Chapter 5
The Reapings
Franco Creswell passed the receptionists table with his mug of hot coffee. His posture was slouched and his eyes were lined with dark circles that only meant lack of sleep. His blue Gamemaker uniform was creased and unwashed from yesterday. His white shoes were untied and worn. All in all, it gave him an all around shabby look and it didn't seem like he was Head Gamemaker at all.
"Sir?" Franco's secretary spoke with obvious concern as she handed him a stack of papers. "Are you quite all right?"
"Never been better," Franco replied gruffly, tilting his head with thanks and sped off into his office.
He sounded more like a forty-five year-old man than a twenty-five year-old one. It wasn't helping that his partner was sashaying her way behind him in a killer black dress, silver heels and short hair curled to perfection. Franco's secretary was stilled in complete awe at her beauty as she passed by.
As soon as the couple was enclosed in the four walls of Franco's office, Franco wasted no time to snap at Zelda.
"I would appreciate it if you didn't stun my workers to stone every time you come here."
"It's not my fault my stylist makes me wear clothes like I'm about to walk a runway every single day," Zelda shot back. "The last time she let me wear something below my knees was when I was about to go into the arena."
Taking a seat behind his varnished desk, Franco lay out the pieces of paper he retrieved from his secretary. Each paper had basic information on each of the tributes reaped this afternoon, but he was still required to watch the reapings despite the information he already had. Checking his watch, he found that the replays of this year's reapings would be on television soon.
"We're watching then?" Zelda asked as she fell comfortably on a leather couch.
Franco glanced at her as he turned the television on. His eyes flashed.
"Pull your skirt down," he mumbled, ignoring her question.
"What?" Zelda pulled a perplexed face.
"Your skirt," Franco repeated in a clearer, sharper tone. "What if Lewis comes in here and sees you, eh? Or Barbara outside, she seemed ready to jump at your bones when she saw you."
Zelda stared at him, mouth agape and her lower lip quivering as if she was trying to hold in a laugh.
"Barbara? You mean the secretary outside?" she choked out in between chuckles. "She's a girl, Franco!"
"Lewis isn't a girl," Franco muttered, eyes narrowed at the screen as he rapidly switched channels.
Zelda let out a loud unladylike snort, hilarity bursting in her eyes. "Lewis is twenty-seven with green hair; I wont even let him look at me!"
Finally Franco stopped on the right station wherein District One's Reaping was only beginning. Irately pushing Zelda to the side of the couch to make space for him, he plopped down beside her and ran his eyes through District One's tribute papers.
"A simple excuse me would have been appreciated," Zelda muttered.
"Shut up, cover your thighs and watch the reapings," Franco said snippily, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
"You have got issues, Creswell." The Victor rolled her eyes as she finally pulled her dress further down her thighs at the request of the Head Gamemaker.
Appreciating the silence, Franco was able to focus his attention on the escort who made his way to the stage after the mayor's speech.
"Caramel Flay," Zelda provided information with a slight scowl. "Most annoying man in the business of Capitol fashion. What kind of polo even is that?"
He was wearing the most ridiculous red and white striped button-down matched with the brightest pair of red trousers Franco has ever seen. He couldn't help but snicker a bit under his breath.
Caramel Flay popped a hip as he stood before the microphone, already holding a slip from the ladies' bowl.
"For the girls, we have–"
"I volunteer!"
Both Franco and Zelda's interests peaked at the two words shouted by a rather short, broad-shouldered girl who ran up the steps onto the stage with her long wavy brown hair flying behind her. Once she breathlessly stood before the entire district, a feeling of uncertainty and fear flashed before her eyes and facial expression.
"Dead," Franco mumbled, catching her hesitation.
Zelda shot him a glare. "You can't call anyone dead this early. You'll never know. I bet when you watched my reaping, you called me dead too."
A beat of silence passed before Franco could nod.
"Fair enough," he said quietly.
"Peridot Herveaux." The girl introduced herself after Caramel asked for her name. Her voice was tight, but she obviously tried looking as tough as possible. Probably just for the cameras.
"Now for the boys!" Caramel exclaimed cheerfully as he skipped his way to the boys' bowl of slips.
