Sorry, this was delayed a bit. But it's also the longest chapter yet. Eight pages on word, I think. The chapters will be getting longer as we continue with the story, my apologies they've been so short before. I'm fairly happy with this one, anyways so hopefully you guys all are too. Tell me who some of your favorite characters are, and if I should do a sponsor system or not. I'm leaning towards not. But if there's certain tributes people like, maybe they'll be a little more fortunate. Or maybe not -evil laugh-
Also, as random as this is. You can also give me tips to help me not procrastinate. I'm so bad at that. ALSO: this is still HollisInc, I just changed my penname. I'm not sure if I'm keeping this one either, so just keep that in mind too. This chapter has been betaed yet, I just wanted to get something else because I feel like I've left you guys hanging. So sorry for some grammar mistakes that may be in there. I'll switch it out for the betaed version once it's been done.
Disclaimer: Of course I own the Hunger Games! I also own part of France and invented animal crackers!
Abrielle "Abbi" Robinson, District 12
I feel brand new, like my old life has just been stripped away in a matter of hours. My prep team has greased me down, moisturizing my skin, taking away any bit of hair on my body, and emphasized the curl in my light blond hair so it bounces off my shoulders. They're finishing up, applying a light makeup to my eyes and lips, and asking me rapid questions about my life back home. I try to reply as sweetly and tolerably as possible.
"At least you aren't a complete hairball—remember the girl from last year, Conswela?" The incredibly short male member of the team called Kempsey comments to the middle-aged woman on my left with silvery light blue hair and skin.
"It was as if we'd never see her actual skin!" Conswela agrees with a light, high-pitched laugh—one that makes me want to plug my ears and scream. At first I could take these people, but after about two hours I've had enough. That poor girl from last year was from the Seam and unlike me, went hungry almost every day. They had more important things to worry about than looking 'acceptable'. I force myself to keep quiet and not snap back a heated remark at the three of them.
"Done!" Jallinger ushers Conswela and Kempsey away from me, and the three of them stand back, arms folded. They mutter to one another, making remarks about how they did such a good job, and how they're so fortunate to have something to work with. All the while I stand there. I'm not a doll. I'm not a painting.
"It's a shame we didn't get assigned to District 4 or 2 though—think of the possibilities there!" Kempsey continues, shaking his head in disappointment. "In a way I feel like my talent's being wasted!"
I've had it with these morons. "Get. Out," I hiss bitterly, and they all turn sharply to stare at me in surprise, like they'd forgotten I was there.
"What—" Conswela begins but I cut her off, in a louder roar this time "Get out!" I shout and they squeal and rush from the room, tears streaming down their brightly colored faces. My head is still pounding as I grab my thin black robe from the corner of the room and wrap it around me defensively. Sitting back in a small chair I try to compose myself. Just think about something nice, like…puppies. Or home.
But puppies won't help me here, and home just makes me think of my family and how there's a decent chance I'll never see them again. Gosh, I need to be more positive.
My thoughts are interrupted by a trying-to-be-obvious clear of the throat that comes from the doorway. I turn my head sharply to see a woman standing there with incredibly white, freakishly pale skin that is only emphasized by her bright pink lipstick and jet-black hair color. She looks at me and tilts her head a little to the side. At that moment I feel so awkward I can't even bring myself to greet her.
"What's this I hear about you shouting at your prep team? We can't have you becoming your partner." The woman lets out a breathy sigh and strides in, taking a seat next to me. "I'm Porcelain, and I'm your stylist. May I also say Abbi, that your hair looks wonderful. They did outdo themselves this year."
"Oh." I finally get out, as a short-lived silence ensues. I crack my knuckles in slight irritation. Porcelain lets out another heavy sigh. "Well, shall I present you with your outfit now, or shall we eat first?" She asks me, a certain tone of impatience in her voice.
"Outfit," I snap back, matching her demeanor. Honestly, I'd rather see what I'm wearing now and just get it over with.
Porcelain gets up out of her seat quickly, with a new sort of giddiness and she disappears from the room for only a matter of minutes, when she's returned triumphantly with a chalky black gown that is embroidered around the waist with a string of pearls. It's poofy and large but actually kind of perfect. I don't understand the pearl concept—I mean, there's the saying that coal can be made out of pearls but obviously everyone knows that isn't true, right?
