Contrary Chapter 7: Heart Attack, a hunger games fanfic

And I don't care if all the lights are red.

I've got a wild horse running right through my head.

Haven Faye, District Twelve

Unwelcome sunlight creeps into my room and, with as sigh, I roll out of the luxurious bed. I stare at the wall, letting my senses come to as I sit with my feet hanging off the bed. A half day of training today, and then private coaching for private training and interviews. Looks like it's another grim day for Haven Faye, right?

I slip my feet into a pair of soft, plush-lined navy slippers and tug on a white robe. Shuffling into the kitchen to hopefully grab some nibbles, I run smack into Kinton.

A broad beam immediately stretches across his face, illuminated light evident in those dark eyes of his.

"Good morning, ally," he says cheerfully, waving his waffle in my face. I wrinkle my nose, ducking backwards.

"Just because Grey approved it doesn't mean you have to shout it from the rooftops," I mumble, glancing away.

Kinton's eager face falls. "But I'm happy that you're my ally, is all."

I sigh, pushing past him to the silver fridge. I swing it open, hands gripping the slim handles. "You're seventeen, Kin. You should be able to get yourself a capable ally from Ten or Five or some other place, not a fifteen year old from your district."

"But I like you," he offers. "You keep it real, unlike all the others."

I keep it real? My ears perk up, but I don't let on. Instead, I bend down to rifle through the fruit drawer. "Yeah, and you take pride in being a child."

He merely chuckles, zipping and unzipping his thin jacket nervously. "It's not that, I just like to keep a happy outlook on life, is all. Chill out, would you? It's not like I'm being harsh and, well, a beast like the Careers."

I smirk, plunging my hand past some tangerines. "Shame, shame, Kin. I would have thought that you wouldn't, like, classify them as monsters and the sort."

Kinton's cheeks flush red and he fumbles with his words for a moment. "W-Well, they've shown nothing but cruelty," he stammers out.

Fingertips dragging across some plump limes, I hide another smirk. He's eating his own words, so to speak. I'm about to reply when in strides Grey, her strands of dark hair flowing free from a tangled braid and small lips pursed.

"Grey," Kinton says, obviously happy to be free from the trap I had him in. He clutches her hand for a moment, but Grey merely stares ahead glassily and shakes him off.

"Morning, Kinton, Haven," she murmurs somnolently, eyelids fluttering and voice tripping along. "H-How's your night been?"

"Superb, thanks!"

"Just swimmingly."

"I'm glad to hear." She smiles tiredly, one hand snaking up to her knotty braid and twisting it even more. "Grab me a lemon, would you?"

I toss her the yellow fruit as I grab myself a shimmering green apple. Tart, no-nonsense, breakfast for champions. Copping a seat at the table, I bite in.

"Remember, you two are coming back around lunchtime to start work on interviews." Grey rubs the sleep from her eyes and, unexpectedly, sinks her teeth into the lemon, rubbery peel and all. Kinton gasps softly, and she merely spits out, "It helps me to wake up. Try it sometime, kid, really works."

"But doesn't it harm your teeth-"

"Yeah, we're getting off topic?" I say, waving my hand in the middle of the group to flag their attention down. "Why aren't we practicing for private training?"

"You want private training for the training sessions? Have fun with the trainers, then."

"Why aren't you helping us with it, though?"

"Haven, do you see a knife and target here? No, you do not. Therefore, I can't and won't help you with any weaponry or other skills." Grey's no-nonsense attitude breaks through her sleepy exterior. "I'll be coaching one of you half the time, your escort the other half. You got it?"

"Sounds good to me," I reply, shrugging. My eyes wander to Kinton, who fiddles with a burnt part of his waffle.

"I don't know, I just might want your opinion on some other things, weapon-wise," he tells Grey, his eyes avoiding her gaze. "Are mentors allowed to come down to the gymnasium?"

Her eyebrows fly upwards. "Odd request," she murmurs.

"I'm just saying," Kinton quickly covers his tracks with a high-strung giggle. "You know, umm, for a second opinion. That's all, I swear."

"Seems reasonable enough, but no, mentors are not allowed to go down to the Training Center." Grey flaps her hand in a flippant dismissal. "Sorry, kid. Any more questions before you finish off breakfast? I got a zit on my chin that just won't quit."

"Why'd you tell us that?" Kinton and I hiss in near perfect unison. He bursts into giggles, while I scowl at the stupid coincidence.

Grey shakes her head. "You two, such characters. It's just because I'm gonna spend three hours trying to get it to go away, and I'll probably binge-watch a marathon of advertisements on how to pop it, is all."

A sick feeling creeps into my stomach and I shudder. "Thanks for sharing," I growl out, tossing my apple core into a trash can as I stride out of the kitchen and down the hall. "Really appreciate it."

In the safe confines of my room, dark since the curtains are drawn and lights are out, I curl up on the suede sofa, fingers idly stroking a pillow. Why am I here? I don't belong here. I belong at home, poking through trash barrels and looking mournfully up at the people as they walk by. I don't deserve to be here, though… nobody does.