After picking one from the very top, he returned to the microphone. Again before he could even finish reading the name, somebody was yelling the two most anticipated words in Career districts.
The boy had a lean, athletic build and was fairly tall. Instead of running like Peridot, he took his time making his way up the stage with a small knowing smirk on his face. Once he faced his district, he smoothly introduced himself in the most calm and collected tone.
Pompous Lebeau. Now that was a name to remember.
"Not dead," Franco said quietly.
"Of course the bloodthirsty ones won't be dead to you," Zelda grumbled.
After the two were presented by Caramel, the scene shifted. District Two, all high and mighty, was flashed on screen. Franco gazed at the all too familiar District Square and watched as the youth slowly piled in. The reaping started soon after, with the mayor giving his speech; it was the same one every year, Franco had noticed.
The usual escort, Desenza Flicker, stood proudly on stage after the mayor returned to his seat. Her trademark blue skin shone even brighter this year, possibly because of the theme for this year's Games. She put the microphone to her lips and her accented voice echoed in the Square.
"Welcome District Two! All formalities aside, let's get on with the reaping. As usual, ladies first!"
Heels clicking as she made her way to the bowl of slips, she stuffed her hand in and picked one out. She was able to announce the name of the girl, and there was a stir by the fourteen year-olds.
"I volunteer!"
Ah, there she was. Franco watched satisfyingly as the skinny blonde made her way up the stage with a manic smile on her face. Standing before her district, she confidently introduced herself as Laurel Haddenes.
"Watch me, District Two," she continued to speak into the microphone. "I will be your next victor."
The crowd began to cheer and they chanted her name over and over. Franco couldn't help but shake his head, because she didn't know what exactly she was about to face, but didn't comment on it. Only when Desenza picked a slip from the boys' reaping bowl did the crowd settle down.
"May we please call on Selwyn–"
"I volunteer as tribute!"
A massive six-footer made his way out of the big group of eighteen year-olds with a splitting grin on his face. He jogged up stage looking like he was having the time of his life. The way he looked back at the crowd was as if he was trying to make eye contact with each and every person.
"We've got a crazy," Franco commented. This time, Zelda didn't argue.
Almond Casey was his name. He was definitely an odd one. Not too soon after he was introduced, shabby District Three replaced mighty District Two.
District Three offered an entirely different aura from the first two districts. If Reaping Day was more of a festive occasion for Districts One and Two, District Three made it clear that it was probably the worst day of the year for them, and it probably was for any other district that isn't Career.
"It's depressing seeing them all depressed," Zelda sighed, watching as the camera closed up on random children and teens, all of them with similar sunken cheeks and dejected eyes.
Before Franco could reply, the escort introduced herself as Georgina before beginning with the reaping. She seemed to be the only one smiling in the scene, and when she stuffed her hand in the ladies' bowl, her grin grew wider. Her walk back to the microphone seemed to take a lifetime. Her clicking heels mocked each and every citizen in the district.
"Just get on with it please," Zelda murmured in sympathy. Franco exhaled as he scooted closer to her as a form of comfort.
"And our female tribute is…" Georgina paused as everybody in District Three held their breaths. "Zaria Falon! Zaria, get up on stage please!"
The fourteen year-olds scattered, leaving a petite brown-haired girl standing alone. She was shaking a bit and seemed to be in a daze. The Peacekeepers made a move, but she began to walk quickly before they got to her. Her steps were so fast and robotic. Her facial expression remained the same. Georgina greeted her once she got up but Zaria ignored her.
"So rude," Georgina huffed and stalked off to pick the boys.
Her walk back from the bowl was still excruciatingly long. She unfolded the piece of paper so carefully as if it were made of gold. She cleared her throat and leant forward to speak into the microphone.
"Huxley Locke, please come up on stage."
He was fourteen as well. Unlike Zaria, he acted almost immediately. He didn't make much of a scene. He just pushed his way out of the crowd and walked his way up with a blank expression. Zaria and Huxley were presented to the district, but nobody cheered. There was a faint crying sound in the background, but Franco couldn't be sure because the clip was abruptly cut and District Four was flashed on screen.
"Welcome, welcome!" A frightening looking redhead stood tall on stage with six-inch heels and a skimpy red outfit. "Come on in, District Four! This is going to be a fabulous reaping for us all!"