"Black is such a fantastic color. And your hair adds just the touch of color. We're dying Flerris' blond too, though it took a good five people to hold him down!" She laughs, as it's the funniest thing in the world. This lady sure does have some strange mood swings.
"You mean Ferris," I correct her, feeling oddly compelled to defend my District partner. "And the dress is very—beautiful. Thanks,"
She looks disappointed by my lack of reaction. "You'll be wearing a pearl necklace too—and these shoes—" She pulls out a pair of charcoal black heels from behind her back. "I just think that they're perfect. This is going to be my best year yet. Everyone's going to be talking about me and how I've outdone myself,"
"Yeah," I reply absent-mindedly. I can't peel my eyes away from the dress. I'll be wearing it on live television in a matter of hours. And I can't help but imagine how pretty—how beautiful I'll be. It's a clear improvement over a coal miner's suit, and I can't believe I'm grateful for this freaky woman's imagination.
Alei Brann, District 7
"I may not be from District 7; but I feel like District 7 on the inside"
I groan inwardly and then try to hide my laughter in a cup full of tea. Honestly, this guy must be on loony juice. He's really something else. Apparently he's been District 7's stylist for years—they call him Nature. I wonder why. His short cut, dark green hair appears to look like moss and his tanned skin is complete with leaf tattoos. So like I said, something else.
We're eating lunch right now, a tray of multiple finger sandwiches, a basket of assorted fresh fruit, a tureen filled with a light, creamy broth with vegetables and little meat-filled pasta shells, thin cut fried potatoes called fries and a large vanilla and strawberry cake. And of course tea, which I've had to drink each day since I stepped on to the train.
"My apologies if the meal seems light, I just don't want to hurt my figure," Nature says in between bites. I give up on trying to hide my laugh and chuckle a little bit, which lands another completely confused look on the man's face. Did I mention this guy is like, stick thin? Anyways, the meal could feed my family for a good month if not more.
"Um, it's no problem?" I say, running a hand through my straw-like brown hair. I've eaten my full and I just want to get this Chariot thing over with. Pearl, on the other hand, has been ecstatic throughout the whole time. She's talked non-stop about her cleverly devised plan, and our mentors Marsha and Gashwin have barely been able to get their own opinions in. Then again, it's not like they're that helpful. Gashwin is the better of the mentors, so I'm grateful to have him. Marsha shrieks at nearly every abrupt sound or movement.
Nature and I continue eating for a couple more minutes until I wipe my mouth and finish. He stops too, looking me up and down and breaking into another big smile. "Don't move—and close your eyes!" He points at me, talking so fast it's difficult to understand. He speeds out of sight and I sit there, rather dumbfounded. He returns in a matter of seconds, holding what must be my outfit behind his back. "Why aren't your eyes closed, Alei? Oh, never mind—here it is! I want your honest opinion!" And with that he pulls it out from behind him. It is a brown pinstripe suit fashioned to look like wood from a fur tree with a bright forest green bowtie, complete with a woven stick and twig crown that can only be described as absurd.
"Well?" He squeals, "Is it wonderful or what?"
"It's terrible. Let's get this over with." I say blandly, striding over and grabbing it from his hands. Nature's face is a complete mask of shock. What? He said to be honest.
I eventually am escorted down to the chariot after being dressed and see that Pearl is already there, dressed in a wavy leaf skirt, with a low cut tank top that looks like wood. In her hair is a bird's nest with feathers woven in and out in sort of a spiral.
"What took you so long Brann? Don't you just adore these outfits?" She tosses her light red hair over her shoulder, smiling devilishly at me. Most likely she's being sarcastic, but with Pearl it's hard to tell. So I don't answer her, just take my place stepping up into the chariot. Gashwin, who has his hands stuffed in his pocket, looking relatively solemn, suddenly approaches us. I peer over his head to see Marsha pacing back and forth, arms folded.
"Pearl, I need you to smile, look happy to be here. Shouldn't be hard for you," My district partner continues to smile, nodding.
