I do not own The Hunger Games, but the plot of this story and original characters are mine.
Chapter 9
An hour or so later we come back from exploring the arena. My stomach is growling louder than an angry mutt. Now, I really regret not eating more at the meeting. Mother offers to drive me to my piano lesson before we continue with figuring out my Hunger Games duties. I haven't practiced as much as I normally do, and I'm worried about the outcome of my lesson.
"Maybe I should just cancel it," I say.
"It's up to you," my mother says. "Though it may be good to do something normal for a change."
Right now we're headed to my new place. I don't know what I'm really expecting. Part of me expects a collection of knives hanging on the wall and mirrors on the ceiling. We drive through an equally long tunnel to get there. I pull my phone out to check it. In the course of three hours, Graham has called me six times and left me three voicemails and several angry texts along the lines of how dare you leave without me you whore. I don't want to deal with this right now, I think. Emily has called me once and sent me a text. Hers asks how the meeting went.
"Have you heard from Graham?" My mother asks offhandedly.
"I haven't talked to him, no, but he's called me," I say. "I don't think he's very happy I left with Dimitri and Emily. He's probably worried that something happened to me."
"Your grandmother told him where you went," My mother says. We pull into another big, concrete parking garage. "Maybe he's calling to check on you."
"Maybe," I say.
That's what I would like to think, but something tells me that it is something more than that. He saw me dance with Dimitri and I immediately feel guilty, though I know I shouldn't. Nothing happened. The way the entrance is set up is similar to the arena. However, this entrance is only for the Gamemakers. There is a front door that guests can come and go from. The mentors will also be staying here, but on a different wing of the building. My mother explains that this is for our safety, as well as preventing conflict of interests. There are strict rules, surprisingly, on how the Gamemakers and mentors influence the outcome of the Games. There is still corruption like there is anywhere. Dimitri's motorcycle and the silver car he drove last night are already parked side by side in a parking space. My mother pulls into a space beside his car.
Upon seeing his car, my mother asks. "So what do you think of him?"
"He seems nice," I say. I don't want to say normal because I know that he's not. No one that goes to the Games comes back alive is the same person. "I heard a rumor that I'm living across the hall from him."
"Yes, that's correct," she says.
"Who told you?"
"Plutarch."
She sighs. "That man is like a leaky bucket. You can't tell him anything. I personally requested it."
"Why?"
She shrugs. "Dimitri is close to your age. I hoped that maybe you could be friends. It is very lonely job, being a Gamemaker."
I sense there is something to her words, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Why him? Why not Lupe, Sixten or Plutarch? Hell, why not Contessa? Plutarch and my mother have been friends as long as I can remember. But then again, there are the rumors that he is a womanizer. I make a mental note to call Emily and see if she can give me the dirt on my co-workers.
"He seems nice," I say. "But I'm still dating Graham."
I live on the twentieth floor. My mother and I get into the glass elevator and she shows me how to scan my badge so that it'll allow access to that specific floor. There are three apartments on every floor. I am on second to last on top. The top floor belongs to Seneca Crane. The doors open revealing a large desk. Several Peacekeepers sit behind us. They nod, but my mother keeps walking and does not acknowledge their presence. On either side of us there are two long hall ways. My mother takes the one on to the left. We walk a ways and then I see my last name on written on a cream placard with room number five at the end of the hall. Directly across from me in number six, is Dimitri. An ornate carpet covers the hardwood in the hallway. My mother hands me the key to her what used to be her apartment, now mine.
The door opens easily and I walk into my apartment. The small foyer opens into a large living that is arrange neatly with a large tan leather sofa. There is also a big screen television. What amazes me is the Steinway piano. I drop my bag and hurry over to it. I touch the smooth ivory keys. It's brand new. It is one of the few brands left from the Old Days, the days before Panem was founded. They are very rare. Because of my parents I was able to get one. Now I have two. Baskets of music sit behind the bench. "How did you manage to get a grand piano up here?"
She shrugs. "It wasn't easy. Do you like it?"
"I love it." I say. "How did you get it up here on such short notice?"
She looks around nervously. "Let's go see the rest of the apartment, shall we?"
Her evasion of my question indicates that my appointment was something that was done on whim. My mother does nothing on whim.
Confused, I follow her. It seems unlikely that my mother would have gotten it up here since my appointment. It's possible, I guess, but it's not like one can order a Steinway and have it shipped in less than twenty-four hours. They are rare. Very rare. The rest of the apartment is nice. I have a dining room, a large master bedroom with its own personal bath and a guestroom. I am not sure the purpose of the guest room is, since I don't really have any close friends. This is my first step to freedom.
My bedroom is painted a darker shade of blue and to my great relief, no mirrors on the ceiling. A quilt my grandmother had made was spread neatly across the bed. I recognize it from the bed I used to sleep in when I used to visit her in District 7 during the summers when I was a child. She lived in the Victor's village of course. I haven't seen it in years. I run my hand across the faded fabric. I know my mother's tastes. They are rich and expensive. There would be no way she would use a quilt from District 7. She frowned upon it when my father brought it back. "We are not poor people," she said before she had locked it away in the closet. I had dug it our and put it on my bed, much to her dismay.