"What the fuck is she doing there?" Zelda screeched in annoyance, extending her finger at the redheaded escort.
"Is she new?" Franco cocked an eyebrow at her sudden outburst.
"She modeled with me for Capitol Style magazine last month," Zelda explained indignantly, crossing her arms against her chest. "Medalla Cross, the most nauseating person you will ever have the misfortune to meet!"
Zelda wasn't kidding about how unpleasant Medalla was. Each time the camera would focus on her, she'd strike a pose and pass it off as something normal because everybody apparently wanted to take pictures of her. She forced the crowd to clap every single time she'd mention one of her achievements. She seemed to be more overbearing than a usual Capitol citizen and that was saying something.
"Now let's get on with our female tribute, shall we?" she cheered with a blinding grin. "But we all know we're going to have some spot stealers so I'm just going to make the picking quick."
Hurriedly choosing a slip by the surface, she unfolded the paper and announced the name. As expected, a tall tanned girl jogged from the section of the fifteen year-olds as she shouted every Career district's favorite two words. Franco cocked an eyebrow at her. They rarely ever got any Careers as young as fifteen.
"Minet Reska at your service, District Four!" she said breathlessly into the microphone.
"You're fifteen?" Medalla suddenly scoffed in a mocking tone. "Dear, don't you think you're a bit too young?"
Minet looked as if Medalla slapped her in the face.
"How about if I stab you fifteen times, would I still seem too young for you?" Minet seethed, eyes flaring.
Two Peacekeepers made a move behind her, but Medalla waved them off.
"Gosh, I was just asking." The escort flipped her hair back and strutted to the boys' bowl.
Franco was laughing a bit in his seat. Zelda had a manic grin on her face.
"Not dead," Zelda stated.
Franco nodded in agreement. "Definitely not dead."
"And for the boys, we have–"
"I volunteer!"
"Of course, you do," Medalla said fondly as the boy appeared from the throng of seventeen year-olds.
The boy was pale, gawky and brown-haired. There wasn't much about him that screamed Career. The smile on his face wasn't helping either. It looked too genuine to be bloodthirsty. He actually looked pretty excited in the most innocent way possible.
"Denver Murray," he said into the microphone once he got up on stage, "and I am ready."
Medalla took one last glance at both tributes, obviously unimpressed with them. Minet looked ready to pounce on her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes!"
The scene shifted to District Five. Zelda let out a relieved sigh and began to relax.
"I thought I was about to rip the television off the wall."
Franco snorted. He needed to meet that escort in person one day.
Good for Zelda, District Five's new escort was much more tolerable. In fact, he seemed to be the one who couldn't tolerate anybody around him. Perhaps the feeling was mutual between him and the citizens of Five.
"I'm your new escort, Jude," he said unkindly. "Let's just get this over with."
Then the ceremony began. Their mayor walked up with an assuring smile on his face and did his speech with as much confidence and charisma that any other mayor should have. Once he was finished, Jude didn't waste any time with useless chatter. He marched straight to the bowl of slips of the girls and swiftly picked one from the surface.
"Shaleh Turrent," he announced through the microphone, his eyes impatiently darting around the crowd of girls as he waited for Shaleh to show herself.
Before the Peacekeepers could react, the girl made a move. She pushed her way out of the crowd and briskly walked up to the stage, silent tears running down her pale cheeks. Her hand was in the front pocket of her white dress, and the other was pushing her bright red hair back, giving everybody a better view of her tear-stained face.
Franco narrowed his eyes at her. She seemed to be on to something.
Once Shaleh stood on her spot, Jude began to unfold the slip he'd already taken from the boys' bowl while she was making her way up.
"Dune Faraway," he said in his usual short and clipped tone. "Come on, we haven't got all day."
Suddenly there was uproar by the sidelines.
"Rigged! Rigged, I tell ya!"
"Isaac, please! Keep quiet!"
"Don't listen to 'em, Dune! This whole thing's been rigged!"
An old man was holding onto the thick rope that separated the people who weren't eligible for the reaping from the youth aged twelve to eighteen. He had his cane raised as he shouted accusations towards the stage. A man about forty was desperately trying to calm him down, and a woman his age was sobbing beside them, too distressed to formulate words.