"Alei, you can't pull off cheerful. Look stern. Smile, but don't dare overdo it." With one last look at our costumes he grunts and trots back to where Marsha stands. I'm actually satisfied with my instructions; even though they were somewhat insulting. The small, crafty smile that forms on my face is real. Our chariot is attached to a pair of dark brown horses and we are pulled into the line of chariots, right behind 6 who are dressed in what you'd call "slutty nurse and doctor costumes" to be perfectly honest. The girl's white skirt is revealing and exceedingly tight. The boy, who appears younger, is wearing a light blue doctor's uniform and his bronze colored hair is slicked back behind his ears. At least their outfits aren't doing them any favors either.
District 1 disappears first, followed by 2, then 3, and 4. Things seem to go by too quickly, and before I know it, we're up. Pearl nudges me, still smiling, and I feel my own smile waver, a new feeling of nervousness sinking in. I laugh at myself on the inside. Why the hell am I nervous? But suddenly my time to think is gone because the booming voice of the announcer rattles my eardrums.
"And here are your tributes for District 7!"
We're moving and light engulfs us. As soon as I regain my sight, loud cheers nearly deafen me. Pearl is waving vigorously at the thousands of spectators and I have a weird urge to join in, but I remember Gashwin's words. I smile slyly, not looking directly at the crowd but off into the distance. And as much as I like this approach, I feel like I'm being overshadowed. And suddenly I wonder if that was my mentor's goal all along. I break character and look at Pearl-she's waving, laughing, calling out greetings. She volunteered-she is happy to be here. And what am I? Forgotten, boring and just dang uninteresting.
My heart is beating any faster now, and an invisible cold sweat washes over me. There's a sudden rush to prove myself, one that I'm all too used to and without thinking lean forward, plant both my hands on the front rim of the chariot and hoist myself up, now standing just behind the horses. People gasp and cheer as I retain my balance. I grin at their reaction and at the idea of Pearl's reaction behind me. Oh what the hell. I've already come to terms with the fact that I may die. What's a little showing off going to hurt?
Matt Dresdon, District 1
"Yeah! What up Capitol? How ya'll doing?" I'm shouting at the top of my lungs, pumping my fist at the crowd. Me and Cree, or Cree and me, or whatever, are wearing totally awesome outfits. I have a tight fitted black shirt with the sleeves torn off, showing my muscles to the crowd. My shorts are shimmery and covered in gems that sparkle every moment I move. Cree has on this long, silver jeweled dress that makes her look totally hot. She's classy; I'm rough and tough. And we look totally awesome! I mean we're totally the best there. The ones that even come close are maybe like the tributes from District 2 and 4, who I guess are gonna be our allies. Sulla Hart, Ashkai Dayson, Nolen Rivers, and Ryan Archibald. I don't know that for sure, but I just sort of assume. Doesn't matter though, they'll all be dead eventually.
And thank god I'm not a District 11 tribute. Those two are dressed in twin scarecrow costumes, and they both look freaking uncomfortable. I mean I'd make it look good, because I have that kind of effect, but there's no hope for those two. The girl looks like she's seriously ready to rip it to shreds.
We parade around in our chariots for a good couple more minutes before all meeting side by side under the president's podium. President Lockhart steps out smiling, and begins almost immediately, deep into her speech. I for one am not. I don't even try to look interested. Instead I glance around, looking at the other chariots and the other tributes. I look at Cree briefly so see her tapping her fingers along the rim, spacing out. The speech seems to go on forever but finally is completed. We go around one last time before disappearing from everyone's view.
Once inside I hope off the chariot, stretching and yawning. "Shit," I mutter, "I'm hungry."
Cree steps down too, more carefully so she doesn't trip and fall. "Be quiet. 2 is coming." She says sharply, in a hushed tone. I don't get it. "Who's coming?" I ask, and she shushes me and grabs my arm to turn me in the right direction. Sulla Hart and Ashkai Dayson are headed towards us-Ashkai wears a curled, devious smile while Sulla is grinning pleasantly. His arm is in her's and they certainly look confident. I shoot a glance at Cree again and see something in her eyes. Jealousy? She catches me looking at her and looks away quickly. I do the same and wait for Sulla and Ashkai to reach us, which they do in less than a minute.
"Hi," Sulla Hart extends a hand to us, still wearing a charming smile. "Matt and Cree, right?"
