Three's P. O. V.
I instinctively flinch when I see my District partner. I'm sure she's a nice enough girl, but she's a beast without being a beast. When she was Reaped, I could see her muscles underneath her threadbare clothes, the scowl on her face. She's very thin like myself and broke down in tears the second that they forced her up, but she isn't fooling me. She's Timber Lavine, and I've seen her chop wood and get into fights too many times to think that was anything but an act.
"What?" She looks at me with a frown. Tears are glazing her eyes, but they won't fall unless she makes them.
"N-nothing." I drop my gaze to the ground.
Unlike her, my fear is legitimate. I'm not supposed to be Reaped; I'm one of the Loric Nine, and if I die, our race is even more at risk. It's bad enough that my entire race is dead and so is my planet, but we have to defeat the Mogodorians and then work on re-population, rebuilding, and everythingelse. We can only do that if we're alive, though.
"Look, kid." Timber suddenly has me by my arm and has to close to her; her voice is uneven and low. "You're younger than me, so I won't kill you in the bloodbath if you don't piss me off. Got it?"
"Got it…" My voice is a squeak in a comparison and I feel ridiculous because of that.
She smirks and hauls me up into the chariot. The wood beneath me feels flimsy, and with our compared weight, I have little faith it will actually hold us up. We're both decked out in leaves, all of them stuck to our bodies with some kind of skin glue that's made exclusively in the Capitol. There isn't anything else on, save the dark green cloth to cover our privates, but that's lightly sewn together. I feel exposed, to say the least, but it's almost like Timber is used to it. Then again, she probably just doesn't care.
"Johanna says that we have to attract Sponsors," Timber informs me, sounding entirely bored with the situation. "So like, wave and shit. I'm not worried about it, but you definitely should be."
I can't help but be a little offended, no matter how true that certainly is. I don't respond, though, and when the chariot jerks forward, I nearly lose my balance and go crashing. She lets out a bitter chuckle, glancing to me as I grip the reins of the two horses before us.
"Good luck, kid. You sure as hell need it." She decides after another bitter laugh.
My face flushes scarlet as I fix my gaze up to the tributes in front of us. John Smith and Sarah Hart look fabulous, being from District One, both of them in loose fitting clothes that resemble the prehistoric Greek culture that existed far before this day and age. Both of them are wearing smiles that can only be smug, as I see from the huge screens towering over the screaming masses, but I can't but notice how tightly they're clutching each other's hands, and how Sarah's eyes constantly flitting all around. Even John's expression seems forced the more I analyze it, giving me the impression either they are putting an act beneath their act, or they're just as scared as the rest of us.
District Two is just as impressive, clad in dark outfits that look like the clothes the lumbers wear in the winter. The girl, Maren, looks especially gorgeous, her hair adjusted by precise fingers under a knit cap that compliments her rosy face, and the clothes tight enough to flaunt her curves. The only thing ruining the picture is her lack of real expression, which completely contradicts her District partner who is the same age her, who is holding the reins and waving at everyone with a painfully bright smile. I become aware of the fact that Timber is glancing from me to the screen and instantly let go of the reins; I refuse to look like that myself. The pair from District Three are terrifying, or at least the male tribute is. He's only a year older than me, but he's the biggest tribute here, not to mention he seems to be made entirely out of toned, massive muscles. Not unlike Maren, he's practically ignoring the screaming Capiolities, one hand anchoring the little twelve year old girl, Kelli, upright as she cries lightly. They're both clad in clothes that spark with every motion, making the audience gasp a little and cheer their names loudly; his name must be Stanley.
District Four has two beautiful tributes, a boy named Joseph and a girl named Layla, both of which practically gleam as they're led before the Capitol. Neither seem very afraid at all, but I can't help but notice how Joseph's gaze never breaks from the screen above everyone's heads as District Five parades out behind them. There's another small twelve year old girl aboard there, a meek-looking girl by the name of Ella, and I highly doubt he's paying attention so intently to the seventeen year old rail-ish boy beside her with his head down. The District Six tributes are both frail but not as underfed as the rest of us, and out of everyone I've seen so far, they seem to hate each other so much they refuse to even stand on the center of their chariot together.
Lovely.
Before I can fully process what's happening I'm blinded with lights and practically deafened by the crowd. I squint, but all I can see are huge masses, moving rapidly and screaming in approval. I think they're shouting names, but I can't make them out. I try to do like Timber said, waving with a shaking hand and trying to look as natural as possible. Timber is practically climbing over me, showing off all of her exposed skin and probably making the crowd even more excited. By the time we finally get to the end of the stands I've stopped trying and have my head ducked; I don't have chance compared to her, not even in something as simple as riding in a chariot.
