"Okay," he says barging out from a room in the back of the train car, "let's take a look at you two."
Luke has short, spiked and blonde hair. His muscles bulge under his small shirt. His legs are long and strong. If you saw him on the street, you would think he was from District 4 rather than 6. With tanned skin, he looks Jesse and I up and down, judging us. I can see him note the distance between the two of us. "You're now brother and sister. Congratulations."
"What?" I spit, startling Jesse.
"We need a strategy to get sponsors. We're going to play the sibling love card."
"I don't even know him."
"Well, you're going to have to get acquainted because you two are going to be spending a lot of time together."
"Maybe," I comment under my breath, but it's quiet enough in the train car that Luke hears me.
"You'll need him. Trust me." I roll my eyes. Luke disappears into the next train car. Jesse is looking around at all the decorations and food. He smacks his moist lips.
"Never seen food before?" I make an attempt at a joke, but he just looks at me. He has innocent eyes. "Eat." He smirks slightly and turns toward the drinks. He pours himself a glass of scotch and downs it. Shaking my head at his attempt to show off, I run my hands along the table covered in silver plates and utensils. Everything is so shiny. It's so out of place.
"Beca, aren't you hungry?" Gail, our escort, asks, materializing out of nowhere.
"Not really."
"You should eat. You'll need the energy for later. Besides," she takes a deep breath, "you need to get used to eating Capitol-style. Your stomach won't be used to the food at first."
"So I'll throw up?"
"Maybe."
"Fantastic." She smiles at me, glad that I'm finally talking, and she walks over to scold Jesse for drinking underage.
He starts to argue, "I'm dead anyways." I can practically hear Gail trying to clear the lump from her throat. I wouldn't know what to say either if I was in her shoes, dealing with dead children while they're still alive, watching them prepare to be slaughtered by another child.
Gail shows me to my room after realizing I'm not going to eat right now. My bedroom in this train is as big as my entire house. Leaving me to explore my temporary home, Gail leaves and shuts the door behind her. I flop down on the bed immediately. For some reason, this day has been exhausting. I curl up under the blanket in my reaping clothes and close my eyes, anticipating slumber.
It never comes.
I hear a light knock on my door followed by the soft click of it opening. Expecting Gail, I'm surprised when it's Jesse's voice I hear. "Beca? Dinner will be in fifteen minutes. Luke wants to talk to us afterwards." I mumble in reply, waiting for the door to click once again, but instead I feel him sit down on the edge of the bed. "Listen, I know it's hard to leave 6 like this, but we can get through this. We can get through this together." I open my eyes to look at him. He's sitting down by my feet, and he is looking down at the floor. I can't help but feel angry at him. For what, I'm not sure.
I open my mouth to yell at him, but instead the words "I don't know how this happened," come out. I don't know why I said it, but it causes him to look up at me. The skin around his eyes are puffy, and I realize he's been crying. This whole thing has affected him more than me. I struggle to explain myself, "I never took a tesserae. Never needed it. My name was in there only six times."
His eyes evade mine once again as he replies. "Mine was in 49 times. I took it every year for every member of my family." I had forgotten he had a big family. The oldest of four, the only male. His voice cracks, "I just want to go home." I don't know what to do, so I just lie there and watch him cry. It's over quickly, and he wipes the salty tears from his cheeks. Getting up to leave, he makes his way to the door.
"I- I'm sorry." He turns to look at me, sniffling.
"Don't forget about dinner." I nod slightly.
Dinner is boring and filled with small talk. The avoxes bring us our food and take away our dirty dishes. They just stand in the corner and watch, waiting to wait on us hand and foot. I don't like it, but I can't do anything about it.
"Beca, Jesse, meet me in the television room," Luke orders, getting up from his seat and pushing past us.
"I'm going to wash up first," I say quietly. To my surprise, he nods and let's me go.
I haven't had a hot shower in a very long time. We get electricity in 6 all day long, but I can't afford to pay for a water heater. I can barely afford to keep my parent's house, but I manage. I've worked and saved since I was ten, but the economy crashed around the time my parents died. It crashed in 6 at least. Trains and hovercrafts weren't in as high as a demand as our mayor had thought. Most of what we build is train tracks and replacement parts, but work can only last so long because every district has enough tracks. Or at least that's what I believe. Travel between districts is illegal, unless it's for occasions like this one, The Hunger Games, or if someone is requested at the Capitol. Even though I'm going to die, this is a rare opportunity. I get to see the districts as we pass by. But it's not a fair trade-off.
