.
I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.
Ellika "Ell" Mayes, District Three
The morning awakens me rudely. Rather, it's Griff's youthful voice that pierces the silence, shattering any hopes I had of going back to sleep.
"NO!"
Curious, I poke my nose out the door, only to see Candor, Xandra, and Escort-Witch trying to spoon-feed Griff something that looks like oatmeal. Nothing of importance, why would he shriek?
"What's going on out there?" I call out sleepily, muffling a yawn.
"He's not taking any vitamins!" Xandra hollers out in frustration, anger laced in her voice.
"I don't want any of them! It's not like they could help me!" Griff scowls ferociously at the trio, and I can't help but smirk. He's already fighting back against the people that are trying to tend to him; biting the hand that feeds him, so to speak.
"Ellika, can you get out here, please?" Xandra, my mentor, calls. Her tone is surprisingly patient, considering that just a moment ago she was shrieking at me. I consider this.
"Nah!"
"Please, Ellika. You should be getting up, anyways."
Ell, I silently berate her, as I pull a sweater on and heave myself out of bed.
"Here." Candor hands me a small tablet containing some grainy tan stuff, just like the goop they're trying to force into Griff.
"What is it?" I look at it suspiciously. "Is it literally just some vitamins?"
Candor glances at the others before motioning me to the side. We step out onto the balcony, and I raise an eyebrow. "Why are we out here? And if you could answer my question, that would be lovely."
His voice is hushed. "I've examined them, Ellika- I mean, Ell. They're not regular nourishment vitamins. For whatever reason, they are similar in structure and-"
"Could you hurry it up?" I interrupt him. "I'm on a rather tight schedule, I'm afraid. Breakfast and all that."
Patiently nodding, Candor then says, "All right. So you see, these vitamins are… weight gaining medications, containing numerous fattening spices and oils."
"Why are you giving them to us?" I ask, feeling stupid and confused.
"President Snow's orders." Candor shrugs. "Apparently, they're being given to each district, including the three – or four – Career districts. I have a feeling it will clue us in somewhat to the arena, but I've studied the past arenas, and I'm baffled. Nothing makes any sense."
I feel like shouting at him. He's a supposed genius! He doesn't know? This could mean life or death for me, a possible arena clue. And here this stupid old man is, scratching his head and shrugging?
"Ell, are you alright?" His eyebrows furrow. A slim arm reaches out to touch me. "You seem to be vibrating. Trembling, for a more appropriate word."
I recognize that symptom- it means that I'm slowly getting angrier and angrier, which is never good. Whenever it happened at home, my parents knew to exit the room, leaving me to cool down.
"I can't," I hiss out before storming off the balcony, my vision blurry from the combination of a deeply furrowed brow and angry tears. I make it to the couch before my knees start trembling, and I collapse onto it, pressing a small, furry pillow to my chest and clenching my teeth, shaking all over.
"Ellika, dear, are you-" Ping, the penguin-like escort, waddles into the room munching on a bagel when he cuts himself off. "No, you like to be called Ell, right? Oh-"
"Leave me alone," I snarl, my nails digging into my exposed thighs. "Get away from me!"
His yellow-brown eyes widen and he moves closer, intrigued. "Ell, honey, I'd prefer if we all stayed friends here! Come, come, tell me what's bothering you!"
I shakily take a deep breath, my stomach churning and my throat feeling as if it were lined with acid. "You can't help me," I growl. "Nobody can help me. I- I'm a monster, get the hell away from me!"
Ping tuts, shaking his head. Bright, fake red hair flicks everywhere. "Ell, Ell, Ell, you're simply hormonal and moody from the original shock of being Reaped. Trust me, I've escorted for ten years now. Maybe if you talk it out, you'll feel better!"
I can't, I silently shriek, struggling to maintain my sanity and pride. Clutching the small pillow to my chest, I start half-running, half-stumbling to my room. I got mad when Candor said he didn't know something, Ping! If I can't control my emotions for something as stupid as that, I don't deserve anything! Nobody can help me!
Slamming the door behind me, feeling numb, I make my way to the cushy bed. Perching on the edge, staring out listlessly at the altered Capitol sunrise, I inhale once again, and then a third time.
"I-I'm Ellika," I murmur quietly, attempting to cool myself off. "I'm Ellika a-and I'm going to be f-f-fine…"
I know I can't have any allies, none. They'll either be too repulsed at my easily angered personality, or they'll run at once when they see what a monster my hot-headed nature can be. And I'm fine with that. I've accepted it.
When Candor asked me to ally with Griff, it was all I could do not to spit in his face. Not to be rude, but the difference between us is staggering, and if he can't realize it, then he's incredibly dumb. I'm smart and logical, which I learned from seventeen years of living in Three.
Brushing a damp lock out of my hair, exhaling once more. They can't see me like this, at my most vulnerable time. I know that anger is the thin outline of my life, and it will eventually be my downfall.
