Chapter Two
The people present all stand when I enter, and I nod my head to seat them. I'm not even mayor yet, what will they do then? I brush off the lingering sense of ill-comfort, sitting down at the head of the long table. I decide it's not best to bring up the argument beforehand, and rather turn to Kai for the schedule.
He nods and looks to the schedule, clearing his voice. "In discussion today: Elsa's appointment as mayor, Reaping permitting; as well as the plans for the party in possibility of a victor. Miss Hirdóttir?" He nods again as he folds his own hands.
I clear my throat and speak with a slightly shaky voice. At first, nothing but a slight squeak comes out, but with some deep breaths and soothing promises of time alone after Reaping to myself, I force a somewhat weak response. "Thank you, Kai." I look at the small gathering of only the highest in the district. Captain Weselton, of course; Mr. Espagña, the speaker for District One and dignitary to the Capitol; Mr. Français, the head of manufactured goods transportation; Mr. Eirsh, CEO of the biggest company of luxury items; and finally, Kai, who sits, waiting for my response and ready to defend me if I do indeed slip up.
"Thank you," I repeat, squeezing my hands together. "I have been studying for the last few years the duties of the mayor, especially the past few weeks due to my parents'…passing. I feel I am ready to accept the duties, and plan to follow in my father's footsteps. I see no need for major changes, but shall welcome new ideas with an open mind." Kai nods, and I sigh, relaxing my tensed neck and hands slightly. I look at their faces, all of whom seem surprised at my seemingly calm and controlled attitude. They almost seem as if they were waiting for an explosion. I'll be honest…I was expecting that, too.
Captain Weselton seems least changed though, with his eyes narrowed behind tiny glasses. It's almost funny, the ratio of nose to face on the man, and I wonder how he fits it in his helmet…
That's not what I should be thinking about, not as I'm trying to prove I can be mayor. I swat away the humorous thought, but it keeps sneaking up on me like gnats. I prepare myself for the questioning to continue, and yet it's not as bad as I thought it would be. They ask me questions on taxes, imports and exports, manufacturing rates, salaries for workers, and finally, the Hunger Games. That last part is the part that really bothers me. I guess I'm supposed to say I'm all for it like most the district, but I feel I need to be honest. But then again, honesty doesn't really seem to be a big part of government these days.
"Let the Capitol produce what they wish to produce, let us accept the gifts we achieve," I say, my voice shaking with my every sentence. I'd every once in a while heard my father mutter this, usually in public conferences. I knew his real distaste for the annual child slaughter.
That seems to shut the Captain up. Internally, I am crying and laughing and shaking all at the same time, but inside, I look proper and composed. The meeting goes on.
Luckily, most of the other stuff doesn't seem to include me much more, and soon the meeting is over. I sigh audibly once I'm out from the stuffy meeting room, now trying to prepare myself for my final Reaping. May the odds be ever in my favor.
~.~.~
"Elsa?" Anna whispers as we walk towards the check-in site.
I bring a finger to my lips, sharing a small, sad smile her way. She understands, not without disappointment. I just don't want to break down in front of her and start crying, that would probably cause her to cry as well, and we have to sit in front of the entire district for the Reaping.
The prick of my finger barely hurts anymore, as I am overcome with the usual numbness I have felt the last few years. My breaths begin to shallow, and Anna takes my hand. Her warmth surprises me, as I thought she would've been too afraid to even touch me. Apparently not. Does she even remember what happened when we were little, or does she just push past it? I smile, but let my fingers slowly slip out of hers as we walk behind the curtain.
I've always felt isolated sitting up there with my parents for the Reaping, but now it's even more isolated with Anna as my only family member up here with me. Someone I don't remember winning the Games sits up with us, her slim face calm and stern. She couldn't've won them too much longer than ten years ago, but in this district, who knows? I fold my hands in my lap and await the escort's arrival. I decide to watch the crowds, taking note of any kids who strike me as odd or very possible to volunteer as tribute. I notice a twelve year old boy with pale skin and hair that sticks up at odd angles, a large eighteen year old similar in looks to him, beside the obvious bulk added on, and a group of ashen-skinned kids with slightly plump bodies, all bearing similarities to their parents, some of the most eccentric and yet wise psychologists in District 1.