Brux Redragon, District Seven

Obsidian's leering face is the first thing I see when my eyelids flutter open. My heart whomps against my chest and I let out a short shriek before promptly smacking him across the face.

Obsidian draws back, looking hurt as he rubs his burning cheek vigorously. "Hey, Brux!" he whines like a child. "That wasn't nice!"

I fold my arms over my chest with as much dignity as one who was just spooked can have. "Waking me up by breathing down my neck wasn't the nicest, either," I retort, huddling under the heavy blankets. "Let me go back to sleep."

"Say please."

I glare at him. Does he really have to be so childish? But after a moment of staring into his glassy blackish eyes, like his namesake, Obsidian, I heave a sigh of defeat and give in. "Please, can I go back to sleep?"

"Nope!" He bursts out laughing, and I groan. My foot juts out to kick his side, and when it connects, he's thrown off the bed.

But he immediately pops back up like a crazed jack-in-the-box. "God, Brux, you're really looking for some beauty sleep, huh? Not like it could help you, of course, but-"

"Shut. Up," I grunt, trying to kick him as much as my blanket-covered foot will allow.

Obsidian frowns, thick eyebrows drawing together. "You're not as fun as I thought you'd be. Maybe I should have gone with Aspen."

Yeah, like she'll make it off her plate in time to grab a pack of crackers. I roll my eyes, but begrudgingly stagger out of the room and into the kitchen.

Waffles for breakfast, piled high with diced strawberries and peaches and slathered in as much sweet whipped cream and sticky maple syrup as I want, including a large cup of joe with cream. Topped off with a morning smoke and a nice 'chat' (a brisk conversation that involved some insults and growls), I run a comb through my hair, carefully smooth some gel through it, gargle with minty mouthwash, and set off for the elevator.

I'm stopped by Aspen, gnawing on a fingernail. "B-Brux?"

I spare her a glance. "Uh, yeah?"

"It's, um, not a topic I want to bring up so casually, but, um…" she trails off.

I sigh, letting loose a breath of minty freshness. "Just spit it out, Aspen, I don't have all day…"

She stares at the ground as she mumbles. "Do you think that today, maybe, I could t-train with you? As, um, allies? Since you're not with the Careers?"

I give her the hairy eyeball, immediately letting her know she's daffy. "Don't be an idiot, Aspen," I say, brushing her off like a pesky fly. "You have everybody else. I've already made it known that I don't want to be your ally, and I thought that you had declared that as well."

She shifts. "Um, yeah, but I thought that-"

"Look, Aspen, I have to get to training," I cut her off, pity already seeping into my tone. I step into the elevator, push the button with a finger, and start shaking my head at my own stupidity. No, no. I can't feel bad for her. She is the enemy, and she's dumb otherwise. Being all aloof and that.

The training center offers me a reprieve from my guilty thoughts about Aspen, and I stride in, feeling like I'm walking on air. I see Merritt, and he gives me a quick grin between stabs of a mannequin.

"Hey, Merritt."

"Hello, Brux."

The tall blond boy pants slightly, shoulders heaving up and down. His jumpsuit top is stripped down to reveal a thin brick red wife beater, stained with patches of sweat. He's been down here for a while.

"You sure showed that dummy who's boss," I comment, jabbing my thumb at the said item. It lies limply on its post, shards of crimson plastic jutting at odd angles where the tip of the pike penetrated it. "Kudos."

Merritt laughs dryly, but his grim look doesn't fade. "Good practice for the arena, really. What do you specialize in again, the crossbow?"

"I showed you how it works," I say, smirking.

He tilts his head back slightly, running a hand through his short blond hair. "Ah, that's right! We chilled together for most of yesterday."

"Uh huh," I respond, content that he remembers and accepts me. Time to make a move. "Anyways, I'm gonna head off to take a crack at the different weapons, a knife in particular, but before I go, could I ask you a solid?"

"Sure, Brux. What?"

I look Merritt dead in the eye. "Could I join your alliance?"

The words sound so naked out in the open like that, and not as all confident as I'd have liked them to sound. But they're out, and there's nothing to do but wait for an answer.

Merritt seems pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, though. He merely shrugs. "I'd be fine with it," he says. "I'm the leader of our alliance, and not self-proclaimed either, which means you're in since you have my approval."

No matter how formal his little speech sounds, the intent is clear as air. I feel like punching the air with a sudden ego boost, but instead, I try and keep my cool. "Hey, thanks, Merritt." I grin widely, my fingers drumming rapidly on the sides of my thighs. "Shall I introduce myself to the rest of us, then?"

He cracks a smile, which is a change from his naturally negative appearance. "Yeah. I'll go with you, if you like. They're all down here, after all."

"Nah, I'll be cool." I shrug, stuffing my hands in my pockets and feeling the outline of a lighter and cigarette. Tempting, really.

"Are you sure you don't want some help? The girls are pretty witchy. Tough waters to navigate, my friend." He cocks his head slightly, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

"I don't care about their attitudes, it's their skills I'm worried about."

