.
These people are weird in here, and they're giving me the fear.
Just because you know my name doesn't mean you know my game.
Merritt Cordeau, District Four
The muted sounds of Juno, Sequin, Annie, and Nuke speaking are drowned out by the continuous whine of the train's wheels. Rather annoying, really, but who am I to complain? I'm just the stereotypical volunteer from Four, after all.
"The tributes this year look tough." I latch onto the conversation easily, locking eyes with my mentor as he speaks. "The Reapings showed that."
"We didn't even get to see them," I protest quietly, gazing at the ground purposefully.
Nuke frowns. "You didn't? … ah, never mind. I was thinking about how Annie and I watched the replays a while ago. You would like to watch them all, I'm guessing?"
"Of course," Juno answers him with a laid-back grin. "We can after dinner."
"That's too late for me," Annie butts in, eyes widened like saucers. "I… I have a meeting with Sequin after supper. Would during supper be fine?"
We all agree, murmuring our assent and such. I expect Nuke to start lecturing Juno and I about the dangers of the Career pack or whatever, but surprisingly, he simply nods tiredly and starts sluggishly moving to his own compartment, leaving us completely alone.
Annie and the silly-dressed escort leave after a few moments as well, Annie with a soft smile and Sequin with a haughty toss of her hair. Juno and I are left sitting on the benches, all alone.
While I'm sitting very rigid, still taking in my colorful surroundings, Juno starts making herself at home- throwing her feet up, yawning loudly, and snuggling into the cushioned bench. I wonder how she stays so calm, when the dark shadow of the Games is slowly pulling over both of us.
"So," she begins, her voice musical, "Stupid people, huh?"
I nod stiffly, lacing my fingers together. "Nuke is alright," I admit truthfully.
"Sure, and I guess I'm expected to say Annie's the nicest lady in the world," Juno sighs. She shakes her head playfully, causing her loose red hair to whip around. "Nah, I'm kidding. They're not too bad, once you get used to their prissy ways and arrogant beings."
"They're not arrogant. They used to be one of us, Juno, just kids who wanted to get home. They worked really hard for this."
"True," she says, but I have a feeling she's just saying that to get me off her back. Juno seems kind of like a flippant person. Not one that I'd usually mesh with.
"So where'd you come from, Merritt?" she raises a thin eyebrow. "I don't recognize you much."
"My family kept a low profile," I shrug. "What about you?"
Juno eyes me up for a moment before replying that her family was a quiet one as well, along with a couple more random facts that I don't remember. Something along the lines of free will and all that. And then she yawns once again. "I think I'll take a nap. Refresh myself for dinner, you know?"
"Okay."
I watch her limber form as it stumbles back to her train compartment, arms swinging idly and hair flowing. District partner-wise, I think that I lucked out. Juno's really not too bad, rather laid-back and chill. Better than a bouncy fourteen-year-old, on any rate. I smile as I remember Dallia from last year, the picture of a hyper, young Career.
Career.
Will that one word alone define me? No doubt that it will be generally tossed my way whenever I walk by somebody. "Oh, here comes the blond Career boy." I bet they won't even remember my name, just the fact that I'm a trained murderer.
The thought makes me shiver.
Dinner comes quickly, a buffet of assorted foods and drinks, soups and salads. My eyes flicker over each individual dish hungrily. Stuff like this would be pretty pricey in District Four, even though we're one of the richest districts.
"Gulp down some food as you watch, children." Sequin, the escort, leers creepily. I watch in mild fascination as her painted, curved nails fish a piece of bread from the basket, and quickly make a mental note not to take any bread at this meal.
The television mounted onto the wall flashes the Capitol seal briefly before dissolving into the number 'One'. I watch in fascination as a brunette girl, Carisa, introduces herself, and then some boy named Soren. They don't seem very happy to be each other's partners- or Carisa, at least- and I manage to catch a glimpse of the mentors looking both perplexed and amused as the scene switches to District Two.
"Already some fractures in your alliance with just the first district," Nuke points out. "Watch out for that, you two."
Stuffing a spoonful of beef broth into my mouth, we all watch as another brunette female mounts the stage. Eidra. She's really pretty and tanned, and quite a contrast, compared to her pale district partner, Wraith.
"Eidra's good, I've seen her around. And Wraith is something new, I have never even heard of him. District Two's taking a hard bargain this year with him, you two. He may be the backstabbing tribute they've been trying to keep under wraps." Nuke looks worried. "The one that changes the fate of the Games."
Juno gasps on cue, and I nod, trying to keep a leash on the whirling thoughts in my head. Backstabbing tribute? I must ask him about that later.
District Three's impressive for once, with a fiery-haired girl storming up to the stage and spitting her name at the escort. The male, on the other hand, is simply a bloodbath for sure- a young boy with a solemn expression. He's frail, too. The girl's somebody to watch out for, though, definitely.
"Bloodbath," Juno mutters as she watches the boy sigh faintly, under the camera's harsh glare.
But that's where Annie, the quiet one, surprises me. She whirls around with fury in her eyes, and spits out, "Don't ever count out the 'weakest' one, Juno. They'll only come to stab you in the back."
