm…"
Cameron's left foot twitched with anxiety.
"I, erm," Marco sighed deeply, rocking in his stance. "I'm sorry, Cam."
Cameron sucked in a sharp breath and held it.
"I've been a shitty Dad," continued Marco with a raw honesty Cameron had never seen in his father's face before. "Both of us have been shitty parents. In all truth we never wanted kids, and I think because of that we were too harsh on you. No one is perfect, no matter how much we want to be. But you did good, son, you did good."
Cameron released the breath he had been holding. His lungs felt as though they were being emptied as the air left him, a burning sensation clinging to the back of his throat.
"It's… ok."
As Cameron's weak words hung in the air between them, Marco stepped forwards. Extending an arm, he rubbed Cameron's shoulder with an encouraging nod. It seemed as though his words had used up all the affection within him, but it meant so much more than the hug Cameron had received from his mother.
Actions speak louder than words. That's what Cameron had been taught. And yet it was now words which spoke volumes above silent and empty actions.
There was a sharp knock on the door.
Glancing towards the door, Cameron's father nodded slowly.
"I guess that's it then," he said. "Try your best, Cam, work to your own strengths. Don't give up, ok?"
"I won't," he promised through a dry throat.
As the door opened and a Peacekeeper beckoned his father out, Marco pointed towards the outside of the room.
"Did I see that Baxter boy before?" he questioned. "He wasn't mean to you, was he? Do I need to pay him another visit?"
Cameron shook his head. "No, we're actually friends now."
Marco frowned. "But didn't he used to make you give him your lunch money? I thought your mother had told you to stay away from him."
"He erm, he doesn't do that anymore," replied Cameron. "He apologised and was nice after that."
"Hm," Marco considered. "Don't be so trusting, Cam. Especially not in the arena. You don't know who you can really trust."
You don't know who you can really trust.
His father's words stuck with him as Cameron was escorted to the train station. They stuck with him as the train pulled away from the safety of his home district, and were still there as he sat in the centre of the carriage, his body drawn in tightly as he sat in the middle of a large armchair.
The train was even fancier than Cameron had expected it to be. Ornate decorations featured on everything, from the ceiling to the furniture, and even on the dainty cutlery that lined the neatly dressed table. Cameron found his eyes darting from detail to detail, his mind barely registering his sights before being distracted by the next lavish item. It was a welcomed distraction, though it wasn't enough to shift the weight that remained heavy on his thin shoulders.
"Oh Cameron!" the sweet sound of Livvy's voice filled the carriage as the glass doors slid open and she rushed towards him.
"Oh hi, Livvy," Cameron replied meekly, though it was somewhat a comfort to see her.
"Have you been sat here by yourself?" asked Livvy, placing herself down on the chair opposite him. "I'm sorry I didn't come in earlier, I just needed a moment to myself."
There was still a thin glaze across her eyes and a puffiness around them which suggested that she'd been crying.
"It's ok," Cameron reassured her. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."
Livvy's warm smile soon turned to a darkened scowl, a look which seemed unfitting for her usual bright face. "Hey, have you seen this train? Do the Capitol really believe that by giving us fancy things we'll stop being mad about them sending us to our deaths?"
Cameron shrugged.
"I'm not going to be grateful," Livvy pouted, folding her arms across her chest. "I won't become whatever the Capitol want me to be. No chance."
Cameron couldn't help but admire Livvy's strong sense of self, though he felt a gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
"Be careful though," he warned her. "The Capitol won't like it if you try to fight them. Remember that it's their arena and they can do whatever they want."
Livvy sighed heavily, her arms unfolding and falling to her lap. "I just hate how they can get away with doing this to us just because we exist. We need to stand up for ourselves."
With Livvy's words, Cameron was reminded of the night only a few weeks ago when he attended a small rebel meeting hosted by one of Livvy's friends. Livvy herself had not addressed the group, but her comments to Cameron after the meeting were enough to show her keen interest in standing up for the vulnerable. But she was also sensible, Cameron could tell that as well. She would not risk herself or others without reassurance, though perhaps now that she had been reaped she may have nothing left to lose.
