Paul: Thanks for your great suggestions! It's a real honor that you enjoy my work so much. The Victory Tours in the early years of the Games were shorter for safety reasons. Some district dwellers still act violently when new Victors arrived. In my headcanon, the Capitol drags different Victors to The Big City throughout the year. Television spots, Victor hobbies, the Victor Appreciation Program. Some live in the Capitol, others only go during Games season. Btw, Angel is male.
Chapter 19: Crys
I turn off the clippers and inspect my work. Three loud bangs shake the walls. I ignore it.
A clean buzzcut, just like the boys get. The sight shocks me, in a good way. I look tough. 'Don't mess with me. I will kick your dog'. My long blonde hair, "beautiful, just beautiful" as the handlers say, lay shiny on the linoleum floor. No more braids, no more bows or barrettes. I'm bald, and there is nothing they can do about it. I smile at my new look, until I remember my stupid blue eyes. Brown contacts. I'll have to remember that when I win the Games.
Hands rattle the rusty knob. "Open! This! Door! Crystalline!"
"Okay okay! And my name is Crys now!"
Stashing away the clippers and scissors in my satchel (my only possession in this hellhole), I stomp away from the mirror and unlock the door. A swarm of girls rush in, cramming into the tiny restroom. 'Whoa, her head!', 'Look, the glitterhead's a boy!' I zoom past the jeers and laughter, a middle finger my most polite response. I barely make out the intercom through the chatter.
"Candidates, to the main lobby in five minutes."
Climbing to the top bunk, I tuck my bag under my pillow, throw on my sneakers, and start my way down. I stop, remembering what I came for. Underneath the sheets, with a slit in the mattress, hiding in the foam, I take it out and zip it secure in my pants pocket. I give a quick look around; no one but me.
"Candidates, to the main lobby in one minute."
I rush out of the dormitories, dash through the hallways, making it in a nick of time. I bump into another girl in my wake. The line is long. This is most girls I've ever seen try out for The Houses.
Everyone is silent as The Director does a headcount, nervous to be in her presence. The Director (No one knows her real name. Even the handlers call her that) is a woman carved from stone. Devoid of emotion, she is neither kind nor cruel but a force of nature. Joke around campus says she's been head of Two's Community Homes since before the Snows were in power. I wouldn't put it past her.
I'm last in line. She gets to me and frowns. It's the most emotion I've ever seen from her. "Child. You're bald." And we're ushered out.
A couple of girls past us as we leave. "Have fun at Murder High!" They burst into giggles, running away before The Director can catch them.
"It's not Murder High! It's an opportunity to serve our country!" I mumble to myself. A hand pats my shoulder. I look up.
"One day those losers will wish they were as cool as us. And your haircut rocks. Makes you stand out."
My friendship with Rocky is mostly proximity and lack of choices. We rarely see the outside world, so we're all we got. Conversation is kept light: the weather, food in the cafeteria, gossip. We keep it day-by-day. The past is off limits. So is the future. All I know is her parents are alive and she has two older brothers who live with them. All she (and I) knows is that I was dropped off here as a baby and my mother was from One. Rocky has a better chance than I do. She fits the closest thing Two has to a "signature look": olive skin, dark brown hair, slim yet sturdy build. If this falls through, she could marry some quarry kid and live meaninglessly ever after. My "exotic" looks makes me stick out too much. The other girls hate me for it. If I don't get into The Houses, best I could hope for is a whore on the streets.
Our destination narrows in. From the opposite side of campus, the boys join us parallel in a single file line. I breathe in the warm summer air to calm myself down. Our community home is on the edge of Marble, the least populated sector of District Two. Most of the quarries are here. Every morning, men and the occasional woman burst out the cramped government-issued buses and drag to their fates. We stop to let a crew cross our path. It's a sad sight: workers covered in earth lagging heavy equipment as a man of steel barks orders. Most of the workers ignore us. The few who look our way light up in understanding. They don't laugh at us like those stupid girls. They're proud. A dirty, burly man with four teeth total catches me staring and smiles. I look away.
If we weren't quiet before, we are silent now. The gymnasium is the most kept up, air conditioned thing about our community home. It's the only building Capitol officials use to "inspect" the facility so money is poured into the place. The obstacle course and sparring mat has been cleaned and polished. We're only allowed here to train, so it's a treat whenever they allow us in. I get excited just seeing it all. This is where I come alive. Not cramped in my dorm with ten other girls. Here.