Aria Verselis, District Six
Rule number one, don't get attached. Look what good that's gotten me! I've basically invited myself to be allies with him!
And each time Halcyon glances over at me, faint smile clear as day on his lips, I internally pinch myself.
He was so upset and broken, though, I couldn't help but make small talk with him, my notebook as my ally. And then I got to know him. And then we started telling each other about our pasts. And he accepted that I could not talk around him, had to write everything down to communicate. He was much more open and accepting than most people.
I suppose I was drawn to that.
He's better than our mentors, too. Gingham's constantly insulting us, making critical notes about our appearances and such, and Dalton, my mentor, doesn't seem to be all there. His childish, blank personality is a bit off-putting.
And the worst part? Everything is so fancy here, and I feel so out of place! I mean, when we first boarded the train, a hot cheese fountain was directly in front of me, and our escort started shoving random blobs of whitish bread underneath it. "Fondue", she'd called it, and tried teaching me how to do it. But I didn't catch on at all.
Everything is so new and freaky here. I can't stand it.
"Only five minutes till Capitol, people!" Flitter hisses, smoothing down her long yellow dress and primping her hair at the same time. "Look presentable!"
I glance down at my Capitol-issued outfit— plain, slim black pants, a white sweater with streaks of grey, sensible black slippers, and my red scarf. To humor Flitter, I pretend to be admiring myself in a nearby mirror, fingertips at my face, until she struts away.
Halcyon walks in from the dining room car, apple in hand. He's clad in the same outfit I am, though his pants are a bit looser and, of course, he has no scarf. "What'd she say?"
I hold up a hand, fingers outstretched. Five.
"Ah." He nods appreciatively, settling into a chair. "I think I can see the opening stretch of the Capitol, too— look."
I turn to a window, eyes widening as I do. The Capitol itself hasn't lied about its majestic glory. The few buildings I can see are ginormous, candy-colored, and frilly. I suppose the escorts are there to prepare us, in a way. The train rides, as well.
"Wow," I breathe.
Halcyon is less impressed, humming under his breath and chomping off another bite of apple. "Nice place for a bunch of kids to die, huh?"
I look at him, nose wrinkled.
He sighs and shrugs. "Why mince words, Aria? That's what they're doing. Worst comes to worst, we'll both be dead."
I blink, cheeks heating up. I want to tell him not to be such a cynical person, to lighten up a bit. But he's right, I know that. We both probably will die. In a few years, neither of us will be remembered. Pawns in a game, knocked to the ground.
Our glory days are over.
The huge city draws closer and closer until the train dives into darkness. A tunnel. Seals of the Capitol occasionally flash as the wheels zip over the metal rails.
Suddenly, our train car is bathed in light as the train itself pulls up to a platform. My eyes are spinning once I see a load of funny little people waving, screaming, cheering— did they say 'Aria'?
"They're cheering us." Halcyon seems amused.
Flitter struts into the room, her gorgeous black hair swept into a high knot on top of her head. "These are the times you'll want to remember, darlings," she sighs, escorting both of us to the windows. Halcyon stares out blankly, though I swear I can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. Me? Out of sheer nervousness – or maybe it's hysteria – I wave, my lips peeling back into a beam.
The silly people react accordingly, shrieking and waving their hands even more frantically. They love me – rather, me and Halcyon, that is. We may even have sponsors!
The stretches of people don't end until the train pulls into another tunnel. But it's only mere moments until there are even more, but the numbers of these are even greater. It's overwhelming.
"You don't have to wave to these people, darlings," Flitter shrugs, walking away from the window. "I doubt most of them have enough money to buy you life-saving tonics and such. The first people, those are the sponsors you'll most likely deal with."
I find myself scribbling something down in my notebook. 'Why'?
"The first people? Honey, they're always the richer ones. They pay for the first glimpse of you, which means that they are usually loaded. The rest are simpletons. They don't pay for their spots in seeing the trains come by."
I nod, frowning a bit. Is that how they're described in the Capitol? Simpletons? They look just as shiny and peppy as all the rest to me. Maybe there's something I'm not getting.
Halcyon snorts. "Wake me up when you don't classify your type as poor people," he sighs, walking out of the train car to his compartment.
Flitter watches him go with a mixture of disappointment and slight anger. "He'll be tougher to fix up, but you, Aria, are much more presentable." She beams. "Once we get you in a pretty dress, maybe some simple eye make-up, the crowds will simply eat you up!"
I smile weakly.
Great, I think as she walks away, heels tapping softly along the carpeted floor. I have to be put on show, like at an auction or something, for the people who will eventually be watching the end of my life. Is it always like this, here? Why is everybody so casual about it?
In a way, I admire Halcyon. While he's staying true to himself, here I am, overthinking everything and being overall a lapdog. Playing by the rules, being gung ho, everything. But I don't want to be that. All I want to be is myself, and nothing less than myself. Aria Verselis, the quiet one. The dependable one. The meek, the humble, the kind-spirited. Not the show-offy one. Or the prideful, peppy one.
