I wake to a vibrating clatter and a throbbing head. Strange sharp-edged shadows and an irregularly flickering light fill my vision and it takes me a few minutes to realize I'm lying down in my bed. On a moving train. A sharp pain spikes through my skull as I sit up, pushing aside the tight silky sheets that are practically binding me to the bed. My shoulder twinges as I prop myself up on my right arm and I feel a spreading ache across my chest as I finally get upright and try to stretch out. The flickering resolves itself as a gap in the mostly-drawn curtains, bright early-afternoon sunlight through a long line of trees.
Which means we're likely passing through District Two, already a few hours into our journey. My head spins again as I try to stand. My bags with their pills are at the far end of the compartment and eventually I give in and crawl to them, closing my eyes and letting my fingers hunt through until I find a packet of painkiller tablets. I dry-swallow them, gagging slightly and as I sit back against the cool wall waiting for the gentle ebb to take effect. I feel a strange tickle of cloth around my upper arm and neck and glance down to see a large tear through the shoulder of my silk shirt, with reddish bruising already starting to show on the skin below it.
Once the worst of the throbbing stops I drag myself up and find a new shirt, staggering out into the corridor as the train lurches slightly, making me stumble into a wall. One of the white-clad Games staff taps me on the shoulder, and I barely restrain myself from striking them. He offers me his arm and I lean on him for support all the way to the food carriage.
The others are already eating and Balia rushes to my side to help me to the empty seat beside her, asking if I'm ok. The other girl, Seebee Lau glares at both of us.
"It's not fair," she announces as Balia starts loading up a plate for me. "She's supposed to be my mentor but she doesn't care about me at all."
I clasp Balia's wrist when she opens her mouth to reply. The two boys lower their eyes, staring at their half-empty plates.
"If the Games were fair," Beetee tells her in a low, controlled voice, "Then the districts would take turns having victors. Be thankful our district has at least two mentors."
Seebee sits back, but continues scowling. I can't really say anything since she is right. As long as my sister is still alive I don't particularly care about what happens to our second girl tribute. Or the boys for that matter.
"Look, once you get past the…the confusion at the start of the Games we'll see how things stand. Usually at that point both mentors will help each other out," Beetee says, forcing a smile.
"You mean you wait to see which of us is dead before deciding who is worth the effort?" Seebee snaps back, ignoring Gloria's gasp and the flinch from the younger boy at the word 'dead'.
"Victor sister, rich family. Always had enough to eat. Clearly I don't get any chance."
She shoves her seat back and storms off, back towards her compartment. I watch her go, trying to analyze her as if she were not competing directly against my sister. She has the fight, the attitude, at least on the surface. But she's not pretty, she's apparently not charming and is three inches shorter than my sister, despite being several years older. Like little Allasan last year, I doubt she ever had a chance.
"So," Balia says decisively into the drawn silence, "should we maybe talk about teaming up? You know, being allies or something?"
The older boy Tyan Newen snorts. He's got a little bit of scrawny muscle on his thin frame and, from his attempt to run at the reaping, has at least a little bit of initiative.
"I'm not risking my neck trying to keep two little brats safe."
He also stands, though takes his plate and re-fills it from the food station before leaving as well. Jakson Redden, the other boy, who has spent the entire meal so far staring resolutely at his hands or his food, manages a small glance up.
"I'll ally with you," he offers quietly, "though I don't think I'll be much help. They were really mad at my dad after-"
He blanches and goes back to staring at his food while the rest of us mentally finish his sentence.
Once we're all done picking at the food Balia joins me in my room, sitting on the bed, her legs curled over mine as we both read away the journey, enjoying each-other's silent company. Amongst my usual mystery novels I packed in one of her books, figuring that if she didn't get reaped it would give me something else to read once our tributes were dead.
When Gloria knocks to tell us that we'll be arriving imminently I give my sister one last hug before directing her to join the others at the window, ready to wave to the crowd. As the little sister of a victor, she will get more attention (and hopefully sponsors) than any other girl from Three might. Maybe if we are really lucky that might be enough to help pull of this desperate miracle.