By the time I actually look up again, District Ten is coming out. They offer up a eighteen year old and a fourteen years old, both of which are in tight-fitting farmer suits with straw hats on their heads. Both of them are avoiding looking up, and I can't say I blame them. District Eleven presents a chubby sixteen year old, one that's obviously been crying, and a girl who's visibly shaking as she stares at the crowd; I probably looked like that myself. District Twelve is a little more surprising, revealing two tributes who seem to pay no attention to the audience as they laugh and make each other blush. Strangely enough, the Capiolities like that, but I couldn't do that with Timber's dead corpse. She'd still find a way to kill me.
President Coriolanus Snow rises as we all finally come to a halt, forming an almost complete circle around the tower platform high above our heads where he is. He looks pleased, much more than he does on other things. I make a mental note that he must be even more bloodthirsty than 'his' Capitol, which is a terrifying theory considering their previous display of twenty three soon-to-be-dead people.
"Welcome, tributes." He gives the usual address of honor and sacrifice before wishing on our way.
As we parade past, I swear I see him glance at me and give something of a smirk before turning to the people applauding him again. I shiver, but surely he didn't.
How could he possibly know who I really am? Surely there's no way.
Please let there be no way.
Eight's P. O. V.
I run my hands through my curls and squint at the small lettering in front of him. It's written in an odd font, and I can hardly make sense of it, even with how close I'm standing to it. Behind me, the Training Instructor Who Isn't Named, (Miss TIWIN,) taps her heeled foot.
"Today, District Four," she monotones, not a trace of patience in her voice.
I finally just press a button and trudge off the rest of the arena where we're allowed to train. I know the Gameamakers are probably writing me down as one of the weaker, dumber tributes where they're watching and listening above our heads, but it shouldn't bother me. Reynolds always told me to act as ignorant as I possibly could, and that if I joined the Career pack and let them do most of the dirty work, I wouldn't have problem finishing them like they finished the others. Maybe I wouldn't feel so self conscious if they hadn't forced me to take this tablet basic skills assessment in front of fourteen other impatient tributes right behind me.
While I'm trying my hand at making a campfire, I quickly realize I'm not the only one with troubles in reading comprehension. The little girl from District Five naturally catches my attention first, since I watched her heartbreak at her Reaping before my own, and she's practically in tears by the time she hurries off. I want to stand up and comfort her, but she wouldn't trust me. None of us trust each other, not with the circumstances, and not even the Careers are an exception to that. With that thought in mind I went back to my firebuilding, which turned out to be a lot more difficult for a guy raised around water than you'd think.
I'm holding my hands under a metal bucket of sharply cold water as the girl from District Eleven does the test. Miss TIWIN is becoming more bitchy by the minute and has reduced her to tears already, and that makes me feel even worse than I did with the little one. At least she upset her so badly she cried during that hellish test.
"TODAY," she growls, and I hear the girl let out a quiet sob and nod frantically.
I narrow my eyes to Miss TIWIN's back. I can't stand bullies, and even she knows she's not supposed to downgrade the tributes like that. The Peacekeepers and Gamemakers don't really care, and the other tributes certainly don't, so I guess I'm going to have to handle it alone. The District Eleven girl finally finishes and runs off, visibly shaking and muffling her cries into her fist, and I take that as my cue. I casually set the bucket on top of the sword rack not too far from where Miss TIWN is growling at the District Twelve tributes, then go to check on the girl.
She's obviously not calm by the time she gets to the elevator and sits down beside him, burying her face in her knees, so I cautiously hang back while she sniffles and curses herself quietly. If I alarm her she'll only be more prone to fear me, and I'm not expert, but she's obviously already afraid of a lot of things.
"I don't think you took long at all." My voice still surprises her after she's finished crying to herself, and she nearly jumps to her feet, only to hang her head in shame.
"I'm sorry, am in your way?" She sounds timid as she says that and I feel something warm spread across my chest. She's vulnerable, and even though she's my age, I take it open myself to protect her.
"Not at all." I slowly extend my hand. "Look, she was up my ass, too. Try not to take it personally that she's got her spandex in a bundle."
I'm rewarded with a weak laugh and her accepting my hand in my trembling one. "I'm...Marina. From District Eleven. Y-you're a Career, ri-right?"
"Technically, but please, that name is so last Games." I grin and wink, the same way I would to get Reynolds to laugh, and it works. "That's much better. You have a beautiful smile."
Both of us blush after that last statement, and she replies with a stammer. "I...I think you're eyes are more beautiful. But thank you, that's really sweet of you."
