Chapter Four

Thomas looked out over the room, trying his best to take everything in. Newt was perched on a high counter beside him,three or four feet above the floor. They had avoided the other tributes so far, wandering through some of the survival stalls as encouraged by Janson and Crawford. They hadn't really tried anything, keeping quiet and trying to just blend into the background. Now they were off to one side, trying their best to pick out the tributes who looked like they'd give them the most trouble. It was a depressingly long list.

He looked up at Newt, feeling his heart sinking at the thought that any one of those other teenagers would hurt him. Newt was sitting there as though it were the most natural thing in the world, one leg tucked under the other thigh as the other leg swung gently back and forth the way a little kid's would. He had the thumb of one hand in his mouth and he was nibbling on the nail in that way he had when he was nervous, or thinking. His hair was fluffy from the hairdryer in their suite and glinting golden under the harsh fluorescent lights. Thomas could look at him forever, and it still would't be long enough before they were thrown into the Arena. The very real possibility that he may lose Newt had been clinging to him since the Reaping the day before.

The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of new things, and Thomas was desperate for some stability, something familiar and concrete to hold onto. He had Newt, and even though if given the chance he'd send him home safe in a heartbeat he couldn't deny that the blonde's company was the only thing keeping him sane.

"What about her?"

Newt's quiet question shook Thomas out of his reverie, and he followed Newt's line of sight. A tall, narrow-eyed girl was leaning against one of the metal pillars in the cavernous room, her arms crossed across her chest as she listened to the smaller boy beside her. Her hair was the reddest Thomas had ever seen, the orange of carrots, and curled free around her head in a deceptively soft manner. Her eyes were hard, and she looked as if she was only half paying attention to the expressive other half of her conversation, too busy staring at a broad-shouldered boy with short brown hair and scary-looking eyebrows that Thomas and Newt had instantly agreed looked like a deadly Career. Thomas took her in, letting his gaze travel from her hair right down to her toes. He noticed that even though she looked as though she was relaxing against the pillar she was poised on the balls of her feet as though ready for anything. He hummed under his breath.

"Yeah. She looks like one to watch."

Newt hummed in agreement before he sighed, leaning back on his hands and dropping his other leg down. He swung his feet steadily, drumming his heels back against the steel counter in an odd rhythm.

"They all do. This is buggin' ridiculous, tryin' to pick out the kids we think have the best chance at killing us. It's sick."

Even though he hated it, Thomas knew Newt was right. He shrugged, looking up at his friend and wishing he had something to say that would bring him out of the slump he was in.

"The whole thing is sick. A punishment for the actions of people a hundred years ago, who only wanted fair treatment. The people the Capitol were mad at aren't even alive to be punished any more."

Newt shot him an anxious sideways glance.

"Hush, Tommy!" He glanced around nervously. "Don't say things like that!"

Thomas rolled his eyes and turned back to the room. He knew Newt was right. Newt was always right.

"Sorry." he murmured after a moment. He heard Newt hum again. This sucked. It made Thomas so angry and so afraid that he didn't know what to do. He didn't feel safe in his own head, and it scared him.

"What about her little guy? People always underestimate the little ones."

The boy beside Red, as Thomas had labelled her in his head, was tiny in comparison to her lean figure. He was average looking, maybe sixteen like Thomas, maybe younger. He had short, black hair and eyes so green that Thomas could see them all the way across the room. The boy was smiling, chatting away to the girl who was ignoring him, his hands moving at his sides as he spoke. Something about him made Thomas feel sick. He just looked like a little kid. He made him think of Chuck, and that made everything worse. Thomas looked away.

"He's just a kid."

He could hear Newt moving, changing position on his perch.

"We're all just kids, Tommy."

Weren't they just. Thomas sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands. It was barely after lunch and he was already exhausted. There were so many people in the one place that he couldn't relax, afraid if he did something horrible would happen before they even got into the Arena.

"He doesn't look all that dangerous." he tried, looking back over at the slight figure. "But i guess he could be fast, possibly knives? Maybe a bow?"

