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Of the four remaining Victors from our district, only two accompany us as mentors. Megs is elderly and Annie is mentally unfit so Finnick Odair and a middle-aged guy by the name of Darius join us on their own. On the train it's clear that Kellen has attached himself to Odair, who is talking quietly to the boy, though the attractive Victor glances my way with worried eyes every so often.
I'm a little amazed that I've even noticed this because the second I could no longer see the chaos at the station from the large clear window, I have been tucked into a ball on one of the sofas staring glassily at nothing in particular. Darius tried to offer me something to drink at one point but has since given up. Rufus has been chattering non-stop about the excitement. He has somehow convinced himself that Aster was not a Peacekeeper, but a spurned lover. He doesn't even mention the violence, but goes on about the drama of it all. Eventually I can't stand to listen to him and leave the room in search of my quarters. An attendant steers me to my room and I don't even bother to acknowledge the grandeur of it. I just fall into the bed and mentally go over my last moments in District Four.
What did he plan to do if he stopped them from putting me on this train? How would we have gotten over the fence and then where would we have gone after that?
A couple of months ago the sight of Aster the Peacekeeper would have elicited nothing more than a passing glance. I bury my face into my pillow and hold my breath. No…even then we were doing some sort of dangerous waltz; sharing too many smiles, finding each other in a crowd far too often. But how had we possibly built up enough of this silent attraction to warrant him risking his life to save me from the possibility of losing mine? I exhale slowly and roll over. He is dead, I'm sure of it. I've never seen a Peacemaker do anything like that before, but they probably have a pretty standardized kill-rule for that kind of behaviour.
There is a gentle knock on my door and Darius calls out that it's time for lunch. I'm not very hungry but I will have to leave this room at some point and I had better try to make conversation with my mentors. We will be arriving in the Capitol in a matter of hours at which point, as Rufus informed us earlier in the car, we will be whisked away for makeovers. I can only guess what this will entail, but I assume doing it on an empty stomach wouldn't be advisable. I roll out of bed and inspect the wardrobe but decide to keep my own clothes on. I've worn this to every Reaping since I was twelve when it was far too big for me. Over the years I've grown much taller and have gained muscle from my work on the boats, so the frilly dress is too short but only slightly too tight. Even though we haven't been starving for a few years, I'm still very skinny. Still, I feel like I'm trying to look like a child but at the same time I think if I put on the clothing from the Capitol I might scream. So I clean up as best I can for lunch by scrubbing my hands and splashing my face with water, and then I go and join the others.
The food is luxurious, and I've never eaten anything like it before. Kellen is positively beside himself, gorging on sweet dessert cakes and soup made with rich cream. I abstain and nibble on a piece of salted bread, never having had the stomach for sweet foods (though I can count on one hand how many times we ever had any). I have my fill of the bread and take smaller samples of other foods until I am too full to eat another bite. The table is uncomfortably silent for all of five seconds before Rufus pipes up.
"You are going to adore the Capitol, my lovelies!"
And he's about to elaborate when Darius interrupts him without a second glance.
"Listen, you two," we both become intent on him and Rufus trails off with an indigent huff, "we need to decide right now how we are going to play this out. Sometimes the Tributes like to train together, other times not. You'll have your own stylists, and there two of us as Mentors so we can split that evenly too if you want."
Finnick nods and adds, "Now is the time to choose."
I glance at Kellen and am again struck by the resemblance to Marcus. I don't think I will be able to kill him if the time comes, and even if I could how would I face my district? I'm about to say that we should train together, but he looks at me and shakes his head.
"Separate," he says, and his voice isn't as child-like as I imagined it would be. Suddenly I'm looking at him without the overlap of Marcus and I see a boy on the cusp of becoming a man. He is small but he is wiry. He looks innocent to the world, but I can see stubbornness in his eyes. And no doubt he is looking at me and seeing the tall, athletic, and crazy fisher's daughter that jumped into the sea with hungry sharks and came out with nothing but a single cut. I look away from him and stare down at my bandaged palm in my lap. He's not Marcus and he doesn't want my protection. To him I am a threat like the others.
"Separate," I agree.