"Just be yourself," Cameron said to her. "By being yourself you'll be standing up to them, right?"
Livvy considered his words. "I suppose you're right, Cam."
She came to sit beside him and without warning, nestled her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.
"You know, as horrible as this is and as much as I wish you were back safe at home, I am glad that I have a friend beside me," Livvy took Cameron's hand as she had at the reaping. "We're in this together, aren't we?"
"Of course," Cameron replied, realising that through all the fear and anxiety that was consuming him, he was still smiling.
Perhaps Livvy was more than an almost-friend after all.
Though as the two of them sat together, watching the world pass them by, Cameron's mind returned to his father's words.
You don't know who you can really trust.
Who could Cameron Alcatraz trust?
Moonshine le Gris, 13, District Six Female
For the first time in her respectfully short life, Moonshine was surrounded by wealth.
Like a magpie, Moonshine was drawn to shiny objects; items that could be worth selling. As she explored the train, she felt her fingers twitch as she resisted the urge to swipe a few items to stash away in her pockets. It was only because she had no place to trade her loot that she didn't simply take every valuable object she could see.
What use was wealth in her current predicament?
Sighing heavily, Moonshine ran her fingers along a jewelled vase which hosted a colourful and stylish bouquet of flowers, wondering how many days of food the sale of something like that would provide. Weeks? Months? Perhaps even a year.
At the thought of food, Moonshine felt her stomach tighten as it groaned with hunger. She hadn't eaten anything yet, and the energy her brain was using with all of her immediate thoughts about what lay ahead was running her dry.
Following her stomach, Moonshine found herself wandering into a large carriage towards the centre of the train. It appeared to be a point of congregation, judging by the masses of seating areas and refreshments that filled the space. At the dining table sat Daphne le Fay, whom Moonshine knew to be her mentor –not that she would be paying much attention to the words of an adult, though.
"Good afternoon, Moonshine," Daphne greeted her warmly, standing up from her seat. "Would you like to join me at the table?"
Moonshine ignored her mentor's greeting, walking straight past her to look at a painting of a forest landscape which hung on the wall. She wondered whether the painting or the frame would have been worth more.
"I know this must be very difficult for you to process," Daphne continued to speak, despite Moonshine's obvious ignorance. "But I am here to help you as much as I can."
Moonshine couldn't help but scoff loudly.
"I'm sorry, did I say something to upset you?" asked Daphne with concern.
Moonshine turned around to face her, folding her thin arms across her bony chest. "I just find it funny how you think you can help me."
"How so?" queried Daphne, drawing her lips together.
"Well you can't swap places with me, can you?" replied Moonshine harshly. "Your words of wisdom aren't going to shield me from a sword, or keep me fed."
"Well, not in a literal sense, but I could help with-"
"I don't need your help," Moonshine cut her off. "I can take care of myself, just like I have always done."
Daphne looked Moonshine up and down with her pale eyes.
"I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself," she said calmly. "You appear to be a very capable young lady. However, you should be aware that the Capitol is a far different battlefield than the streets of District Six."
"Obviously," Moonshine rolled her eyes.
The corner of Daphne's lips twitched as she sat back down at the table.
"I shall refrain from forcing my words of wisdom upon you, Moonshine," said Daphne, reaching for an elaborately designed pot which had a ribbon of steam swirling out of its spout. "I shan't make the same mistake twice."
Moonshine wondered what had happened previously, but her curiosity only stretched so far and in all truth, she cared nothing for her mentor. Adults had only caused her misery and disappointment; why would Daphne be any different?
She was just the same as the rest of them. As suspected, Panem was against Moonshine. First her mother had neglected her, then went ahead and poisoned herself with alcohol, which had left her with her detestable sister Morgan, who too had neglected and then abandoned her. The orphanage would only have offered her years restrained by chores and beatings, and those who came across her on the streets either repulsively pitied her or scorned her dirtiness. Even the Peacekeepers, whose name was ironic in itself, seemed to plot against her; Pasternak for sure had seemed overjoyed at her reaping as he watched her climb the stairs with a smug smile. Time after time, Moonshine had been let down and time after time she had been the one to pick herself back up again.