I smile again and gently squeeze her hand, and it goes from trembling to something a little than stiff. "Hey, try not to worry about assholes like that lady, okay? Words only hurt if you let them."
She gives me another weak smile, one that's full of sadness, but her eyes are sparkling with something a little more hopeful. "I'll try to remember that. Th-than you, Joseph."
"You're welcome." I bow to her and she giggles, and I laugh a little myself as I casually bump the bucket over with my telekinesis. I hope Miss TIWIN hates cold water.
Ella's P. O. V.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, letting my hands fly across the board. I know that I've got no chance at winning in combat, so instead of that, I've decided to make myself unstoppable with my brain. I've never been the smartest girl in school, but I've almost got the entire board of poison plants memorized. At least, I hope I do, because it's how I've been spending all morning and afternoon on it after what happened with the test. Maybe it can even impress the Gamemakers.
"You're really fast." The voice behind me makes me jump and I turn around to see the District Six boy, the short, almost chubby guy with a big smirk. "It's actually impressive for a little girl."
The way he's smirking reminds me of all the bullies back home, so I just nod quietly and turn back to the screen. I'm almost done with the panel, but another pair of hands is suddenly flying over mine, finishing them at a much quicker pace than I could ever dreamed. Tears sting my eyes a little as I duck my head down; I guess I won't impress the Gamemakers after all. One of the hands grabs my arm and I flinch, my fists curling but not very tightly.
"Pl-please.." I whisper out hoarsely. "We...We aren't supposed to fight until the arena."
"I don't want to fight with you." He shakes his head and starts pulling me to the tables. "Come on, let's talk."
"Are we allowed to do this?" I ask nervously as he leisurely sits down on one side of the table, propping his feet up across the rest of his head. I glance over to the Peacekeepers and can't tell if they're staring or not because of their dark masks.
"Why shouldn't we? We did all of the mandatory shit, now we're left to do whatever the hell we're want." He shrugs. "So take a seat."
"But I need to train," I admit quietly, but he has to know. Whiz and Papa both know that I won't win, but they'll be more proud of me if I went down trying too.
"And you will." He gives me a grin that makes me nervous. "With me. I want to be allies, kid."
"A-allies?" I sputter, my eyes widening.
Throughout everything that's happened in the last couple of days, I never even thought about trying to make allies in the arena. My Mentor, Velcon, is very good at giving advice for surviving, but she never mentioned anything about that, at least not yet. I don't think she had any, though, and I wonder if that's what she's made it to be seventy three.
"Did I stutter? I'm pretty sure that was just you," the District Six boy deadpans.
I stare at him for a long time. He's not that much taller than me, but he's got more 'pudge' on him, so he comes from a healthier place than I do. He is really, really confident, so he might get the Sponors Velcon was talking about, and he's kind of cute, too. Only one of us can come home, though, and besides, why would he want me as an ally? I'm probably the weakest tribute here and will be the first one to die, allies or not.
"Why me?" I finally force out.
He smirks and shrugs. "You're a cute kid. You have the right instructions, you and I can make out like bandits with the Sponsors."
"What about the...The killing part, though?" I can't look at him once I say that without imagining him driving something sharp through my heart, or breaking my neck, or drowning me, or-
"The killing part?" He repeats, then laughs loudly. "You're naive, the Capiloties will love it!"
"B-but.." I stutter, but he just keeps laughing and I get angry. He's acting like this is one big joke!
"This isn't-" I try again but he just laughs louder. "This isn't a joke! Hey! THIS ISN"T FUNNY!"
He stops laughing and his expression gets really dark as heads turn around to look at us. I said that too loud apparently, and now a couple of a Peacekeepers are coming toward us. Tears well in my eyes again and I start backing away from everyone, probably looking like a total scaredy cat. Before the Peacekeepers can grab me, though, the boy steps up and does it for them, pulling me to his side.
"We just had a disagreement. We're fine now," he says cooly. After a moment, everyone slowly resumes what they were doing, leaving me to stare at him in shock.
"Why did they listen to you?" I ask, stunned. He's just a District higher than me, after all, and they're from the Capitol!
He smirks and offers his hand. "Look. The name's Raider, kid, and I want to help you. I'll teach you everything I know, and we'll worry about who wins later. What do you say? Allies?"
It's almost too good to be true. I just embarrassed him, and he still wants to help me. He's going to teach me how to be confident and how to survive. I grab his hand and shake with him.
"Allies." I smile.
"Great." He grips my hand and starts dragging me to the knife boards. "Let's get started."