Merritt looks intrigued. "You don't care about their personalities at all? Seriously?"

"At this point, I am pretty much past caring… I wonder if this is a smoke free zone?"

Aria Verselis, District Six

Sliding into the elevator, shadowing Halcyon, I silently watch as the doors slide shut, hiding Dalton and Gingham from view. We're two hours late to training, and it's unnerving.

"Do you think we'll get punished?" Halcyon asks conversationally.

I shake my head. I hope not.

"Probably right. They'd be idiots not to offer some kids a bit of extra sleep…" He sighs, flicks his bleach blond hair to the side, and waits in silence as the doors open to reveal the training center.

Tributes left and right stare at us as we stride past. Halcyon heads straight for the saber station, ignoring the giddy grin of the boy from One, Soren, while I make a beeline for the poison table.

But there's another tribute here. Cayley Torrelli, her cheeks flushed and dark hair wispy around her face as she struggles to crush some vervain root.

"Didn't tell me how hard this would be," she grunts at the trainer as she tries to smash the hardy root under her blunt pole.

"You're the one who signed up for it, hon."

I silently take my spot next to her, grabbing a small dish already flecked with bits of dried mixtures. Selecting a green-purple root that I know as velatine, I delicately place it into the dish and add just a pipet-full of water. I start mixing it.

Cayley watches me quietly, eyebrows drawn together in observation. She then turns back to the trainer. "I wanna be like her."

"You'd have to listen when I talk to you, then."

I try to hide a giggle as Cayley's cheeks flush a darker shade and she stamps her foot. "I have been listening to you, and all you've done is make me look like an idiot!"

And yet, the male trainer taps his lips with a leaf and allows his eyelids to flutter pathetically. "Oh, p-p-poor dear."

This time, I squirm uncomfortably, not a big fan of the conflict that this is bringing. Cayley's darting eyes fall upon me and she cracks her irritated exterior, allowing a small smile to break free. "Did you listen to him? Is that how you got so good…" Her stare finds my sleeve, which bears my district number. "…Six?"

I fumble for my notebook, tucked neatly inside one of the spacious pockets. Bringing it out and scribbling some words on it, I turn it to her. My name is Aria, thanks.

"You can't talk?"

Scribble, scribble. I choose not to, my father calls it selective mutism. It's hard to explain, sorry.

Cayley's lips move rhythmically as she silently reads my note, but isn't daunted. She looks at me, eyebrows furrowed. Her quibble with the trainer seems to be forgotten. "You're not weird, though."

No, I'm perfectly normal. I end the 'l' with a flourishing loop.

She shrugs her bony shoulders, maintaining eye contact and biting her lip gently. "Hey, do you wanna be allies? This might seem sudden and all, but I was just thinking…"

My heart gives a flutter, but it's short-lived. Will Cayley offer me help and courage? Or will her presence alone refrain me from accomplishing anything truly great? Will we get further, together, or will she leave me for dead without a second glance?

My fingers move alone, as if by clockwork. The pencil scrawls across the paper, making scratching noises as they etch one simple word into the creamy white. Yes.

Eyes brightening, gaining some sparkling luster, Cayley surges forward and wraps her arms around me in a hug. I squeak, the breath knocked out of me, but she doesn't seem to notice- or care. Instead, she rocks me from side to side, her form larger than me and more dominant.

When she pulls away from the embrace, her rosy lips move rapidly. "Y'know, Aria, I'm so happy for this alliance, and you really don't seem like the type to betray me, and I just want you to know that I'd never betray you, either? I'd never think of it, because if I don't wind up going back, I-I want you to." Her cheeks flush happily, and her chocolate brown eyes twinkle with glimmering tears.

Dumbfounded and wheezing for air, I catch my breath before writing something back. Are you usually like this, forming quick emotional bonds? Should I know something about you? But something inside of me makes me erase every letter of it, and I'm left staring at the paper, Cayley eagerly awaiting a reply.

Um.

I'm glad that we're allies, too.

She mistakes the simplicity of it all for a deeper meaning, which, of course, is something completely different to me than to her. Again embracing me, she giggles over and over again.

I want to go back to my velatine mixture. I suddenly don't want to be here, trapped with all these mysterious promises and dark burdens. Clawing my way out of the hug, I blindly stagger to the table, briskly placing the notebook and pencil on a dish and allowing my hands to roam about the table.

Next to me, Cayley whistles, ignoring blatantly the jabs and insults that the malicious trainer throws at her, content with the knowledge of a new ally and confidant.

Is this what I'll be rooted to until my eventual death?

A girl who changes emotions on a whim, thinking that me, a pathetic, poetic kid, compared to her, will be her savior? I can't save her for my life. I can't do this. But she doesn't know that.

Shakily inhaling a breath, my trembling arm reaches for a scalpel.

And beside me, Cayley begins to hum.

Merritt Cordeau, District Four

Silently observing as Brux's lanky form moves to visit Eidra and Carisa at the specialty weapons station, I exhale the breath I've been holding in. I'm sure they won't take it too well. It doesn't matter what they think, though. They don't lead this alliance.

