My life falls into a regular pattern. I wake early enough to eat breakfast with the family. Usually I make the twenty minute walk with Balia and Malcon down the dirt road into town. Malcy's school is just one block past the main road, and Balia sees him to the door before heading to the nearest bus stop to get to her old school half-way across town. Most people can't afford to catch the bus every day; there are some advantages of being in a victor's family.
I spend the rest of my day either in town buying food or parts, or in the lab working on whatever project jumps to mind. I move on from the toy hovercrafts to solar powered toy cars and a little robot cleaner. A crew of builders arrives to take down part of the fence between my house and Beetee's and we extend out our workshops until they join. His current project is miniaturizing all sorts of gadgets, redesigning them smaller and smaller, and working through any issues in manufacture that come with the downsizing.
Father still works some days, down at the factory. Mother cooks whenever she likes, and she and I go into town every fortnight to buy new books. Some are practical, like the cook-books, or the world atlas showing all the countries before the catastrophes that led to Panem's formation. We spend some time looking up the countries that our families came from. My father's family were originally Chinese settlers to America, well before the country fell. My mother's many greats-grandfather was amongst the handful of refugees that made it out of Korea after the first bombings. It's also interesting to look at the map of North America before it became Panem and see how much has changed.
Where District Three stands now, there's just a tiny town 50 miles south of the big city Las Vegas. The bend in the river is still mostly the same, though, making it easy to spot. Apparently Vegas was once a sprawling metropolis, rivalling the Capitol for delights and population. I've never seen the wasted city myself, but from the stories the bombs and the riots did their work and there's not much left. Of course the whole desert around our northern arc is radioactive, or so we are told. I decide to make one of my new projects a radiation detector—geiger counter, as they are properly called—to see if this is really true. Not that anyone could live out on the dry, dead earth anyway.
Other books we buy are for reading in the evenings, and are entirely fun. Stories of magical kingdoms and fairy godmothers and little girls who want to marry a rich prince. Mystery books where you have to think like the detective and try and work out the ending. I particularly enjoy these ones. Some books have puzzles in them, where you have to work out patterns or number squares. Malcy is astoundingly good at the picture patterns, and he and Balia spend hours together poring over the brightly colored "Where's Wally" collection, trying to find all the things listed.
In the afternoons, either me or Mother makes the walk back into town to pick up Malcy, and once Balia gets home and finishes her homework, we eat dinner as a family. Two nights a week Ezra and Laney join us, and every now and then Pella comes along too.
Nights are for reading and drawing and singing, and if I can't sleep then I creep down to the workshop and fiddle with my toys. After the third time Beetee comes in to find me dozing on the workbench he installs a fold-out bed in the wall, complete with compact bedside table and lamp. I scowl at him, and tell him it isn't necessary, but he just laughs. It is convenient.
On the last Friday evening of every month I pack my bags and make the five hour train ride to the Capitol. I spend the weekend with Clara and her friends, seeing sights, eating out, visiting the malls for shopping or to see movies and concerts. On my second trip Perry and Gamicus take us for a tour of the University, technically closed on the Sunday, but Perry got hold of an access card somehow. The third trip sees me return with an additional bag full of clothing from an extended shopping jaunt. Clara's not as clothes obsessed as most girls her age, but she says she feels the urge every few months to add to her wardrobe. Odelia comes with us for that spree, and the three of us end up on the news again, sitting in the food court of the mall eating colorful donuts while trying on new head-scarves.
My eighteenth birthday in early March dawns cold and gray and slightly drizzly. Where before presents were little things, like jewellery made from scrap, or a dress or shirt being passed down from an older family member, we can now afford fancy gifts.
My mother gives me a matching necklace and earrings bought on order from District One (through our district shop). Father's present is a new detective series by one of the authors I like. Balia (and Malcy) have done paintings of our family. They're good enough that I can probably guess who is meant to be who.
Beetee presents me with a new laser engraving set and a book of patterns to follow. He saw me trying to engrave by hand a swirly design onto the side of my robot, apparently. Even Cupros joins in, his gift a games board for chess, checkers and backgammon.
Pella, who stubbornly refuses to take any money from me, brings a new sparkly hair tie. She also offered to collect the birthday cake, on special order from the bakery off the town square. Ezra and Laney bring a box of chocolates, which I open right away to share with everyone. They also bring good news. Ezra got a promotion, and Laney is pregnant again. Both have recovered from the flu that swept through a few months back and apparently wasted no time.