The reaping, however, had been the last straw.
Panem was against her.
They were not content to watch her fend for herself and never achieve more than keeping herself somewhat fed. No, they wanted to see her suffer. They wanted to crush her, force her to beg for help.
But she wouldn't do it. Moonshine would never admit defeat, not whilst the blood still ran through her veins. She would do whatever it took to prove them wrong.
Whatever that would entail, she was not quite sure of yet, but she had no trouble with sacrificing anything in her path.
The sound of the door sliding open stole Moonshine's attention from exploring the room. Walking with heavy steps, the drunken idiot who had volunteered for the Games entered the carriage. His hair, the colour of rich chocolate, stuck to his forehead as he squinted in the daylight that poured through the windows of the train. He was still wearing the grease-stained vest that had clung to his muscular body at the reapings, and his dirt coated boots were treading dark patches into the deep purple carpet.
"I see your consciousness has returned," said Daphne, addressing Accel with disapproval. "Has the regret set in yet, or do you require further sobering, Mr Hayes, who ain't no bitch?"
Moonshine snorted.
"Shit, so that wasn't just a really vivid dream?" Accel groaned, reaching for his forearm and pinching it. "Nope, still not dreaming. Fuck."
"I see your choice of vocabulary is as filthy as you look," observed Daphne. "Why don't you go and get a shower and change into something more presentable? The water might sober you up a little more as well."
Nodding slowly, Accel turned and retreated in the direction he came from, the door promptly sliding shut behind him.
With a loud sigh, Daphne shook her head. "That boy is an utter idiot."
For once, Moonshine was inclined to agree.
"I suppose I shan't be bringing home a Victor this year," muttered Daphne to herself, though she seemed to deliberately speak loudly enough for Moonshine to hear.
"No, you shan't," retorted Moonshine. "But I may bring myself home."
"And how do you propose to do that?" asked Daphne. "Tell me, Moonshine, how will a scrawny thirteen year old girl outlast twenty three other tributes?"
"I've handled myself this far without anyone's help," insisted Moonshine. "But I don't need to justify myself to you. You're nothing to me."
Daphne seemed somewhat amused, much to Moonshine's annoyance.
"You see, that's where your naivety will let you down," said Daphne. "When there is something you are in desperate need of in the arena, being able to handle yourself won't help you –sponsors will. And if you continue to act the way you are, I can promise you that you won't be gaining any of those."
Moonshine said nothing, simply scowling towards her mentor.
"You're young, Moonshine," continued Daphne. "Sometimes the Capitol feels sympathy towards younger tributes."
"I don't want sympathy."
"But you want sponsors, don't you? Hm? Well, let me tell you that if you drop the attitude and smile a little, you might just win over a few rich Capitolites with weak hearts."
Daphne's advice may have been accurate, but Moonshine could not imagine herself playing sweetly towards the cameras. It went against every fibre of her being, and besides, allowing herself to be helped by sponsors would be just the same as admitting defeat. She wouldn't do it.
But she was hungry…
I suppose eating something won't mean anything, she thought to herself, walking closer to the table which was laden with treats. A plate full of golden flaked pastries, decorated with neat icing lines and a sprinkling of sugar was impossible to resist as Moonshine made a quick swipe for one of them, pushing it into her mouth with just as much haste.
Moonshine was placing the sixth pastry into her mouth as the door slid open again and Accel re-entered the room, looking significantly less dirty than when he had first made his entrance. His hair was now pushed back, tousled neatly atop his head where the light reflected off individual dark strands, and he had changed into a pair of light trousers and a loose shirt which occasionally stuck to the surface of his tanned skin. He looked tidier, but he was still an idiot.
"Feeling any better?" asked Daphne.
Accel shrugged. "I'm feeling cleaner, but that's about it."
"Have some tea," Daphne beckoned him over, pouring some strange coloured liquid into a teacup and pushing it across the table where Accel sat himself down. "Have something to eat too."
Taking a large bite out of a sandwich, Accel thanked Daphne for her kindness. Moonshine noted that there had been a shift from Daphne's earlier supposed disgust towards the boy.