A mop of red hair and long limbs slides next to me. Juno, bearing a trident and a goofy grin.

"Hey, Merritt." She winks, carefully leaning the weapon on a dummy as her fingers move to braid her wild hair. "How's life been?"

"We have a new ally," I murmur, eyes not wavering from Brux.

Juno shrugs. "Yeah, I saw that. He's pretty young, though. Are you sure you want him to join us?"

I nod solemnly. "His weaponry skills are great, and he's well-rounded otherwise. The only things that turn me off are his cockiness and arrogance."

"And the fact that he smokes." Juno's nose wrinkles up, and she shudders. "Yeee-ick."

"That doesn't bother me too much, though. It's not like he'll be able to take some cigarettes into the arena."

"Unless they're his tokens," she muses, letting a little giggle slip free. But she composes herself quickly, straightening her spine and cocking her head. "But I'm not asking about Brux. I'm asking about you, Merritt."

"Huh?" I mentally berate myself for looking so dumb.

"How are you, in particular?" Juno smiles.

It doesn't take too long to consider. I'm stressed, hoping for this all to be over quickly. I want the world to go away.

"Could be better." I shrug.

She frowns. "What do you mean, could be better? I'm havin' the time of my life over here."

I roll my eyes at her carefreeness. "You don't understand," I sigh, conflicted. I half want to take the elevator upstairs and seriously discuss her nature of not taking it seriously with Nuke and Annie, but the human, teenager half of me knows that Juno won't change. She truly is her own person.

"Cool" is my witty, smart response, and as Juno shrugs and accepts this, I shift the weight of the pike from one hand to the next.

"So, do you want to train with me, or…?" I trail off.

"Yes!" Juno's answer is brisk and rushed. She follows up with a sheepish grin and a jerk of her head. "Carisa and Eidra are each other's best friends and Wraith, um, is like a loner. Kind of blunt when I say it like that, but it's true." She pouts.

I battle a small smile. "So you want to train with me?"

"Well, I mean, yeah."

Juno leaves her trident leaning against the dummy, forgotten, as she grabs a pike from the rack. Feeling like I have to instruct her, I back up a bit, then surge forward, thrusting the shaft of the pike towards my target.

It smashes into the dummy's torso cleanly, splinters of the crimson innards spilling out. Juno nods approvingly, making a humming noise with her throat. Eyeing up her own pike, she repeats the actions.

It's a messy yet effective throw. The pike sails through the hair clumsily before colliding with the dummy and tumbling to the ground. Not enough force, obviously.

"Hey, better luck next time," I tell her quietly, so not to embarrass her.

She's undaunted, and merely shrugs. "Eh, I like sticking to my tridents. Whatever floats your boat, ya know?"

A quiet clearing of somebody's throat makes me glance behind us in surprise. There stands Wraith, a couple inches shorter than me and looking smaller than ever. His pale face breaks out in a small smile. "Hello, Juno, Merritt."

"Hi, Wraith," I say uncertainly. He's never really stuck by me too much, usually preferring to go off as a lone wolf.

"Hey there, bud." Juno's calm voice echoes mine, and she gives Wraith an amiable, friendly grin. "What are you up to, weapons? Like your kopis?"

"Yes, the kopis…" Wraith's smile increases dreamily as he pauses in his speech. But I must be looking at him oddly or something, because he quickly crashes back to realty. "Um, I was hoping that you two could show me the tricks and trades of how to work with a pike, though."

"Everybody wants to learn how to use a pike, it seems," I mutter to myself. First Brux, then Juno, now Wraith over here. More loudly, I say, "Juno would be better off showing you her trident skills. The pike is difficult to work with."

Wraith turns to Juno, who promptly beams. The two of them set off towards the trident station, scattering little Griff from Three in their midst.

Brux pops up beside me.

"Where'd you come from?" I ask nastily, on instinct.

"My mom. No, I'm kidding. Eidra and Carisa are jerks."

I smirk. "How'd you discover that obvious fact? What did they do to you?"

Brux's shoulders slump visibly. "They insulted me when I said I was in your alliance. They're just stupid, I know."

I frown slightly. "Did you tell them that I had approved it?"

"Yes."

My insides clench at Eidra's and Carisa's stupidity. I'm the leader. If I approve something, it's approved. And Brux just so happens to be the issue on which we're deciding.

Grabbing his wrist, which provokes a startled gasp from Brux, I drag him over to the station where the two girls are currently at; the poisons station, snickering as the little girl from Six silently works, putting her whole body into pounding down some hard nut thing.

"Do you two have something to say to Brux?" I hiss at them.

Carisa speaks first, eyes darting over to Eidra in glee. "He's not in our alliance, what more is there to be said?"

"She's right, you know, he just came up and introduced himself as the newest member of our pack." Eidra shrugs nonchalantly, barely sparing me a glance.

Beside me, Brux splutters. "Hey, now! I'm in!"

"He's right. I approved it." I lean in closer to Eidra, glaring. Eidra's like the mastermind behind their little friendship. Carisa's her toy. "So stop acting like a child, Eidra."