The Peacekeepers began to move, and this terrified the man of forty even further.
"No, no, no!" he pleaded. "It's fine! He doesn't know what he's saying! He shut up now, see?"
The old man, Isaac, did finally calm himself down. His cain was no longer raised, and he proceeded to mutter to himself instead. The camera shifted from their direction to a tall boy who was brisk walking up the steps to take his place beside Shaleh. His head was tilted down in slight embarrassment but he was able to face everyone without breaking down like his district partner.
"Well here they are," Jude snapped, casting a dark look at what was assumed to be Dune Faraway's family. "Your tributes, Five. Hurrah."
With that, the scene shifted to the people of District Six filing into their own town square. If there was a district any duller than Three, it had to be Six. Franco only ever visited the place once, and he could pinpoint the addicts anywhere he went. It was sad, and Franco swore he wouldn't ever return ever since that first trip. It was too depressing, and the weather didn't seem to help either.
The dark clouds began to gather above the open square. It only started drizzling once their escort, Trek Saynor, began the formalities. Of course, he couldn't pass up any opportunity to wink at the camera or any swooning woman by the sidelines. It was disgusting to watch.
"Have you ever met this guy?" Franco asked Zelda snippily; truly annoyed at the womanizing aura he was trying to pull off.
"Trek?" Zelda clarified nonchalantly. "Of course I have. He won't pass off any opportunity to flirt with me."
An unpleasant feeling tugged in Franco's stomach, but he didn't comment any further because Trek had already picked a slip from the girls' bowl. The escort took excruciatingly long to unfold the piece of paper that worsened Franco's already sour mood.
"Here we have it," he announced, eyes skimming quickly through the name. "Our female tribute is Nyomi Harley!"
From the section of the fifteen year-olds, they spread like wildfire. A lone girl with stringy blond hair and big blank eyes stood with her fists clenched. A second later, she began to make her way up as she struggled to keep her composure. Luckily for her, she was able to make it up quick and smooth.
"And for the boys," Trek continued, already holding an unfolded slip, "we have Cambric Araujo!"
Just like the girls, the boys isolated Cambric almost immediately. He was fourteen this time, and he looked terrified out of his mind. He was able to make his way up with knees shaking, and his eyes were focused entirely on a sobbing middle-aged couple by the side. As soon as he stood his ground beside Nyomi, they both had similar looks of determination on their faces.
It was surprising coming from a pair from District Six, one of the most depressing and miserable places in Panem.
"Ladies!" Trek winked. Franco seethed. "And gentlemen, of course, your tributes!"
District Seven appeared on the screen looking greener than ever. The overabundance of trees actually gave the district a happier look than others. Despite this, the youth of Seven filed in with equally miserable looks.
The district's escort of eight years was already standing on stage, waiting for everybody to settle down. It was an improvement in her part because for the past two reapings, she was late. Now she stood earlier than everybody else in her strapless skintight silver dress that matched her long flowing platinum blond hair.
"Well you lot already know me," she began in a slow, monotone voice. "But anyway, yeah, I'm Harmonie. Let's get started."
The ceremony began with the video and the mayor. The mayor's speech seemed to have taken half of the time allotted for the reaping, and by the time he was finished, Harmonie was half-asleep on her chair. Jolted awake by one of Seven's victors, the escort staggered her way to the girls' glass bowl.
"Alana Miranine," Harmonie stated as soon as she unfolded the paper. "Come up on stage please."
A loud cry erupted from the group of fifteen year-olds. By the front of the pack, Alana Miranine was bawling on all fours on the ground. A few girls around her were attempting to help her up, but she wouldn't respond and was rooted in place. Two Peacekeepers approached and each grabbed an arm, forcefully pulling her up on her feet.
"No!" Alana cried, struggling against their grip. "Pick someone else! Not me! Anyone but me!"
"Poor girl," Zelda whispered empathetically.
Franco shrugged, eyes following the screen as the Peacekeepers dropped the girl on her place on stage as if she were a mere object. "But what can you do?"
"For the boys then," Harmonie continued, sympathetic eyes constantly glancing at the weeping Alana as she unfolded the second slip of paper. "We have Linden Alder."