After the tour, my mother checks her watch, and sighs. "Darling, I have to go run some more errands. I've left you the car so you can go to you lesson. I didn't move your clothes or any of your personal things here. I thought you may want to do that." She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves.
I walk back to the kitchen and pull my phone out of my purse. Graham has called yet again. I scroll through the twelve text messages that he sent me. Each one of them is angrier than the first. Apparently, the cameras caught Dimitri's and I's dance and were showing it over and over. A potential romance? Over my dead body.
Finally, I summon up the courage to call him. It rings twice and then he answers. "About time you picked up."
"I don't suppose it was worry for my health that you kept calling me?"
"No. What the hell happened last night?"
"I don't know," I say honestly. "It's not a bit of a blur."
"You went home with some other guy and left me by myself."
"My mother said she told you that I was sick?" I say. I trace my finger on the white granite counter top. Graham would probably tell me it was from District 2. He liked to tell me where everything came from. Probably to point out what a naïve Capitol girl I am.
"Yeah, but you should have told me you were leaving. I would have gone with you."
"I couldn't find you. When my mother announced that I was a Gamemaker, you disappeared."
"You should have looked harder," he yelled. "I was there. Then I saw you leave with some chick and the creepy clown. What did you do, have a threesome to celebrate?"
"Yes, that is exactly what we did. I can't believe you are acting like such a child! Have you been injected with trackerjacker venom?" I exclaim. "Nothing happened. He didn't take advantage of me. Emily made sure of that."
"Who's Emily?"
"The girl who went with me. If you were so worried about me and saw us leave, why didn't you say something?" I shot back.
"You seemed to like the clown's company."
"His name is Dimitri," I say firmly. "I expect you to treat him with respect."
"Whatever," He sneers. "You're only saying that because he's a victor and you feel sorry for him. And.."
"And for the record you were flirting with some chick last night. She wore a yellow dress."
"Shit!" Graham cries. "Carman…"
I interrupt. "So let me get this straight: its okay for you to chase after some bimbo, but it's not okay for one of my fellow Gamemakers to take me home because I'm not feeling well?"
"Fellow Gamemaker…" he mimicked. "Yeah right. You know how I feel about the Games. My brother—"
"I'm sorry." My doorbell rings. "This wasn't my choice okay? I just need you to be supportive of me regardless of how you feel."
"…Killing innocent children."
"I have to go." It's a lost cause. I hang up on him. My phone rings angrily. I let it go and go answer the door. Dimitri stands in my living room holding a bottle of wine. He's wearing tight black jeans and a leather jacket. "Sorry, I let myself in. The door was unlocked."
"It's fine," I say "I was on the phone."
"I brought you some wine," he says. "Welcome to the neighborhood. I would have made you cookies, but I don't know how to cook."
"Thank you!" I say. "I appreciate it very much and for you being my mentor."
Dimitri chuckles. "I hope I can live up to your expectations."
"To be honest, I don't even what to expect from this whole thing."
"Well, it's kind of trial by fire, literally. Every Games is different. Do you like living on your own?
I shrug. I wonder how much he heard, but at the same time it doesn't matter. "For the most part. I'm just getting settled in. I'm actually getting ready to leave. I have a piano lesson today."
"Oh," Dimitri says, "Well, then I won't stay long. I just wanted to give you the wine before I forgot.
"No, not at all. Today has been a busy day. Thank you so much for the wine. Truly."
"If you have any problems at all, don't hesitate to call me." He pulls out his wallet and gives me his card. "Or come over. My door is always unlocked."
"Oh, what time does the party before the Opening Ceremonies start?"
"There is a dinner at six and then the actually ceremonies and a party afterwards. Are you taking that boy? What's his name, Graham?"
"He's busy." I lie. "He's working overtime. I'm going by myself."
Dimitri doesn't seem surprised. "That's too bad. Funny, how that works. His job must be really important."
"Central defense?"
He shrugs. "Semi-important. Someone has something against your boyfriend if he's working the night of the Opening Ceremonies. So who are you taking to the dinner? I assume you're going?"
"I…I'm going by myself."
"It's not very fun to go by yourself." He leans against the door frame. "Anyone else you have in mind?"
"Do you have a date?" I ask.
Dimitri shrugs. "I haven't decided yet."
"I may see if Emily wants to go."
"That would be fun," he muses, rubbing his chin. "Well, I'll let you go. Come by sometime."
"Thanks I will." My phone rings again. Ignoring it, I shut the door and grab my books. I'm tempted just to leave it here. I pick it up again. "STOP CALLING ME!" I yell. I throw it on the counter. I don't care if I get in a wreck or my car breaks down; I'm not taking it with me. I'll manage somehow.
A/n:
Thank you for reading. It'll start heating up soon, I hope. How would you feel if there were some chapters in Dimitri's point of view? Let me know in the comments or PM me. I'll see if I can figure out the poll feature.