The girl begins to speak, but she smirks instead and stares blatantly at Brux. "Fine. If he has any sorts of skills, I'm going to say yes and move on."

Knowing that I have this in the bag, I throw an arm over Brux, motion for the two girls to follow, and stride away.

In the bag.

Cade Bennett, District Ten

"This is so easy." Griff sighs in delight as he reaches out and connects two wires. "It's as easy as putting two noodles together, really! See, Braxton, this is the conductor noodle. Connect that to the…"

I stop what I'm doing for a moment to stare at him, but it's obvious that he's in his own little world, brown eyes glazed over in glee. Nothing of interest to me, really. I shrug and turn back to my own creation, a little wire wiener dog. While Braxton is hanging onto Griff's every word, soaking up all the wire knowledge he can get, I'm actually doing something fun.

Braxton sighs, stepping away from the table briefly. "I don't get it, Cade. So there's worms, noodles, straws, pieces of hair, and wires? And half of them are conductors, I guess?"

"You're exactly right," Griff replies smugly.

The dark-haired boy glances over to me. "Cade, how are you faring?"

"Better than you, obviously." I smile, holding up my figurine. "I figure that my bowie knife skills are pretty decent, so I'm just taking a break."

"Is that gonna be your token, then?"

"Nah." I reach inside my shirt and pull out the strap of leather that makes up my necklace. At the end are three teeth, wolf fangs from skeletons of wolves that the Peacekeepers have shot over the years. Or, rather, that's what Winston tells me.

"Those are cool," Griff says. "Like white mountains."

I stare at the teeth- triangle-like, yes, but not mountains. "What's your token?"

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slim circle of metal. It's like a little plaque. "My mum made it for me especially. It has a reindeer on it."

"Uh-huh, really?" Braxton leans in, staring at the little image of the animal. "Why a reindeer?"

"They live in the coldest parts of Panem," says Griff absent-mindedly, stroking his finger over the picture. "They pull sleighs in wintertime, and they deliver presents to everybody if they're nice."

"I've heard of those," I say, looking over at Braxton in expectation that he'll show me his token. He does, and rather quickly, too.

"See this?" He points to his left ear, to a small dot in the center of his earlobe. "That's my earring. Not much significance, but it's kinda good luck and stuff."

"Wow, that's-"

"Tributes. You have five minutes to complete your training."

We all glance up in surprise at the monotone voice. "I guess our time here is cut short," Braxton says.

"It's alright, I was getting hungry anyways." I dismiss this with a flap of my hand. "And we'll see each other tomorrow for private training and the next day for interviews, right?"

"Definitely!" Griff pulls us into an awkward one-sided hug, but Braxton chuckles, which eases the overall tension, and pats us all clumsily on the backs.

"I'm going to go up now for a bite to eat and maybe a soda pop. I'll see you two fellows later." Braxton winks as he starts striding to the elevator in the wake of Haven and Kinton from Twelve.

I stand there with Griff for a moment, smiling dumbly and trying to find something to say, when he squeaks, "Oh, Ellika's going up! I'm gonna follow her, bye, Cade Bennett from District Ten! See you tomorrow!" and starts rushing away, his longish hair flapping in his breeze.

And then I'm alone, and feeling even more stupid than before.

Shael walks by regally, with Tethys Acosta drifting in her wake, so I'm pleased when, after I tap her on the arm, she turns towards me and nods. A simple gesture, but a welcome one. I trail after the two into a vacant elevator.

"Satisfying day of training, that was," Tethys says conversationally once Kiera Brennan slips in with us, arms wrapped tightly around her skeletal-looking stomach.

"It was decent," Shael replies in that permanently wavering tone of hers. She glances at Tethys, then wraps a lock of hair around her finger.

"My day was pretty cool, too," I pipe up, not like they were asking me. "Got a lot of last minute training in."

"Cade Bennett." Tethys speaks directly to me, his eyes piercing mine. Unlike Griff, who's the exact same age as him, Tethys appears weathered and sage. His brow furrows as he looks me over. "Shael's district partner, right?"

"Yeah, and you're from District Eight." I shrug, well aware that bony Kiera is staring at me with those gaunt, hollow eyes of hers. It's unnerving.

"You have an alliance with two other boys, our age. Griff and Braxton. How's that working for you?"

I swallow, feeling like a bug under a microscope. "It's doing pretty good," I answer truthfully, fidgeting a little bit. Tethys's stare is creepy, to say the least. It's like he's scrutinizing me.

The time our elevator opens onto our floor is a lovely escape. Even Jamie's pinched nose and Eagle's indifferent expression are welcome to me. I slip out of the elevator, away from creepy Tethys and eerie Kiera.

"Cade, tell me about your day!" Jamie seems overly happy to see me as I pinch a couple crackers out of a dish. I smile at her.

"It was… decent." I test the word out, eyes flickering over to the brooding Shael to see her reaction. When this gains no reaction but a confused eyebrow lift, I shudder to take back my words. "I'm kidding, it was excellent. Last-minute training, what a lifesaver. Now, hey, Jamie?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could have any… lunch?"