He was one of the younger ones. Franco immediately felt a sharp pang in his chest when the boy was revealed to be only thirteen years old. The boys around him moved a bit to give him space, but he wouldn't budge from his place. Tears spilled down his cheeks, constantly wiping them off with his sleeve before they would drip down on the ground. The Peacekeepers were needed to force him up the stage as well, but he was more compliant.
There was something about Linden's reaction that made it seem more authentic than Alana's. Franco wasn't exactly sure, but he couldn't judge. He was never reaped before.
Harmonie introduced the tributes one last time before the scene changed. Zelda sat up straighter in her seat. Her eyes were wide, and her fingers fiddled with each other nervously. She inhaled sharply as she took in her old home.
Zelda sighed, somewhat woefully. "I miss it sometimes, you know?"
Franco nodded in understanding. District Eight was another factory district. There were buildings of different heights and sizes, and most of the houses were small and lined in orderly rows to make way for the dirt roads. It looked like such an urban place that Franco wouldn't have enjoyed living there if he had. He would prefer less populated and less polluted District Two. But he'd never tell Zelda that. She'd just accuse him of acting too much like a Career, despite the fact that he never even got the chance to become one.
"District Eight, welcome!" Merry Pladdens frolicked to the center of the stage, her newly dyed pink hair flying in big artificial curls behind her shoulders. "After last year's success, aren't we all a bit more excited?"
She received no reply, but that was expected. Zelda huffed in her seat, rolling her eyes at her escort's antics. As the first half of the reaping ceremony began, Zelda wasted no time in exclaiming complaints about her escort.
"She is just so insufferable! She always feels the need to be there wherever I go, and she acts as if me winning was all her doing! Argh, I hope she quits."
"Roman doesn't seem to mind her," Franco pointed out coolly.
"Well Roman doesn't seem to mind anybody because he doesn't give a fuck about anything."
"Then maybe you should use a page out of his book and not give a fuck about anything too."
Zelda groaned. "It's harder when you're a girl. You're bound to hate all the other girls who hate you. It's only natural."
Franco was cut off from answering when Merry was already unfolding the paper she picked for the girls, and announcing the name to the entire district.
"Ivanna Keelan!"
Whispers erupted from the group of sixteen year-olds. It took a few more seconds before Ivanna Keelan was identified in the crowd. Once the camera zoomed in on her, she had a face of shock and absolute terror. Only when a little girl's voice suddenly screamed her name did she begin to walk. She kept her head held high, attempting to look as brave as she could. She didn't look back at whoever was calling out to her. Once on stage, she kept her head down with strings of red hair falling loose from her bun.
"And for the boys," Merry continued, "we have Kelvin Viper!"
The boy was also sixteen. He was standing by the bordering ropes, and a boy his age had to give him a slight push to get him to start walking. Stumbling out of his section, he clumsily marched up the stairs, his face dry but in a daze, as if he had convinced himself that he was possibly just having a nightmare.
"These are the tributes I'll be mentoring," Zelda said in a quiet, miserable tone. "How am I supposed to do this? I can't just watch them die."
"Roman was able to bring you home," Franco assured her in the most comforting way possible. He was never really a man of sentiment, but with Zelda he needed to try. "With his help, maybe you could bring one of them back too."
Zelda shrugged grimly. Scooting closer to the Head Gamemaker, she sighed. "I just want to get this over with. Ever since that whole drama about me influencing your choice of victor for this year's Games, I really just want everything to pass quickly."
Franco's ears perked up at her words. "What was that? They think you're going to influence my choice of victor? I don't even choose the victor!"
The Victor blinked, realization sharply flashing through her eyes.
"You didn't know?" Zelda said incredulously, sitting up straighter on the couch. "Franco, it's everywhere. Everybody's talking about it. It's on T.V."
"I like avoiding television at all costs," Franco muttered, grimacing as he remembered all the gossip on him and his past colleague.
Zelda impatiently waved him off, eyes wild. "Whatever, that's besides the point. Franco, I wasn't able to warn you earlier because I thought you knew, but you better watch your back. There are people out there who would kill to have your spot as Head. Not to mention President Friselbee isn't exactly your biggest fan right now! These accusations are some sort of ploy to get you out of your spot."
