Chapter 2

She looked out amongst the crowd, everyone staring up at her in a tactless pity that she neither wanted or cared for. The stupid rule at the last minute had sent everyone into a state of panic, and as she glanced toward her other female tribute she was overwhelmed with an anger and sorrow. The Games already had their extra twenty four tributes, and now they wanted any random person for it. She swore she was close enough to killing someone before she even got to the arena she was that maddened. Certain death awaited her beyond the walls of her district and it was making her feel helpless, weak. She never liked feeling like that. Although she was the smallest out of all of them, even the fifteen year old by her side, she still felt as though her rage would get her far, far enough to make it through the first day of the Games. But that was only speculation. She was yet to even see the other tributes and anything could happen during the usual bloodbath. Nothing would make her madder than being murdered on the first day. The anthem of Panem rang in her ears but she paid no attention to it. Her stony face was stoic and as toughened as she could make it. Once the ceremony ended she was marched briskly inside the Justice Building to greet her family and friends. She knew from one look of her stepmother's face she was already preparing a funeral in her head. It wouldn't have surprised her. Everyone around her knew she was being sent off to her death. Over forty-seven other tributes it wouldn't seem likely she'd be crowned victor. She could see it in her father's face, and where her face was devoid of emotion his was full of it. She suddenly smiled at him consolingly, as if it would make everything better. At her brave show of confidence it only to make her father's tears glisten brighter on his cheeks. She stepped gingerly into his embrace, his arms crushing her to him and after a moment she realised just how much she'd miss him and hugged him tighter in return.

'I knew it was too good to be true after surviving your adolescent years without being reaped. You're just starting to begin your life...' He said, his sentence losing itself.

'I know. But at least I've lived it a lot fuller than others.'

He nodded a little in understanding.

'Oh, Clara. This year will be so, so much different. Just please try to hang on as long as you can.'

'I will.' She promised. She'd be damned if she was going to give up so early on.

'You're a fighter, we know that. You'll survive with what you have,' he said, gripping her shoulders and looking her deep in the eyes, 'try to arm yourself with whatever electronics you can get. You're great at handling them.'

'I will.'

'And make alliances, friends. You'll need them.'

'Dad, you know I don't do well with other people.'

'It would be the difference between life and death. You're hotheaded and bossy, your temper could serve you well. But you need people on your side, or you won't survive alone.'

She murmured her assent half heartedly.

'No, Clara, this is serious. You know what they did to your mother!'

Her eyes sharpened and narrowed at him at the mention if her mother, trying to suppress the renewed grief she felt, even after all those years.

'I'm going to die anyway, dad.' She admitted, her eyes unable to meet his. He was silent for a moment, and they both knew she was right.

'It doesn't mean I'll stop fighting,' she said, 'I'm more than prepared. I just don't want to fill my head with an insanely false hope that won't get me anywhere.'

He finally looked at her again, deliberating. 'I understand.'

'Now, I really don't want to leave with an argument on our hands.'

He chuckled just slightly. 'Neither do I.'

It was Clara this time that enfolded him into a hug.

'I love you.' He whispered, pulling away to observe her face and smile proudly at her. 'I always will.'

'I know, I love you too, dad.'

He sniffed a little, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. 'Be strong.'

His parting words encouraged a smile and with great reluctance he finally let go.

'I guess you'll want to talk to them now.'

'Yeah.' She whispered.

He patted her shoulder, and with one final study of her face, he let Linda walk him out of the room. She hung her head in sorrow, trying to restrict what she thought were eventuating tears. She knew that would be the last time she'd ever see her father, and it was enough to make her breathless with loss already. The little girl inside her was crying her eyes out with pain and longing already for her father's embraces, but her exterior was kept strictly under rule. A shuffle of feet was heard at the door and she turned to see her friend and two children. Smiling widely, she let the children gather in her arms and hold on like they were never letting go.

'We're going to miss you.' Artie said, looking up into her eyes.

'I'll miss you too. And be glad it wasn't you, Angie.' She said, speaking now to the teenage girl staring at her mournfully.

