Maple Soman, Age 16, District Seven's Female Tribute
The boy is scary. He's sitting across from me in one of the lavish, insanely comfortable chairs the Capitol train has provided. He clenches and unclenches his big, calloused hands and and taps his foot anxiously. I know he's a year younger than me, but he's broody and huge. He has a good five inches on me, height wise, and with his thicker built, he wouldn't have too much trouble snapping my somewhat willowy frame. His brown hair is shaggy and messy. It has a life of its own, and it's like he hasn't dared to comb it. His eyes are what unsettles me most, though. They're, for a lack of a better term, freaky. I know it's wrong to judge people by what they look like, but its hard not to. His right eye is a dark, deep, chocolate-y hue, while the left is a blue so pale that it's nearly translucent. They dart around in an analytical, almost deranged way.
Mom always tells me to be kind to everyone. Dad always says to be brave. I take a deep breath, trying to work up the courage to speak to this intimidating boy. He beats me to it, though.
"You can stop staring at me like I'm crazy."
He surprised me, his voice unexpectedly small. "I, uh... Sorry. I didn't mean to," I stammer. "I'm Maple."
"I know," he mutters.
I sit there uncomfortably for a moment, the conversation feeling extremely one-sided. "You're Case, right?" I prod, trying to remember something from the Reaping besides paralyzing fear. He nods, though his face is slightly less hostile than before.
Five minutes later, I've managed to get him to actually smile. Like, a genuine smile! He's really a pretty nice guy, once he's warmed up to you.
That's when the door flies open. "Duhhhveeena Duuhvohhhn!" The escort announces herself, game show host style. She stands, hips cocked, in the doorway. She has a geometric, neon yellow dress, with a pile of hair the same color stacked precariously on her head. She wobbles on giant black wedges and looks overall a bit unsteady. Her face, half electric blue and half midnight black, is split again in a huge white grin.
Case's smile drops right off his face, straight into a scowl. Right when I was making progress, too. He mutters something indistinguishable underneath his breath and sulks to a room in the back of the train car.
Devina wilts a bit, a confused look replacing her happy expression. "Hi, I'm Maple," I hurriedly mention. "Sorry about Case. He's, um, a little upset? I don't know. I'll go check on him."
At that, Devina brightens. "Okey-dokey!" she says squishily. "You do that, sweet-pea."
"Um, okay. Great," I affirm, smiling to acknowledge her. I quickly follow after Case.
I hesitate before knocking on Case's door. A little voice in my head reminds me of that cunning, deranged look he had. That I don't know him or how he acts when he's mad. I tell the voice to shut up because Case is nice and I, being older, should comfort him. I rap lightly on the door, then involuntarily flinch back. All the response I get is a muffled grunt. "Case?" I call softly. "It's Maple. Can I come in?"
I hear a slight shuffle before the door inches open. Case grumbles something along the lines of "What do you want?", glowering at me from underneath his shaggy hair. He looks rumpled.
"Can I come in?" I repeat. He just grunts again, but he does open the door wider. I take that as a signal for yes. I enter and sit a little awkwardly on a stool, absentmindedly tracing my finger along the elaborate engravings on it.
Case plops, dare I say ungracefully, onto the corner of the bed. He growls something that sounds like "Did the escort send you?"
"No, no, of course not," I reply, a little too hurriedly, I think. "I just- are you okay? You were really nice and I enjoyed talking to you, but when the escort came in you kinda got upset for no reason." Case purses his lips and glares at the ground. I rush to correct myself. "No, uh, emobvious/em reason. I mean, I know that she pulled your name out of the ball of death, which is upsetting to say the least. If anyone gets that it's me. But you didn't seem too broken up about that before, so I just figured... I don't know. I was concerned," I explain.
He nods. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "It's just... you know." He shrugs and dwindles off.
"Just what?" I gently prod. I don't want to make him more upset, but I guess I care about him and want to know what's bothering him.