Braxton Malory, District Nine
"This food is so good," I moan in delight as I shovel another spoonful of mushy red grapes into my mouth. Everything here is delicious, delightful. I can't see why the others – Maysa, Roland, and Olivander – are all glaring down at the food and at each other. They have no reason to.
"It's fine," mumbles Roland, my mentor.
Trying to contain a small burp as it bubbles up, I sit back in my chair, content. My gaze flits around the table. Maysa's fiddling with the end of her long ponytail, Roland is sullenly staring at his porridge, and Olivander is scowling darkly as he examines his arm.
"I'm just going to go down to the Training Center now, then?" It comes out more as a question than a statement.
"Fine by me," Roland says, nodding.
I smile lightly, trying in vain to brighten up the room, and walk to the elevator. Once I punch a button, the ride down is smooth and gives me plenty of time to take a couple of deep breaths, jogging in place to prepare for the big day ahead of me.
I'm going to try and form an alliance. I'm positive that nobody will turn me down. After all, if I tell them that I'll protect them through thick and thin, who will they be to deny me?
A bright grin comes naturally onto my face as the elevator doors slide open, revealing a room that resembles a gigantic gymnasium, different stations scattered along the walls. In wonder I stare up at a rope course, situated in the middle. A trainer sits in a chair at the bottom, sizing the tributes up, and at the small wooden platform at the top, there's another one.
Ah, the tributes. I look eagerly at my competition, excitement flooding through my veins. There's the flexible girl from Five and her gawky district partner, a tall, burly dude from Eleven with his redheaded partner. A couple of the tributes seem to be my age. The boy from Eight is silently examining everybody, his eyes beady and bright. The girl from Six is hiding behind the tall, light-haired boy from her district. And then there's the boys from Three and Ten, but neither of them are down yet.
Silence seems to reverberate around the room as a slender trainer on a pedestal watches over everybody, the bright yellow words 'Head Trainer' on the back of her black jumpsuit. Observing her carefully, I watch as she tilts her head back, a smile gracing her lips whenever a new tribute enters. Her nose is a bit crooked, and her ears are flat. She's not perfect.
When the last pair enters – the sheepishly shrugging duo from Seven – the Head Trainer shifts her position, mouth opening to begin. "Welcome, tributes!" Her voice is muffled, somewhat jumbled. "I expect that you all slept well. You'll need sleep in order to complete these days of training, after all."
No response.
"In this room is the weapon – and person – that will eventually kill you. No getting around it, everybody but one is going to collapse at one point." She clears her throat, obviously aware of how blunt she's being. "Every man must die, after all."
Another stretch of silence. One person coughs.
The woman finishes up her speech shortly, telling us the basic rules of the Training Center and wishing us all an education-packed, robust day.
It's time.
Eagerly I approach the first person I see – the boy from Ten, his oval-shaped head shaking his head at something his district partner is saying. He'll be easy to convince. He seems rather submissive.
"Hello," I greet, gaining a quick smile on his part. "I'm Braxton!"
"I'm Cade Bennett, District Ten." The boy speaks with a defined accent, his vowels twanged.
"I know it's too early to ask for allies," I say, trying out a wink and a beam, "but would you like to go around with me? Scope out the different stations?"
"Yes!" His eyes light up. "I'd love to!"
Cade seems really genuine, something I can later use to my advantage. But until now, it's not every man for himself. For now, we have to help each other, discover our unknown strengths.
He starts walking briskly to a knife station, and feeling rather left out and feeling out of the loop, I stride after him. Cade's already testing out a short, curved knife, swishing it through the air with a funny expression on his face.
"That's bad," I find myself saying, taking the knife out of his hands and handing him a new, longer and straighter one. The tip is slightly diagonal. "This one's called a bowie knife. I see it used around my district a lot, usually to chop up grain stalks in bakeries and factories and such."
Cade squints for a moment, like he's not sure whether I'm lying or telling the truth. But then his eyes revert to normal, and a slow smile spreads over his chin. "Does it work? Is it easy to use?"
A rush of pride comes easily to me as I hurry over to Cade, showing him how to hold it and everything, even though the trainer's right there. It feels good to help him. It makes me feel needed.
A couple minutes later, as I'm selecting my own knife for a second round of dummy-sparring, Cade bounds up to me, his face contorted in sheer glee.
"It works, Braxton!" he cheers. "You're right, the bowie knife is the perfect knife!"
Happily I nod, clapping my hands slowly and beaming. "I told you, Cade. It's perfect for your body form and such."
A sly, yet bashful expression brushes over him. "Um, Braxton?"
"Yes?"
"Would you like to b-be my ally?" He blushes.
I can't help but hold my clenched fist out for a fist-bump. "Of course I would, Cade. I can't think of a better ally to have."
Kiera Brennan, District Eleven
Fiddling with the end of my straggly braid, I glance silently around the room. Everybody's either training or mingling, even Cole, who's currently at the weight-lifting section. Even he's found his place, and I didn't think he could, to be honest.
"Girl?" A gruff voice behind me makes me whirl around. "You, uh, need to find a station?"
"What if I'm not going to?" my own voice sounds nasal, strange. "There's nothing for me to do here."