"What is this?" I ask, walking into the television room. There's one giant screen in the middle of the wall with couches and chairs set up facing it. I figured we were going to watch the other reapings, given they're scattered throughout the day and televised live, but instead Luke and Jesse are watching an old Hunger Games.
"Sit," Luke orders, pointing at the empty chair.
"No." He quirks a brow but turns his attention back to the screen. "Why are we watching this?" Jesse shushes me. "Shouldn't we be watching a reaping? Getting to see our competition?"
"Shut up. This is the end." Gail walks in a few seconds later and sits in the seat Luke told me to sit in. She stiffens as the camera rests on a blond boy. He looks oddly familiar, but all the Victors are familiar looking. "Haymitch Abernathy."
"Why are we watching this one specifically?" I ask. Luke puts his hand up to silence me and points at the screen. All I can see is two bloody tributes too weak to fight. Haymitch falls to ground just as a girl throws her axe. It misses and falls off the edge of the cliff. I don't understand how he wins.
And then the axe comes flying back up and lodges itself in the girl's head. Jesse claps his hands and laughs. Gail sinks back in her chair. Luke smiles at me.
"Wha- how? How did that happen?" I question. Luke smirks.
"Haymitch is a genius." I think I see Gail nod in agreement, but I'm not sure. "Earlier in the games, he had tossed a pebble off the cliff and it bounced back up to him. The Capitol has changed their forcefields so they don't bounce anymore. Most of the time, they're electric and will kill you if you touch them. I wanted you two to see this specific game because Haymitch is from 12. This is the second Quarter Quell. 48 Tributes go in, one comes out. And it was a boy from 12. Just imagine that. Everyone bet against him, thinking the boy from the coal district would suck, and he defied them all by outsmarting his opponents. Now, I'm not saying you should pull a stunt like he did, but just use your heads out there. Be smart. Don't make the obvious choice."
Jesse was nodding along with his every word. I roll my eyes, but store that information in the back of my mind, and announce I'm going back to bed.
Just like before, I'm left without sleep, just staring into the darkness until our train pulls into the station at the Capitol. I didn't think it'd take us very long to get here. As I walk, still in my reaping clothes, to the exit of the train, Luke pulls me and Jesse aside.
"As soon as you step off this train, you'll be taken immediately to your stylist and prep team. They are going to do things to you, and you cannot resist." His eyes bear into mine. "Don't resist." How bad could it be?
Very bad.
Very, very bad.
The prep team rips the hair off my legs and body, making my skin raw. They rub my sore body down with thick oil that burns. The girl with bright orange hair tries to calm me down by saying it'll start to soothe my skin, but it just burns. Another member of the team starts to scrub away at my forearms with what feels like steel wool. I wince and try to pull away, resisting like I was told not to. "We're almost done," he says, grabbing my arm and holding it down as he continues to scrub away my scars. I start to whimper and the orange-haired woman starts to pet my hair, as if that's supposed to soothe me. It just makes me want to bite her hand.
They rinse me down one last time and leave to get my stylist "Fat Amy." I'm left standing in the room naked without a robe or anything to cover myself with. My skin burns, and I don't want to move. My stylist comes in and greets me with a hello. She's a short, about my height, and ample woman with blonde hair that actually looks natural. It's a nice change from what I've seen since I've arrived.
"Call me Fat Amy, or Fat Patricia. Whichever you prefer," she says with a smile. I try to smile back, but it's a little awkward to when I'm standing stark naked in front of her. She walks around me a few times, checking out my body and red spots rubbed raw by her prep team. She disappears behind me and I feel something drape over my shoulders a minute later. "Cover up and we'll talk." I smile genuinely and put my arms through the robe and tie it shut. I join my stylist on the couch in the corner.
"Now, we should discuss the Tribute Parade. Jesse's stylist, Ethan, and I have decided we should collaborate and have similar outfits so you two look like partners."
"Okay." I'm scared because one can only do so much with District 6. The Tribute's outfit is supposed to reflect their District.