And definitely not the murderous one.
Haven Faye, District Twelve
"Yow," I hiss as the silver-skinned one, Flattop or Flattie something equally stupid, rips another strip of paper off of my arm.
She peers at me over thick, purple glasses. "Honey, stay still. It'll be a lot less painful."
"I don't want to stay still. I'm not lazy."
"Too bad for you, then." The male, Yak, glares at me with lemon yellow eyebrows. "We've had no trouble with other tributes in the past, Heaven. Why should you be any different?"
"It's Haven," I protest feebly, my mouth slamming shut as the one with starfish woven into her hair, Trappie, comes at me with a tweezers. My heart thuds. "Why are you coming at my face with those?"
"You got a mustache," she replies busily, already snipping off the hair on my upper lip.
"Are you insane? You could cut off some of my lip or whatever!"
"We could do with a bit less of your lip, anyways," Yak jovially remarks, and the two women join in raucously.
I shut up after that, simmering in my own rage.
Honestly, it's people like them who have made me like this. Angry. Hardened. And it's the people like them who've gotten me in this situation, anyways. It's infuriating, really, to know that the unfortunate people with actual personalities and lives have to go into that arena, while people who only care about the colors they're going to dye their nose hairs, like them, get to watch from the sidelines with popcorn.
"Finally!" crows Trappie as she peels out one last hair follicle. I rub my aching lip, glaring all the while. "We can now hand you over to Wholly!"
I nearly moan as she says his name- Wholly. The infuriating names these people come up with. What's next, Sugar or Skippy?
The three goons leave the room, leaving me feeling exposed until I grab up a robe. Then it's just me, alone like I've always been.
Loneliness doesn't immediately set in, though. After hours of agonizing accents and the continuous peeling of papers from my skin, solitude is actually appreciated. I sit there in the room, eyes grazing around the colorful landscape of shelves and stools. There was never much color back in District Twelve. We were lucky if there was a splotch of blue in our sunsets. Grey skies, coated with smog and ashes from all the coal we burn- ironically, burning coal to retrieve more.
But for whose benefit? The Capitol's. Like I said before, the people who receive everything also get the best entertainment. Unfair. And this 'Wholly' guy. I bet he's the newcomer to stylists and such, so they stuck him with the least-desired district. Nobody in their right mind would want the district of failed rebels and coal miners. Ever since District Thirteen merged with District Twelve, every year of the Games has brought a scrappy girl and a scrappy boy. This year's no different. At least in District Eleven or Ten or whatever, there's diversity.
I hear the door shut and my heart's racing again. I whip my head to the side to see a small, dark-skinned man with whitish-cobalt hair. He doesn't look too bad. He seems all sage and wise, anyways, not like some newbie. I allow a relieved smile to grace my face, but it's very brief.
"You're Haven, huh?"
"That's my name."
He adjusts some thin spectacles, his eyes flickering over me. "Stand up, please?"
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I comply. "What do you need to know?"
"Ah, just measurements and such. The outfit is designed, we just need to know your coordinates in order to fit the dress to your size."
"Eighty pounds and five feet." I fib.
He looks at me with strange, purplish eyes. "I know that's a lie. You're actually better-fed than most of the kids we bring in."
I frown, a hand flying to my wrist. "That's a lie, too, isn't it? My parents never overfed me or anything like that. I mean, my bones still jut out." I shake my arms for emphasis, allowing the joints to pop accordingly. Wholly's eyes widen and I smirk. I've gotten used to the gyrating, creaking, feeble joints.
"I admit, it may be a lie, but your joints… they're terrible!" Wholly shakes his head.
"Yeah, can we just get to the chariot outfit part? This is kind of boring, just reliving my past life," I say. "I mean, yeah, I want to get home and all that, but talking about the bad parts of my past sure isn't going to help."
He nods, coughing slightly. He scans me over, wrapping yellow tapes around my waist and such. It takes just a couple minutes, and once he's done, he produces a shiny, black, long bag. Must be for my dress.
The material that he pulls out is not too impressive; it looks like some charred wood. I think I vaguely recognize it from the trashcans around the Victor's Village, where I sometimes poked around. I think it's material from the traditional flaming outfits that they've displayed proudly ever since the Seventy-Fourth Games, just before the rebels' revolt. Flames have become the District Twelve trademark, though in my opinion they've become incredibly boring.
I slide the dress on as quickly as I can, trying to avoid eye contact. My stylist comes up behind me, tugging at pieces of fabric and random ribbons all around. Next comes a golden necklace, adorned with glittering stones. For the final touch, Wholly hands me some flat orangey slippers. "You look great," he says softly, leering as he comes behind me with a slim silver tool.
"What's that?"
"Just something to curl your hair. Don't be so paranoid."
Trying to relax my muscles, I listen absent-mindedly as he blabbers on and on about lighting the bottom of the dress, remembering to wave and maybe try and work a team angle with Kinton, everything.
He lets me go with a final flicker of his eyes.
And then it's just me- just me, two shimmering black horses, a lighter, and my youthful-looking district partner.