The two men nod as if they suspected this and Finnick offers to be Kellen's mentor. I'm not heartbroken, though I suspect other female Tributes might have been. He's very attractive but he's also very young. Darius has been mentoring for decades and I can't help but think my chances are better with him. Not to mention, Finnick Odair's stunning good looks are not exactly the first thing on my mind at the moment. In fact I'm currently engaged in an inner battle between trying to push thoughts of my family away and fighting off images of a mostly dead Aster at the same time. I try to pay attention to what Darius is saying to me.
"We'll be arriving shortly, at which point your stylist will have you until this evening. After dinner we can go over your strategy."
We move as a group to the next train car to watch a recap of the other Reapings. It is two o'clock and we start off by watching the live broadcast from District Twelve. The girl is thirteen and the boy is fifteen. As with most of the coal mining Tributes, they don't look like much and I silently guess neither of them will last long; underfed and ill advised. Haymitch Abernathy isn't even looking at them. He's got his head tucked between his knees and I think there is a vomit stain on the leg of his pants. I review my situation once more and realize things could be much worse. Darius has always been a competent mentor (he mentored Finnick and Annie, and Marcus but I refuse to think about it) and he isn't as notoriously damaged as most of the other winners. He's got a short fuse though, and I know I've seen him on some of his worse days back in Four, especially after Annie returned home. I've just got to keep him happy and he will do his best to keep me alive.
When we watch the recaps, I begin to gain confidence but lose heart. The majority of this year's Tributes are very young and I don't think I will ever be able to bring myself to killing them. Aside from me and the four Careers from One and Two, there is only one other Tribute who looks like a threatening contender. Standing beside the thirteen year old girl on the podium in District Ten, Armand Fleck is seventeen and made of muscle. As I look at him I get a sick feeling in my stomach because he's actually smiling. He volunteered and I doubt it was for sentimental reasons. The Capitol is going to absolutely love him.
We stick around and watch clips from last year's Games and a review of the commentators' favourite kills. Eventually Kellen leaves in search of his own bed, followed by a pale faced Finnick, but I remain glued to the screen. Darius left a while ago but returns now with two glasses partially filled with dark pink liquor and ice. He hands one to me and I sip it dubiously while he turns off the screen.
"What are you thinking?"
I'm thinking that this drink tastes very good compared to the garbage they sell back home.
"The other Tributes," I say instead because it was true a moment ago.
"I'm not saying you won't have to take any of them out," Darius says slowly, "but you don't have to get right into the Bloodbath either. By the looks of them, that's where most will…finish."
Yeah, I thought as much too but I also know not to underestimate these kids. Hadn't I done that already with Kellen? And hadn't I seen that I was wrong just by giving my head a shake and seeing him for who he really is? Some of these people might be very skilled in areas that I am not.
Darius is looking at my hand and I let him roll the bandage away. The cut is flaming red and opened again at some point in the day. He sends an attendant to get another bandage and when she returns he freshly dresses the wound.
"I heard about this about an hour after you got off that boat," he laughs quietly. "When I heard your name get called this morning I thought, 'Well, hell, I got me a shark fighter!'. You've got guts."
I shake my head. "That wasn't bravery that was stupidity, and fear of my wages being garnished for the rest of my life. I almost got bitten in two for a Capitol owned trident that wouldn't have cost them a thing to actually replace."
"Call it what you want, but I doubt any of your competition would jump in shark infested waters for a weapon."
He's probably right about that.
When we finally do roll into the Capitol, I am struck by one thing. In the sea of colour that greets us at the station – screaming fans of the Hunger Games – I find myself looking for the familiar white uniforms of the Peacekeepers but find hardly any. They're around, but given the immense size and reaction of the crowd I expected to see hordes of them toting menacing looking guns to keep people in check. The ones that I do see seem to be more intent on our train than on the people surrounding it.
Back home the amount of Peacekeepers is frightening. The fences are patrolled night and day, and the water is scoured by twenty Capitol boats at any given time. Because it is a four day travel from the shore to the barbed fence, they take all precautions. Even if a crew was to try and stay out on the water longer than their shift allowed, they would be caught within days and killed in the square. I've seen this happen. Additionally, there is little amity between us and them. It is rare to meet a friendly one, and rarer still to return the niceties. This is exactly why the other Peacekeepers reaction to Aster's outburst at the train station was slow. They must have thought he was defending himself somehow from one of us at first. If they knew what had been happening between us before the Reaping we would have both been publicly executed.