We spend the day thoroughly enjoying ourselves, and I'm surprised when a delivery man knocks on the door as we're cleaning up from dinner. Three packages, all with my name on them. The first is from Seeder Dace, District Eleven. A fancy jar of preserved fruits in a mix of expensive spices. Beetee sees it and grins.
"Good old Seeder. She remembers everyone's birthdays. Of course she only sends something if she actually likes you."
The second is from Diya Patel, District Five. A card wishing me happy birthday, and a funny key-ring with a hologram of a cat inside it that seems to move as I turn it in the light. The last is from Clara Redfern. A framed drawing of the Capitol skyline as seen from the top of her roof. Also a packet of extra strong peppermints, my favourite of the candies we tried last time I was in the Capitol. I remind myself to find out her birthday as I share out the mints.
My fourth trip to the Capitol, Clara, Perry and Gamicus drag me out to the clubs for a night on the town. I wonder how Clara, who is quite well known will get in, even with a fake identification card. The man at the door takes it, looks at the name and raises an eyebrow. She grins and hands over a few notes, and he waves us in without any further comment.
The pounding music and flashing lights nearly set off a panic attack. When one of the boys hands me a drink, I take it and down it quickly, hoping that the alcohol will dull my fear. Three more drinks and I feel brave enough to tackle the dance floor, despite the press of bodies. Gamicus stays nearby me at first while Perry and Clara pay attention to no-one but each-other. Eventually my 'escort' gets distracted by a man and woman who keep dancing up close to him, and he wanders off to a comfortable corner, one arm around each of their waists. By the time I look back, Clara and Perry are gone too, and all I can see is a wall of swaying bodies, bumping me, pushing me, crowding me. I try to escape but every time I see a gap through the sea of people it closes before I can reach it.
A hand brushes my hair and I whirl, but whoever it was has already moved on. Another person wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into the middle of a circle of dancers, all writhing and pushing against one-another. I duck away from them and squirm through a tiny gap until I reach one of the walls. Pressing my head against the cool plaster, I bite my lip until I'm sure I'm not going to scream and clench and unclench my hands until I feel my heart-rate go back down.
When I look up, I see another familiar face in one of the curved booths nearby. Lorcan, one of my prep team members waves me over, shaking his head in bemusement.
"Never thought I'd see you in a place like this," he yells over the blaring music as I slide into the booth. He pushes over a drink and I gulp a mouthful, choking slightly at the taste.
"I was with...with..." I trail off, realizing he'll never hear me through the stutter and the noise. I look around and eventually spot Clara and Perry over by the bar. I point at them and Lorcan shakes his head, smiling wryly.
"She's what, fifteen?" he yells back. I shrug and he shrugs back. From how she went about it, I'd guessed she wasn't the only underage person out and about in this club. As if my thoughts summoned her attention, she turns around, scanning the crowd. I wave, and she eventually spots me, taking Perry by the hand as she leads him over.
"Where's Gamicus?" She hollers in my ear, shooting a side-long glance at Lorcan. I point in the general direction he and his 'friends' disappeared and she scowls. "He was-"
The rest of her sentence is drowned out by a particularly loud blare. She turns on Lorcan, who quickly offers a hand. He introduces himself as assistant to the District Three stylist and her scowl disappears. She sits down beside me and nudges me to move around so that there's room for Perry too. Lorcan shuffles as though making room, though he doesn't move much, so I end up leaning slightly against his side as we get comfortable. I don't mind that much. He's someone I can deal with touching me. He offers me another sip of his drink.
There's not much point trying to talk, so we just sit and drink and watch the sea of bodies through the flashing lights. It's almost beautiful in an abstract way. The constant swaying motion in time with the thrumming beat, so loud that it vibrates through your body and back out into the air.
Or maybe it's just me that's swaying. The colors and sounds start to blur a little, especially when I try to sit more upright again. I can't remember how many drinks I've had, or what was in them. My head is resting on someone's shoulder, and there's an arm around me, holding me steady. I check—still Lorcan, who isn't complaining, so I don't try to move again until he shakes me gently.
"Wiress. Wiress? Wakey-wakey. Time to go I think."
Slowly the world comes back into focus. The music is still blaring and my arm is numb and tingly. Across the booth, Perry and Clara are kissing rather enthusiastically. My right side is much warmer than my left. Lorcan!
