I don't own the Hunger Games, but the plot and original characters in this story are mine.
Chapter 23
A few minutes later, there is a knock on my door. I shove the magazine underneath a couch pillow, take a deep breath and answer the door. It's Plutarch. I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean against the door frame. "I just wanted to come apologize on Dimitri's behalf. He's going through a rough time with the start of the Games and everything. I don't know how much he's told you."
"Not enough."
Plutarch shoves his hands in his pockets. "Please don't take his actions personally."
"He told me he didn't care about me. How am I not supposed to take that personally?" I snap. He's really the only person who took care of me when Katniss shot the arrow. This on top of being broken up with, I am ready to quit.
"Did you get the package I left at your doorstep yesterday?" Plutarch asks. "It was a large manila folder."
"Oh, yes. I haven't looked at it yet," I admit. "Things… have been crazy."
"It's nothing major, just a few things to help you understand the Games better. Make your job a little easier. Seneca suggested it. Try to make your job a little less trial by fire."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. I must get back to the Games now. Don't… Don't worry about Dimitri, he'll come around in time."
Tears well up in my eyes and I try to wipe them away quickly. Plutarch touches my arm. "Oh, my dear girl."
"These last few days have been so hard. The whole thing with Graham and now Dimitri suffering the way that he is, I don't know what to do."
"Maybe you should do something to get your mind off these things? Is there anyone you can call?" He says. "Perhaps you should go shopping or something?"
Why is shopping always the go-to thing for members of the Capitol? I live here and I don't even get it.
He continues. "In that manila packages is an entire Games; reapings, tributes, arena layouts and codes, interviews, highlights. You name it, it's in there."
"Thank you," I say. I am not sure I can handle anymore violence today after watching the District 8 girl's slaughter at the hands of the Careers and Peeta. "I might call my grandmother since she's free from her mentor duties since her last tribute died this morning."
"That sounds like a good idea." He gives me a warm smile. "It's a pity her District isn't a contender for a victory this year."
"You can't win every time." I say, "Though it's been a while since District 8 has a winner."
Plutarch frowns, "Ten at least. Well, may the odds be in the rest of the tributes favor."
I close the door and again, I am alone in my apartment. My apartment has gone into a state of disarray, kind of like the state of my mind. If she does come over, she'll be ashamed at how I've been keeping house. I pull the large manila envelope out of the silverware drawer.
Inside, there is a large stack of papers, a map of the arena, several disks that hold the reapings and interviews. There are also profiles of the tributes for the 66th Games and a couple of unlabeled disks. I set them aside. If anything, I can use them for background noise and distraction. Plus it looks like I'm actually doing my job, familiarizing myself with the Games. They should have given this to me earlier. However, that would have made too much sense. Nothing in the Capitol can be simple and we take a simple joy in watching other flounder and suffer. I mean, shit, look at what we do to children from the Districts.
I don't care to watch the reapings, as they are pretty much all the same. The children are herded together like cattle, checked in by scanning their blood, and then divided by age. Then Capitol escort pulls a name out of the glass ball and reads it.
Instead, I put the Chariot rides, Training sessions, and interviews which are all on one disc. The Capitol Seal comes on the screen. President Snow narrates the Treaty of Treason. "And it was decreed that each year, the 12 districts of Panem should offer up a tribute of one young man and woman between the ages of 12 and 18 to be trained in the art of survival and to be prepared to fight to the death."
I roll my eyes, a perfectly stupid reason to children to die.
The chariot rides begin in the place they've always begun. District 1 is first. The tributes are dressed in purple silk that has been draped with precious and semi-precious stones. A thin gold crown rests on top of their heads. Their eyes are embellished by the same deep purple. In typical District 1 fashion, they are beautiful.
Zeus and Caesar discuss the tributes in added commentary. When the viewer watches former Games, the viewer has luxury of learning more about the tribute because the different interviews have already been completed.
I turn my back to the television and call my grandmother. She doesn't answer. I am a little hurt, but not surprised. I make a promise to myself; if I clean this mess up I can go home. She'd be happy to see me right, her granddaughter who is a Gamemaker and a killer of innocent children. She might have left to go to District 8 to console the families of the tributes. Back to District 8 away from the stink of death which permeates the Capitol. At least people die of natural causes like old age there.
I start with the dishes in the sink which probably have been sitting there since I got my concussion. Of course, Dimitri wouldn't have thought to wash them or at least rinse them off and put them in a dishwasher like a normal person. Of course he wouldn't have, the asshole thinks he was above everyone else with his cryptic remarks. He was like most victors I'd met; smug, selfish, and egotistical and feels like the Capitol and everyone else owes them something. I'd been a fool for ever thinking that he'd really be any different. The hot water burns my skin as I scrub at the plates. Next I clean up the rest of kitchen, scrubbing the stove and counter tops.
Flowers from several of the bouquets I received after Dimitri gave me a concussion are wilting. In the Capitol, we've managed to outwit almost every single disease, but we can't seem to figure out how to make flowers last more than a few days. Petals have fallen on to the table or on the floor. Having two kittens has also probably contributed to their early demise. I'm surprise nothing has ended up on the floor broken. I start picking through the various vases and throwing out the dead flowers.
"Because District 5 is the district that provides power to all the districts and the Capitol, the stylists Rosetta and Belenen have decided to deviate from power line aspect that most stylists seem to use in the past. They've decided to do 'electricity' itself. So the two tributes are dressed in blue one piece suits that are covered in LED lights," Caesar says.