"And I know what you're thinking, and no, it won't look stupid," she laughs. "For your make up, I want to experiment a bit. You know, play around."
"Can we not do a lot? I don't want to look unrecognizable."
"Good idea. We'll go light today, and for your interview, after the crowd knows your face, we'll use a bit more, okay?" I smile. "Good. Now let's get you into your suit, hmm?" Suit? Okay, now I'm scared.
To my surprise, the skin-tight suit doesn't hurt my sensitive skin. It feels more like a blanket than thick leather. Patricia wanted to take off my thick eyeliner, but I asked her to keep it on. It's the only make up I wore back in 6, and I want to keep it.
Jesse is wearing a very similar suit, almost the same to be exact. There's a line of bright silver down the center of the suit with notches to make it not a straight line. On one side, there's dark gray. On the other, reflective silver. In the mirror, we look like we complete each other. Patricia rushes us onto the chariot. Our horses are dark grey. The anthem plays as District 1's chariot starts to move. Ours follows in line and soon enough we're traveling through the streets of the Capitol. Jesse looks around at the buildings, mesmerized, and he starts to tip over a bit, losing his balance. I grab his arm and steady him. He gives my hand a light squeeze before I drop it.
To my surprise, as our chariot passes by the clumps of gold, pink, blues, and greens of the crowd, they scream our names and this makes me happy. We may not be as dazzling as the Tributes of 1 or as exciting as the sparkling suits on 3, but they won't forget us. Jesse grabs my hand and lifts his arm above our heads, to show our pride. I go with the gesture even though his clammy hands are the last thing I want to touch. I look at our intertwined hands and my eyes follow the silver of our suits. I glance up at one of the screens along the street and see how we do look like one. Our stylists were successful.
The row of chariots trot up to President Snow's mansion and come to a halt. The anthem finishes strong and the city falls silent as Snow walks out on his balcony. He thanks us for our sacrifice and gives us the signature "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor" line, then we start off again to the training center, our final destination. As we turn into the building, I start to feel a bit dizzy.
The doors of the center shut behind us and I see all the tributes hop off their chariots and talk with their mentors. This is the first time I really get to see my competition. I look around even though I feel like I could fall over at any minute. Might as well get a good look now before we start training. There's a tall blonde from 1 with a menacing glare. She's probably a bitch. There's a small boy from 12 who looks about thirteen. A shame, really. I spot a boy with an afro from 2 standing with a redhead. Her back is to me, but she turns around before my eyes move on to the next group. Our eyes lock for a solid minute, my eyes staring into hers and vice versa. I feel light-headed and I start to sway a bit, but my eyes never leave hers. I see a ghost of a smile on her lips as she turns away from me to follow who I would guess is her mentor. This is when I allow myself to collapse.
"Luke!" Jesse calls out, now by my side, holding my head up off the floor. Everything is going black and I feel myself slipping into darkness.
"You, take her up to the sixth floor apartment," Luke orders to someone, and I feel strong arms around me a second later. I'm lifted off the ground and carried through the crowd. The last thing I remember is the soft ding of an elevator.
I wake up screaming and drenched in sweat as always. I know where I am this time, thankfully, so I don't need to calm myself down. I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye and find Gail's outline through the frosted glass of my door. She knocks softly and walks in. It was smart of her to wait until I was done screaming; I didn't want to see the concern in her eyes again. "Up, up up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" she says, as cheery as ever. She has to be cheery; today is the day. Today is the day that seals my fate. Today is the beginning of the Games, my Games.
I take a hot shower for the last time. It tastes sour in my mouth, saying "the last time." I'm seventeen. I shouldn't be saying these things, but I am. This is the last time I eat a full meal. This is the last time I will see Luke, or Gail, or Patricia. This is the last time I will feel safe. This could be my last day to live.
Gail comes back in my room after my shower to check up on me. I ask her to stay and talk, she does. She tells me about her older sister, Effie, who is the escort for 12. "She requested it," she tells me. I ask why. "Most people see the people of 12 as scum who will never amount to anything, but she sees them as so much more. She sees them as..." she waves her hand around, searching for the right word.
"Underdogs?" I suggest.