It suddenly occurs to me that his superiors may have come to their own conclusions about what was going on. They may have even forced him to explain himself before they inevitably killed him. I could be in even more danger in the Games than I initially thought if the Capitol intends to use the event to get rid of me.
By the time we are escorted off the train I am trembling uncontrollably. I try to cover this up by smiling and waving to these euphoric idiots but I am truly terrified.
Because if another Tribute doesn't kill me, I'm certain the Gamemakers will.
Once again Kellen and I are separated when we reach the building where we will be living and training for the next few days. A trio of flamboyant looking people greets me with a frightening number of strange looking grooming tools and several bowls of curious smelling substances. If anything, this new set of horrors has temporarily distracted me from my misgivings about the Gamemakers. One of the team members lushes over the length of my hair, which ends just below my shoulders, but bemoans the colour. Blonde, I am told, is boring. They only trim it though and move onto my eye brows and face. My freckles are apparently ghastly but there isn't really time for the bleaching treatment to rid me of them, so they assure me that make-up will cover the worst of the spots. I'm still young so my skin hasn't taken too much abuse from the harsh sea elements, but the team still scrubs me down until I'm pink and new. They all squeal in horror at the cut on my hand and an attendant is called instantly to swath it in goo and rewraps it. When my Stylist comes to examine their work I am shiny, virtually hairless, and cleaner than I have ever been. Gigi flutters her feathered eyelashes at me and has me stand and turn for her on the spot, completely in the nude.
She is so much shorter than me despite her ridiculous heeled shoes that I can't help but laugh out loud. All four of them laugh too (though I don't think at anything in particular) and exclaim that they are all so happy to have gotten such a bubbly Tribute this year. I have been incredibly lackluster since my name was called this morning and I find it strange that a few smiles and one laugh makes me bubbly, but then Gigi tells me that last year's Tributes could not stop crying right up until they were thrown into the arena. My polite smile fades. Our last two kids were both twelve and one of them wasn't well mentally. The sight of his confused face as he stepped off his platform early was enough to start a small riot at home. Seven men were killed the morning that little boy died. One of them was his father.
For the rest of my session with Gigi I am intentionally sullen and extremely unpleasant. I have spent years of my life trying to make others happy in the face of hardship, but these people have no adversity in their lives and so I refuse to smile and giggle and go right along with them as they groom me for slaughter. When Rufus finally arrives to bring Kellen and me to our suit, I brush past Gigi so abruptly that she is thrown off balance and lands in a heap. She actually starts to bawl like an infant but I don't look back and just walk right to the elevator where Darius is standing.
"Making friends I see," he says, and I think he's trying not to smile.
"Can we just go?" I ask, but I do actually feel a lot better now. We don't wait for Rufus who is trying to console Gigi while Kellen stands awkwardly at his side. Maybe Finnick will come get him if they don't come up soon.
We step off the elevator on the fourth floor and Darius gives me a tour of the apartment. He stayed here once, I remember, but technology has probably changed since then. I only guess this, because at home we still watch the same television that was originally installed in our small rickety house and have received no technological advancements in years.
In my room I am forced to choose Capitol clothing to wear because my dress disappeared quickly after my makeover began. Unless I want to wander around in this sheer robe for the next few days, I have to pick something. I pull on a pair of skin tight cotton pants and a loose airy shirt that reaches my thighs and leaves my shoulders bare. It's probably the most comfortable thing I've ever worn but I will never admit that out loud.
Dinner is subdued as Kellen seems intent on ignoring my existence and, according to Rufus, Gigi has refused to join us. In some kind of stand against my evil ways, Kellen's stylist has also decided to dine elsewhere tonight. This is okay with me, and no one else from District Four seems to care, but Rufus is genuinely wounded by my behaviour.
"You know, I've dealt with some real savages from the outer districts in my time, but what you did was just horrid! I expected more out of District Four!" He stares me down from his seat at the long table but I don't give him the light of day. He doesn't need it. "And quite frankly, I don't suppose you think this is going to get you any sponsors once the word gets out how poorly you treated someone who is only trying to help you look your best!"
Oh yeah, sponsors. That strikes a chord but I don't show it. Darius and Finnick however have stopped eating and are now listening to what our escort has to say.
"And Gigi is one of the very best and just look how you thanked her for that!"
