This time Imma do something a little different. Vote for your favorite one, the one you want to stay the most.
And of course, there was no doubt in my mind that every stop was the same. And, mostly, it was. There was some variation here and there, where we would go to a party or where we'd be on our feet or where we'd see a park or whatever.
The day seemed to repeat itself for two more days, and I found myself looking forward to the training more and more. I knew that the training would just get me closer to killing the people that I was making friends with, but at the same time I desperately wanted out of these ridiculous social gatherings.
Over those three days of socializing, I came to one decision: I hated people. Particularly those ridiculous, blithering idjits who had decided to throw me into an arena with other kids.
Over those three days, I got to meet each and every one of the people in my group of 13, and I got to know them very well. Every single one of them was so human that it hurt, every single one of them had a history and a family and a life, and a reason to get home. Even Maris, the career, opened up on the third day and told me her father had beaten her as a child, and she wanted to win to rub it in his face.
When the training finally came around, though, I realized I didn't want to do it at all. I had gotten to know these PEOPLE – not tributes, people – and the thought of any of them having to die pulled on all my emotional strings. That was the first time that I ever wondered if I was actually strong enough to kill anyone.
Of course, I would kill someone. Now as I'm looking back on everything that happened, I know that I am actually a horrible person. I'm the kind of person that can slice throats and run people through with arrows and spears and not feel regret until weeks later. I'm the kind of person that can kill in a blind rage and leave the bodies there to rot. I'm the kind of person that should be in a jail, in an asylum, in a coffin. But I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me get back to where I was...
That was the first time I ever wondered, but it wouldn't be the last.
Our final party was probably the most exciting. We finally weren't in isolated groups anymore, but rather all 52 tributes came together in one last sophisticated herrah, which would be broadcast throughout Panem.
I remember the champagne in my glass rippling with the tremors of my fingers. I found myself wanting to cling to that night for eternity, not wanting to go on to the next day, not wanting to have to train with these people, not wanting to look them in the eye as I practiced killing them.
I downed my champagne in a single gulp, seeking the solace of alcohol to calm my frayed nerves.
"Rosa!" a voice behind me called, and someone placed a hand on my shoulder. I flinched and dropped my glass. It shattered, sending a few shards of glass into my feet.
"God dammit," I growled, seeing the blood trickle down my feet.
"Oh, god! What did you do?!" Ty said, stepping around me. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Don't worry about it," I sighed. "Once you get the glass out it doesn't take long to heal anyway, they close up pretty fast."
"Here, sit down," he said, pulling a chair up for me to sit on. I smiled half-heartedly and sat down, examining the shards of glass half way through my foot.
"Would you mind getting me some tweezers and some bandages?" I asked, looking up at him. Pulling glass out of my feet was nothing new to me. It was a hazard of running barefoot in District 12, which I did frequently... shoes were awful.
"Bandages? I think you're going to need stitches, Rosa," he said, kneeling down to squint at the cuts in the flashing party-lights.
"It'll be fine, I promise," I said, unable to keep a chuckle from my voice. He nodded and waved at Dianna, beckoning her over to me.
"Hey, could you make sure she doesn't try to walk on that while I go get bandages and stuff?" he asked her, pointing to my feet.
"Oh God, Rosa, what happened?" she asked. My feet were slick with blood now, but I'm pretty sure that was just because the glass prevented the cuts from closing.
"I dropped my glass," I said sheepishly.
"Just watch her, OK?" Ty said, and disappeared into the crowd.
"You dropped your glass..." Dianna repeated, pulling a chair up next to me. "Smooth."
"Shut up."
"No, I mean it," Dianna said earnestly. "It was smooth. About as smooth as sandpaper."
I reached out and punched her arm, and she laughed at me. "Fuck you," I grumbled, lifting my feet up onto a chair so I could see better.
"With pleasure," she said sarcastically, bowing in her seat.
"Oh, god, is that blood?" a new voice asked. I glanced up to see a handsome bloke from District Three looking down at my feet.