I try to sit up and nearly panic as the arm around me tightens.
"Easy Wiress," he says loudly into my ear, so close I can feel his face brush my hair. The voice is familiar enough to calm me. I wince as I shake out my dead arm, gasping at the rush of pin-pricks as the bloodflow comes back. Clara beside me giggles. She's disentangled herself from Perry and leans over to straighten my hair.
"I guess you're not used to this," she says, batting away Perry's hand as he tries to draw her back towards him. "That's ok, I'd better get home before long anyway. Come on."
I don't remember much of the car ride back to the Spire.
~xXx~
I wake up shivering, with a splitting headache and decide to just stay on top of the bed for the morning until the wave of nausea strikes. I make it to the bathroom, barely, and remember to use one hand to hold back my hair while I vomit.
Never again, I tell myself as I finally manage to stand and wash out my mouth at the sink. Never again. I debate about trying to manage breakfast, and decide on coffee instead. There's a jar of instant stuff by sink, and it only takes me three tries to get the lid off. I sit down at the table, starting to feel nearly human after a few sips, and spot the note.
Hope you don't feel too wretched when you wake. Made sure you got back safe, if I didn't Dido would have had me flayed alive and stitched into a new dress. Clara said to tell you Beston's Mall food court at midday, if you're well enough to make it.
-Lorcan
I glance at the clock; half past ten. No wonder the people of the Capitol sleep in if they spend every night out partying and every morning waking like this. After a long hot shower and a few more glasses of water I feel nearly back to normal. Well enough to meet Clara for Sunday lunch.
It actually makes me feel a little better to see that she is also a bit peaky. She grins and waves lazily as she sits down at the table. "Mom nearly caught me coming in," she says as she flicks through the menu. "She'd have killed me if she saw. Last time she caught me coming back drunk she grounded me for a month. I'll have the pancakes with strawberries and cream," she adds to the waiter. "Of course after the first couple of days I just snuck out, but still..."
"How are you feeling?" she asks as the waiter walks away with our orders.
"Better than I...I...was this...this...morning."
She nods absently, fiddling with her hair, then scowls at the table. "Sorry you got left on your own, by the way. Gamicus was supposed to be looking out for you. I told him you'd never been out before. That Lorcan's a bit of a cutie though. You and he looked pretty cosy."
She grins as I shake my head, though I can feel the heat in my cheeks. I don't know why, it's not like I have anything to hide from someone like Lorcan, who has seen me naked on multiple occasions. Though she's right, he is sort of cute in a fair-colored clean-cut way. Too attractive for someone like me.
Our pancakes arrive and we tuck in, watching the flow of people around us. I've mostly come to terms with crowds, as long as they're not actually touching me. Clara points out who is wearing last season's fashions and what even she thinks looks silly. I'm surprised that someone like her keeps up with seasonal fashion trends and say so. She rolls her eyes dramatically.
"Like I can escape it at school. I know, I just don't care. See, this jacket is not just last season, but the one before that. I still wear it because it's comfortable. And if I'm going to be sick again, I don't want Mom finding out I ruined new clothes."
Back home if someone is sick on their clothes, we just wash it out and deal with it. I'm actually not surprised they would throw something out just for that here.
We finish our lunch, and Clara suggests a new movie that's come out. The story is based on an old book from before Panem, about a boy who gets lost in the jungle and is raised by wild animals. He meets a proper woman who gets him all straightened out and civilized again, and they fall in love with him deciding to leave the jungle behind. It's all right, and sitting in a comfortable seat in a dark room is about all I have the energy for. We find somewhere quiet for dinner then leave, though Clara promises she'll take me out to a better club next time, and will make sure I'm not left alone again.
I'm glad to see our night out didn't make the news, and spend another month letting myself fall back into my life. I send Clara one of my remote control hovertoys, engraved with flames and racing stripes for her sixteenth birthday in April. She calls me back to say thanks, and that it's way better than the three-day-long spa and pampering treatment her Mom bought her. I ask what Perry got her, and she just laughs and says it's not something to be repeated on an open phone line.
True to her word, she drags me out to the clubs again when I see her a week later. The music is a little quieter here, the lights not so bright. I alternate every alcoholic drink with two glasses of water. As well as Perry and Gamicus, there's the familiar faces of Royan and Helia, and a handful of the boys' university friends. I remember Plutarch Heavensbee, who Royan rescues me from being talked half to death by several times. I don't really get a chance to speak to Thannicus or Fulvia much as they are too busy with each other.
