If the local Training Center were to be empty on any given day, it probably would have been on a Reaping Day.
Arden, however, made sure that this wasn't quite so the case.
Sweat-slicked hands grabbed at the handles of knives and threw them at moving targets––the blades sliced deep into the dummies, straight into the bloody circle that centered their torsos and the objects shuttered to a halt.
The tip of her right foot traced a half circle as she gracefully spun on her left heel, tossing a couple more knives as if they were dice. They hit her targets straight–on––however, she had no time to so much as glance at them because she had to duck and roll away from the incoming rain of arrows heading straight at her.
She dodged them with arched jumps, slicing clean through the arrows with her knives when she found the need to, and sent knives soaring to the machines that attack her. The blades stuck into the cracks between the metal pieces, and she backflipped a few meters away from them before they simultaneously exploded.
Arden tensed, awaiting more attacks, but a simple clapping from behind her caused her to spin around. Her posture relaxed whens she saw that it was only Hawken, her best friend. Her training instructor jotted down notes on a clipboard.
"Good," she said, walking over to Arden and showing her the clipboard. Arden's eyes scanned over the clipboard, her expression unchanging. "Full points. I believe you're ready."
She looked up at her instructor, her blue eyes hardly betraying her surprise. "You think that I'm ready to go to the Games this year?"
"Yes, and no. I am sure that others will have a problem with your age, but I don't want to give the Training Center time to squash down your ferociousness," her trainer said, giving her a small wink. "Don't tell anyone, but I already put your name in the volunteer spot this year. You're in."
Arden gasped, mouth open in surprise––but it quickly transformed itself into a wide grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling upward. "Thank you, thank you!" she screeched, engulfing her trainer in a hug. She only chuckled and patted her back. "You go get those tributes this year, Arden Carter."
She and Hawkin left the Training Center together, Arden still in her training gear.
"If you only you could go to the Games with me this year!" Arden sighed as they walked down a path.
"Now I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want that," Hawkin said, though he still smiled. "I'm jealous of you, though. Proud––but still jealous. I hope you win."
"Hope?" Arden scoffed, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. "No––me, a fifteen–year–old, volunteers at the Reaping only to die during the bloodbath. That's terrible. I'm going to be the victor, no doubt about it."
Hawkin only smiled as they strolled along the path. Eventually they reached Arden's house, and they turned toward each other at the gate.
"I'll see you at the Reaping?" Arden asked, leaning downward to give him a hug.
He patted her on the shoulder. "Yeah. You, look well on the stage."
She grinned at him, he smiled at her, and then Hawkin turned around and rolled away. Arden watched him for a moment at his slowly receding figure, his gloved fingers steadily pushing at the wheels of his chair. She felt her eyebrows knit together, but she sighed to herself and turned away.
Her mother greeted her instantly, frowning and eyes scanning over her daughter. "You're absolutely drenched in sweat. Have you not taken a shower at the Training Center?"
"No, mom, it hadn't really occurred to me," Arden drawled in reply, slinking past her mother. The persistent woman stayed right on her heels.
"Well, go upstairs now! Take a shower!"
"Well, I was thinking," Arden replied, taking off her ponytail to shake back her brown hair. "That maybe I can go to the Reapings in this outfit? It'd look really nice!."
Mrs. Carter's slim eyebrows curved downward, her eyes narrowing at her daughter and the edges of her well-painted lips thinning. "Of course not! That'd be absolutely horrible––why are you even suggesting such a thing, Arden?"
Arden let out a long sigh, already expecting this answer. She carefully tied her hair back up into a ponytail, glaring at her mother. "Because, mom, I'm going to the Capitol in two days and it'd be nice of the cameras show me in my training outfit!"
She was sure her mother had stopped listening at 'Capitol' and wasn't quite sure why she had continued talking. Her mother's eyes, sharp blue like her's, widened with fiery surprise. "What are you talking about, Arden?" she snapped.
"My instructor!" Arden sighed. "She said that I'm ready this year."
"But you're only fifteen," her mother said testily.
"She said that I'm eligible, mom!"
"Nonsense, I shall talk to her right this instance," her mother said, stalking to the kitchen to reach the telephone.
"The Reaping's in half an hour, we don't have time for that!" Arden exclaimed behind her. She felt her irritation licking at her like flames, and she had to grit her teeth in frustration. "Just believe her––and me, mom! I thought you'd be happy!"
Her mother's hand was on the phone as she looked at her daughter, eyebrows furrowed. "I've hardly seen you train yourself! How can I be sure that you're ready?"
"Because I know I am," Arden replied, glaring at her mother with steely eyes.