All Gigi did today was look at me while I was naked, but I concede to the fact that our Tributes haven't looked completely laughable the years that she had the job. And unless I want to show up in the chariot wearing the most hideous getup that Gigi can think of, I had better think of an apology. I put down my spoon and look at Rufus. I give him the most repentant look I can muster and plead with him to send Gigi up to the apartment after dinner.
He agrees but I think he only wants to have a winner this year and he isn't seeing it in Kellen. Rufus knows that my first appearance during the chariot rides will be what gets the attention of potential sponsors and we both know for that I need Gigi.
After dinner, Darius takes me out to the sitting room to go over my strategy before the Stylist arrives for my request for forgiveness.
"We need to figure out how to play your interview before we figure out how to play the arena," he tells me. "Will you be sexy? Fierce? Mysterious? Clever?"
I think this over and I guess that out of the four I could probably pull off clever. But I'm too skinny and flat chested to be sexy and I doubt any of us are going to able to out-fierce the boy from Ten.
"What about likeable?" I ask but I know it sounds wrong. "I could gush about the Capitol, simper and smile over the opportunity I've been given…"
I've seen Tributes do this in the past and have always been disgusted by the idea of thanking our killers. But now that I'm looking at my options, I realize why they do it. One word: sponsors. Darius doesn't seem to like the idea any more than I do though.
"What about fearless?" he suggests. "You swim with sharks recreationally, you joy ride on the high seas; how can someone without fear lose?"
I roll my eyes at the exaggerations but have to admit it sounds better than blatant flattery.
"Fearless…" I'm not confirming anything I'm just saying it out loud.
Suddenly Darius looks haggard and I think about how hard this must be on him to go through this every year. It's true that District Four often has Career Tributes because the nature of our work makes us strong and usually good with a knife or a spear, but we don't have nearly as many volunteers as One and Two. Add that to a rather high population of children between the ages of ten and fifteen, and we've had exceptionally back luck at the last several Reapings. Worse still for Darius who has a young son who must sit through them and pray he doesn't get chosen. As it turns out, I'm actually the first Tribute over the age of fourteen in five years. This realization sinks in my stomach like a stone because everyone at home must be expecting me to return.
Talk about pressure.
Me and Darius look at each other and I'm pretty sure we are both on the same page at this point.
"I wouldn't want your job," I say with earnest.
He gives me the saddest look I have ever seen cross his lined face. "If you survive this, it's yours hon."
Which of course I know, only I had been thinking of this as a death sentence and hadn't even considered that as a possibility. We both kind of laugh in a bout of unified defeat. No one is ever really a winner in these Games. I feel comforted that we both share this strange reaction. Somehow it makes me feel less alone.
I wish that I could tell him about Aster but I'm no fool. You can bet there are cameras and recording devices throughout the apartment. We never see it on the broadcasts, but it would be stupid of the Capitol not to keep an eye on us. At any rate, Gigi walks through the door and I can't spill my heart out to my mentor even if I wanted to.
It takes me half an hour to talk Gigi down from her tower of Adeline-hate, but we get there eventually and I find myself hugging her and trying not to stick my eye out with her outrageous hairdo. I smile and simper and do and say everything I would have said and done had we decided to go with 'likeable' for my interview. In my head I am hoping that I see as little of her as possible after this because I just don't think I can handle the sucking up.
Because District Four is so much closer to the Capitol than most of the others, we arrive almost a full day earlier than those from Twelve. While these Tributes are presumably receiving their star treatments, those of us that arrived yesterday have nothing to do but wait in the apartments until the Opening Ceremonies tonight. Our mentors waste no time in coaching us with our strategies. When I ask Darius if this extra time gives us an advantage over the other Tributes, he shakes his head.
"Some of them have had very long train rides here. They've had nearly as much time as you."
By mid afternoon I'm wishing we had arrived later as well. We've worked out the details of how I'm supposed to act in and out of the arena, but eventually we all need a break. I can't stand this sitting around and waiting. My stomach is in knots and I have to lock myself in the bathroom several times to be sick. So much for fearless. This hurry up and wait to die mentality is going to kill me before I even enter the arena. I haven't seen Kellen all day but by the way he picks at his food at lunch, I assume he isn't doing much better. Finally Gigi arrives with Kellen's stylist and our style teams and we are separated again to get dressed for our big debut.