We file in and stop in the middle of the building, the spotless flooring squeaking with every step. Gawking at our surroundings stops when we see our guests. In front of us sits Maximus Zorata, Viridi Vox Segreto, Roman Veronesi, and Diana Fabbri. To the Snows, I'm in the same room as our four Victors! Rocky gives me a pinch.
She speaks from the corner of her mouth. "Crystalline! You're squealing!"
I cover my mouth, then put them down to my sides like everyone else. Then cover my mouth again.
Victor Zorata rises from his seat. Decked in sash and crown, he is even more intimidating in person.
"Candidates." His voice booms over the heavy machinery outside. "Welcome to Presentation."
He walks back and forth in front of us, hands behind his back. The handlers are as starstruck as we are. "It is a great honor for each of you to be here today. Through the Capitol's mercy, we have the fortune of having The Houses here in District Two. We are one of only three districts allowed to prepare our children to become model citizens of Panem. This is a privilege, not a right, and can be taken away at any moment. You see what happens when rebel districts win the Games. Last month, District Twelve got their first Victor. Killed before the Victory Tour. Do we want to repeat such a disgrace?"
"NO SIR!"
He nods his head in approval. "That's what I thought. Enrolling in the Alpha House, Beta House, or Gamma House opens you up to opportunities beyond your dreams. Graduates of our institutions range from establishing order across the country as part of the Panem Peacekeeper Force to becoming Tributes in The Hunger Games, victorious among the odds." He motions towards his successors. They beam with pride. "During your stay at one of The Houses, you are given free room and board with complete health services at no cost to you. Anyone can apply to The Houses, but only few get in. Only the best will serve the best."
Suddenly, he stands still. Eye contact is made with each and every one of us. "Right now, you are worthless. You are unloved, you are unwanted, you are without purpose. There is nothing for you in this life. In six years, you will turn eighteen and age out of the system. If you are lucky, you will work in the quarries or factories until you die. That's it. With The Houses, you are given community, you are given security, you are given status."
He looks me dead in the eye. "You are given purpose."
"So you choose: a miserable existence shoveling rocks and assembling weapons or using those weapons for the greater good of Panem? Presentation starts now."
With two snaps of his fingers, the handlers pass out paper and pencil. We lay on the ground and wait for instructions. "There are three tests in Presentation: intellect, survival, and combat. You must successfully pass each to move on to the next round. There are thirty girls and forty boys. Ten girls will enter Beta House, twenty boys will be split evenly into Alpha and Gamma Houses. We may take less, but we will not take more. This is your only chance to join The Houses and be a part of something greater. May the odds be ever in your favor."
"Good luck," Rocky nudges me and smiles. I'm too nervous to return the favor.
Five questions on the test. Short answer. Miss one and you're out of the running.
I look up at Victor Fabbri. She is in her signature: crisp pantsuit, hair slicked back. Her eyes are focused on the girls side of the gymnasium, writing on her clipboard without taking one glance at it. We make eye contact. I catch the briefest smile before I cast my head back down.
You got this Crys.
1. Who was the first Snow in power? Primus Snow.
2. What are the Capitol's industries? Entertainment, the arts, government, and...Peacekeepers.
3. List the colors of each area of Panem, starting with the Capitol. Let's see...the Capitol is fuschia, gold, and midnight black. One is vermillion. Ours is silver. Three is chartreuse. Four is cerulean. Five is yellow. Six is..um..purple. No, it's pink. Yeah, pink. Seven is green. Eight is purple. Nine is beige. Ten is...brown? Eleven is orange. And Twelve is black.
4. Who was the first district to rebel against the Capitol in The Dark Days? District Nine. Idiots.
5. There are many laws in Panem. It is important to follow the rules as it allows us to be a better country for all. Breaking these rules makes it hard for everyone. Name three acts against the Capitol that are considered treason. Hm...Stealing tesserae grain or oil, harassing a Peacekeeper, and…..putting your district above the Capitol.
My arm shoots up in the air. Rocky does too. A handler gets to her first. He grades her sheet. Pass.
"Beat ya," she winks.
Six girls and ten boys are eliminated.
We are taken over to the obstacle course. It's an elaborate thing: monkey bars, short rock climbing cliff, barbed wire crawling, and a small pool to top it off. Materials for tents and a fire pit have been added to the end for Presentation.
Victor Vox Segreto explains the rules. He is the shortest of his comrades, but his presence (and wickedly curly hair) is just as great. "Good morning candidates! Congratulations! I am so proud of each and every one of you for making it this far."