Cayley Torelli, District Eight

Scooping a good-sized spoonful of potato salad into my mouth, a savory, almost garlicky taste settles over my taste buds and my lips quirk up into a small smile. A melancholy feeling drifts about the room, what with Tethys's suddenly sad appearance and the identical frowns of Velour and Velvet, our mentors.

"How was your day of training, Tethys? I got a new ally!" I'm gleeful, still a bit giddy over my newfound luck. My district partner, however, isn't as glad for me.

He shrugs, sliding some chips across his plate. "Cool."

My overjoyed mood is cut short, and I refrain from sending a harsh glare his way. Why are people never happy for each other? We are stupid; we only care about ourselves, never the newfound joy that comes to others. The human race as a whole is like one big tangle of worms, all squirming in desperation for their own safety.

Realization hits; I should probably be more selfish, too, so that I can have at least a shot at victory. The humane, selfless tributes never win, they're always backstabbed or sacrificed. Is that what I want to be, another faintly glimmering face in the sky, soon to be forgotten?

Or do I want to be known as Cayley Torrelli, the girl that won? Cayley Torelli, the victor? The savior of District Eight, giving those hungry mouths some food for the year?

Velour notices my spaced-out look and she jabs me with the butt of her fork. "Wake up and eat, Cayley, you need some energy for private coaching. Your, um, wonderful escort will take you first." She clears her throat, nodding towards Fairy, as I've dubbed the colorful man.

Fairy smiles, claps his hands together. His new cobalt blue eyes sparkle with delight. And then, as if feeling the need to start a speech or something, he clears his throat and says in a strange accent with stretched out vowels, "It would be an honor to know that I've helped a child come home from these amazing Games, especially you, Cayley dearest!"

A scowl comes to my face. I stare coldly at him. "These Games aren't amazing, not even close," I say quietly. "Amazing how some people can be so cruel, sure. But not amazing in any other way."

Fairy's shoulders slump, and his chipper mood fades. "They're fun to watch," he mutters.

"Fun to watch!" I nearly explode, sudden rage grabbing hold of my tongue and my mind. I clutch the edge of the table, blood rushing to my face. My teeth are clenched tightly, eyes boring into the shrinking man.

"What?" His voice is very, very small.

I jump up from my chair, disrupting my ham sandwich, milk, and potato salad, and stride briskly around the table to the idiotic man. Just before I reach him, hands find my arms to contain me.

Velvet.

"Let me go, you evil woman!" I scream, trying to surge towards cowering Fairy. Tethys watches with wide eyes from his part of the table. Velour leaps from her seat to grab me, and just when I think I'm getting free to get my hands on the escort, she clenches onto me as well. I am fully and utterly trapped.

Squirming still as they drag me away from the table, I don't even hear their words, yelled in angry and menacing tones. Instead, all I can process is that the man who's supposed to be helping me has declared my upcoming death as 'fun to watch', and is currently unprotected and smiling at my contained rage.

The two mentors shove me inside my room, where I nearly escape by throwing a fist out at Velour. She ducks, curses, and slams the door. Velvet, already out of the room, calls, "When you calm down, you can come out!"

Shrieking, I hurtle myself towards the door, fumbling with the knob to break free. It's locked. It's locked. I'm stuck like a rat in a trap, and I can't get out. Yelling swears at my captors, I use my hard fists and knuckles to beat at the door, which I do repeatedly, each time listening as it emits a satisfying thunk.

I do this for twenty minutes, and nobody on the outside makes a peep.

My knuckles, red and swollen and even dotting with a bit of blood, are tired. My head aches. I slump on the floor by the door, resting my head against it. My eyelids flutter shut.

If I'm so unpleasant to work with that even my mentor and her partner have to lock me away, what chance will I have in the arena, where nobody can simply put shackles on my wrists to calm me down? What about Aria? She's so small and meek, she'd be torn apart by my bouts of fury.

I lift my hand to my forehead to find it dappled with beads of sweat. Wiping it clean with the back of my hand, no doubt smearing a bit of blood as I do, I let my shaky hand rest on my knee.

"I'm calm!" I call.

"Prove it!" shouts back Velour, voice raspy from previous shrieking.

I bang my head against the door once, lips pressed tightly together. Nobody understands me, and these people don't, either. Where will I fit in? Certainly not here.

I exhale, allowing my eyelids to flutter shut. I'll be okay as long as I keep my temper under control, right? And I won't harm Aria, or Tethys, or Velour, or Velvet. If I harm Fairy-Boy, that doesn't really matter, since he's a deluded creep. But it's the people that I care about that are mainly in my way.

What about the arena, though? What if I do manage to defeat the odds, and go back to District Eight, my home?

With a sinking realization, I realize that I don't want to go back to my district. I want… I want to start over. But the Capitol doesn't give second chances. They only give death. Nothing more, nothing less. Why should District Eight be dreaded, when it's where I was born and raised?

The problem with District Eight is that it's where I'm from.