Newt nodded, his eyes skimming over the other tributes. Too many, Thomas thought. Too many by far. The blonde went over what they had so far.

"So we have Red, Forehead, Shoulder-Man-"

Thomas was ticking them off in his head as his friend spoke, his gaze finding the red-haired girl, and a tall dark-skinned boy who looked like he never did anything but frown threateningly, and the large boy Red had obviously picked out too. He snorted in surprise, glancing up at his best friend in amusement.

"Shoulder-Man?"

Newt shrugged, smiling a little sheepishly. He spread his hands as he spoke.

"What? The kid looks like he erects walls for a hobby. Jeez."

Despite the direness of their situation, despite the fact that they were picking out foes to avoid, Thomas sniggered. Newt looked down at him with an accomplished sly grin, obviously pleased he'd made him laugh. For some reason that just made it funnier. Thomas chortled into his hand, not wanting to draw attention. He waved a hand in Newt's direction as though swatting the blonde's words away.

"You're the worst." he wheezed, and Newt only chuckled.

"And yet ya love me anyway."

Thomas rolled his eyes and reached up to punch the older boy's thigh, laughing when he squirmed away and almost lost his balance.

"Oi!" he pouted, throwing Thomas a ridiculously wounded look.

Thomas shrugged, grinning sunnily and sticking his tongue out at him. Newt heaved a long-suffering sigh and settled back down into his previous position. Thomas leaned against the counter-side and tried to settle down again.

"Okay, so Shoulder-Man. Can't we just call him eyebrows? He looks like shucking Satan over there with his knife and his forked tail."

Newt rolled his eyes but smiled. He couldn't help but smile when Thomas said ridiculous things. The brunette had a wicked sense of humour but he so rarely used it.

"Okay, okay, ya buggin' loony. Red, Forehead, Satan. Who else?"

Thomas scanned again. His eyes landed on a pair of girls their own age who were sparring on one of the blue mats. They had gathered a small audience, and the fight looked intense despite the practice nature of it and the rules against actual fighting just yet. They were barely touching each other, making minimum contact as they ducked and wove in obviously practiced patterns. The darker skinned girl with all the little pleats in her hair suddenly dropped into a roll, flowing to her feet behind her cinnamon-haired companion in an apparent effort to catch her from behind. The other girl caught the movement and spun, doing a bizarre three-step skip until she was out of reach. She knocked the girl on the neck with her pole, and they grinned as each other as their fight ended. Several of the tributes surrounding them applauded. The winner offered her hand, hauling what looked to be her District-mate up to her feet. They were both panting, sweating under the lights as they shook hands and gave back their sparring poles. They didn't seem at all phased by the implications of such a battle. Thomas felt uneasy when he looked at them.

"What about Braids and Blondie?"

Newt harumph'd and shot Thomas a skeptical look when he turned to him.

"What? They look dangerous."

"Blondie?" Newt's voice was painted with an exaggerated offended tone. Thomas blushed.

"Well, it's not Blonde, but it's not really ginger either, is it?" he tried feebly.

Newt just snorted, one hand running through his own hair absently. He gave Thomas a haughty look.

"Blondie. Tsk."

Thomas shrugged, feeling silly.

"Well, what do you want from me? Cinnamon?"

Newt barked a startled laugh, covering his hand as his wide eyes snapped to Thomas properly. It was a long moment of sniggering before Newt could reply. When he did so he wheezed, the words enfolded in his mirth.

"Cinnamon?" he sniggered, his eyes delighted as he looked at Thomas squirm. "Oh, don't be gettin' all romantic on me, Tommy. Cinnamon? Man."

Thomas scowled, his face flushed and his arms crossed. Newt just sniggered again, laughter painting his skin a pale pink and lighting up his face in a way that made Thomas's heart skip pleasantly, not that it showed.

"Cinnamon." the blonde repeated in an amused tone, looking back over at the two girls. "Yeah, i can see that. Okay. Braids and Cinnamon. Check. Next?"

Thomas rolled his eyes, still feeling warm from his friend's teasing as he looked over them all again, trying as hard as he could not to allow there sheer number bother him.