Victor Zorata snaps his fingers. 'Hurry it up'. Victor Vox Segreto gives him a look then returns back with a smile. "This round's easy: complete the obstacle course, construct a tent, and start a fire in one go in the allotted time. Don't worry. You'll all do great. I believe in you."
We get a choice in what order we go in. The arrogant ones, boys mostly, go first. I volunteer to go last. I want to see each strategy used. The Victors stand side by side and watch.
Seeing others succeed makes me nervous. But some fail, and fail hard. One boy has to be rescued out the pool as his swimming skills suck. Another boy somehow catches his uniform on fire. A girl's ponytail gets caught in the barbed wire and she forfeits, crying her way out of the building. Another two girls lose their grip on the monkey bars, one spraining her ankle, the other dislocating her shoulder. Victor Veronesi full-on laughs at the second injury. Victor Vox Segreto whacks him with his clipboard. That makes us giggle, until Victor Zorata clears his throat.
Rocky is next. She dives right into it. She zooms through the monkey bars, leaps over the wall, wiggle her way down the barbed wire, swims her way out, constructs the tent, and has the fire ready to go. Record time. Her applause drowns out my name being called. A twinge of envy waves through me.
"Try and beat that!" Rocky puts her hand up in the air. I brush past. "Attitude much?" I hear her whisper.
I'm the last to go. I climb the metal steps and take a deep breath. I look to Victor Fabbri again. She is impassive, as are the others.
You've done this a million times Crys. Don't psyche yourself out. You're great. You're the best.
I start the course. I keep a modest approach. No showing off, no getting nervous. I almost lose my grip with the bars twice. I gain it back just as quick each time. Damn upper body strength. The rock climbing wall is easier. I finish that in no time and dive right into the pool. I'm no District Four but the water's shallow and the distance short. I'm dripping wet easing to the tents, trying not to fall on my ass. I scoff at the materials. They're going easy on us. This tent is nothing. I set up the contraption and dry my hands off on the thing to not ruin the kindling.
A handler checks her watch. "One minute and twenty seconds left."
I dash to the fire station. I make a bed of twigs and add the dry grass. I grab hold to the flint and scrap off the shavings. I flip over the opposite end and try some sparks. Twice the flint falls out my hands from my nerves. Sparks fly but the damn thing won't light.
"C'mon. Light. Please light. Just light dammit," I whisper to myself. I look at the Victors. Stone-faced.
"Ten seconds left."
I'm scraping like a madwoman now. My breath gets heavy. Tears form in my eyes. I wipe them away. There is no way I am getting eliminated over a freaking fire.
At the last second, a spark catches on the bed and a small fire erupts. Hands guard it so not to blow out.
The handler hits her watch. "Time."
Rocky giggles when I get back in line. "That was close."
I don't meet her eyes. "Nerves."
Four girls and eight boys are eliminated.
Everyone's jittery by this point. We're muddy, we're wet, but we're excited. One more round and it's over. Plus, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity to let out all our frustration without getting punished by the handlers. Who doesn't love a good fight? A hand glides over my shorts. To the outside, it looks like I'm dusting off dried mud. I feel the bump and put my hands back to my side. It's still there. Just in case.
The remaining candidates crowd around the sparring mat. Victor Veronesi and Victor Fabbri step forward, stopping in the middle.
"Now for the fun part: violence!" Victor Veronesi bares his teeth. "Groups of two will duke it out on the mat. Pin them down for three seconds, you win. Or knock them out. Whatever it takes to get that loser on the ground."
"You will also be judged on technique, speed, and strength. It's not always if you do it but how you do it," Victor Fabbri adds. Her voice is steady but warm. It's comforting.
"Birds will face birds, bees will face bees," says Victor Veronesi.
We're all confused. Victor Fabbri explains. "That's his language for 'boys' and 'girls'. Don't worry; if you make it, you'll get used to his oddities. Now let's square you off."
That gets a chuckle out of us. The two Victors pair us off one by one. Rocky and I are equally shocked when we are put together. The others murmur. They know we're friends.
I raise my hand. "Um, Miss Fabbri? I mean, Victor Fabbri, Victor. I'm so sorry."
The Victor turns around and stops her counting, raising an eyebrow. The entire room looks my way. 'Who dares talks to a Victor?'
I clear my throat and try my best not to stutter. "Rocky is my friend. This isn't fair."