The trainer, bulky with reddish hair, sighs. "Look, I don't make the rules, but every tribute needs to look busy with something, 'lright?"
I frown slightly, getting up from my hunched position on the floor. "I suppose I could do that," I drawl. "It's not like I'm a ghost or anything. I can do a lot more than moan and haunt places."
Leaving a befuddled trainer in my wake, I glide off to find a station that I know I can be good at- poisons. I dabbled with them back home for a bit, admiring how a simple leaf or berry can bring even the strongest of men to his knees. I'm sure that I can find some more interesting bits of information concerning poison to bring to the table, maybe tell a trainer about it. I can impress somebody.
I arrive at the table, next to the small, meek girl from Six. Immediately recognizing the lethal vine-reed leaf, I reach for the stem.
"Girl, girl, whoa!"
Sighing heavily, I swivel to face the frantic tanned trainer, waving her arms sporadically as she darts towards me from a while away. "What the hell?"
"That's a poisonous plant!" she spits out. "You need to wear a pair of gloves!"
Next to me, the girl from Six squeaks in happiness and presses a button on a screen. I glance over to see that she was stumped over was whether the vine-reed plant was poisonous or not. Sly.
"I know," I reply. "I've seen the plant before."
She stops her frantic breathing to cock her head, eyes wide. "Wh-what do you mean? There's almost no more species of these in the wild!"
I smirk slightly, relishing in the fact over how happy I was when I found my first vine-reed plant, then cultivated it to grow further. "District Eleven simply has a wide variety of plants, you know."
The trainer huffs a moment more. "So you're from Eleven, eh? I think I remember you… red hair, pale skin… you're the girl who screamed at the Reaping!"
I blush slightly. It was a moment of desperation and triumph both, and it annoys me that people remember me for that menial reaction. "You could say that. Or you could say that it was my battle cry, either one."
She smiles slightly. "Have fun mixing poisons, hon. You need any help?"
"I have this completely under control."
The woman moves behind the counter and I get to work, snapping on some rubbery gloves just to humor her as I grab a glass beaker. I splash in a quick dash of water, murmuring my recipe under my breath as I work. All of the materials on this table, I know about. I've used them all.
I'm aware of the two pairs of eyes watching me, the trainer and the small girl, as I grind up the final ingredient- some Glady's Shade roots, their purplish veins bulging with each stab of the wooden grinder. Finally, with a small flourish, I empty the dish into the beaker and watch in fascination as the brownish-yellow concoction bubbles. Delicately placing the glass tube on the table, I listen with pride as the trainer gapes and compliments me.
"Th-that's so advanced!" she gasps. "It took me months to perfect that concoction, and yet you did it in ten minutes!"
A smile drifts across my face. She keeps babbling on, and I nod, a bit overwhelmed by the intense praising. Though it is nice to feel appreciated, something that wasn't exactly a factor in my childhood.
When your parents have to tell your siblings to stay away from you, you know you're a monster.
And that's all I'll ever be, really. The misfit that nobody really wants to socialize with, the reject that's always hunched over her work. A… a monster.
It's all I'll ever amount to, anyways.
Suddenly downtrodden and gloomy, I nod as a goodbye and walk away, fingers tracing over the '11' on my shoulder. I don't even deserve to wear this, to be called a tribute. I should die. At least I'll be able to be with the spirits, with the ghosts of the other rejected members of society. They'll be able to sympathize with me.
I try my luck at the spear station, but quickly give up once I realize that it's being ruled by the girl from Two, Adra or whatever her name is. At specialty weapons, most of the other Careers are milling around, each with a different weapon in their hands.
The only unpopulated station seems to be the fire-making one, with a sullen-looking trainer and a load of kindling at his feet, just waiting to be used. Not looking for any human interactions at the moment, I stroll towards him casually, purposefully looking at the ceiling.
He doesn't say anything as I slowly begin building up a pile of thin strands of bark and some sort of fluffy plant, and he doesn't say anything when I rub two stones together to form a small spark. Before I know it, a tiny fire's begun to burn within the wispiest of the kindling.
Triumphant, I sit back on my heels and watch it for a moment. Even this, the small orange flame, reminds me of home, of how many rituals I've done by the dim light of a candle, the tiny flame stretching to the heavens.
Home.
The word makes me sigh. Will I ever see home again? And if I do come back to see home, will I actually be accepted for who I really am?
Or will it be like before, with me being treated as nothing but a monster?
Ezra Jefferson, District Five
Maya's chipper face pops up in the corner of my vision as I slowly run my fingers over the handle of the spear. I can't help but crack a grin as she makes a face, sticking her tongue out and pulling her eyelids down unnaturally.
"What's up, Ezra?"
"Nothing," I drawl, giving her a shy smile. "I'm just looking over the spears, you know?"
"Ah, the weapons." She sighs. "C'mon, Ezra, I thought you were better than this. You didn't even look for me, totally against what Kassidy and Scarlett advised, dude!"