"Yes! Underdogs. It's a dangerous way to think nowadays." She continues on about her sister and her job. Effie works with Haymitch, the only living victor from 12, which explains her weird actions while we watched his Games on the train. I ask if I should try to team up with the tributes from 12 this year, and she says no. They're not reliable, according to Haymitch. My mind goes back to the Tribute Parade and seeing the little boy with the innocent face covered in black dust. He won't last a day.
"I like your hair like this. Blonde and natural. You should keep it this way." She smiles at me and says thank you. I return the gesture effortlessly. Gail isn't as bad as I had first imagined.
"Well, I better leave you to saying your good-byes to your bed," she jokes. Getting up to leave, she stops and turns to face me half way to the door when I call out her name.
"Yeah?" she asks.
"What happened in Luke's Games?"
She smiles warily, "I'll tell you about it after breakfast, okay?"
"Okay."
As she reaches the door, she turns one more time to talk to me. "Oh, and Beca? Remember this: you're stronger than they are. You're smarter than they are. You can win." I stare into her eyes. I'm too far away to tell, but I think she's crying. "Promise me one thing?"
"What?" I reply, my voice quiet and soft.
"You'll come home. You'll survive. You'll return safely." Her bottom lip quivers as she finishes.
"I- I can't promise anything." I feel something on my cheek, and I wipe it away. Rubbing my fingers together, I find I'm crying. When I look up, Gail's gone.
She's not at breakfast.
She's not with Luke when we say our good-byes.
"Beca," Luke starts, putting his hands on my shoulders, "don't forget who you are." I find his advice quizzical, but I nod. "Be strong. Fight when only necessary. Don't forget to stick with Jesse; you two need each other. Don't grab anything from the Cornucopia, no matter what you see, and run as soon as the buzzer goes off. You just run and run and don't stop, got it?" I nod again. "And find water. Water is your best friend." I crinkle my brow, trying to store everything he's rambling on about. I know it's all important, but he's talking too fast. We don't hug, we don't need to. I turn to walk to the hovercraft. "Sweetheart?" I turn around to see my mentor's face for the last time. "Win."
On the hovercraft, after I get my tracking device inserted, I space out, letting my mind drift back to day I got my training score. I had no idea what to do to show off my skills; I don't have any. I recall climbing a rope that was hanging in the arena as quickly as I could then showing off my "sword skills" that I apparently have on an innocent dummy. I got a 7. That's not bad for a girl from 6. A 7 for agility and minimal fighting skills.
I begin to think about what the other tributes got. The careers all got solid 10's. Jesse got an 8 for brute strength. The girl from 3, Lilly, got a 10. The boy from 3 got a 9. Other tributes that I remember got an 8 or lower. No 11's this year.
My mind snaps back to reality as I feel the hovercraft start to lower. We're all rushed into our individual preparation rooms, where our stylists are waiting to say their good-byes. Patricia is waiting for me with a jacket in-hand. I slip it on quickly. We have about a half hour before the countdown starts and I must be above ground. We sit in comfortable silence as she plays with my hair, braiding and undoing it then braiding it again. It relaxes me; it's something my mother used to do when she got home from work.
"Here," she says, handing me a photograph, the same one Margret gave me before I left 6.
"How did you get this?"
"Gail found it on your bedside table. I figured it would pass for your token."
"I thought you had to wear your token?" I say as more of a question than a statement. She puts her index finger to her lips and smiles.
"It'll be our little secret." I hug her immediately. I didn't realize I how much this woman has meant to me until now. When we pull away, she hands me a glass of water. The last glass of water I will ever drink. She sits down on one of the two chairs in the room, and I opt to sit on her lap. I curl up and rest my head against her shoulder, like a young child. Not long after, we get the call. I stand and she straightens out the wrinkles in my jacket.
"Thank you," I say in a voice I barely recognize. It's strained, laced with pain. I don't want to go.
We embrace once more. Patricia whispers in my ear, "I'm not allowed to bet, but if I could, my money would be on you." I smile, trying to laugh to make myself feel better, but instead a sob escapes my lips. She rubs my back.