Soren Valen, District One

I try to avoid Carisa's death glare, ducking under the table to pick up a pencil. But when I slowly come back up, there she is, eyebrows dark and eyes narrowed in accusation. Sheen and Teal, they merely exchange amused glances.

This angers me. I turn to Teal. "Why are you so happy about this, when you're only a year older than me?"

He shrugs, grinning. "Hey, kid," he says with obvious relish. "Why don't we get back to interview training instead of chatting about ages?"

A small sigh evades my lips and I turn to my sheet of paper, eyes flickering over the scribbled words and grey eraser trails. My pencil's small pink eraser, once capped neatly and smelling new, is now down to the circular green metal part, with none left for me to use. I look longingly over at Carisa's, still pristine, marred only by one mark.

"Can I borrow your pencil?" I ask her politely.

A snarl escapes her, and she holds the small utensil close to herself, away from me. "Get your own filthy pencil, you scum."

My lips tremble. I just wanted to use her eraser.

Sheen notices this and juts her hand out, clapping against my chin so I'm forced to look up. "Cheer up, bloke," she belches out with a smile. "You've got a pencil right there, and a perfectly good piece of paper to use for interviewin' answers, what more could a boy want?"

"An eraser?"

She rolls her eyes, dramatically flopping sideways onto the table. "Calm your jets, Soren. You don't need no eraser unless you plan on making mistakes, and to make a mistake, you'd have to write something down, and to write something down, you'd have to stop talkin' with me."

I stare at her blearily, uneasily. How exactly did this slobbering mess of a lady win her Hunger Games?

Teal sighs and hands me his own pencil, slipping mine from my hand. Our fingers touch and, with a faint note of surprise, I notice that he's smirked. I scowl at him, conflicted on whether to thank him or be insulted. "Th-Thanks?"

"Anytime, dude," he replies, with a wink that makes me feel odd.

"Alright, you two." Sheen consults her own sheet of paper, held up by a fancy silver clipboard. "Hm… what if he asks you about your spectacular show at the Reaping?"

It's easy to scribble something down in my spiky scrawl. Carisa and I have had a long, intertwined past. There were misunderstandings and a love triangle, everything a good story should have. That's what we were, a mere fantasy. Long story short, she doesn't like me, but I'm drawn to her, I have to admit. She's alluring, even in her hatred. She thinks of me as an annoyance, or as a pest, but I am repellant to her fury. I am-

I notice blank stares at me. I've been writing for minutes. Carisa, judging by her appearance and bored look, has been done a long time ago. Straightening my spine nervously, I wait for Teal to actually ask the question as he pretends to be the interviewer.

He asks me first, probably curious to my long answer. "Soren, that was quite a show at the Reaping there," Teal says in a deep voice, chin tucked to his neck neatly. "Care to explain?"

I shakily look down to my notes. "Carisa and I have had a long, intertwined past," I begin, much to Carisa's dismay. She gasps dramatically and gives me a stern scowl as I proceed to read the rest of my answer in a robotic voice.

And then Teal repeats the same question to Carisa, getting a brief reply in return. "I was the planned volunteer, naturally, but Soren decided he was a rebel, that's all." She goes on with a smirk. "I'd planned to volunteer with Flash, another good trainee, but instead an incompetent boy took the stands. Sad, huh?"

Sheen gives her a high-five and me, a pitying look. Two-faced. I berate her silently.

"Next question, then." Teal smiles lightly. "Anything you want to fight for?"

Again, the words flow from the dark grey tip of the pencil as easy as water rolls off a duck's feathers.

I want to win for Carisa, to prove to her that all I really wanted was for her to be happy. Well, that would be a lie. I don't want to win, I want her to win. I look up from my speech to see her, tongue gently set between her two set of pearly whites in concentration as she writes. Even after all we've been through, she's still the most important person in my life, and after she wins, I hope that she knows that.

Maybe I'll even be one of the most important people in her life, once that happens. Maybe she'll even read my obituary.

This time, Teal asks her the question and she puffs out her chest, obviously getting ready for a long answer. It is. She barely glances at her paper, rather speaks from her heart. It's this terribly long answer about Hollis, the filthy guy, and her daughter. My heart twinges painfully when she mentions me in a way that no human should have to be mentioned, but perks up again when she talks about life after death, and how she will eventually rejoice for the fallen.

"Beautiful," Teal says, trying to hide a smirk. Obviously, he's not one for sentimental stuff. "Soren? Same question."

I read off my answer, eyes flickering up to Carisa now and then to gage her reaction. Her nose is wrinkled in utter disgust.

"How can you live with yourself, reading all those lies?" she spits out, livid. "Soren, just stop it now."

"He's entitled to his own daffy opinion," Sheen pipes up, giggling.

But it's too much. Before I know it, tears are staining my vision and I'm striding to the balcony, slamming the doors behind me, and rocking my body on the stone cold ground as the evening fades to night.

All I really wanted was for her to thrive.

Maya Verone, District Five

As soon as the snores of somnolent Scarlet, the heavy breathing of Kassidy, and the light puttering of Ezra's lips start, I'm out of bed and bouncing on the balls of my feet lightly, fingers twitching in desperation.