I blink for a moment, temporarily dazed. "You have Maysa."
"That doesn't mean I don't want you for an ally." Maya offers me a smile. "You're nice enough, and I'm pretty sure you aren't going to off me in my sleep."
"S-Seriously?" my heart flutters. If Maya wants me as an ally, then I can get much further than if I'm a loner, which is what I had originally expected. And plus, she's right- Scarlett and Kassidy did tell us that if we paired up, we'd be a so-called 'dynamic duo'. Well, with Maysa here, perhaps it's more of a dynamic trio.
"Of course, Ezra."
She offers her arm to me and I take it, positively giddy with excitement. I don't even stop to wonder if she thinks my sudden glee is weird. I have an ally. She wanted me first. I'm actually appreciated, not looked down upon!
Maya leads me over to Maysa, the brunette girl examining some brownish shell of a bug. She glances up. "Who's that?"
"My district partner, Ezra!" Maya grins, and I offer Maysa a shy smile.
"You didn't even think to ask me?" says Maysa bitterly, her nose wrinkling up as she looks me over. "I mean, sure, he's probably cool and all, but seriously, Maya? What if I don't want another ally?"
"I don't think it'll be a problem," Maya fights back, her light tone growing more and more serious.
While the bickering happens, my and Maya's arms somehow untwine from each other. Feeling lonely and very unwanted, I seek a spot a couple of tables over, trying to hide the growing lump in my throat as I run my fingers over a metallic green insect. I don't even glance at the notecard that dictates whether it's edible or not. My fingers tremble, and before I know it, the fragile green shell cracks under my tight grip.
Staggering backwards, my pulse quickening, I swivel on my heel. I hear the trainer's voice calling out to me, but I don't stick around to listen to her. I pick up the pace as I stride briskly over to a random station.
Maces.
Trembling, my fingers grasp the rubbery gripper on the handle of a blackish mace. Seizing it with ease, noting how it doesn't falter under my faulty grip, I swing it.
It collides with the tanned torso of a dummy, shattering some wire framework inside of it. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I just stare at the dummy for a moment. I just absorb the damage I've done, how for once I have control of a situation. It was under my hands that the dummy broke.
Shuffling my feet as I move to a new model, I swing my arms, bringing the mace with it, and allow it to smack into the rubber coating of the dummy- though perhaps 'smack' is an inadequate word. It rather swung into it, kind of taking the exterior skin with it, and allowing the wire frame inside this one to screech and crack as well.
I stand back and just survey it for a moment, reveling in the fact that I did something as cool as that.
As I continue down the line, allowing the weapon to crash into the tan-colored models, I start thinking. Not light pondering, but one-track mind, hardcore thinking. About my past, mainly. About the bullies that used to rule my life, until they found out that I could snap a nose with finesse. About my mother, and father, and even Torque. I wish we hadn't fallen apart. All I want to do is hug him close and apologize.
Even Swallow. Does she even know that she's the reason I flunked math?
A goofy smile drifts across my face and I nearly drop the mace. Crash-landing back to reality, I fumble for the handle.
"Ezraaaaa! Come here!"
Maya's screech reaches my ears and I perk my head up, eyes flickering around the room. I locate her in the same spot she was before, next to a visibly simmering Maysa. Obediently I set down my mace and trot over to her, hopeful.
"You're in the alliance, dude!" she grins and lifts her hand up for a slap. My stomach explodes into jillions of happy butterflies, and I reach down and clap our hands together, creating a brisk sound of skin on skin.
I start to reach my hand over to Maysa before realizing she's shooting daggers at me with those steely eyes. Sweat pricks from beneath my arms and on my palms. I shove the hand down into the baggy pocket of my jumpsuit, cheeks burning.
"I'm not happy about this," Maysa hisses. "You're lucky that I need a strong ally."
Shame disappears, rapidly replaced by white-hot anger. I stand up tall, eyeing Maysa up. Knobby elbows, crossed at her chest. A pointed nose, ready to stick into your business. I flex my fingers, considering the outcomes if I were to throw a punch.
"Ezra, come on." Maya rolls her eyes, grabbing at my wrist. "Maysa just needs a bit of time to chill, is all. It's alright, man, you'll grow on her, I'm sure of it!"
As I look back to the irritated Maysa, I can only curse a couple times under my breath and pray that Maya's right, that for once I can be acknowledged as an equal human, not a gross, misunderstood bully.
The lunch bell rings and as Maya tugs me towards the kitchen area, I follow, feeling like a docile dog. All I really want is to be wonderful. Maybe Maya can help me with that…
Eidra Nevett, District Two
I grin as Carisa slides onto the bench next to me, shadowed by Juno.
"You got that brownish meat goop?" I giggle. "God, it looked so gross!"
Carisa considers this for a moment before laughing as well, scraping it to the edge of her tray with a fork. "The lady just slopped it on my plate. Didn't have time to pull away."
I raise my eyebrows, teasing her. "You'll definitely need those lightning-quick reflexes in the arena."