Soren Valen, District One
My throat is a desert.
"C-Cary," I choke out, eyes swimming in silent tears as she struts away, head held high. That's all I've seen of her since she met Hollis. The back of her silky hair, slim figure. She's never upheld a true conversation with me since then. Even on the train she blatantly refused to speak with me, shutting herself in her compartment.
Sheen was no help, simply burped and said that Carisa was furious, as if she had a right to be stuck up in our personal business. Teal offered a bit more advice, confiding in me that he'd been rejected multiple times as well. But they couldn't help me. The only thing that can help me is she, Carisa, Cary…
Plucking a stray rhinestone from my hair, I dart after her, where she and the rest of the Careers have gathered around the District Two chariot. I've learned their names. Eidra, the hyper-looking brunette. Wraith, he of the pale skin and stocky build. Juno, the redhead with the cool demeanor, and Merritt, the stern-looking blond. And then, of course, Cary.
But once I arrive at the wheel of the chariot, it's her willowy form that blocks me from the group. I gently try to nudge past her, but to no avail.
Luckily, Juno notices me and with a small smile, she offers me a spot next to her and Wraith. I gratefully accept, grinning toothily back at her. I like her a lot already.
"So, that's why I think I should be your Career leader." Merritt finishes with a curt nod, eyes flickering around the circle. My stomach churns as Cary raises her hand, replying in like to him and clearing her throat.
"Um, yes, that's all wonderful reasons, Merritt, but I have one quick thing to bring up before any final arrangements are made." Her tone is serious, but her beaming smile suggests otherwise. "I'd like to say that I don't think my district partner should ally with us."
"Why not?" Eidra is quick to ask.
"I can't say why, really." Cary's eyes well up with tears, but I know she's faking them. Manipulating is definitely her strong suit, which was something I admired about her. "I-I'm sorry, Eidra, but… it's just too painful for me to speak of. He broke something truly dear to me, wrecked my life…"
My stomach does another funny flip. My throat turns to ice. None of that is true, she has to understand that…!
But both Eidra and Juno gasp, eyes widening accordingly. They're buying it. Cary continues, dabbing at her eyes. "How do you think I feel when I work my entire life for this, and just to grind my gears, he volunteers alongside me, knowing that it'll totally throw me off my game?"
"Terrible," Juno whispers, eyes darting over to me, no longer friendly and open.
"Wait." Wraith Elvery speaks up for the first time, hand held high. "How do we know that you're not the liar, Carisa? For all we know, you just took a disliking to him and you're trying to force him out of the group already." Heart swelling, I silently thank the guy for sticking up for me.
"Trust, I guess?" Cary sighs, as if a weight has been pushed onto her shoulders. "I can't back it up, I admit that. But Soren can't lie…" she turns to me, face set.
My knees knock. She knows that I can't testify against her. I love her too much.
"Soren?" she prods, eyes full of spite and fury. I can tell that she's one step away from losing control.
Swallowing dryly, I stammer out, "I… I can't… Cary…"
Eidra looks at me, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. "Stop it," she speaks forcefully. "I'm going to stick by my girl here, Soren. If you hurt her, you shouldn't be allowed to be near her at all."
"Girl code," echoes Juno.
I look helplessly at Merritt and Wraith. Wraith looks at me, his expression pitying and slight woe. The blond guy simply stares at me, eyes darkening and scanning over me, scrutinizing me. I feel exposed. "Two against three." Merritt sighs. "Sorry, man."
Sorry, man.
When will people understand that 'sorry' just doesn't cut it?
My senses numb, I trudge back to the chariot. It's like I'm walking through syrup. Cary, the only person who I truly felt at home with, has betrayed me. I thought she'd be understanding and hopefully she'd be able to trust me for the things I've done. I thought I knew her well enough to assume that.
But what she just did is… is shocking, to say the least.
I mount the chariot, clutching the silver bar with one hand. The impending noise coming from behind the closed doors seems drawn-out, emphasized. I blink sluggishly, blinking dumbly.
Some monotone voice tells the tributes to prepare for the parade by getting onto their chariots. I watch mournfully as Cary steps onto the platform next to me, her lips peeled back in a snarl.
"Just stay away from me and we shouldn't have a problem, jerk." Her words are like acid, cutting not only into my skin but also my mind.
The horses suddenly jerk us through the heavy-paneled doors, and I clutch the bar for support until they're maintaining a casual yet brisk stride. I can tell by the shrieks on Cary's side that she's already waving, blowing kisses to gain sponsors. What shall I do? Without the Career pack, I'm nothing. No sponsors. No allies.
Forcing a grin upon my thin lips, I raise a hand to the colorful audience on my side. The flashes are overwhelming, the screams overly exaggerated and gleeful.
And then I hear the slow chant of my name- "So-ren! So-ren! So-ren!"
Happiness floods into my heart as if from a straw. Hope enters my mind.
Will I be… accepted here?
Cade Bennett, District Ten
"Nervous, Cade?"