'I'm sorry if I ever was a pain.'

'You were fine, I've loved every minute of looking after you. You're like my own children.' She told them, issuing another heart-wrenching hug from the young boy.

'I don't want you to die!' Artie exclaimed.

'Hey, now, I'll hang in there as long as I can, alright? You can watch me on the television, trying to fight and fiddling with electronics. Just don't watch my death, alright?'

He nodded meekly. 'Okay.'

'Who will look after us now?' Angie questioned.

'Nina will.' She said, and her attention turned to the woman standing in front of her, a warm but sad smile plastered on her face. Clara pulled her into a hug, remembering in that moment all the time they had spent together, from childhood to womanhood, all the things they had gotten up to. She was thankful at least she had one friend she could rely on and trust, one to pick up the pieces when she was gone for her family and look after the children she'd cared for for over five years.

'I'm going to miss you like hell.' She said, burying her face in her shoulder.

'I know, I will too. Look after Angie and Artie, and my father. He'll need someone there, not just Linda.'

'I will, don't you worry.'

She tightened their hug, almost crushing both of their windpipes.

'I know I won't have to.'

Clara kissed her cheek and smiled at her reassuringly once they had parted, noting the sombre tone of her eyes.

'I never figured it would be like this.'

'I didn't either. But why don't you go out there and find someone, okay? You won't have me around to occupy your time. Go her a boyfriend.'

'Is that an order?' She asked, quirking her eyebrows.

'That's an order.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

Clara smiled again, finally striking within her a feeling of true friendship. Nina had been the best of anyone she could ever have befriended and she was indefinitely grateful for all the years they'd spent together.

'Be good to Nina as you are with me, okay? And keep on doing well at school.'

The duo nodded, offering up one last hug before a peacekeeper appeared at the entrance.

Clara hugged Nina again to prolong their farewells and didn't know she had been annoying the keeper with her time wasting until he suddenly pulled her away from Clara.

'Take care of yourself, Nina, I'll miss you.'

'I'll miss you too, Clara, stay alive!'

It was her last words that hit her, and as she stood alone in the now empty room she considered them. 'Stay alive' seemed as imperative as 'lick your shoes.' There was going to be so much competition, and even more testosterone...

When it came to men she was hardly lucky. It was weird to think that her life would end before she even fell in love. It was always something she had considered but never sought out. She was usually far too busy to even think about any of that. It was only now she knew her fate her mind was asking all these questions about what would have happened or what could have happened. Soon enough the peacekeeper led her and the other tributes to the station, where a high tech train was awaiting. Specialising in electrical power and managing the electricity provided for the Capitol, she could guess the train was a sleek electronic model built for a swift journey through each district to the Capitol, to which it would take just over a day. Photographers were waiting for them, eagerly snapping shot after shot of the tributes until the lights were hurting her head. Finally she entered the compartment, her large eyes widening in wonder at the beautifully decorated interior. It near on captivated her with it's dizzying grandeur and impeccable cleanness. Back inside the dams it was a dirty job and helmets were often worn for protection from bright sparks. It was like that now, like she had taken off her helmet in the dank and dirty dam and let the spark of electricity illuminate until it blinded her. She observed the dining rooms, the bedrooms, even the bathrooms with polished silver taps and a rose petal scented aroma. Words couldn't describe the aura about the place, how enticing it all looked. She had to stop herself from smiling broadly, as the whole purpose to the extravagancy was to show them how life is appreciated in the Capitol, how their heritage let them down back in their own districts and to blind them from their own inevitable deaths. All the other tributes had separated to other rooms or had gone to talk to their mentor. She looked down at herself, her red dress looking disheveled and crumpled already. Even though she had showered already (being a master at electronics she was able to create a makeshift shower) being unclean was something that deeply irritated her. Observing all the clothes in her wardrobe she spent at least half an hour of her time just marvelling at the material and beauty of each item before she even had the shower running. Clara had at last picked a navy blue dress and retrieved a towel, the freshest and softest she had ever felt. At home she would have used a wiry blanket to dry herself off. She managed to work the buttons and dials until a hot downpour of water was spilling from the shower head. Clara stared at it for a moment, letting her hand run under it. She had never seen water so crystal clear and pure, only dirtying and faded. It felt amazing, once she had dropped her clothes and stepped under it, gasping as if pleasured by the way it ran down her skin so deliciously, ridding herself of the dirt and momentarily numbing the pain of being away from home. She washed her hair thoroughly until it glinted in the lights and felt smoother than it ever had in her life. Her whole body smelled a mixture of different pleasing scents and she felt truly as if she had just shed skin like a snake. Wrapping herself in the fluffy, warm towel was the next best thing, smiling dreamily and closing her eyes at the sheer peace she had. Which was terribly ironic, she knew.