"Why, thank you for noticing!" She immediately falls into the playfulness of the conversation, her bright eyes twinkling. "I-"
"Are you lovely ladies done with the chit-chat?" Merritt's sorrowful voice breaks into our conversation, his deep eyes searching mine. "I… I think we should use this lunchtime for planning and such."
I feel Carisa's eyes on me, and my gaze flickers over to her. "Um…" she begins, and I cut in.
"Sorry, Merritt." I wink. "We're discussing much more important matters than strategies."
Inside, I know that's a joke; I mean, what could be more important than the Games? Nothing, n-o-t-h-i-n-g. At least that's what I've been told to think. Whenever I train is the one time I'm serious about something, my mind focused solely on the prize of getting the spear splitting through the plastic exterior of the dummy or inside the bright red ring of the target. That's what I say, that's what I want the people to think.
But truthfully, to be honest, I'm not the most dedicated person here. I'm not a girl who's done nothing but train for seventeen years of her life. In reality, training was but a hobby for me. And when I found out that it was something I was truly good at, that's when it became more interesting.
Yes, though, life does set in at the most unfortunate times.
I glance up as Merritt begins to rant quietly, glaring at me with those ferocious blackened eyes of his. "You're really being quite stupid, you know," he hisses.
"I don't mind." I smile easily, tossing a lock of my hair over a shoulder. "Who are you to judge, anyways?"
Carisa rushes to my defense. "Yeah, Merritt, you should just back off!"
Wraith and Juno remain silent as Merritt rises to his feet, his scowl becoming more and more pronounced as he growls out, "You two girls are lucky that I kept you in this alliance. Worst comes to worst, you'll be holding knives at each other's throats."
It's so hard not to laugh at him, because honestly, he's hilarious. He thinks he's, like, the leader of the pack? He needs to think again.
"Awh," I croon out, trying to muffle my growing giggles. "Does somebody need a tranquilizer?"
He looks enraged, and Carisa eggs me on. "Or some sleeping pills?" She collapses in laughter.
"Um, I'm not sure that you two should be saying stuff like that to him." Wraith speaks up, his voice hushed. Those brown eyes of his connect with me, genuine worry evident in them.
This is big for Wraith; last night, he barely spoke at all, only opting to pipe up when there were big issues being discussed. Every time he spoke, it was a bloody good piece of advice or an interesting tidbit, nothing extra or unnecessary. If he has to tell me to back off of Merritt, should I listen?
One glance at the grinning Carisa makes me screech with glee, shaking my head.
"I'm sorry that you can't hold your own, Merritt," I tell the enraged boy, shaking my head in mock sorrow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Carisa and I have some more integral things to attend to. Like, whether braids or high ponytails are better!"
I turn away from Merritt, thus giving him a little time to cool down, and immediately start talking. Our food lies on the table, ignored.
"I love high ponies," I confess, jabbing a finger at my hairdo.
Carisa nods, eyes wide. "You know, I used to like braids, but I agree with you there!"
Look at us; the most deadly and important people in the Games, and we're discussing our favorite hair styles. I giggle at the thought as my hands absent-mindedly weave through Carisa's hair.
"Hey, so can I ask something?" An idea pops into my head before I think of anything else.
"Shoot!"
"What was up with you and Soren last night?" I bite my lip, afraid I might have hit a nerve, but out of nowhere I begin talking again. "Are you two, like, close or something?"
Carisa's shoulders, erect with excitement, promptly deflate. "No," she murmurs gloomily. "Like I said, he's just an idiot from my past. Nothing big, nothing to reflect on."
I purse my lips, wrapping my fingers around a thick lock of her chestnut hair. "Actually," I muse, "didn't you say that he had destroyed something dear to you? In your past or something?"
A nervous laugh bubbles out of her mouth. "We'll talk later," she says tensely, "after all the listening ears are gone."
"We can still hear you," Merritt snarls.
"Exactly my point." Carisa cranes her neck to try and look at him.
"Shut up, Merritt," I chirp.
A tanned hand snakes up to my side, outstretched for a high-five. I slap it with as much force as I have, battling the impending beam.
The rest of lunch wasn't too important, simply a bunch of more silly banter between Carisa and I, a few random burps and giggles from Juno, gloomy stares from Wraith, and of course, the pessimistic musings from Merritt. And yet, as everybody gets up in unison to dump their trays, I can't help but feel amazed.
This is it, I think to myself, the corners of my lips curving upwards. This is the dream team, and I'm a leading member in it. This is the life, certainly!
Kinton Machek, District Twelve
I spoon a blob of green gelatin into my mouth, eyes darting around the room as I do so. It appears there's only three alliances so far. Of course, the almighty Careers, already babbling away. The boy from District One sits at a table on his own, looking dejected as he plays with his mashed potatoes. Interesting.
The boys from Nine and Ten sit together, chattering and laughing away. I'm happy for them. They're both kind of small, and definitely younger. They deserve to bond together.
And then there's a group of three- the girl from Nine, Maysa, and the two from Five, Ezra and Maya. While the two girls murmur quietly, Maya with vibrancy and Maysa with a snarky look on her face, Ezra pokes at his beef and glances around the room with a small smile on his mug.