My people-watching helped the time pass, as soon the escort has started his usual speech. The man has a layer of vibrant green fuzz on top of his head, with matching eyebrows and eyeliner. His lips are the same color as his skin, and his eyes are nearly black, giving him an ethereal look to his whole self. Needless to say, that was the least crazy bit about him. I shall not go into his outfit, as honestly there would be barely anything to describe. He looks as if he has just gone for a swim, being in a full-on bodysuit with drawn on designs to look like a fancy suit. Note the word drawn on.
I try to look away from his tight bodysuit, but find wherever I look there's a huge TV screen displaying him somewhere else. He goes into the usual spiel about the Capitol and their "kindness" to the Districts, wording it as if it were the most enticing thing in the world. Usually my father would now speak, but they decided to let the escort say that speech as well. Goodie.
After the video, the man goes into a short speech on the Quarter Quell. His voice is really getting on my nerves now. "To celebrate fifty glorious years of the Hunger Games, our dear President Snow gives us even more to celebrate! As announced, two girls and two boys from each district will be ever so lucky to perform in the Hunger Games!"
Some applause is heard, but not much. Thank goodness this is almost over. I feel as if sweat is pooling in my gloves. Wiping them won't help, I remind myself as I brush them over my black sweater. The escort takes his sweet time walking to the glass ball of girl's names, and he plucks a single card from the bowl.
He unclips it, and everything slows down.
"Elsa Hirdóttir!"
What?
My brain seems to have malfunctioned.
I inhale sharply, someone's hand on my shoulder. It's the escort. He smells of roses and strong nail polish remover, and I can't help but wrinkle my nose. I stand up slowly, looking back at Anna. She seems to be deep in thought, though her eyes betray utter fear. For me. I can tell by the way the glances sharply at me, her delicate face contorted with worry.
Has time slowed down? I think it has. The escort's voice is much deeper now. I feel like I'm filling with morphine, a strong drug used often in the hospitals here.
He's asked for volunteers. Everyone seems too stunned to volunteer.
Except for one girl.
"I volunteer as tribute."
No. It can't be. My façade breaks down, and I turn towards my standing sister, face calm and stronger than the naïve girl I thought I knew. The escort looks out towards the crowd, and everyone seems to be frozen. Stopped from volunteering.
"We have a volunteer," he says, his voice seeming to speed up to normal…and faster. It all happens too quickly now, and I am utterly broken.
"No," I whisper hoarsely, looking at my sister with pleading eyes, "No!" I shout louder, lunging towards her. Two Peacekeepers are on me, and I can see Weselton off to the side, watching with his narrowed eyes as usual. I am pulled back to my seat…forced to sit down and watch in horror as the escort asks for Anna's name.
"Anna Hirdóttir," she whispers, her tone still stronger than mine. The escort is obviously ecstatic at the action that just happened, as he's almost squeakier than before. At least time seems normal now.
The escort beams, showing gleaming white teeth. "What a valiant thing to do for your sister. She must be very proud." He says. If I could say anything to him…
Anna squeaks and nods, a tear threatening to slip from her eye, and the escort claps his hands. That's when the plan forms.
If Anna is going into the games, she's not going without me.
He walks to the girls' ball again, but I don't even hear the name of the girl who is called. I stand up immediately, not even waiting for him to ask. I've beaten everyone to it, and they're all too surprised by my outburst to say anything. "I volunteer as tribute."
If it were a lighter celebration, I'd have laughed at the escort's face. It was quite comical to see the shock, confusion, and elation all spring upon his face at the same time. I glare at the crowd, daring anyone to volunteer, and apparently I have an icier gaze than I thought. I am District 1's second female tribute for the 50th Hunger Games.
The next few minutes are spent in dull shock. Anna's horrified face stares at me as the two boys are called, and I only realize who each one is once we are asked to shake hands. I shake hands first with the little boy I'd seen earlier, second with a tall boy about my age with sandy hair and a fur-lined vest.
Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in our favor.
~.~.~
AN/ Hey guys! So, here's my second chapter of one of my biggest fan fiction plots I've created up to date. I will be attempting to update every Wednesday, but may extend the date to two weeks if it gets too hectic. Chapters may fluctuate in size, but expect from 1500 to 3000 per chapter, perhaps even longer if I feel really creative.
Digital cookie to the person who deciphers the meaning of Elsa and Anna's last name!
Also a disclaimer, I guess, is in order. I don't own Hunger Games, Frozen, or any of their characters. I only own my ideas and my OCs.
May the odds be ever in your favor!