"I'm sorry about before, Miss Daphne," Accel apologised with his mouth full. "I'm just trying to process it all, you know?"
Daphne nodded. "That is understandable, Accel. I'm sure you are realising the seriousness of your actions?"
"Greatly," he sighed. "Yeah… I've really screwed myself over here."
"Yes, you certainly have," agreed Daphne. "Other than your obvious intoxication, was there any motivation for your volunteering? Anything that may redeem your stupidity?"
Accel bit his lower lip, screwing up his face. "I think my friend Axle dared me to?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Is this a friend inside your head?"
Accel shook his head quickly, then visibly regretted the sharp movement instantly as the alcohol was still clearly in his system. "No, no, he's real. We just have the same name. Well, it's spelt differently, but I guess you can't really tell when you say it."
"I see," said Daphne. "Well unfortunately that doesn't make you any less of a fool. Showing up to the reapings drunk and then volunteering because of a dare. My goodness, you have a lot to make up for if you stand a chance in these Games."
At that point, Moonshine scoffed, lifting her feet up onto the table.
"I meant what I said to you too, Moonshine," said Daphne, looking towards her. "The two of you had better pull yourselves together if you want to come home. But let's say that we start a fresh from now, yes?"
Accel nodded in agreement. Moonshine remained silent.
"Just remember," Daphne's eyes lingered on Moonshine. "I can only help you if you allow me to."
Moonshine's eyes stared back into Daphne's, her jaw clenched tightly. Her mentor may have spoken kind words, but kindness was not a frequent visitor in Moonshine's life, and nor was it a welcome one.
At the end of the day, the only person Moonshine could rely upon was herself.
? ? ?
As Frankie Ellsworth pulled her socks over her ankles, fastened the buckles on her freshly shined shoes and tucked a stray curled hair behind her ears, she wondered what her first Reaping Day would bring.
Having been only nine when the Games had been cancelled, Frankie's previous experience of the annual event was standing between her parents, tucked just slightly under her father's arm, watching with wide eyes as the Academy's finest would proudly take to the stage. But this year was different; it was different in two ways, actually. The first and most obvious change was that she was now fourteen and thus eligible for reaping, and the second, and the most exciting, was that she'd had hands-on experience behind the scenes.
The reaping system was simple; each child between the age of 12 and 18 had a slip of paper with their name on. Each year, as they aged, a further slip was added. For the poorer families, tesserae would multiply the slips, though in District One the number of families dependent on such were few and far between. But with five years passing without a reaping, the system had been neglected and had fallen into disarray.
And that was where the Ellsworth's came in.
Hardworking and patriotic, Frankie's parents were held in high regard by the governing body of the district. Being viewed as the epitome of the nuclear Panemian family, they were trusted with the task of recreating the slips for this year's Reaping. It had been a tremendous honour, and the Ellsworths had worked tirelessly throughout the past months gathering names, calculating entries and preparing the contents of the infamous glass bowls.
Frankie thought it almost ironic; the amount of effort her family had put into creating those slips would only be for show; there were always volunteers for the Games, which rendered the slips as almost useless. Decorative, at best.
And yet, it had put a light spring in Frankie's step as she made her way down the stairs of her modestly middle-class home and poked her head around the door to the lounge.
To her surprise, Frankie found that the lounge was empty.
Humming to herself, Frankie sat down on one of the sofas, reaching for an apple from the glass fruit bowl on the coffee table in front of her. She pierced the ripe skin with her front teeth, taking a humble bite out of the apple and chewing it as her eyes wandered around the centre of the family home.
A sudden high-pitched ring echoed throughout the house, startling Frankie. She leapt up, heading to answer the door with the apple held in her hand beside her.
"Frankie!" the sound of her mother called out. "Don't answer the door –I'll come!"
But Frankie was already in front of the door, reaching for the doorknob.
"It's ok, Mom!" she called back. "I got it!"
With a warm smile, Frankie pulled open the door to greet their guests.
Her smile faltered when she saw a handful of Peacekeepers, their faces stern and unreadable, standing outside of her home.