"Yeah, I just dropped my glass, no biggie," I said, shrugging it off. Although now, admittedly, my feet were starting to hurt and a couple drops of blood had hit the marble floors.
"Is someone getting bandages or something?" he asked, standing in front of me uneasily.
"Yeah." I nodded. "He should be back any minute now."
"Hey, you're Rosa, right? The girl from Twelve?" the boy asked, reaching out his hand.
"Yeah," I said, suddenly embarrassed that I still hadn't bothered to learn everyone's names.
"I'm Cir," he said, sensing my uncertainty. I smiled and shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Cir," I said. "Is that short for something?"
"... Circuit. But please, don't call me that. It is literally the most awful name on the face of the planet." I laughed and Dianna put a hand to her mouth, covering a giggle. He glanced up at her when she made a noise, and extended his hand to her as well.
"And you're..."
"Dianna," she said, smiling sheepishly. She reached out to shake his hand but with a swift (and very smooth) movement, he turned her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing it gently.
"Beautiful name. Fit for a princess," he said, giving her a smile. Even though the lighting was dim, I could see Dianna's face flush bright red. Damn. He's smooth. He must've gotten laid a lot back home...
She wasn't sure how to reply, but luckily she was saved by Ty's return.
"OK so I wasn't sure what to get, so I got everything," he said. A man stood behind him with his arms full of random medical equipment, and I buried my face in my hands.
"I promise, all I need is some tweezers and gauze or something, it's not that bad. Once I take the glass out it'll just look like a needle prick..."
"Dude, there is literally a puddle on the ground," Ty cut me off.
"It's like three drops! Preschoolers get worse than that when they fall and scrape their knees!"
"Yeah and then they go and get stitches," Ty said. "Shut up." He took some tweezers from the pile of supplies in the other man's arms.
"I agree with Rosa, it shouldn't be that bad," the boy from Three, Cir, said. Ty looked up as though he noticed him for the first time.
"And who are you?" he demanded.
"Cir," the boy from Three said, giving a mock bow.
"Sir what? Sir knows-a-lot?" Ty said, scowling a bit.
"That's actually my brother," Cir said, his eyes sparkling with laughter.
"Are you really gonna mock me before we're put in an arena to fight to the death?" Ty said, his chest puffing up with irritation. "I might not be allowed to kill her, but I'm pretty sure that's my only real limitation."
"Ty, play nice," Dianna chided. "We're all in this together."
"Sure we are," Ty said, turning his attention back to the tweezers in hand and he reached for my feet.
"Oh hell no," I said, terrified of the thought of an angry Ty pulling shards of sharp glass from my feet. "Give me those."
"Oh be quiet, Rosa," he said, reaching out to hold my ankle still. He was surprisingly gentle but firm, and he clasped the tweezers around the first shard of glass. He pulled it out quickly but I hardly felt it, and then he reached out for a piece of gauze from the man behind him. He put the little piece of glass on the gauze, and went back for the last two. The man behind him gave him some gauze that smelled heavily of alcohol and dabbed the blood off my feet.
Almost immediately after the glass was out the blood flow came to a halt, closing up the tiny little cuts until they were almost nonexistent.
"You should really tell your stylist to give you closed-toed shoes and not these little lacing things," he said, looking up at me. I was struck my how pale his eyes were, and how a dark ring around them made them so defined. It was like they were cutting through the darkness straight to me.
"I know," I said, my heart beating faster for some unknown reason.
He gently grabbed the gauze with the bloody glass on it and picked up the shards of my champagne glass, and tossed it into a near-by trashcan. The man with the medical supplies took this as an opportunity to dab some glue onto the cuts, sealing them permanently closed, and then he put some self-adhesive bandages on top.
"Thanks," I said, timidly putting my feet back on the ground. "See? Told you it wasn't so bad." Ty just arched an eyebrow at me.
"Whatever you say," he said, rolling his eyes.
"No, really! It happened all the time back in District 12."
He ignored me. "Hey, where did Dianna and that Cir guy go?"