"Friselbee wants me to stay as Head, Zelda," Franco heatedly replied. "He can still use me. He enjoys being able to control me. As long as I do what he wants, you and me are safe."
The Victor irately turned her attention back to the television where District Nine's escort, Axel Pinkham, was swiftly choosing a slip for the girls.
"We'll talk about this later, Franco," Zelda snapped as her eyes followed Axel's slim form strut back to the microphone.
Despite wanting to continue the heated conversation, Franco was forced to shut up when Axel enthusiastically read out the reaped girl's name.
"Taegan Harper!"
Whispers and movement erupted, and it was a slim tanned fifteen year-old girl who staggered her way up the steps. Her hands were visibly shaking, and her facial expression was struggling to keep cool and collected. As Taegan stood on stage, she deeply breathed in and out, looking more confused than frightened.
"And for the boys, we've got…" Axel paused, letting the suspense and anticipation thicken. "Dillon Shaw!"
A choked sob erupted from the younger side of the boys' crowd. The boy didn't seem to waste time in revealing himself because he stumbled out of the mob and made his way up. He gracelessly took two steps at a time, and the tip of his foot caught a bottom step. Falling flat on his face, the crowd gasped.
"Oh, dear!" Axel panicked, rushing to his side. "Are you all right, boy?"
Awkwardly shrugging off Axel's grip, Dillon pushed himself up on both feet, looking somewhat unharmed. He shuffled over to Taegan's right, croakily muttering I'm fine's.
"If you're sure," Axel said uneasily, giving Dillon one last look of concern before finally introducing both tributes.
District Ten was next, and the scorching heat made it difficult for the camera to find good angles wherein the sun wasn't going to affect the filming. The townsfolk had pieces of cloth over their heads as they squinted wherever they went. Sweaty and dejected looking kids and teenagers were filing in an organized manner.
"Welcome District Ten!" Tala Kaine greeted the district cheerfully into her microphone. "Let me see some smiles out there!"
A few grown boys by the sides began to shout boos and all sorts of vulgarities at Tala that ruined her good mood entirely.
"Let's start, shall we?" Tala snapped into the microphone, flashing a glare in the direction of the rude boys.
The first half of the reaping passed quick enough. Tala still looked ready to stab somebody when she grabbed a random slip by the top of the girls' pile. Nearly ripping the paper open, she spat out the name in distaste.
"Melisent Ontone."
The girl was seventeen. The girls around her immediately gave her space as if she were an illness they'd catch if they came too near. As the camera zoomed in on her, she muttered a curse and a wave of panic came over her face. A second later, the emotion had gone. With gritted teeth and her head held high, she began to trudge up stage.
Tala seemed to want to finish the reaping as soon as possible, as she already had the next name at the tip of her tongue once Melisent was in place.
"Caleb Trainor."
The way she scowled at the group of boys by the front made it obvious she was hoping the name belonged to one of them. Instead Caleb was the hyperventilating seventeen year-old who stood right behind the boys who shouted obscenities at Tala. He unceasingly breathed in and out, eyes wide with shock and fear. One of the boys, a blond, roughly pushed Caleb forward for him to start walking.
"Get in there, mutt-boy," the blond sneered.
Shaking and still irregularly inhaling and exhaling, Caleb was able to drag his body up the stage, but just barely. He was muttering words under his breath that only he seemed to understand. Tala shot him a suspicious look, probably wondering if he was part of the group of boys who hollered at her.
The said clique was now mocking the way Caleb reacted. The blond who pushed him forward was feigning a faint, and the boys around him cackled incessantly. Tala looked ready to pounce, but Melisent beat her to the punch.
"Will you guys shut the fuck up?" she hissed into Tala's microphone, eyes flashing with utter annoyance.
The entire district hushed, and the boys were frozen in place, shaken from Melisent's outburst. District Eleven was flashed on screen before Tala could even introduce the tributes one last time.
"Is that even allowed?" Zelda questioned with slight amusement.
"She was just reaped," Franco replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Give her a break."
The two shared a laugh, momentarily forgetting about their past argument.
"Ah, one of my favorite times of the year!" Skylar Oakley said merrily into the microphone. His signature wild green hair was messier than ever, and his clothes were a size too small.