Shael frowns lightly as I shake my head energetically, bouncing on the balls of my feet lightly. "Not at all," I admit, scratching my neck and watching the District One chariot, clad in shimmery bathing suits and gemstones, as it rolls through the doors into the bright room beyond. "What about you?"
Her wide brown eyes, framed by a brownish makeup, blink a couple times as she struggles to find an answer. "Um, same."
One thing that I've learned about Shael? She's not one to uphold a good conversation with. Oh, and she's more shy than anything, though Jamie tells me that she's just masked, whatever that means.
District Two's chariot sinks through the doors, their two tributes clad in silvery soldier costumes. "I love everything here," I sigh, talking half to myself and half to her. "The food, the people. They're so kind."
Looking at me in a strange way, Shael shakes her head. We watch as District Three goes through the doors, their tributes as different as night and day, though their outfits (sparking wires draped fashionably around their bodies) are similar. District Four is nothing special, the tributes waving as their green fishing outfits shimmer.
"District Five looks great this year," I comment as I watch the girl, her beautiful smile radiating towards the crowd and the lanky boy, his shy beam causing many gasps in the crowd. Their skin-tight silver bodysuits are certainly attention-grabbing.
Shael murmurs something I don't catch.
District Six with their pale skin slicked up with what appears to be oil is next to go, and then District Seven, both of the tributes clad in flimsy paper outfits. A funny churning in my belly begins as the next district leaves, both of their tributes in bodysuits of differing materials and colors.
"Only two away!" I chirp, glancing sideways at Shael. "C'mon, Shay, don't be like that."
A small smile plays on her lips. "Shay? That's so stupid."
I grin, happy to have gotten a rise out of her. "C'mon, it's not that bad. Here, think of a nickname for me."
Just like that, our moment is gone. Her smile fades and she looks away, to the side. "I don't know."
I purse my lips, observing as the chariot in front of us rolls into the light. The tributes there, Maysa and Braxton, I've learned, are both dressed in clothing with what looks like straw woven into the fabrics, causing a glittering golden effect.
"I hope the people like our outfits," I murmur, glancing down at my cow-printed outfit. The splotches of black and white, along with the headband of horns that they forced me to wear, isn't that flattering, but in the Capitol anything goes. I snort, "I bet the people back home will hate them. This is so stereotyped."
Shael adjusts her horns, tugging at her cowbell necklace. "It's not about what they think anymore. Capitolites are the only people who can sponsor us, Cade."
I'm about to reply back with a joke when our chariot pulls forward, separating us from the firey Twelve tributes and the two from Eleven in their overalls and hats.
"Whoa," I murmur, eyes huge as I see the thousands and thousands of people, all gathered in the stands to see us. This is incredible.
"Start waving, little boy," Shael mutters before plastering on a bright smile, unbelievably forced, and starting to wave.
What shall I do? District Eleven is already pulling out behind us, and I want to make an impression.
Feeling my heart leap as a girl with raven hair catches my eye, I let loose a joyous whoop, barely hearing it above the shrieking and cheering of the crowd. Feeling energetic, I clutch the bar in front of me and hop up and down a couple times, grinning all the time.
I wonder what my family back home is thinking of this.
Pa's probably watching the screen with that familiar twinkle in his eye. Momma, I bet that she's crying into her apron, but maintaining a firm stare on the television. And Winston? Gee, he probably has a broken arm already, maybe even a broken leg, but no doubt his eyes would be glued to the television.
I let a wide, genuine beam overpower my cheesy, toothy grin. My eyes fall upon a camera, just above the crowd, its lens searching and scanning each chariot in turn. When it points at the District Ten chariot, I make sure to shriek out a quick, "Hi, Momma! Hi, Pa!" before it pans to the next one.
"What was that for?" Shael asks rudely.
Grinning, I shrug. "Just wanted to say 'hey' to my folks. Nothing wrong with that."
She stares at me for a while, her huge brown eyes unblinking, until her attention is averted to the ring of chariots. District Nine pulls to the left, and our horses give a sharp turn until we're directly next to the District Eight chariot.
The boy, about my age, with a sinister smirk plastered onto his mug, glances over at us and winks. The girl, with striking features and dark hair, looks pale and somewhat tense.
Not the best allies, if you ask me.
I shrug and focus on Mrs. Snow, her soft blond hair cascading just above her shoulders. Her face is strict, eyes unwavering. They never leave the ring of tributes until District Twelve pulls in next to us, and then she begins her speech.
It's not very long, just a couple minutes or so, but it's enough time for me to realize how much power she really is in. It must be wonderful, to know that you own twelve districts, plus a thriving Capitol. How much effort must have been locked carefully into place in order to maintain complete control over everything. And it wasn't her job, either. I'm told in school that her father, Coriolanus Snow, was the actual person who did it.
In a way, I'm glad he's not alive anymore. He would have freaked me out way too much.
Her speech finishes up. Slowly, from behind the chariots, a low trumpet sounds in tribute to the 'fallen', as she put it. I feel like I should salute or something, but everybody else seems to be rigid and in their place, so I follow the crowd.
"Lovely speech, wasn't it, Cade?" Shael sighs from next to me, her voice hushed.