"Yeah, that's right. I'm Matt Dresdon. This is Cree." I respond gruffly back, a slight grin creeping onto my face as I shake Sulla's hand firmly. He turns to Cree and she silently shakes his as well. Ashkai stands back watching us.
"It's nice to meet you both-since we'll be allies. I'm Sulla, and this is Ashkai. I expect 4 will be in with us as well. And of course there could be others. We'll all have to keep an open eye out at training tomorrow." Sulla says, speaking slowly. "What's your weapon of choice?"
"A knife, spear, sword, you name it," I grin proudly. I'm not gonna let this guy show me up, ally or not.
"Great. And you?" Sulla turns to Cree, raising his eyebrow slightly. She responds promptly: "Tomahawks"
"And I'm daggers all the way," Ashkai speaks for the first time, and I think I catch her wink at me. Man, she's hot. "And Sulla is great with traps and archery"
"And I can do some pretty mean things with a knife!" I turn around to see the District 4 girl march over grinning. She's shorter but equally as pretty, and especially tanned. She's got on a flowing light blue dress and wears a jeweled crown. "Ryan Caroline Archibald, District 4."
"Where's your partner?" Sulla asks, not looking at Ryan but behind her, towards where her district partner stands looking at us before abruptly jogging off.
"Nolen? He's flying solo. Wants to do things alone, he says." Ryan shrugs. I snort. "Idiot."
Ryan frowns at me. "I respect his decision. And you never know, he might change his mind."
"Nevertheless, that means there's only five of us. We should gather at least one or two more." Sulla runs a hand through his hair in thought.
"The girl from District 7, maybe. I saw her looking at us just a few minutes ago. She volunteered too." Ryan says, not looking in District 7's direction but nodding her head slowly. "Maybe even the boy too,"
"Let's wait till training." Sulla says, "Before we make any definite decisions."
Everyone agrees and we eventually part, headed back towards our own floors and rooms. We'll be unstoppable. I can already taste victory and it's great.
Ryan Caroline Archibald, District 4
I part from the rest of the Careers humming cheerfully, happy with myself. Now I'm in the alliance. I just can't wait for tomorrow, when the actual training starts. I'm itching to get my hands on a weapon and show them what I meant when I said "pretty mean things with a knife".
Surprisingly Nolen is waiting for me at the elevator. Also, there are the tributes from 12 and 8.
"Hey," Nolen says, offering me his hand. "How'd it go?"
"Fine. Weren't exactly pleased to know you wouldn't be joining us, but that's okay." I take his hand and we step onto the elevator together. "I just hope you know what you're doing." I reply, not looking at him. Because this is the truth-I don't know what he's going for. Nolen is nice and funny and would make a perfectly decent Career and I assumed he was going to be until we arrived last night.
"I can only same the same for you, Ryan," I'm surprised by his response. I blink and study him. I'm having trouble figuring this guy out.
"It's not too late I mean. You could always stick with me." A smile, a serious one appears on his face, but it's hard to take anyone seriously when they're still wearing their "god of the sea" costume.
"Thanks," I say genuinely, "But no thanks. I've already made my decision. Too late to back out now."
"It's never too late." Nolen shrugs, and with that the elevator doors close and we fall silent. Rather than looking at Nolen I take a look at the other tributes, who haven't spoken a word since I got there. The ones from 12, I forget the boy's name but I'm pretty sure the girl is Abbi, are standing on opposite sides of the elevator. She has on a black gown with pearl accents that actually suits her. I wish I could say the same for the boy who has on a sharp black tux with pearl-like shoulder pads. District 8 has on blue and purple body suits made out of various materials. They come from the textile district-so I guess theirs work...just not well.
I suddenly wish Nate were here with me, which is awful to say. I'm glad he's not , just, I'd be laughing right now if he were here. We'd laugh over some of these ridiculous costumes and tributes. I guess I just wish I were home with him.
Nolen and I are the first stop, and he motions for me to step out first, which I do. Our mentors and escort are already waiting there in smiles, looking proud. But they aren't looking at Nolen as much. They're looking at me.