She suppresses a laugh, looking right into my eyes. "In the arena, you will have no friends. Panem is not a fair place. You either fight your "friend" or get out." She continues on her count, unbothered.
'You tried,' Rocky mouths to me. I bite back tears.
She joins her comrade back in the middle. "A little fun fact: Victor Veronesi here thinks that girls are a waste of time. That we don't win The Hunger Games and we make for poor Peacekeepers."
Turning towards the boys, he shrugs his shoulders. The boys laugh. We're notamused.
"Let's prove him wrong today" Victor Fabbri's locks on me. "Don't disappoint me."
By my turn, the mat is smeared with blood. Six knocked out teeth, one concussion, one kid rushed to the infirmary. It's a tame year.
Rocky and I take nervous steps toward the center of the mat. Those that are left (and not too injured) whisper until a handler shushes them.
Victor Fabbri gives a nod. "Rocky Taverna, Crystalline Nardovino. Fight with all your might. May the odds be ever in your favor."
I raise my hand slightly and smile. "It's Crys, Victor Fabbri."
She looks up from her clipboard. "Good luck. Crystalline."
I take in my friend as the referee starts the countdown. Rocky is taller and slimmer, but I'm shorter and stockier. She has speed, I have strength. If I catch her, she's out with a few blows. To the Snows, I can't believe I'm plotting against my only friend. I hate this. I really, really hate this.
I look into Rocky's eyes to see if she agrees. What stares back is not the gaze of a friend, but the stare of a predator. Eyes locked, frown set. She is in fight mode.
Well…...friendship be damned. She's standing in the way of my better life. I make the same expression and get into stance. Two can play that game.
"Begin!"
Rocky lunges forward. I sidestep her with a kick to the side. It lands, but she recovers quickly. Fists swing wildly from left to right. I block each hit, adrenaline taking in the pain. I go to block her right hook when she changes course and connects with my stomach. I'm more surprised than hurt, doubling over only to be knocked back up with an uppercut.
I spit blood on the mat. Rocky chuckles.
Giving her no time to gloat, I'm in on her. Fist hits cheek, foot hits hip. I slam my foot onto hers and cut off her yelp with a poke in the eyes. Distracted by the pain, I yank her ponytail and send her to the ground. Tsk, tsk long hair.
I try to bear all my weight and pin her down but she's too fast. With lightning speed, the slimmer girl wiggles out my grasp and stands right above me. Before I know what's going on, pain shoots down my back then out of my chin. Between the stars I see a tooth, my tooth, flying in the air. Weight bears down on me. Fists come down hard on her shoulder, her back, her head. She's not budging.
"One!" the referee counts.
No. I won't lose.
"Two!"
No. I can't lose.
I don't want to go to the quarries.
I don't want to work in the factories.
Moving my arm out from under me, I unzip my pocket, reach inside and ram my hand forward. The wooden shank sinks deep into her neck. In one quick second, Rocky's grip goes limp and she sinks to her side. Blood pours from her wound, covering me in the warm liquid. Rocky's eyes are wide, glazed over. She is not moving. I can't stop screaming.
My friend is dead. I killed my friend. To the Snows, I killed my friend.
The match is over.
There are heavy whispers throughout the gymnasium. The other kids are crying. Handlers drag Rocky's body away from the mat. I gain my composure when they drag me to my feet and throw me to the middle of the mat. Drenched in blood, I face the Victors. They are deep in discussion, glancing my way every few seconds. They are the only ones not panicking. I wipe tears away as they speak.
"Well," Victor Zorata speaks. "We have never had a death occur during Presentation. But, as with the nature of these activities, it's to be expected. While Miss Taverna is obviously out of the running, your fate shall be decided upon a vote from us. A tie, and you're in. I'll start. I vote no. There was no honor in what you did."
I catch a sob in my throat.
Victor Vox Segreto. He looks on in sympathy. "I vote yes. The element of surprise, as we just saw, can mean the difference between life and death."
Victor Veronesi laughs. It sends chills down my body. "I gotta hand it to ya Baldie, wasn't expecting that. But bringing a weapon to a fist fight? Cowardice. No."
All eyes are on Victor Fabbri. With a finger on her chin, she scans me up and down in what feels like an eternity. I can't read her face. Is she proud? Angry? Disgusted? Amused? For once I'm silent.
Pleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyes.
"You have backtalked me twice, killed your friend when all we asked is to pin her down, and decided that a buzzcut works for your round head and outrageously blue eyes. Crys, welcome to Beta House."