Everybody else is either sitting alone or with their district partner- much like Haven and I. We wouldn't be sitting here by choice – I consider Haven to be pretty sarcastic and all-around mean, actually – but Grey advised us to. She said it shows bonding and loyalty and strength. I don't get it, really- how can a simple sitting position dictate all that?
"This stuff is gross," moans Haven, jabbing her fork at her own gelatin. "It's too gushy and all that crap."
"It's awesome," I say, quick to defend the gushy food. "We never got anything like this back in Twelve."
"Exactly my point," she sighs. "They have all this pretentious junk here, but people are starving to death back in Twelve. We're lucky to lick a couple drops of fish blood off of a fish skeleton."
I shudder. "Not everybody in Twelve was like that," I mutter quietly.
Haven immediately sticks her face in mine, scowling. "You mean that your family was rich?!"
"No, no, no!" I shut her down immediately. "We were better off, though. I mean, we still lived in poverty, in a hut of a house, but we weren't completely starving. Most of the time there was cold sausage and lettuce and stuff like that."
"Yeah, well, some of us aren't as lucky as you," Haven whispers quietly, staring into the jiggling mess on her tray. She's suddenly a lot more muted.
I have a sudden image in my mind that I forgot about all until now- I've seen Haven before the Reaping, just once. It was on my way to the market with my father. We were passing the landfill site, just beyond one of the newest coal mines, and I saw a dirt-splotched, blond-haired girl with deadened eyes. I wasn't able to place her until now, now that she wears that same defeated expression.
Maybe she's not mean at all, just misunderstood.
I offer her a shy smile as I push around my peas in a separate section of the tray. Should I ask her to be allies? I doubt anybody else would want to ally with us. District Twelve doesn't really have much to offer, with a skeletal-looking blond and me, the baby-faced guy who looks like he could struggle if he tries to hold five pounds.
There's really nothing to lose. It's not like, if she rejects me, we'll be stuck with each other anyways. I'm pretty sure that the arena will be large. Every other arena has been, after all.
"Excuse me?" I say, glancing at her. She hums in response, bringing a spoonful of gelatin to her lips. "Would you, um, like to be allies, Haven?"
The spoon wavers in the air as she turns her head to the side. The straggly blonde bun, just below her left ear, jiggles as her shoulders bob up in a shrug. "I really don't care, but I care more about my well-being than the fact that I'm going to need an ally, to be honest. I'm gonna ask Grey."
"We're district partners," I remind her, feeling a bit put-off.
Her nose wrinkles, and she bites back. "So? For all I know, you could be a murderer already, and Grey's seen it all. She'll know what to do."
"I-I promise I'll be loyal!" I sit up straight on the bench, my spine rigid.
"Promises are unpromising." Haven smirks, scratching her shoulder. "Come on, Kinton, put yourself in my shoes for once."
I brush a lock of dark hair out of my eyes. "Haven!" My voice cracks.
The kids from Three glance over with interest, the girl with heavy eyebrows and the boy with a soft smile. I try to ignore them as I prod Haven with the handle of my spoon. "Come on, you know that Grey will approve."
"Why are you so eager to get an answer?" Haven scowls, her mood suddenly dark.
"I-I like knowing my situation," I reply, crossing my arms and feeling childish. "Everybody does. Plus, if we're allies, we can train together and learn each others' strengths."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she says in a low voice, looking at me under a fringe of light hair. "You'll know my strengths, you'll abandon me in the arena, and then, later, you'll come back to bite me in the butt. It happens all the time, Kinton, and I need to know that I can stay rooted!" Her glare doesn't lift.
I slump down on the bench. "Alright," I say softly. "But promise me, Haven, as soon as you ask Grey and she says yes-"
"If she says yes. Don't get your hopes up, idiot."
I clench a fist, but even I know that I could never do any damage with it. "Fine, if she says yes. You promise that you'll ask her? And that you'll go through with it?"
A sigh emerges from her thin lips. "Fine. I… I promise."
Juno Verdet, District Four
"It's like you're cutting a slice out of air!" chirps Eidra as she swings the rapier forward, thus creating a satisfying slicing sound. "Like, literally! It could be a piece of pie or something!"
"It's so cool," giggles Carisa.
It's kind of saddening to know that they're already best friends, leaving me as the obvious third wheel. Eidra's the peppy, upbeat leader while Carisa's the giggling drone, willing to do whatever she asks. It's odd, definitely. When I first met Carisa, she seemed kind of domineering, detached. Something about Eidra and her must have clicked.
Either that, or they were immediately repulsed by me. There's no definite reason, but I have a slight feeling that my tendencies to go with the flow affected them. They both seem the type to have to take action.
Merritt and Wraith, they're fine nothing wrong with them that I can see so far, but both seem kind of sullen to me.
"Have you ever tried a trident, Juno?" Eidra questions. Her brown eyes are sparkling.