The reaping began with the annual video, and the camera zoomed in the faces of random Eleven folk. With each face, the more depressing everything seemed. Franco was actually glad when the camera focused on Skylar again, despite the fact that his floral shirt was short enough to expose his bellybutton. Franco was rather disturbed, and Zelda was obviously enjoying his discomfort as she snickered behind her hand.
"For the girls," Skylar began, holding up the slip for everybody to see, "our tribute is Charisma Matthews!"
District Eleven's mayor sat up straighter in his seat, eyes wide. The girl, Charisma, pushed her way out of the section of eighteen year-olds. She was tall and skinny with long flowing sandy hair and a vacant expression. It was as if she had expected this somehow by the way she reacted so fast, but still couldn't believe what was happening.
"And for the boys," Skylar continued as soon as Charisma took her place by his side, "our tribute is Harris Tweed!"
For the first few seconds, it was silent. Then, the sobbing began. It came from the section of twelve year-olds, and Franco heard Zelda squeak beside him. The freckly boy was on the floor with his head in his hands. It looked as though he had no plans to claim his spot, and it was then when the Peacekeepers took control. With one Peacekeeper holding each arm, Harris was dragged up the stage as he cried out a name to the crowd.
Even with a broken twelve year-old by his right and a detached, lost girl by his left, Skylar was still able to introduce the tributes with a smile on his face.
Finally it was District Twelve. There was no reaping more disheartening to watch than District Twelve, the district that lost all hope years ago. Admittedly their district was temporarily looking more optimistic ever since Haymitch Abernathy won the fiftieth Hunger Games, but he was named one of the most detested victors because of his drunken behavior, and District Twelve was slowly returning to its misery.
A few words were shared from the mayor before the escort, Ebony Wilkins, took control and stood confidently on stage in her tacky yellow dress and poorly highlighted hair. She greeted the district with a good morning, but received no answer. Seeming to have been expecting the district's lack of interest, she immediately cut to the chase and picked a slip from the girls' reaping bowl.
"Anicla Dovimen," Ebony immediately announced.
There was no immediate reaction from anybody, but the camera caught movement by the fourteen year-old girls section. Who could only possibly be Anicla Dovimen, a tall dark-haired girl wearing a long-sleeved dress pushed her way out of the crowd but didn't make her way towards the stage. Instead, she made a run for the exit.
The Peacekeeper was quicker. Before Anicla's fingers could brush the ropes, a rough hand grabbed her slim waist and carried her to the stage. At first, she thrashed and struggled. Once the Peacekeeper dropped her in place, she fell on all fours and emptied out her stomach dangerously close to Ebony's shoes.
"Eek!" Ebony squealed, jumping away in instinct. "Disgusting!"
Capitol sanitary workers immediately sprung into action, forcing Anicla to crawl away from her mess. She stayed seated on the floor, breathing slow and steady and her face coated with mixed sweat and tears.
Muttering furiously under her breath about filthy Seam kids, Ebony picked a slip from the boys' reaping bowl. She marched back to the microphone and snippily announced the next name.
"Everett Carson."
There was an immediate reaction by the seventeen year-old boys. They shuffled around, pushing each other as they tried to move away from the dark-haired grim-looking one who stayed rooted on both feet. He blinked once, then twice, as if everything was just starting to sink in. Robotically he made his way out of the crowd to walk up the stage.
Satisfied by his orderly fashion, Ebony gestured to both tributes on the platform.
"District Twelve, your tributes!"
Then the screen went black. After a few seconds of silence, Caesar Flickerman appeared sitting on an office chair behind his desk.
"There you have it, folks!" He addressed the viewers lightheartedly, smoothing his aqua hair back. "That wraps up the replays of the fifty-third annual Hunger–"
Franco blinked and turned to Zelda who had her arm outstretched with the remote control on her palm.
"That's that," she said, unusually calm. She sat back, unconsciously pulling her skirt down as she did so.
Franco dreaded the worst, but he already knew what she was going to say. She had no idea what she was talking about either. She hadn't been the one meeting Friselbee at least thrice a week, talking about his situation. Each meeting ended with a threat. Franco understood him and how he worked. All Franco needed to do was follow him. Even if it meant killing an innocent twenty year-old Gamemaker, he'd do it. And he had.