~xXx~
The Capitol is abuzz with discussion about the reapings, which have finished airing live, though we aren't permitted to see them yet. Another of their "fairness" rulings—all district groups have to wait until the official replay in the late afternoon.
The rooms in the Remake Centre look much the same, though the theme has changed again. Last year's maze spirals and fuzzy green landscapes have been replaced with animal skin prints and long, eerie silhouette paintings of lone trees in grasslands. The large, comfortable beds in the tribute rooms have been replaced with a pair of smaller, light-framed cots, though Balia immediately asks and I agree to let her share my room instead. In case the worst happens I want to spend as much time as possible with her, and I also don't trust the nasty older girl not to try and hurt her if they were left alone together.
Beetee suggests that we all let our late lunch settle a bit longer and wait until after the replays for dinner. Gloria natters at him for a bit but ultimately agrees and disappears to re-schedule the servers. I do make use of the drinks machine in my room and Balia and I settle in to the middle couch to watch the replays with several hot chocolates swirling in our stomachs. I already have my note-pad in hand, for once determined to catch every single detail about the other tributes.
My concentration is broken almost immediately when they give us a panoramic shot of the District One reaping pens and I see a face from a few of my nightmares standing front and centre.
"No," I gasp, "She can't. She-"
I look to Beetee who has also recognized her and is shaking his head.
"Sometimes they do try to volunteer when younger. She could well be eighteen still," he says sadly as we watch Jasper Noble's tall, athletic sister stretching her legs in preparation for her volunteering run. Last year I was so glad to see her beaten by another girl. Now I wish more than anything that she had been the one cut down by Brutus instead. The last thing I need in the arena with my little sister is the blood relative of the boy I killed to claim my crown.
I clench the couch so tightly that my hands begin to ache and, for a moment I have hope as the girl stumbles. Any other year and she would have missed out again, but a savage elbow to her neighbour and a good leap up the stairs lands Amber Noble the second volunteer position.
The smaller, though broad-shouldered girl named Felicia who even beat the second boy to the stage, offers Amber a high-five as they are announced to the crowd, suggesting they are already friendly enough allies. The two boys—Garnet Yale and Chiffon McMaster—stand together as well, though they both throw challenging glances at the pair of girls. While discussing this unusual Games, Beetee suggested that he wouldn't be surprised to see the Career pack split early. With so many extra egos involved, I suspect he's probably right. Which is all to our benefit.
The tributes from District Two appear to be pre-selected volunteers as always. The boys, burly Uriah Gormett and lithe Caldinus Moore bump knuckles as they head up the stage stairs together. The first girl volunteer—Ophelia Langley—is already walking up the stairs before the second one almost reluctantly puts herself forward. Honoria Nohvera. The name takes me a moment to place, though I do recall why a few seconds before the camera pans to the faces of her father and brother, seated amongst their victors. I remember Arturus talking about how his siblings were always careful to place at least second in their 'reaping trials' but this year second isn't enough to stay safe from the Games. Almost as bad as Jasper's sister, now Balia isn't even the only victor's relative. It's one less card to play.
I swallow heavily as our own reaping plays out. Tyan smirks when he sees himself make a desperate dive to escape until he notices Beetee frowning at him.
"What," he says, "At least they know I've got the guts to try something."
"You can't run away from the arena," Beetee reminds him. "And I doubt getting beaten up by peacekeepers is going to make you a believable fighter in anyone's mind."
Tyan sits back with a scowl to match the one Seebee has been wearing all day.
The younger girl and boy are replaced by volunteers in District Four, though Aurora Santes and Cruz Palmer are left to fend for themselves. In Five the Escort takes four attempts to pronounce the first girl's name, resulting in Perianna Parkerson taking the stage in a wave of smothered giggles. She is joined by a girl so dark she could pass in Eleven, and two boys who are smaller than Balia. On the stage I can see Diya and Warrick already shaking their heads hopelessly.