"Frankie Ellsworth?" the Peacekeeper at the front of the group looked down at her.
Frankie nodded. "My Mom is just on her way if you wanted to speak with her. Would you like to come in, Sir?"
"That won't be necessary," replied the Peacekeeper. "If you could kindly come along with us, Miss Ellsworth."
Frankie's brow formed a confused frown at the Peacekeeper's request.
"Oh, am I to be escorted to the Reaping?" she asked hesitantly. "I'm not late, am I?"
The Peacekeeper shook his head. "You are not late, but as I said, please come with us, Miss Ellsworth."
Frankie glanced backwards. "I'll just let my Mom know…"
A hand landed on her shoulder. It was heavy, and the surprise made Frankie flinch, the apple slipping from her grip and dropping to the floor. Frankie watched as it rolled forwards, being stopped as it gently hit the toe of the Peacekeeper's boots.
"Frankie!" her mother cried out from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, Frankie saw her mother racing towards the front door, followed quickly by her father. Both of their faces were stricken with fear; their eyes wide and skin taut with panic.
"Mom?"
Frankie felt her feet move beneath her without warning as she was pulled through the doorframe and out into the fresh air.
"No!" screamed her mother, rushing forwards and reaching out. She was blocked by a second Peacekeeper, who stepped between them.
"Mom?" Frankie's hands began to tremble as she watched her parents struggling to get past the gathering Peacekeepers. "What's going on? Where are they taking me?"
"Leave her be!" her father pleaded, pushing past a Peacekeeper, who in turn shoved him against the outside wall of the house, pressing the barrel of a gun to his temple.
"Dad!" Frankie screamed, terrified that she may see her father shot before her own eyes. "Don't hurt him, please!"
The Peacekeeper who was still holding Frankie looked at her sternly. "If you come with us then your parents will not be harmed."
"B-but where are you t-taking me?" Frankie asked, her lower lip quivering.
"To the Justice Building," replied the Peacekeeper, but said no more.
Desperate sobs filled the area as her mother clawed against the blue armour of the Peacekeepers. Her movements were frantic as she struggled in their grasp, her eyes bloodshot as words tore from her throat.
"You can't take her!" she shrieked. "It's not her fault! Punish me, punish me! Not my Frankie, please!"
"This is your punishment," said the Peacekeeper who was holding Frankie. "The Candid do not look upon dishonesty favourably."
Dishonesty? Frankie looked at her parents, whose faces were filled with shame. She would never have deemed her parents to be dishonest; that was the last thing they were! There must have been a mistake, surely?
Seizing an opportunity, Frankie's father attempted to take the gun from the Peacekeeper, but his strength was inadequate and Frankie's heart skipped a beat as she heard a single click.
But it was just the safety of the gun being released.
"One more move and I put this bullet in your head," warned the Peacekeeper, returning the gun to Frankie's father's forehead.
"Don't, please!" Frankie cried out, tears breaking down her cheeks. "I'll come with you, I promise. Please don't hurt my parents."
"Good girl," the Peacekeeper beside her nodded, giving her a tug as he began to back away from the house.
With obedience, Frankie walked beside the Peacekeeper, squeezing her eyes shut as her parents' sobs became quieter and quieter behind her, until they were just a memory being played in her mind.
The Peacekeepers took her to the Justice Building. The Reaping still had not started, though it would not be long before the crowds began to gather and fill the square. Grand decorations surrounded the area as a band set themselves up beside the stage; anticipation high for the long-awaited return of the Games.
Frankie was taken to an entrance around the back of the building, escorted into a small room with just a small table and two chairs inside. She was told to wait, and she soon found herself sat alone, her nails digging into the palms of her hands as she tried to steady her heartrate.
Time passed; Frankie was not sure how much time, but the sound of the Capitol anthem playing outside was enough to tell her that she Reapings had begun. No one had entered the room, though once she had tried to open the door and found it locked shut.
She had stopped crying, but the tears were still damp on her cheeks when the door finally opened and a Peacekeeper entered the room –a different one to the one who had escorted her from her house.