I shrug nonchalantly. "They're fine. I love how they have three or more prongs. Easy to hit your target, yeah?"
"If you want, we can go over there."
I nod. "Whatever floats your boat."
The two girls exchange amused glances, but I don't pay them any more attention. I glide out in front of them, red hair flipping just beyond my shoulders as I stride swiftly. Taking the lead, so to speak.
The trainer, a tall man with a black buzz-cut, immediately recognizes me with a grin. I've spent enough time over here; he probably knows everything about me by now. I greet him with a mellow wave and a small quirk of my lips. "Three tridents, please."
He complies obediently. After I place my own trident in my hands, turning it over and quickly admiring the prongs, I glance back at my other allies. Both of them are standing around, looking rather awkward, really. Carisa's trying to hold it like a spear or a lance, and obviously the shaft is too wide for that. Eidra's just clutching it with both hands, gaze flickering over the silver body.
"We're not doing it right, are we?" Carisa asks, raising an eyebrow.
I chuckle a bit, moving over to her and instructing the both of them on the best technique to grasp it. They're both fairly quick learners, and before I know it, we're all standing side by side as we thrust the tridents into the tanned targets.
"This is tough work," pants Carisa. "I don't get how you can…"
"Manage this," Eidra finishes her sentence with a light laugh. "Yeah, this must've taken years to master. You've sure got patience, Juno."
Patience? I've never been called patient. Idle, sure. Offhand, definitely. But never patient.
"Gee, thanks." I don't mean to sound blunt, but that's apparently what Eidra takes it as, with a slightly confused and hurt expression.
We practice in silence for about ten more minutes, with Carisa fumbling with the handle of the trident repeatedly and Eidra more often than not throwing her hands up in exasperation. I'm obviously the only competent one in this trio.
"Let's break for a bit," suggests Carisa.
"I'm down with that," I reply, brushing an imaginary bead of sweat off of my forehead. It wasn't really strenuous, but more to humor the duo.
Eidra and Carisa immediately select a spot just ten feet away from the trident station, sitting knee-to-knee. I sit down across from them, shoving my hands into the baggy pockets that the jumpsuit provides.
"Do you guys want to see my token?" Carisa asks softly, as she does the same. I'm quick to nod, watching with eagle eyes as her hand moves around her pocket gently.
It withdraws, and Eidra and I both lean forward eagerly. The trinket in her hand appears to be a small, sky blue stuffed animal. No, not a stuffed animal. More of a figurine, with a white thread looped around its soft blue tummy.
"Cute," Eidra comments, reaching her hand out so she can touch it.
"What's the significance?" I ask, kind of suspicious. Of all the lovely trinkets to choose from – necklaces, pictures, tubes of lip balm – she chooses a small statuette?
Carisa holds it closely, eyes fixated on it as her fingers run over it. "It was supposed to go on my baby's mobile."
"You have a kid?" Eidra gasps in delight. "What's their name?"
Avoiding her gaze, Carisa purposefully looks down at the ground. I'm pretty sure I notice her eyes misting up in silent tears, which provokes a silent, collective gasp around the group. I've never really been serious with a guy enough to even think about being a mother, but I can only imagine how terrible it must feel to lose a child.
"We hadn't picked out a name yet," Carisa sighs. She gently loops the thread around her index finger. "Do you two have tokens?"
"No point," I say, trying to battle back a small belch. "Anything that reminds me of my past is off-limits, for here, at least. I have memories, that's enough."
"Yeah, that's pretty much my excuse as well." Eidra shrugs, though there's a certain doubt in her eyes that makes me do a double take.
"At least I have my best friend right beside me, right?" Carisa laughs lightly, pulling Eidra to her side, and I have to force myself to look away purposefully. I can't go off, feeling bad for Carisa when it's obvious that she doesn't like me too much. And plus, she's a competitor. A rather strong one.
But I've already discovered a weakness of hers, even if she didn't know when she was giving it away. She has an extremely soft spot for the unborn child of hers. Who knows? Maybe it could be an integral snippet of information to have sometime or another.
I'll just have to be observant, yeah, even though I'm not the best at it.
Halcyon Chae, District Six
"Is anybody working here?"
I look up to see the face of the boy from One. Oh, the rejected Career. I shake my head, not bothering to give him any precious conversation.
"I'm Soren."
I nod.
"I-I'm from District One."
I know you are. I frown, looking over my shoulder at the towering boy, giving him another nod.
"You're from District Six, right?"
Clenching my fists in annoyance, I nod, eyes flickering over the screen in a vain attempt to ignore him. I can definitely tell why he was booted out of the Careers. This guy's irritating as hell, plus he's not a looker, either.
"Hel-key-yond, right?"
"Halcyon," I correct him automatically, my voice gruff. I don't need this, I don't need to listen to this annoying guy ramble on about how exotic my name is. His name's crappy, too. Sore-wren. "Get it right or leave."
"Sorry, um, Halcyon." Soren nods and moves next to me, our shoulders brushing briefly as he opens a screen of his own. Virtual edible plants, the perfect station to go to if you want knowledge but are too much of a coward to try out the real thing. Yep, this guy fits the bill.