The two women stared at each other, mother and daughter, volts of words shot at each other through their eyes. After a terse moment Mrs. Carter sighed, rolling her eyes with extreme effort.
"Alright. You'll go to the Capitol today. But––" she snapped the word, pointing at her daughter. "You may not wear that outfit to the Reapings! Change, now, before I change my mind and stop you from going to the Reaping at all!"
They both knew that would result in death, but Arden also knew that her mother wasn't joking. She scowled at her, shoulders slumping in defeat as she marched up the stairs, slamming the door of a bathroom heavily behind her.
She doused herself in water, scrubbing at her skin furiously with her hands and shaking her head to rid her hair of excess water. She exited the bathroom stark naked and dripping wet, leaving a trail of puddles behind her as she strode to her room.
A yellow sheet of shiny fabric waited at her chair, and she picked it up and examined it. A simple dress, with a bow on the back––too fancy for her liking, but she guessed it would do.
Arden used an old shirt to dry herself off before slipping into the dress, messily tying the ribbon behind her. She knew she was going to be late at this rate, but she could hardly care, only bothering to brush her hair into a slick ponytail before storming down the stairs.
"Ready, my girl?" her father asked at the door, his smile hardly faltering at her appearance. Her mother's beam was slightly stressed as she corrected Arden's bow.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Arden replied.
The family set off, grabbing a taxi to the city square at the street. They were late––"fashionably so," as Arden's father called it––and Arden hardly got to say good bye to her parents before she hurried off to have her blood checked.
The announcer, a Capitol official with the name of Leporis Honeyman or something like that, had already finished and now the mayor was making his usual speech about Panem's history. Arden shuffled into the fifteen-year-old section, receiving glares from her peers before they turned their attention back to the stage.
Arden waited, a bit bored––do people even pay attention to these speeches any more? It's not like it's different every single time––until Leporis finally got to drawing the names.
As with usual Capitol manners, he started with drawing the female name. She waited patiently for the girl to be called out––really, did her name matter? Nope. Not at all––and for the usual formalities before raising her hand.
Leoporis mimed surprise. "Well, well, it seems like we have a volunteer this year!" he piped in his ridiculously high voice, waving Arden over with his jewel-studded fingernails. "Come up here, girl, tell us your name!"
Arden strode up to the stage, glaring at the girl chosen as tribute as she passed her by the stairs. She stood by Leoporis, shaking his hand with an iron grip.
She turned to the stage, ignoring formalities and microphone. "I'm Arden Carter," she announced, her voice strong. "And I am going to be your female tribute for this year's Hunger Games."
She didn't bother looking at the audience, at the probably impressed faces, and instead took her place by the mayor's left side. Leoporis didn't even falter, his eyebrows wagging in what looked like curious delight before he pranced over to the male's side to pick the name.
Surprisingly enough, the male who Leoporis chose did not have a volunteer replace him. Even so, Arden hardly even noticed him as they shook hands. Who cared about him? Yes, he'd be her ally during the Games, but that didn't mean she needed to know him. She waited through the rest of the Reaping, sighing in relief when it was finally over.
She waited in the visiting room; her wait wasn't long, as the doors opened and, like soldiers, her parents marched into the room, their shoulders touching. The two were both tall, and with her sitting they looked like twin towers.
"We are very proud of you, Arden," her father started, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "You are our only child, and we wish for you to do well in these Games."
"We have trained you," her mother stated, looking down at her daughter carefully. "And we know that you will win. We have faith in you."
She looked up at her parents, reminiscing her memories of them––when her father first taught her how to throw a knife, jogging with her mother before training school hours, battling both of them in one training session which ended up with all three of them scratched up and laughing––their faces, frowning and disappointed as she was carried off to the ambulance, Hawkin groaning in another stretcher right behind her.
Her eyes fluttered downward.
"Thank you, mother, father," she said quietly. They nodded at her.
"We'll be watching," her father said before the two turned and left the room.
She didn't watch them leave, not even blinking as the door shut. It took a couple more minutes for the door to creak open, and she heard the smooth sound of wheels rolling against polished floors.
Arden looked up and smiled at Hawkin, standing up to lean down and hug him.
He parked the wheelchair and hugged her back.
They didn't break out of their embrace. Hawkin murmured, "Please, get out of there safely," and Arden, surprised that she didn't feel insulted, nodded a tiny nod against his shoulder.
They separated and smiled sadly at each other.
He held out a gloved fist. "See you later, sis."
She gently pushed her knuckles against his. "Yeah, bro."
He wheeled around and left the room, leaving Arden standing in the center by herself, knowing that no one else would visit and waiting to be taken away.