To my surprise it is a fun night. Perry, Royan and Gamicus tell bawdy jokes, trying to make us girls blush. Clara tells them right back and manages to at least get Royan to color. There's a game where they get an empty bottle and spin it on the table and whoever it lands on has to do a dare. They make me down an entire drink at once the first time, then I have to stand up on my seat and dance the next. Gamicus gets his shirt off and throws it into the crowd. Clara has to go up to the barman and kiss him. Both Perry and Royan glare at Gamicus for suggesting that one, though Clara doesn't even hesitate. Helia manages to disappear before it lands on her. When it lands on Royan the next spin, Perry jumps in with a wicked smile. "Give Wiress a kiss. Go on."
I freeze. I know here in the Capitol it's different, that a kiss doesn't mean anything. Even more than a kiss doesn't necessarily mean anything, but it still doesn't seem right. A hand brushes my shoulder. Royan, who has the decency to ask, "Only if she doesn't mind."
He's not particularly good looking, but not unattractive either. Large hazel eyes in a round face. Short nose and full lower lip, tufty brown hair bleached white at the tips. When in the Capitol, do as they do, I guess.
I shrug and give him a small smile. He smiles back and leans forward, covering my lips with this. The touch sends a shiver down my spine and when he draws back some of the warmth stays behind. To my surprise he's blushing a little again. Perry and Gamicus glance at each other, laugh and grab the bottle for another spin. When Royan slips his arm around my shoulders I don't complain.
~xXx~
A week after I get back, another flu sweeps through the district. Usually the sickness comes with winter, but this is a summer bug, and the warm weather makes the fever even worse. Mayor Redden calls the house to inform us that there are inoculations available for this particular strain for important persons in the district. He has ten assigned for the Victors Village, and tells us to come to the Justice Building as soon as we can. Since Cupros doesn't have any family left and Beetee is estranged from his parents, they tell us to use the extras. It means even Laney is covered, and hopefully won't lose another child to sickness.
We all plan to head down the next day, but when I go to collect Beetee I find him in the middle of a particularly intricate wiring job. He doesn't even look up when I enter. "I'm busy," he says softly, turning his mouth away from the tiny circuit board. "I'll go down later once I'm done."
I shrug and let him be, taking Malcy's other hand and singing along with Balia as we walk down the road. I try to let the moment soak into my memory as fully as possible, just walking with all my family around me, in preparation for the upcoming weeks.
So engrossed do I become in thoughts of the upcoming reaping and Games that it takes me a couple of days to realize Beetee never got his inoculation.
"I completely forgot," he admits when I ask him over a late night workshop session. He's finished the microchip and has it encased in a button. A tiny music player, though he still wants to go smaller eventually.
"Don't worry about me," he says, cutting across the stammering lecture I was about to give him. "I'll just stay up here until it's run its course. I'll be fine. Really."
Two days later he's in bed, running a dangerously high fever and has a wheezy cough that has almost completely stolen his voice away. We call Raffy Sommerson, who runs the official drugstore and is as close to a trained doctor as our district has, and he prescribes a course of antibiotics to deal with what he thinks is a secondary infection, as well as some other pills for the fever and a syrup to help with the cough.
That night I wander up to his room through the workshop to check on him and find him rambling and thrashing about. I refill the water that he's knocked over and cover him back up with the single sheet he's allowed to sleep with whenever he throws it off. I know if he's this sick now, he probably won't be well enough to attend the Games. And he doesn't have to. It's just tradition for the previous mentor-victor to do the next Games, and it's not like we don't have someone else to cover. Plus, if he did try to mentor he might make our tributes sick, and take away whatever tiny chance they had. Not that my tribute has any chance at all. The Careers always target the tribute from the previous victor's district the next year. She would have to be something special to get away from that. Even the boy isn't safe, especially if he finds himself too close to one of the vicious volunteers.
"Wiress? Are you there? Why can't I see you."
I turn to answer, but realize Beetee is still asleep, locked into another feverish dream. "Where did you go? I thought I saved you. WIRESS!"
I grab his hand and say, "I'm here Beetee. Right here."
He stops muttering when I speak, and settles back down into a raspy doze. I sit with him a little while longer, holding his hand until I'm sure he's definitely out, then head back down to the workshop to keep tinkering.