My mentor, Reesh, pats me on the arm and whispers in my ear. "Plenty of sponsors lined up already, Ryan. You're doing great,"
I can't help but grin. "I didn't even do much of anything." I tell her, but she shakes her head dismissively. Telemachi claps his hands together. "Both of you were so captivating, I had trouble tearing my eyes away." He adds, adjusting his suit every other second. Poncho glances between Nolen and me as drawls a small, cocky smile. "You two best be ready for tomorrow, that's all I'm going to say."
"Born ready," I answer, leaving them all behind as I bounce to back to my own room. There I strip out of my outfit and throw on a navy blue and white flower print skirt and a white tank top. Then I go straight to the drawer where I know I left it; my silver heart necklace, a gift from Nate.
I unclasp it and reach around to secure it around my neck, but suddenly I feel smooth hands take it from me and I nearly twist around and throw a punch. But it's not a wild attacker, it's Nolen. I didn't even hear him come in.
"Jeez Ryan, I thought you might take my head off. It's only me." He laughs a little before fastening the necklace for me. I don't know why I'm letting him help me and I'm ending it here. I pull away from his grasp, standing back a ways and looking him up and down. He mockingly puts his hands on his hips, pushing his chest forward. "See anything you like, speak up."
"You're unbelievable," I giggle. I can't help it.
Nolen drops his pose and grins in amusement too. "Ryan," He says, taking his time. "Just because we aren't allies, doesn't mean we can't be friends."
Friends. What better time to make a friend than the Hunger Games? To answer him, I playfully blow in his face. "So, friends?"
Crawford Reed, District 3
Finally. I pull the heavy weight helmet off my head and run a hand through my curly, sweat-filled hair. As cool as this helmet is, it weighs a ton. It's a round, black thing with a glistening reflective visor that comes down over my face. An antenna for, like, a radio, pokes out of the top it. It completes my techno-outfit; a pair of black pants and a black shirt that is covered and strung up with wires and discs that light up in rainbow neon colors. I think it's the coolest thing I've ever seen. Lindy has on a similarly covered dress, and a light-up electronic flower holds her hair up in a twisted bun. In the chariot we huddled together like a pair of little lost children. Lindy's faking the nervous, worried approach quite well. And I have nothing to fake.
Now we're back in the elevator headed back to our floor. We're sharing it with the tributes from 5, Flint and Lexi, I think. They look nice enough and I relate to the jittery look on Flint's face because it's not unlike my own. It's like he still hasn't gotten over actually being reaped yet. I don't know if I have either.
"Hi," Lexi smiles a little at the pair of us. "Your costumes are really amazing."
"Thank you," Lindy replies a-matter-o-factly, and I just nod. Lexi gives us one more little smile before turning away. In no time the doors have slid open and we exit. In the lobby waiting for us are Vanilla, Flicka and Patterson.
"You guys looked pretty good and scared. Keep up the good work," This is Patterson's only comment, thank god. I was expecting some sort of taunt or ridicule. To make things even better Flicka nods encouragingly and Vanilla enthusiastically backs her up. "So many colors! It was wonderful!" She gushes. "Don't forget, dinner starts in an hour, but you can come earlier if you'd like. Training starts tomorrow, so you two better get your rest afterwards!"
I nod again and Lindy looks uninterested. We break from our mentors and our escort and head back to our own separate rooms without a word. We've hardly spoken to each other at all since we've got here. I sort of do wish I had somebody to talk to.
I shut the door firmly behind me once I get back to my own room. Stripping off my outfit, I jump into the shower, enjoying the hot water that pours down my skin, erasing the sweat from my body. I take my time, but when I finally step out I dress in a loose short-sleeved shirt, brown jacket and a comfortable looking pair of blue jeans and red sneakers. My hair dries quickly into its normal, curly self. I don't even bother running a comb through it, I just race out the door, in a fairly decent mood considering I'm going to die in a matter of days.
I'm the last one to get to the table; everyone looks up at me save for Lindy when I come in. Even our stylists are there. At least, I think that must be Lindy's. My stylist, Desdemona, smiles and motions for me to sit next to her, which I do. The other person, a man with dark skin and bright red hair also gives me a friendly nod. Patterson grumbles impatiently until our dinner arrives; perfectly cooked steak, cornbread, mashed potatoes and gravy, a green salad with various dressings, a platter of cheese and crackers, coffee, lemon squares, and brownies. There's no doubt the food here is my favorite part about this place. If I had one wish, it would be to work here in the Capital as a chef.