I glance up at her and smile, talking in the same tone she used. "It really was."
Maya Verone, District Five
Bidding Ezra farewell and hopping off the chariot, wincing inside my skintight suit, I start milling around. Staying still in that chariot was terrible. If I can't be in motion, I feel like I'm trapped.
I notice the girl from Six eyeing me up, her lips slightly puckered. I'd go over to talk to her, but there are bigger fish in the pond, better people for alliances. And no offense to her, she seems really sweet, but she's both small and fragile. Rolling my shoulders back and letting my deep brown hair out of its tight braid, I start jogging.
The tributes this year look fierce, but none look fancy or anything. Even the duo from One seem stiff in their pretentious costumes. Nobody, really, that would be a good victim. I frown slightly. Where's the fun in that?
"Maya?" Ezra's tense voice pierces the uncomfortable silence.
I whirl back to him, tilting my head slightly.
"U-Um…" he swallows, the lump in his throat bobbing. "Would you l-like to go back to the apartment?"
He's kind of cute, being all gawky and awkward and shy. I grin.
"Not right now, Ezra," I reply lightly. "I'd like to get a feel for who I think would make a good ally, before everybody's snatched up. You know?"
He looks at me with those deep eyes of his, eyebrows drawing together. "Um, should I stay with y-you?" he stammers out, visibly nervous.
"If you like." I offer him an easy-going grin. "Don't fear, Ezra. You don't have to be shy around me."
He hesitates before offering me another smile, this one filled with dread and fear. "O-Okay. That sounds good, Maya."
I wink, giggling lightly at his awkwardness, before tugging at the top of my silver bodysuit again. I feel so restricted in this thing.
I off-handedly grab a large chunk of wood that adorns the District Seven chariot and started sawing at my shoulder with a jagged part. Before I know it, the incredibly thin material gives away and I'm left with a much less binding suit, held together by the fabric coming up my other shoulder. Lovely.
Pulling off the tight silvery boots and casting them to the side, I start padding along with my newly bare feet. I can feel Ezra gawking at me, and I notice all the eyes of the other males glued to me. It makes me feel uncomfortable, to be honest. Why are they such perverts? All I did was take off my shoes, cut off a strap. Nothing scandalous.
My eyes connect with the girl from Nine, Maysa. She's sitting on the edge of her chariot, eyes flickering over everybody in silent observance. Ah, a tribute who's not knee-deep in shallowness, I like it.
"Hello there," I greet her as I hop onto the step of her chariot, hopping onto the bar for a seat.
She wrinkles her nose, obviously not happy with my company. "What are you doing here?"
I answer with an easy-going smile, running my tongue along my teeth. "Nothing much, just observing people. The same as you."
Maysa half-smiles. "I saw your little show out there. Every eye was on you."
I groan internally. "I know, and I wish they'd stop. Nothing here to see, people. I mean," I start giggling again, "there is something for them to look at, but… they don't have to be so perverted about it."
She raises her eyebrows. "That's just how guys are, too perverted to look anywhere but down."
Gasping in delight, I give her a shove. She is quick to push me back, but I'm quick on my feet. I roll over the side of the chariot, one hand grabbing the edge, and I rely on my biceps alone to swing my feet up to the other corner of the chariot. When I pop my head over the edge, Maysa is gawking at me.
"Where'd you learn to do that, the zoo? You look like a monkey!"
Winking and pulling myself over the edge, I hop off the chariot. "Ah, a good magician- or should I say monkey- never reveals her secrets." She looks intrigued. I plod forward. "So, Maysa, the real reason I came over here was to scout you out for an alliance. What d'you think, do I have a shot at being your ally?" I smirk. "You seem decent enough to get along with."
"And you as well," she replies dryly, sizing me up. "You know what? Sure, I'll give you a chance. Anybody else and I'd crumple them."
Shaking my head, I say, "You're so wiry, though!"
"And you're like an ape!"
We share a smile together- nothing major, since Maysa doesn't really seem the type to be all happy-go-lucky or playful like I usually am. More sarcastic and dry, if you know what I'm saying.
But ah, yes. Who knows? Perhaps our personalities will mesh well, drawing in other allies. Ezra, for one. He and perhaps the girl from Ten, or maybe the boys from Six and Eleven. They all could be threats if they applied themselves.
I wave goodbye to Maysa, smirking all the while, and hop into an elevator with Ezra and the boy from Three, Griff. It's silent as we go up in peace, every mind thinking on its own good accord.
When Maysa and I talked, she insulted me, which may or may not be part of her usual personality. Anyways, it was well played. Lucky for her, I'm feeling generous today. She seems good enough for an ally, but then again, you never, ever know.
Brux Redragon, District Seven
Pressing the end of the cigarette to my lips, I draw in a shaky breath. Smoking is one of the few pleasures in my life that I still treasure.
Aspen watches me from the corner of the couch, curled up into a tight ball. "That's disgusting," she observes.
I snort. "Coming from the girl who got Reaped, I'm not too offended."