"Don't worry about me, Zelda," he said in assurance. "No one's out to get me. I've got Friselbee by my back."
Fists clenching on the sofa, Zelda dangerously narrowed her eyes at the Head Gamemaker.
"You don't understand," she whispered, somewhat desperately. "You cannot trust Friselbee. The guy made you kill his fucking niece! He's got something wrong in the head; I'm telling you!"
It was Franco's turn to get angry. Zelda hit the wrong nerve. Nobody could bring up Desiree Hawkins without receiving one of the ends of his rage. He breathed deeply, attempting to calm himself but all he could hear was the gunshot.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Shut up," Franco hissed, mostly to himself but partly to the woman beside him.
"I'm not going to shut up!" Zelda screeched, springing up to both feet as she towered over the Gamemaker. "You can't just keeping ignoring the fact that that happened, Franco! Desiree died! Friselbee made you kill her! And somehow, he's cooking up some plan to get you right at this moment. There's something out there that isn't good, Franco. These rumors aren't just regular gossip."
"What do you want me to do?" Franco roared back. "I can't just kick Friselbee's door down and shoot a bullet at his face!"
Zelda looked ready to grip Franco's shoulders and shake him until he finally sees sense. "I'm telling you to be careful! I care about you, okay? I know Friselbee saved your life, but what makes you so sure that that wasn't temporary? He's playing you, Franco. And he knows your secret. He knows you're not from here! He knows you're just with me so he wouldn't be able to sell me to some man-whore from the Capitol. He knows so much that could ruin you! That's his intention! Friselbee's a psycho."
He stood up in such alarming speed that Zelda took a step back in surprise. Franco strode towards his desk, dropped his papers on the wooden table and took a seat on his office chair. He fingered a pen with his right hand, tapping it on the wood as he attempted to read through the tribute profiles. He could hear Zelda seething from where he sat, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"I suppose that's your way of putting an end to a conversation," Zelda huffed, a cross look on her face as she eyed the blond man who couldn't even look her in the eye back. "Don't say I didn't warn you about this."
Flipping her hair and straightening her back, she swiftly turned towards the door. Halfway through twisting the knob, Franco addressed her in an awkward, but genuine, tone.
"I'm with you because I like you. Not just because I don't want him to sell you. Well that's a big part of it but you know… I wouldn't stick around if I didn't like you like that."
Her lips slightly stretched into a small smile, but she didn't turn around. Zelda left the office, mind reeling with everything at once. But there was only one thing she needed to focus on now: how exactly was she supposed to help her tributes get out alive?
Author's Note:
Hell yeah, quick update. So yeah like I said before, it's in Franco and Zelda's point of view. If you're not aware, this story also has a side plot focusing on the Head Gamemaker and his life I guess. And the President. You get an idea on parts of the whole thing between Franco and Friselbee in this chapter (if you read the whole thing...) but for the readers who haven't read my first story, I'll fill you guys in on the important details.
1. Desiree Hawkins is the President's niece and he appointed her as a Gamemaker. She was new in last year's Games and is the sole reason why Zelda won in the first place. Under the orders of Friselbee (and kind of to save his own skin + his family's too (Franco you jerk)), Franco killed her by a gun and feels really guilty about it (which is why he wanted to help Zelda in the first place because Desiree wouldn't have wanted her to become a prostitute).
2. Franco escaped his district after failing as a Career (he didn't volunteer–he's kind of a coward dammit Franco). He acted like he was from the Capitol (in this story, it's illegal to leave your district to live in the Capitol without having license or the authority or whatever). Friselbee found out but instead "helped" him and appointed him as Head Gamemaker to keep his secret safe. He actually has other intentions...
Yeah, I think that's kind of it. This was all revealed in the first story and to make it easier for new readers, I lay it out for you up there. :)
Chapter Questions!
Which district stood out most to you?
Which tribute stood out most to you?
Crossing my fingers and hoping the next chapter would be out just as fast as this one. Still no promises, but one can dream...
Till next time!
~jess
PS- On the blog, there are pictures of Franco and Zelda if you'd like to see.