I help myself to good-sized portions, and take my time eating each one. There's so much flavor it's hard to take in. The stylists and Vanilla make the most conversation, mostly discussing our outfits. Flicka joins in every so often.
"It's a really great concept. I think the chariot rides add a better preview for the audience. I'm glad the Gamemakers decided to incorporate it," Lindy's stylist is saying. Oh yeah, I'd forgotten that the chariot rides were relatively new.
"It certainly gives us more to do." Desdemona agrees. "I remember the first few years when they picked the tributes, got them here, and threw them into the arena, just like that."
The idea of it makes me feel nauseous. At least we have a few days to think about our deaths before actually experiencing them. Or maybe that's a bad thing. I can't decide.
Once we finish our meals, servants come in and take the plates away. I heard Flicka call them "avoxes" before, but I don't know what the term means exactly, or if it's just a fancy word used in the Capitol. When one, a girl of about 19, comes around to clear my plate, I clear my throat and politely ask her if she knew what extra ingredients the chef included with the potatoes and gravy. She gives me a curious, feeble look. I'm confused, so I ask again, a little louder this time.
"She can't answer you, idiot. She's mute, she's got no tongue." Patterson retorts, overhearing me and I look at him quizzically. "Huh?"
"They cut out her tongue." Desdemona says quietly, and the girl hurriedly tiptoes away. Why would they do such a thing? Just thinking about it makes me feel incredibly sick and I excuse myself. In my bathroom I vomit the contents of my dinner and order a glass of water and a bowl of something called ice cream instead. To be perfectly truthful I'd never had a really strong stomach.
That night I dream of being caught by the boy from District 1. He grabs my tongue and slices it off and I wake up screaming.
Maximum Mao, District 8
I've always liked the night. Cool air blows across my face and lifts my light brown hair off my back. But night here in the Capitol isn't the same. There are too many lights, too much noise. Ugh, way to ruin something else. But I think I'd still like to live here. Of course I'd love to. Just because the night isn't as lovely doesn't mean I wouldn't. What the hell am I saying?
I'm standing on my balcony, wearing a sexy black nightgown that I found in my closet. I'm not even thinking about much of anything. I'm just let myself drift. I don't miss home. It's barely even crossed my mind since I left. I mean, what's there for me anyways? Sewing and stitching all day with a bunch of other kids, who just complain, complain, and then complain some more? I don't have any friends or any family. There's nothing I miss, except the night. And a bunch of guys who follow me around a lot, asking me out on dates (Hey, what's to miss?).
Not that there aren't some pretty good-looking guys here. I just didn't get one for my district partner. Ugh, Tycho has about as much charm as a worm, and you know that permanent rain cloud I was talking about? Yup, still there.
Okay, so for strategy. My mentor Leona has tried to give me a few pointers, all of which I've ignored. I know what I'm doing. I'm the tough twelve year old who thinks on her own. And once I finally, finally get into that arena, I'll be the sexy, stealthy twelve year old that lures people to their ultimate doom. Hopefully they're a bit more creative than me and can think of an actual title for me. Gosh, I'm so excited. There's a certain thrill to it all that's indescribable unless you actually experience it. Sure, some may think the complete opposite way. That it's an indescribable fear. But they know nothing.
It's getting kind of cold, so I slip back inside my room, hopping onto the bed with a sigh. It's eight o'clock—maybe I should just get my rest considering training starts tomorrow. I'm looking forward to handling some new weapons and then performing in front of the Gamemakers. Unless I change my mind tomorrow, I'm going to show off some moves with a knife or two. They'll get a good sense of what I'm made of. I can only think of what the other tributes might do. Tycho will probably just stand there. Maybe lift a sack if he "feels like it". That boy Ferris from 12 might rush the table. The girl and boy from 2 will probably show off their talents with weaponry. I just need to be more unforgettable than all of them. I'm as confident as I can be. But there're still other things to think about.
What will the arena be like, I wonder? A forest? A peaceful looking neighborhood? Whatever they throw at me, I'll be prepared. I'm ready for the biggest monster or the fiercest Career. The only thing I'm afraid of is having too much fun.