We pull away for the last time and she wipes a single tear from my face then kisses my cheek. I take a deep breath and step onto the circular metal plate in the corner. Seconds later I'm encased in a thick plastic tube and I'm cut off from Patricia, from my District, from life. I see my stylist smile weakly at me, holding back tears herself, and wave. The cylinder I'm encased in begins to rise, and I'm stuck in complete darkness for fifteen seconds before I break into a coughing fit due to the thick air. I squint my eyes, irritated by the dim light, and regain my composure. I can't look weak. Not now. Not when it matters.
I hear Claudius Templesmith, the legendary announcer's, voice boom all around me. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games begin!"
I stand on my pedestal for sixty seconds, looking around at the scenery. And by scenery, I mean wasteland. The air is thick with dust and ash. I catch a glimpse of green out of the corner of my eye when I look behind me the best I can. I don't want to move my feet; if I misstep, I'm dead. Our platforms are surrounded by mines that are active until the buzzer sounds. There are brick buildings, half destroyed, some of them completely, scattered among the dead grass and cement. It looks like this place has been bombed or something. I've never seen architecture like this before. Architecture. I look over to meet eyes with Jesse. He gulps and glances over at a bag near him. I shake my head. His eyes plead with me. I shake my head again. I see his fists clench along with his jaw as he contemplates whether it's worth the risk. It's not, but I see it in his eyes; he thinks it is. I'm faster than him, but I'm not fast enough to grab anything here. It's not worth it.
The buzzer goes off and all Hell breaks loose. I turn and sprint as fast as I possibly can towards the green, towards the only place water will be. As I hear screams and cannons ring out, I keep sprinting. I focus on my breathing. In and out, in and out. I search for a place to hide and wait out the chaos, but come up empty. As soon as I reach the treeline, I keep my eyes up, scrambling to find a tree with enough leaves to cover me. I find one and scale it easily. I sit and wait, catching my breath, as cannons shoot off one after the other.
Cannon.
Cannon.
Cannon.
Cannon.
Silence.
I wasn't able to count the cannons, but I hope one of them doesn't belong to Jesse. I don't know if I can do this alone.
Salvation in disguise comes quickly, to my surprise. Jesse stumbles around on the ground below me. "Jesse," I hiss. He doesn't hear me. "Jesse!" I hiss louder. This time he looks up. I climb down and take him in. There's blood splattered all over his shirt, but there's no visual damage. "You okay?" He nods and hands me a knife as he exhales. I take it in my hands. "This is a tactile knife. How'd you get this?"
"I found it." My eyes find the bag hanging off his back.
"In the bag?" I sigh.
"No...in the girl from 8..."
"Jessica..." I breathe. I thought she had potential. "Well, thanks." He smiles weakly. "How'd you find me so quickly?"
"What?"
"The Games started like a half hour ago."
"Beca, what are you talking about?"
"I found this tree like ten minutes ago. What are you talking about?" His jaw slacks in disbelief and this confuses me to no end. He doesn't answer, and it aggravates me. "Out with it."
"Beca, the Games started four hours ago." I feel my stomach drop.
"Wh-what?" I choke out.
"Yeah," he nods hard. "Did you blackout again?"
"I- I must have." I feel sick. I lean back against the tree I took refugee in and try to calm myself down. "I have a problem, Jesse."
"At least you're alive."
"Yeah," I exhale. "At least I'm alive." Jesse gestures to my tree and quirks a brow. "It's good cover, really. I don't know if we can sleep in it though." He smirks and pulls the bag off his back. He reaches in and pulls out a rope and bungee cord. A smile breaks across my face.
"Take the bungee cord. We'll tie ourselves to the tree. Get up quickly, it's going to get dark soon and I don't think I can climb in the dark." I take the blue cord and start my way up. He follows right behind. Due to my smaller size, I take a lower branch to sleep on, letting Jesse take the sturdier branch a few feet above me on the other side of the trunk. I tie myself in and tighten it as much as possible.
We sit in complete silence for a few hours, letting darkness overtake the arena. A cannon goes off periodically. "Good night, Beca," Jesse whispers through the silence.
"Night," I reply. I wait until the nightly report of the dead comes on before I even think about shutting my eyes. The anthem plays and I see the faces of the fallen Tributes stretch across the night sky. The boy from 4, both from 5, Jessica from 8, the boy from 8, the girl from 9, both from 10, and the thirteen year old from 12.
I put the images of the dead at the back of my mind as I lean against the cold tree and ever so slowly drift off to sleep.