But Clara couldn't care as she entered the warmth of her bedroom and pursued with a hairdryer which made her giddy just at how flawless it made her hair feel. She changed into the dress, and decided to wander around. She finally settled at the very front of the train, where she could see the tracks and the sky, evergreen trees that were a rare sight to behold back in her district. They were speeding past so quickly she barely had time to register much from one moment to the next. It felt unrealistic, near on surreal that she was there. She couldn't help but remind herself of the dread awaiting her in the arena. It made everything around her so much more disappointing. She turned her head when one of her fellow tributes joined her, a vivacious woman no older than twenty. She looked even young enough to still be reaping age. Her eyebrows were raised and her hair had a mind of its own, curls frizzing round her head. She looked friendly enough. Not the kind of girl she'd ever want to admit to killing.

'I noticed you don't seem affected by all this.' She began, sitting beside her.

She snorted. 'Is that really how I look?'

'To me it does, yeah.'

'It's wonderful and everything but it's only a distraction.'

'I meant the Games.'

She turned round to stare at her, without a reply.

'At the reaping, you looked emotionless. Painless.'

'Oh, I'm in pain alright. I've had to say goodbye to my parents, my best friend and my children.'

'I'm sorry about that.'

Clara looked once again bemusedly at the girl.

'You don't seem to realise that once we're in the arena we're enemies, do you? You seem so...compassionate.'

'Not always, you can make alliances.'

'But in the end it will only result in more bloodshed. From your partners and from others. Eventually you have to turn on one another. Alliances are dangerous things.'

'But they can help you survive longer.'

'Yeah, I guess so. But it will always end in more pain and that's something the Games already brings to you and that's why I stay independent.'

'You don't like making friends?'

'It's not that, I just don't want to see them hurt.' She glanced up at her dark eyes, wondering if she could ever see a friend in someone who was to shortly turn against her. For some reason she didn't strike her as someone who would stab her in the back.

'Sorry, I never asked you your name. I must have heard it at the reaping but I think I was too shocked to be listening.'

'That's alright. My name's Bill.'

'Bill,' she smiled, 'were you eligible before that new, stupid rule?'

The answer surprised her greatly.

'No, I'm 28 years old.'

'You're what? You look like a teenager!'

'Do I?'

'Yes, I was expecting 18 or something.'

'Well, I'll take that compliment.' She chuckled.

'How come I've never seen you around then? I'm only one year older than you, after all.'

'I work based round the power plants more than the dams. My house is a little further than most, too.'

She nodded. 'Well, I think I can smell food.'

'I've seen it all, there are dishes I've never heard of that taste wonderful.'

'Well, if you're not too full you can join me.'

Bill smiled as they walked out of the compartment where their mentor and a plates and plates of food were piled high on the mahogany tables. Even though she knew once the Games were afoot she'd become independent once more, having Bill there was an extreme comfort. She reminded her of Angie and Artie in particular, such enthusiasm and joy that Clara almost felt bad for. It was nice to come across such a positive character but she still couldn't shake her thoughts from the misleading lie of being there, eating the food and indulging in the facilities. God knows what it would be like in the Capitol. As her eyes swept round the room she reminded herself that they were harvested, only to be reaped in the end. They were all born to die.