"Hello, Frankie," the Peacekeeper greeted her. "May I join you?"
Frankie nodded, watching as the Peacekeeper took the other seat at the table.
"I'm sure you must be very confused right now," he said. "I apologise for the traumatic manner in which you were removed from your home. It should not have been so distressing, but your parents put up a fight."
"Are –are my parents ok?" Frankie asked, her bottom lip quivering once again.
The Peacekeeper nodded. "No harm has come to them, and no harm will, so long as they do not try to fight us again."
"May I ask, Sir," Frankie took a shaky breath. "Why am I here? What did I do wrong?"
The Peacekeeper leant forwards. "You know that The Candid believes in honesty and transparency, yes?"
Frankie nodded.
"Lies and corruption are what nearly destroyed Panem in the past," he explained. "The Candid seek to eliminate such damaging flaws so that we may live in a better world. You must have seen the posters around the District, yes?"
Again, Frankie nodded.
"Then you will know the importance of being honest," said the Peacekeeper. "Frankie, your parents were dishonest. Not just in a small matter, but in a very serious sense."
Frankie chewed on her lip.
"Your family prepared the reaping slips this year," he continued. "They were trusted to carry out such a vital role, and yet they took the opportunity to commit a treacherous act which went against all non-negotiable rules."
"W-what did they do?"
"Upon quality control of the prepared slips, it was discovered that they had removed all of the slips with your name on."
A gasp escaped Frankie's lips.
"I am sure you are aware, Frankie, that no one is exempt from the reapings. Not even the children of the highest ranking members of the district," he said. "Not even the daughter of those who prepared the slips."
Frankie bowed her head. She understood why her parents did what they did; they only wished to protect her. But it was a risk too great, and a risk Frankie would have told them not to take if only she had known.
"Dishonesty is a heinous crime," the Peacekeeper told her. "And the only fitting punishment is to place you in the arena."
Frankie's entire body froze.
"I'm sorry, Frankie, but you will be a tribute in the eighty-seventh Hunger Games."
The Peacekeeper stood up.
"Now if you'll please come with me, I will escort you to the train. It is due to leave the station shortly."
With trembling legs, Frankie slowly rose to her feet, following the Peacekeeper as they left the Justice Building. Tears began to break from the cusps of her eyes once more as she walked to the train station, her vision blurred through the dampness.
With her hands closed in tight fists beside her sides, Frankie was directed into the train. As the doors slid shut behind her, she finally let out a whimper.
Falling in slow motion to floor, Frankie pulled her knees up to her chest and held herself tightly, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt the train pull out from the station. She did not know how long she wept for before she heard footsteps beside her.
"Oh!" a female voice gasped. "Are you ok there?"
Frankie lifted up her head, blinking through her stinging eyes to see an incredibly beautiful blonde haired girl looking at her with deep concern across her clear skin.
"What are you doing here?" the girl asked. "Did you end up on the train by accident? You don't look like a Capitolite, and you're certainly not an Avox either. Hey, don't cry, everything will be ok."
Frankie felt herself being wrapped in a comforting embrace, the sweet scent of strawberries and cotton candy filling her nostrils.
"I'm Peach," the girl pulled back, wiping a tear from Frankie's cheek. "What's your name?"
Frankie gulped. "F-Frankie."
"Lovely to meet you, Frankie," smiled Peach affectionately. "Do you know how you ended up on this train? It's going to the Capitol –I've just volunteered for the Games, you see."
"I-I," Frankie struggled to find her words. "I was taken here by Peacekeepers. They came to my house and they-"
"Whoa, take it easy," Peach calmed her as Frankie's words became lost in her fast breaths. "Why did the Peacekeepers bring you here?"
"To p-punish my parents," Frankie explained. "They took my name out of the reaping bowl and as punishment I'm being put into the arena."
And with that, Frankie burst into tears.
"Oh my sweet," Peach wrapped Frankie in yet another hug. "That sounds awful, you poor little bug. I'm sure there has been some sort of mistake. Let's go and talk to Cascade, I'm sure she'll be able to help."