She wrinkles her nose, tugging her jacket over her head. "Just because I was Reaped doesn't mean I'm not tough. What if I was about to volunteer, huh?"
I laugh dryly, inhaling another round of the cigarette. "I'm sure you would have been more than lovely than, as well."
By that time, she looks confused, which I secretly delight in. I love messing with peoples' heads, getting to twist their words against them. It's like a short victory whenever I can.
Basil enters the room, gnawing on his bottom lip and holding a slim carrot in his hand. A health food junkie. I know their type not so well, as my family was one who would have eaten a rotten dog carcass.
"Aspen. Brux." He nods curtly before sitting down on the loveseat to our left. "I'm sure that my brother will be in any moment, so hold tight."
I smile smoothly at him. "You two can talk," I murmur. "You're mentoring Aspen, after all."
Basil replies with a tentative nod as well. "I'd like to include you as well," he says kindly.
"Then do so. I'm right here."
The two share an uncomfortable look before turning their attention back to me. "Are you two allying together, then?" Basil's voice is strained.
"Um-" Aspen begins just as I cut her off rudely.
"Never."
"Why are you so quick to judge?" retorts Basil.
I scowl, huffing out a ring of smoke. "No offense to my district partner, who I'm positive is simply lovely, but there are more fish in the pond, namely the people known as Careers." I smirk. "I also happen to know that they've already kicked somebody out."
Obsidian enters the room with a concerned look on his face, chewing loudly with his mouth open. "The Careers have knocked somebody out of the ring?"
I nod.
He starts guffawing, rubbing a closed fist into my perfectly done hair. I slide away from him to lie down on the couch, eyebrows drawn together in disgust. He doesn't get to do that me. What is that, even, some weird Panem tradition? Have they affected Obsidian that much already? Gross.
"You might have a chance at getting in, little man." Obsidian grins. "Do you have any weaponry skills?"
I sigh lightly. This bulb's not the brightest. "Of course I do."
"Axes? Hatchets? Machetes?"
"You know, not everybody has to live up to the stereotype of using axes and all that crap. Most people never even work in the lumber yards." I consider the stub of my cigarette for a moment before snuffing it and cramming it inside my pocket. "I didn't."
"I did." Aspen's soft voice breaks through. I glance over at her and she smiles, tucking a short lock of hair behind her ear. "I… I worked at the forest around my neighborhood. Axes are like toys to me now."
I muffle a groan. Way to go and be contradictory, Aspen.
Basil points at her, lifting his thin eyebrows. "See? That's what I like to hear."
I scowl, shifting my position. My district partner is nothing but a suck-up, and I can't see how Basil isn't seeing right through her act. She's practically opaque.
"So you think that you both could get into the Careers?" Obsidian asks.
I stifle a snicker, waiting for Aspen's reply. I know that she'd be way too soft to even ask to try and enter their alliance. I'm interested to see how this turns out.
"Um…" her voice is reluctant. "Maybe Brux could ask for the both of us."
My throat tightens. "No offense or anything, but I'd prefer just to look after myself. One victor, after all."
Truth be told, I never was one for responsibility. I could barely look after a wounded squirrel; how could I look after a girl who, truth be told, probably cowers under the light of the refrigerator? The Careers would crush her, eat her alive. There's no freaking way that Basil and Obsidian expect me to take care of her. I don't even like her.
Aspen looks at me with a disappointed stare. "I'll find my own allies, then," she mutters in a strangely tight voice.
"Good on you." Basil smiles, eyes twinkling. Faker, I surprise myself by thinking.
She murmurs an excuse to go to bed, and Basil lumbers off towards the bathroom. Soon, it's just Obsidian, who's sipping some bubbly water, and me.
"Uh, yeah, I gotta go to bed, too-" I begin.
"Stay."
I grimace slightly, avoiding his sharp gaze. "Yeah?"
"Just want to ask you something." Obsidian remembers to smile. "As your mentor, I find it hilarious that your last name is virtually 'Red Dragon'."
I smile sappily, glaring into his grinning face. "My parents were hippies," I spit out, lying. "Any other questions?"
Obsidian, chuckling, waves me away.
I stagger off to my room, fuming. I loathe it when people question me. It's always been like a slap to my face whenever that happened. I try to boost my confidence by other things, yet people find a way to chop my self-esteem down.
Because under this cocky, stupid exterior? I'm just broken, nothing more to it.
Cayley Torelli, District Eight
Velvet and Velour have long since retreated to their rooms. At least, I think they have. They may still be lurking in the corners, listening to our escort yammer on about the gorgeous fabrics that our district brings in. I wouldn't know.
"And the ruffles on the taffeta number that I wore last year, oh, it was fabulous." Gladius sighs in ecstasy, plucking a hair off of his thin wings.
I catch a glimpse of my littler district partner, Tethys, sneaking around behind him with a small fork in hand. I try to muffle a smile, rather certain that this will end in the flailing of Gladius's arms and many, many shrieks.
As the three prongs of the fork tear into the papery material that form Gladius's suspenders, he screams obnoxiously.