In my bedroom I am poked and prodded, dabbed and brushed. My hair is teased and sprayed until I have a wild mane that is pulled back from the hair line. Layers have been cut into it and sea shells have been woven through a few of the thick strands, so that when I move they rustle together like the wind chimes we make at home. My natural tan has been further bronzed and intricate blue makeup wings out from my eyes and even covers my pale eyebrows. My lips are painted a pale sea-foam green and my shoulders and midriff have been adorned with shining blue sequins. In the light I look like sun reflecting beneath the water. My lean muscles are exaggerated with clever shading, and I find myself impressed by the effect. When the bandage is taken off my hand, I am shocked at the pale pink scar that is barely visible. We do not have medicine like this in Four.
My outfit leaves little to the imagination, and I flush when I see it in Gigi's arms. It's a combination of flimsy gold netting and green material that I suppose is meant to look like seaweed. I pull on the seaweed top and it barely covers even my tiny breasts, followed by the matching bottoms which are smaller than any underwear I've ever worn. My team then fits the netting around me, making it appear as though I've just torn though it. A necklace of shark teeth is placed around my neck and a light weight trident (much taller and menacing looking than the one I use at home) is put in my hands. I am to be barefoot. I look in the full length mirror and a beautifully savage beast stares back at me. I look like a creature from a myth. Like the sirens in the old bedtime tales who lure men out to sea to kill them. A naked siren, that is.
My team leaves me then and Rufus escorts Kellen and me down to the Remake Centre for the Opening Ceremonies. Kellen looks like a small male version of me. He wears the green underwear and is swathed in gold nets. We have similar makeup on our faces and they have made his curls unruly. He would look truly ferocious if it isn't for the fact that he doesn't even reach my shoulder. That and the matching trident in his hands make him look laughable. It makes him look small and childish. Suddenly I'm afraid that we both look ridiculous in these getups and that we won't impress anyone. No sooner does that thought cross my mind when the Tributes from Eleven walk in. Stalks of corn can in no way be represented attractively. I silently thank Gigi because while the rest of the arriving Tributes aren't all dressed silly costumes, most are and we are still able to hold a candle to One and Two who have looked stunning every year.
The entire debut seems to fly by. I haven't paid attention to the speeches or the crowds. I haven't been watching the screens at all. All night I size up my opponents, and try to get a better look at the biggest threats. Alabaster from One is a block of muscle, as is his female counterpart Jewel. They flex as their chariot flies past me and I know they will be a problem. Silver, from Two is just as tall as I am and is deceptively thin. I suspect any hand to hand fight between the two of us would result in a stalemate, we are that similarly built, though he has a crazed look in his eye that I don't trust. The girl from Two, Star, has an intensely smug look on her face but I'm confused as to why she volunteered. She's small, and doesn't appear to be terribly athletic. I can feel her confidence from here though and am instantly suspicious. And then of course, there is Armand who is managing to look like a total lunatic in his corn costume.
The rest are just little kids and I don't consider them for long because I dread the moment when I might have to kill one of them. Every once and a while I catch one glancing my way, eyes flitting away quickly when they realize I've seen them doing it. I must look like a monster to them, and soon I start to feel like one.
Finally the show is over and we are ushered back up to our apartments. The evening has been so busy that I haven't thought about home in hours, but as I stand beneath the hot shower trying to scrub off the bronzer and sequins, my mind turns to Aster being beaten down by the other Peacekeepers. I think back to the confusion I felt whenever we caught each other's eye in the square, or of the times he lingered to speak to me at the harbour. I remember the times he let me swim freely, and the one time that he joined me. I have countless memories of him and a confused tangle of warmth that flutters in my stomach whenever I picture his face. Is it possible to fall in love with someone who is a stranger? I think he was in love with me, to risk what he did. It's this thought that really brings it home for me. My district has been given a competent Tribute after years of painful deaths; they will be hoping for a triumph for Four. Aster very probably gave his life in the hope of ensuring I kept mine.
I fall asleep with this heart tightening thought in mind.
Hmmmm...I'm afraid this is running a little slow for a fanfiction BUT I was hoping to keep the same tone of the books. So believe me, I'm already well ahead of this! I've been writing none stop and have another two chapters ready. Adeline will be arriving in the arena soon! And as always: REVIEW!