"It's- it's just really frustrating, you know? It's like, back home I'm kinda seen as a weird or a freak show or something cuz, you know." He gestures up towards his mismatched eyes and I feel a pang of guilt for letting them make me feel wary. "Then I come here, where everyone is fine with everything, and the escort is wearing that, that insult plastered on her face?" He heaves a sigh and runs both hands through his hair. "It's not even a big deal. I wouldn't care, if she wasn't an immature child-woman who seems to, I don't know, be making a mockery of me or something. And I mean, I'm going to die within the month, so yeah, I take things a little dramatically. Sue me."
Neither of us say anything for awhile after that, and it's really awkward. Is there a cricket on this train?
"But why am I telling you this?" Case sighs. "I don't know you and you don't care."
"I care," I say, because I do.
Case rolls his eyes. "Right. It's fine that you don't. I'm not offended or anything."
"No," I protest. "I honestly care." He stares at me for a minute, like he's evaluating me, and I squirm self-consciously. He chuckles and shakes his head, as if he found something that amused him.
"What?" I ask defensively. Now I'm the one that might be offended.
"It's just... You're a really nice person, you know that Maple? A really nice person."
"And why is that so funny?" I demand.
"It's not, really, but... I don't know, fate has a twisted sense of humor, huh?" he says. I know he's referencing the Devina's face paint, not just nice ol' me going into a death match.
"Very twisted," I affirm.
He nods, then grunts for the umpteenth time. "Or it's rigged. Pro'lly rigged." Case laughs bitterly. "Nothing the Capitol loves more than watching perfect little angels go dark before one of the weird, villainous District outcasts snaps their neck."
I cup my face in my hands. It's true, I just don't want to think about it. I don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't want to die. Especially at the hands of someone as misunderstood as Case. "Th-they just like the gore, that's all," I object shakily.
Case scoffs. "You know I'm right, Maple. There's at least one every year, and they always get kill by a so-called weirdo, like me. Think about it. Just think of last year. The boy from Six and the girl from Nine? He was an orphan, thug, and always high. She gave handouts to the poor and had her life planned out. She had a bright future, a ton of friends, and a great head on her shoulders. Until it wasn't. On her shoulders, that is."
"No," I moan. I don't wan't Case to kill me. I don't want anyone to kill me, but least of all Case. He's my District partner, for crying out loud, and Seven would hate him even more than it does now. And I'd be dead. I don't want to die!
"Yeah, it's terrible," Case continues. He either didn't hear me or can't take a hint. "If your alleged saints are corrupt and your villains are human, the people don't know who to hate. So they both meet tragic ends. Isn't that poetic?" he practically hisses. By the time he finishes his ranting recap, I'm on the floor in the fetal position, rocking myself back and forth and hyperventilating.
"Oh, uh, sorry Maple," Case mutters uncomfortably, finally noticing the state I'm in. "I, uh, I didn't mean... Are you okay?" A red blush has risen up into his cheeks.
"I don't want you to kill me," I cry.
"Oh, I-not like- um," Case sighs like he meant something else entirely. "I'm not going to kill you unless I don't have a choice, okay?"
"It's like you said, Case," I blubber hysterically. "I'll do something hateful and desperate and you'll kill me because the Capitol loves a good show."
"I won't kill you," Case promises, a bit more forcefully this time.
"You will, you will because Seven thinks you're weird and vengeance stories are the favorite, right? Right, Case?" I don't mean for my words to sound accusing, but they do. So, so much. It sounds like I'm accusing Case of being a horrible person who shoves daunting truths on people and is easily manipulated by the Capitol. Because I am. God, what are these Games doing to me? "I'm sorry," I apologize softly.
Case's Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard, staring at me with unreadable, freaky eyes. "If you get killed by some vengeful psycho, it won't be me. I'm sure the other Districts will have freak Tributes, too." His voice is oddly quiet, like he's... hurt.
"You're not a freak," I murmur. A muscle in his jaw tightens, but he flashes a forced smile at me.
"Whatever you say, Maple."