"Look at those head dresses. Those are also covered in lights. I hear they change colors. Rumor has it that the male tribute, Dimitri had trouble getting all his hair up in his." Zeus chuckles.
"Wonder what he does to get all those curls?" Caesar asks. "I think every woman in the Capitol is envious of his hair."
I nearly drop the dead flowers on the ground at the mention of his name. The camera zooms to Dimitri. His wild red hair sticks out from out an elaborate headdress where thin strands of lights come out all sides in a tentacle-like fashion. He wears an electric blue spandex suit with different color lights that sparkle and change color as the chariots process. He doesn't seem mortified like his partner, but rather amused. Dimitri catches a rose and places it between his teeth and continues to wave at the crowd.
I start laughing at the sheer ridiculous of it. Dimitri seems to take it all in stride. There is a mischievous glint in his eye. Maybe it's a part of his strategy. I shake my head. It's the same glint I saw when we went to the arena the night before the Games started.
The camera pans away from him and they start talking about female tribute whose name is Nyla. I turn my attention back to my work. I sweep, dust, and vacuum the living room, dining room and my room. The more I clean, the less angry and emotionally cluttered I feel. I wipe my forehead with my forearm as I stand back and admire my handiwork. "I'm going to take a break."
Just as I make my way into the living room. The interviews start for the District 4 male tribute. They talk about strategies and home.
Nyla comes upon the stage. She wears a simple spring green dress that offset her green eyes. Her stylist has chosen make her look innocent and not a threat. From the look of fear in her eyes, I know she will not be one. Fear manifests itself in her features, and expressions are wide-eyed. If you move too fast, she'll flee. She answers questions softly, so softly that I have turn up the volume and she refuses to look at Caesar or the camera. Finally, her three minutes are up and it's Dimitri's turn.
He strides onto the stage wearing a black suit with red edges. He waves to the crowd, and then shakes Caesar's hand. Caesar gestures for him to have a seat.
"So how are you finding the Capitol?"
"Big," He says. "Really big, and everything's so close together."
Caesar glances at the audience and they chuckle. "Oh really?"
"Yeah. Where I come from everything is spread out. In the wind turbine or the solar panel fields, you can see for miles. The fields, they seem to go on forever. And the sky is the brightest blue."
"Sounds lovely," Caesar says
Dimitri points to Caesar whose color of choice this year is bright neon blue. "It's brighter than your tie."
"Was it brighter than your chariot outfit?"
"Last time I checked the sky didn't sparkle like that. It also doesn't wear a funny hat that looks like some sort of sea creature. What are they called, octopuses or jellyfish? They have lots of tenticles." He grins at the camera, clearly enjoying the spotlight.
"So are you telling me you felt like an octopus last night? If I were your stylist, I'd be insulted."
The crowd roars with laughter and the camera pans to his stylist who is looks slightly mortified about Dimitri's feeling about his costume.
"Jellyfish," Dimitri corrects. "They sting you if the touch you."
"Moving on to a more serious subject, what's your plan of attack in the arena?"
Dimitri frowns and then rubs his chin. "That's a good question and a very difficult one to answer."
"They probably won't have jellyfish in the arena."
This garners a chuckle from an audience.
"I don't know." Dimitri folds his hands. "That's a touch call because we all have different strengths and weaknesses. It's all a matter of figuring those out in time."
"What's your strategy?"
Dimitri looks directly at the camera. The laughter is gone from his face and his eyes are cool and focused. "Stay alive."
Dimitri's time is up and the music plays. He bows and exits the stage. As the female tribute is introduced, my phone rings.
"Hello darling, did you call me?" It's my grandmother.
"Yes, I wanted to check on you since your last tribute died this morning."
She sighs heavily. Death never gets easier, and I'm sure the weight of her death and that of many weigh heavily on her shoulders. "I'm doing well as expected. How are you holding up?"
"It's been hard," I admit. "Graham and I broke up yesterday."
"Can't say that I didn't see it coming."
"Yeah, well."
Nothing is surprise anymore. That's what happens when you work in the Capitol, nothing is certain.
"I'm on my way to District 8 to meet with the families of both tributes. Normally, this doesn't happen until the end of the Games, but they died so early so what's the point of waiting?"
"Good luck." I say, hanging up. I watch the silent movement of the District 6 female tribute.
"How can Caesar do this every year?" I say allowed.
"He has no soul." A voice answers from my doorway. "Plastic surgery will do that to you."
"Haven't you heard of knocking?" I say. I click off the television quickly. Dimitri seems to pay no attention.
"You didn't." He opens the door of my refrigerator and rummages through it, pulling out things to make a sandwich. "You invade my privacy, I'll invade yours."
"Good to know you're feeling well enough to raid my refrigerator."
"You took my knives, I'm taking your food. It's a fair trade. I would take your piano, but it's too big. It doesn't fit through the door. I suppose I could push it through the window." He slathers a large amount of mustard on a slice of bread.
"I'd kill you."
"You're weak to kill."
"You don't know that." I draw myself up tall. "Are you saying that you don't think I can do my job?"
"If you had a choice between confrontation and running away, you'd get the hell out of there. I saw it in your eyes yesterday." Dimitri meticulously piles meat and all the other sandwich fixings on the bread. "By the way, Crane wants you in the control room tomorrow at seven-thirty."
"Why?"
He smirks. "May the odds be ever in your favor. Thanks for the sandwich."
"Are you coming with me?"
"You're a big girl."
"You're a creep," I mutter.
A/n: Sorry for the long wait and short chapter. I have suddenly developed a social life.