Frankie wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, allowing Peach to help her to her feet. The older girl took Frankie's hand in her own as she showed her to another carriage, where Cascade Nepeta and a dark haired boy were sat around a table. At the other side of the room, the new escort was in her element as she chatted enthusiastically to a young boy of around four or five years old.
Cascade straightened in her seat.
"This is Frankie," Peach announced. "I found her in the corridor. Apparently Peacekeepers told her that she is going into the arena as punishment for her parents rigging the reaping."
Cascade frowned. "What? That's ridiculous; they can't do that."
"Well apparently they did," said Peach. "Hey Frankie, why don't you go and sit at the table and have a drink?"
Frankie nodded, letting go of Peach's hand to sit at the table beside Cascade, who poured her a glass of fresh juice.
"How did they rig the reaping?" asked Cascade.
Peach shrugged. "I think they somehow removed Frankie's slips?"
Frankie swallowed a mouthful of juice. "My family made the s-slips."
"Oh, I see," Cascade frowned. "I can see why they would do that, but then again there would be volunteers so it wouldn't have mattered if your name had been chosen."
"Not necessarily," spoke the dark haired boy across the table. "There were only us and the Amare twins who were still serious about volunteering, but there could have easily been no one after so long."
"I suppose so," Peach agreed. "It was unpredictable, especially for those outside of the Academy."
"They must have wanted to remove any risk," said the boy. "I can understand that."
"Yes, I can understand that too, especially as a parent myself," said Cascade.
"But surely they should be punishing the parents and not Frankie?" questioned Peach, taking the final seat at the table.
"They are punishing her parents," spoke Cascade with a saddened look. "Anything done to Linden would be worse than anything they could do to me. It will be the same for Frankie's parents."
Peach shook her head defiantly. "That's just…evil!"
"It is life," said Cascade firmly. "That is the way the elites like to keep control. But I can't see it being something that the President would be personally keen on. He's not innocent, but he is not cruel."
Cascade held out her arm, taking Frankie's hand in her own.
"When we reach the Capitol, I will speak with the President myself," she told her. "I knew him, once. I believe he may listen to me."
Frankie tried her best to offer a smile.
"Thank you."
"I cannot guarantee anything," warned Cascade. "But I shall try my best."
The conversation fell quiet. After forcing down some miniature cakes which Peach insisted she tried, Frankie withdrew herself from the group to sit beside the train window. Drawing her knees to her chest again, curling up on the large armchair, she thought silently to herself.
In just a matter of hours, Frankie's entire life had changed. And perhaps, it was about to end.
A/N
Surprise, I guess? So we have a twenty fifth tribute joining us, the lovely Frankie Ellsworth, who was submitted by both goldie031 and itzbirdie! I am amazed that they have both managed to keep this secret for so long, it's impressive! It's nice to finally have Frankie out there, and I'm eager to know your thoughts! The manner of her entering the Games was quite distressing; do you blame her parents for their actions? Do you think it's fair that Frankie is now being punished for their crimes? How will Frankie cope and what will her time in the Capitol bring?
Moving back to the tributes we already know, we've already seen that Cameron and Livvy previously acquainted themselves and it seems as though they are sticking together. Will they remain as a pair, or will they make additions to their alliance? Cameron's father also apologised for the way Cameron was brought up; will this help to motivate Cameron? And can he really trust anyone?
Moonshine remains as quick-witted and feisty as we first saw her, and even in her current situation she is still not going to go along with what others tell her. Daphne offered some helpful advice, but Moonshine seems against it. Will she change her mind and listen to her mentor, or will her stubbornness hinder her? Accel also woke up from what he realised was not a dream and it is clear that is is regretting his actions. Will he be able to redeem himself after his shambles at the reapings?
Thank you to everyone for reading, and a special shout-out to my lovely Alec who has been catching up! You're wonderful and I appreciate you very much.
Also, I note that the poll is still open. I'm aware that a few more people are still catching up on intros so I'm leaving it open currently. But it will be closing in the coming weeks for those eager to know the results!
That's it for now, next time will feature the fabulous tribute parade and more of our tributes will be coming together! I'm very excited :)
Until then!
Firefly