We ignore each other for a couple more minutes as our eyes flicker across the screens, fingers jabbing at the buttons. I complete the last question and my score pops up; a 78%, which is much lower than all of my other scores. I don't get it. I've worked hard, worked half the day at this station, and already I'm losing some knowledge?
"Just perfect," I mumble, slamming my hand down on the screen and staining it a rainbow of technical purplish colors.
"I can't help you there," Soren comments, looking at my score.
I wrinkle my nose, a hand flying to my hip in sudden defense. "I don't think you can. You're probably a failure at weapons and all that crap, too."
Really, I don't mean it. I'm sure he's fairly competent, yadda, yadda, but firstly, he's annoying me. Secondly, he's being cocky and saying that he can help me. I'm not one to beg for help; I'm perfectly independent… I'm pretty sure, at least…
"I'm not." He looks hurt. "Well, I guess you're right. Weapons fall through my hands. I prefer to use my body as a weapon, though. Much easier to take somebody down if you have no supplies, right?"
I nod warily. "Yeah, good for you." I turn back to my screen, poking the 'Start Over' button.
"Hey, um, Halcyon?"
I turn to Soren, glaring. "What do you want?"
"I was, uh, wondering something." Soren looks at his screen, fidgeting with his hands. "You're looking for an ally, yes or no?"
"No. I'm an independent man." The lie comes easily to my lips, and, happy with the fib, I lick my pinkie and slick an eyebrow back, feeling sort of… content with myself.
"Oh." That shuts him down immediately, but he seems to get an idea. "Would you be open to having me as an ally? Admit it, Halcyon, nobody else would want me."
"That's the truth," I mumble, not giving him an answer quite yet. Do I even want an ally? It's the truth when I say that I haven't even thought about it. They could just cause me more pain down the road. Look what happened when I grew too attached to Hyeon, I was shattered beyond repair. On the other hand, there's basically no way I could get attached to this annoying guy. Should I…?
"Will you?" His eyes plead with me. "I-I'll repay you as best as I know how, I promise!"
Do something crazy for once. The phrase dances around my head as I stare at him, my gaze unwavering. What could possibly go wrong?
"Let me sleep on it," I hear myself saying, and Soren's head whips up with great vivaciousness.
"You're positive? You'll think about it?" His voice cracks, and for a moment, he sounds just like a little boy.
"Yeah," I mutter, holding my gaze on the grey concrete floor. "Just leave me alone for the rest of the day. But I keep my promises, I promise that I'll consider it, alright?"
"Alright!" I don't have to look at him to know that he's grinning.
He leaves me without another, leaving just me and my thoughts brewing. I watch him leave for a moment, his towering form plodding along the grey ground.
Would an ally be good to have?
I frown slightly as I jab the screen again. Maybe it could be nice, to have somebody to fall back upon and trust, for somebody to have my back. But this is a rejected Career. What if something's really wrong with him? They didn't push him away for no reason, no doubt. Is he a sadist? He didn't seem like one, not at all. He actually seemed more… meek and clement, than anything. Perhaps he's too kind for their tastes.
But our relationship is teetering in my hands. In this sort of game, I'm the leader. I can choose the outcome of this, I can decide whether to make his day or crush him. And however despicable that I think I am, maybe for once I can be merciful… and have a friend? Perhaps?
I sigh, going back to my screen. This won't lie, it never has.
I sort of zone out as my fingers work over the glassy surface, pressing buttons and overall, boring myself to the maximum extent. But I can't quit. I have to think ahead- Soren must have trained with weapons and such a bit at District One, right? They're practically glued to their diamond-encrusted swords and such, I bet. He probably won't know a duck's-foot-root from a katniss root, and when he fails, I'll be there to identify it.
Look at me. I frown. I'm already talking as if we're allies, how stupid.
And yet… I can't help but yearn and wonder, what would happen if I said yes?
A/N: Creep by Radiohead.
Ahh, the lovely first day of training. ;) Though I rather don't like these chapters, I guess they're fun to see as the characters develop and all that kind of stuff. First glimpses are important, yada yada yada.
Anyways, I don't have too much to say. Oh, I do! :) As we all know, school has fallen upon us. Grrrr. That means fewer updates, I'm not home as much, that whole song and dance. Lovely. But at least I'm here now, right? And at least you can drop a review to keep me motivated? ;D Though I am serious- it doesn't go unnoticed, plus, they motivate me to keep your tribute around for longer. Ah, yes, even a simple 'loved it omg keep going pls I like so and so' is good for me if you're running low on time and just want to let me know you're there- though, of course, I appreciate the long-winded ones ten times as much! xD
Alliances: Careers, Maya+Maya+Ezra, Braxton+Cade
Alrighty, cap'n, questions :3
1. Thoughts on each POV?
2. Favorite tributes as of now (Chartwise)?
3. Who are you curious to hear from?
4. General thoughts? How was my writing? :)
'Till next time ;)