At that instant, Cir appeared in the crowd, holding his hand to his face. A bright red handprint peeked through his fingers.
"That'll teach you to be so god damn touchy-feely!" Dianna's voice followed him, and he just grimaced, disappearing into another group of people. I couldn't help but smile.
"Well," I said. "I don't really feel like dancing much anymore."
"You should probably go back and rest," Dianna said, rearranging her dress. "There's gonna be a lot of training tomorrow."
"So I'm guessing Cir didn't get lucky?"
"Ha! How about no," Dianna said, shaking her head emphatically.
"Actually, heading back early sounds pretty good," Ty said.
"Sure," Dianna said, shrugging. I nodded and got to my feet. Ty reached out to hold my shoulder steady and I slapped his hand away, causing his ever-present grin to return.
We headed for the door when I felt a small hand tug at my skirt.
"Excuse me, miss?" a little voice said, and I looked down. One of the little boys from District 13 was looking up at me with wide eyes. "Are you guys going back?"
"Yes," I said, nodding.
"Could we come, too? We're getting really tired," he said, rubbing at his eyes and trying to cover a yawn.
"And none of us know how to get back," another voice piped in. I looked up and saw Wind, Kiki, and two more children I didn't know by name but I knew they were the others from Thirteen.
"Sure, you can walk with us," I said. "Let's go ahead and get out of here, that music is giving me a headache."
We stepped outside and the cool night air of the city wrapped around us, making me shiver slightly even though I wasn't particularly cold.
"Hurry up, Kiki!" the older girl from Thirteen yelled, and Kiki ran out of the building, teetering down the steps.
"I'm coming, I'm coming! I have little legs!" she yelled back.
All of the kids, except for the older girl from 13, were only 12. Unfortunately, all of them seemed too small for that age; the children from thirteen were underfed and so they only came up to about my ribcage with the tallest of them coming almost to my shoulder. Kiki looked well-fed enough, but she was still the smallest of the group.
"So, why are you guys heading back early? Just tired?" Dianna asked, trying to make conversation with the little ones as we started walking back home (was home really the right word? No, it wasn't – I suppose I should give it a name. The Center, perhaps?).
"Yeah," Kiki nodded, yawning. The yawn set off a chain reaction, causing everyone else to yawn, too, and making some of the other little ones giggle.
"Are you guys looking forward to training tomorrow?" Ty asked.
"No!" Kiki declared. "My mum always said I was too little to use any of the tools at home and now they want me to learn how to use a sword? They gotta be crazy!"
"How old are you?" Dianna asked, curious.
"She's twelve," I said quickly.
"Yeah," Kiki said, nodding. "I turned twelve two days before the reaping."
"I turned twelve three weeks before the reaping!" the little boy who had tugged at my dress said, a grin on his face. "I'm older than you!"
"Yeah, well I turned twelve eleven months before the reaping," the other boy said, puffing his chest up with pride.
I grinned, but it was a sad sort of grin; the sad grin that came because I knew these kids would not live to see their thirteenth birthday, so it wouldn't matter much anyway. "What are your names?" I asked, trying to get off the subject of birthdays.
"I'm Hawk," the older boy said, and then proceeded to flap his arms and run around the street pretending to be a bird.
"I'm Fillie," the little boy who tugged at my dress declared. "Short for feline – GRRRRR!"
"My name's coolest," the thirteen year old girl said. She crossed her arms over her chest as though she was the mature older sister of the bunch. "Chrysanthemum. Most people call me Chryssie, though."
"Well, it's lovely to meet the lot of you," I said. "I hope the odds are ever in your favor."
The building for the Center reared up in front of us and I paused, feeling the ache in my feet. The children scampered up the step in front of us and disappeared into the building and I found myself suddenly very sad, and very tired. I didn't want to have to face the prospect that those kids were going to die. In fact, as they disappeared into the building, the lights played a trick on my eyes and it was as if they were already dead, and their ghosts stepped through the doors.
So vote for your favorite: Hawk, Fillie, Chryssie, or Cir.