Ava Smith
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.
She spent a full week in a hospital room, hooked up to tubes intended to keep her quiet more often than not and bring her fragile body back from the brink of starvation. She'd collapsed as soon as the final cannon went off, and it took that entire week for her to stand again.
It took much longer for her to stop feeling cold. The closest she got was when she was reunited with and got hugs from Ed and Cooper.
Formerly my mentors. Now, my fellow Victors.
After that, she was swept from place to place with barely a moment to breathe.
Her gown for the recap and Victory Ceremony was even more lovely than the one they'd given her for the pre-Games interview. The skirt reached the floor, pale bluish-gray, with loose sleeves and silver and ice blue beading on the bodice. It came with a short, bluish-white cape decorated with white feathers and made of material that shimmered and almost glowed in the stage lights. Her stylist didn't give her any jewelry besides tiny diamond stud earrings and the diamond clasp that held her cape together at the front.
It almost covers up how thin and pale I am, she realized, looking at herself in the mirror as her prep team did her hair. Before the Games, they'd pulled it back into a neat, braided bun. Now, they only braided the front and top portions out of her face, leaving the rest of it to hang all the way down her back.
Even under the stage, the anthem echoed in her skull, and the cheers of the crowd made her ears ring.
" Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Victor of the Fifty-Second Hunger Games! I give you...Ava Smith of District Ten!"
She couldn't remember most of the recap, other than lots of bear and wolf mutts, and the realization that the boy from One had been the person to kill her district partner. Anything else was just blurs and noise. Fortunately, she wasn't expected to say much.
The Victor's crown wasn't that big, but it felt heavy.
Ed and Cooper kept trying to apologize for underestimating her, for not giving her more help. She didn't think that was necessary. She hadn't expected herself to survive, either.
I didn't even do anything much. I just ran, and hid, and sidestepped the girl from Two. That's all I did. That's all.
Yet the Capitol counted that last death as her kill, and the Training Center was now empty of all this year's tributes but her.
Why did I survive, out of all of them? Why was it me?
Ava pulled herself together for the interview with Caesar the next day, where her team put her in a knee-length velvet dress with long sleeves. The color was a brilliant blue, which her stylist described as "cobalt."
It's so pretty, and comfortable. It would be fun to dance in.
Caesar was as nice and helpful as he had been during her previous interview, and she answered his questions with a smile, something she had not quite been able to do before.
Then it was time to go home. Home to her parents, to willful Aaron and sweet Cara. Home to her district, for the next six months at least.
From the rear car of the train with all the windows, she watched the world flash by. If she wasn't so tired, she would have tried to dance a little. Dancing hadn't let her down yet.
But she was just a bit too tired, so she let herself think about the future instead.
I'll be able to move into my own house now, in Victor's Village. I'll be able to bail Aaron out of jail if he gets thrown in again, and find a good doctor for Cara. I'll get to eat whatever and however much I want, dance whenever and wherever I want. Maybe I'll even cut my hair.
But she would not cry. She would not complain. She would not tell anyone how empty she felt inside.
Because Ava was a good, sweet girl.