"Blasted, devil, wretched, demon boy!" he screeches, thumbs hooked into the tight hoops of his sparkling blue pants. I can't hold back a throaty giggle as he darts out, his oversized trousers drooping at the back.
"Had to get him out somehow," Tethys says coyly, eyes flickering up to me to gauge my reaction.
"That's great!" I can't stop giggling. "The look on his face was priceless."
"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" he winks, his small mouth curving upwards into a smirk.
"Ahh," I sigh, throwing myself onto a loveseat and sprawling out. "If only we could do that with our other competitors. Simply rip out their suspenders and they'd run away, screaming."
What a pity we can't do that, I think to myself bitterly. It's rather hilarious how, if a Career were to flash a fork or something at a weaker tribute, they'd tremble in fear, when really, it should be the people here that go under the blade.
"So, how are you enjoying the Capitol so far?" Tethys perches on the arm of a chair, his legs curling up into a tight, comfortable little pretzel knot. "Don't you just ah-dore their fabulous iced teas and soups?"
Finding myself giggling uncontrollably again, I gasp a little for breath and reply. "Um, I think that it's luxurious, I guess."
He looks at me oddly, as if waiting for another answer.
"I miss home, though. District Eight." I feel robotic all of a sudden. It's something that I've grown quite accustomed to in my seventeen years of life- once being completely happy and gung ho, the next moment becoming tense and rigid, and the next being a green-eyed monster filled to the brim with fury. Mood swings are just a part of my daily life. My mother didn't help the fact much, either.
"Ah, yes." His beady brown eyes dart to the window, the pastel colors of the sunset sky mingling with the harsh yellows of the city lights. "District Eight will forever be our home."
"But there's hardly a chance we'll get to go home, right?" My throat betrays me by laughing again, this time nervously.
"Not so. I think that I have an excellent chance at winning." Tethys frowns over at me, eyebrows drawing together. "What makes you think that you're not good enough, Cayley?"
My giggling stops abruptly. "I'm small, for starters." It's true. I'm smaller even than Tethys, and I have little muscle on my brittle bones. "I have no weaponry skills, no plant skills, no nothing." If the arena was a giant clothing factory, though, we'd be set.
"Your body size means nothing." He smirks lightly. "And only six of the other tributes have weaponry skills, Cayley. Maybe the tributes from Seven and Nine. Don't worry, everybody else is in the same boat as you and I."
"I guess you're right." I huddle closer to the cushy pillows of the loveseat, feeling very small under the circumstances. It's just like home here. Even on the train, I had secretly hoped that here I'd get a chance to sort of reinvent myself, but it seems that I really can't escape the past.
"And besides." Tethys purposefully avoids eye contact with me, ducking his head. "I'm sure that you'll find yourself some great, worthy allies."
"You're right." I straighten myself out, flipping a lock of silky brown hair over my shoulder. "Hey, did you have anybody in mind?"
He furrows his eyebrows. "I was considering the two tributes from District Nine, or Five." No reasons given.
"Right," I nod. "Um, I was thinking District Twelve."
Tethys laughs dryly, shaking his head. "I like you, Cayley, so I'll tell you one thing. They're too weak. The boy's obviously brittle, scrawny, and the girl is downright skeletal. Both are probably from the poorer end of town, and-" he stops himself there, looking conflicted as he discreetly shakes his head.
"Oh," I reply, confused.
"But, yes. It's good to have an alliance plan so early on." Tethys gives me a brisk smile before bidding me goodbye and moving swiftly down the hall like the adorable, small guy that he is.
I watch his form retreat down into his bedroom, door shutting quietly, and I instinctively fold my limbs into myself, folding my arms across my chest and tucking my legs neatly underneath me in a kneeling position. Being small is the one good thing I'm good at.
Everything used to revolve around my small, broken family, and myself. The spotlight was constantly on me, as if calculating my next move. It's not that different here, actually. Once I get into that arena, there will be cameras all over me.
I wonder if I'll be a crowd favorite?
A smirk creeps onto my chin. Yeah, like that would ever happen. I was barely tolerated back in Eight, and what should make me think that anything would be different here?
My life is now a play; everything scripted out for me, and if I fail to deliver the line that the Capitol wants, the shepherd's crook will close in around my neck. Not the best comparison, but in somber reality, it's true.
A/N: The Outsider by Marina and the Diamonds.
Lovelies! It's been so long! ._. Hopefully after my long break, I can find more time to write. But y'know, school and all that need to be figured out for me, so I'll write when I can. And all of those waiting on A Shot in the Dark, I can only say that I'm taking my time writing it. :p
Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed the very first tribute chapter of Contrary! Dropping a review does not go unnoticed ;D And hey, if you review more, chances are your tribute will go farther. Everybody likes that, yes?
Okay, below is the alliance list, yeah? Everybody else is a loner, as of now, but that will very probably change.
Alliances: Careers minus Soren, Maysa+Maya
Question tiiiiime (:
1. Thoughts on each POV?
2. Favorite tributes as of now? (Chartwise?)
3. Who are you curious to hear from?
4. General thoughts on the chapter, along with 'how was my writing'?
Until next time ;D