It was easy to pinch a knife and a screwdriver from the kitchen when the Avoxes can't talk. Not that they would have caught me, though- a strategic diversion of three seconds was enough time to grab my supplies.

I slip the screwdriver from my sleeve, pressing my body against the wall of my bedroom as I unscrew the screws from the heavy metal grill. My fingers burn from flexing and the heat of the grate both, but it's exhilarating after being kept cooped up for so long. I slip the thin blade of the knife under the now-loosened grill and manage to pick it up.

Sliding the heavy grate to the side, under my bed, I quickly tie my hair back into a breezy ponytail and, sucking in my stomach, slide into the grate.

Hot, hot, hot. That's the only thing that registers as I scrabble around blindly in the dark for a second, wishing I had brought a flashlight. But soon enough the temperature of the metal declines and the square tube evens out so I can crawl.

Down. Down. There's a sharp decline, and suddenly light. I squint, making out the faint image of bright red hair and pale skin dotted with freckles. I recognize the girl as Juno Verdet, District Four. I've done it, then, I've accomplished by journey down the piping system to the floor down!

I watch as the girl slips on a grey sweatshirt as a nightshirt and, with a yawn and a charmless not-so-subtle scratching of herself, turns out the lights. Excellent. My blood pulses with adrenaline. Now's my chance, no doubt the rest of the people on her floor are heading off to sleep as well.

The crawl in the dark takes about twenty minutes before I find a vent that opens into their living room, marked by the embers of the fireplace dying out and the windows alit by the grand Capitol lights sparkling in the distance.

Using my tools to unscrew the vent and slip through, stomach sucked in and lips whispering prayers that I won't make a sound, I'm in the assigned District Four living room. It feels exhilarating.

I tiptoe to their kitchen, finding their amenities to be identical to ours. No good in pinching off one of theirs. I'd hoped that there would be little fish insignias or something on their silverware, but no avail. Even in their large fridge, the same food as we have but with different rolls.

I sneak down the hall until I come to the first door. Now, if this was back in the District Five living quarters, this would be Scarlet's room, the room of the weaker mentor because of its slightly smaller living space. I remember seeing Annie and Nuke, the mentors for Four, and Annie's wavering stability.

Mustering courage and trying to remain calm without shrieking with joy, I silently open the door.

Tiptoeing to the bedside, I see a face tanned by sun and wavy red hair streaked with blond. Long eyelashes. Pouty lips. It's Annie Cresta, all right.

Fast asleep.

A grin spreading over my face, I scurry to her bureau and open the small jewelry drawer. Staring back at me, rows and rows of glimmering jewels and chains, most of them marked with a small trident crest.

I let out a short, excited squeak, heart pounding, and start sifting through them, finding the prettiest and no doubt most valuable. After a good two minutes of searching, I'm left with twelve necklaces, four pins, a large brooch, an anklet, three rings, four earrings, and six bracelets, plus some chain thing that may or may not be useful to me.

A good loot.

I quietly shut the jewelry drawer and slide the jewelry into my very tight top, sealing them between the fabric of it and my own skin. I'm about to slide out of the room, grinning like a cat, when a slight gasp comes from behind me.

My pulse stops and my blood is pounding in my ears. I swivel around.

Annie Cresta gazes at me, illuminated by a small bedside lamp with a small awed frown on her lips. "It's that one girl again," she says softly. "I wonder where I've seen her before… District Nine? Yes, certainly."

She's babbling to herself. I should make a break for it, but something roots me to my place. I stare back at her.

"Will you be in my dreams tonight?" Her voice is soft.

I'm not quite sure what to do, but I manage a frozen nod.

Annie smiles softly, resting her head back on her pillow. "Alright, then," she murmurs. "I'll see you soon enough, then, won't I?"

I nod again, itching to run for my life.

Folding her arms over her chest and allowing her eyes to flutter shut, Annie goes stock still. It's then when my legs force me out of the room, back to the hallway, and then the living room. I barely have enough willpower left in me to screw the vent back on and shimmy my way up the ventilation system to my floor.

But when I do, back in the safety of my own room, one quick glance back at my newfound treasures, the glittering gold and silver accented with dripping jewels, makes it all worth it.

I wonder what I'll do with them all.

A/N: Heart Attack by The Asteroids Galaxy Tour.

There we have it, then. Another glance at these tributes before interviews, and one step closer to both the arena and TI! Getting pumped up, hm? Maybe prepping a tribute? ;) I can't wait- well, that's a lie. I'll enjoy this story for as long as it rides out, of course.

I have nothing too much to say, except that there wasn't too long of a wait and hey, it's nearly winter! Going to get a lot of inspiration, I'm sure, and, as always, a review is appreciated! :)

And the poll is still open ;) Just in case you haven't voted.

Till next time, lovelies!

Alliances: Careers, Maysa+Maya+Ezra, Braxton+Cade+Griff, Tethys+Shael, Haven+Kinton, Halcyon+Soren, Aria+Cayley