One of the girls from Six named Porshia Herck tries to make a bid for freedom similar to Tyan. Unlike our boy, she manages to floor one of the peacekeepers with a punch to the jaw and head-butts another in the guts as two more grab her arms from behind and force her to the ground. She takes the stage covered in bleeding scrapes and winces as she shakes hands with the others. On the other couch I see Tyan's scowl deepen.
The younger boy from Seven is crying as the surrounding peacekeepers half-carry him to the stage, and their smaller girl, a petite thing with bright golden curls and a large overbite bravely fights back tears of her own. The older two kids shuffle awkwardly around the younger ones, making an effort not to touch them or be associated with them.
In stark contrast, both boys from Eight step forward to help one of the girls when she stumbles, and the other girl takes her hand and holds it until the coverage cuts off to send us to Nine. Here the two girls—Gianna Doyle and Salley Fenn—eye their male counterparts with distaste. The darker Sharman Jape and Ulis Redai glare back and when directed to shake hands, only make minimal contact. I remember my trip there on my victory tour, how there was a pronounced divide between the factory workers and those who farmed the grain fields. Clearly that divide has only widened in the eighteen months since.
Ten gives us the first outer district kid that the commentators—the ever-present Caesar Flickerman and his new co-host Claudius Templesmith—really get excited about. Tall, athletic Trey Fuller could easily pass as a Career and he throws a smile and a wave as he takes the stage, apparently un-phased that he has been called to his probable death.
Bluebell Smith from Eleven is easily the prettiest girl in the reaping, a busty seventeen-year-old who probably already has drunken punters toasting her name. Their youngest boy, a thirteen-year-old named Daucus looks like he might fall to a healthy breeze. Finally Twelve, where a lean, feisty blonde named Maysilee stands out amongst the three sullen, dark-haired others. The camera pans to the crowd where a girl who looks just like the tribute falls into the arms of another, sobbing. I swallow the lump in my own throat—I too may be losing a sister I love and would willingly die for.
Beetee clears his throat, nudging me back into the present and I hurriedly scribble down the names and my first impressions of the District Twelve tributes before glancing back up the list. So many names. So many innocent lives lost for the sake of this harsh peace and for the entertainment of others. I close the book with a sigh; I have already memorized it all anyway, for all the good it will do.
I force myself to eat, putting on a good face for the sake of our tributes. Gloria chatters, mostly to empty air as the rest of us focus on our meals, though once she starts in on the newest Summer fashion collection Balia joins in with over-exaggerated enthusiasm. Probably trying to get her head clear.
I let mine be filled with everything we know so far, trying to let it all tumble together in a way that will help us survive. Diya claims she can do this to predict the most likely victors in any given year, though she did admit to getting it wrong my year. All I can see is the faces of the tributes, some twisted in fear or anger, others gloating as they stand over my sister's lifeless body.
~xXx~
By the end of the second day of training Balia has managed to charm two more people into her alliance of underdogs. She took Jakson's offer of alliance at his word, helping the smaller boy keep his balance during the chariot ride and deflecting several taunts from Tyan during our first night in the Training Centre. This time we are informed that she and I must stay in our separate assigned rooms, with the doors automatically locked between midnight and six. At breakfast before their first training day I see several scratches on the side of her face. I'm about to say something when I see Seebee hobble out behind her, limping slightly, the left side of her face starting to bruise. Beetee raises his eyebrows as they both take seats at opposite ends of the table. Balia grins at him and says, "She fell over and I tried to catch her."
"Of course," he replies mildly. "I suggest you both try to avoid any further falls, however."
My sister smiles into her breakfast while the older girl glares. I wonder what happened to my little meek Balia. Less than three months of "training," if you could even call it that seems to have given her so much confidence and strength. I wonder if that's what drives some of the Career kids, at least in the beginning.
I spend the morning of the first day in the Sponsor Hall, hoping to grab the interest of someone, anyone. One older lady who says she simply adored my sister during interviews in my Games offers me a small sum which would buy some food on the first night. A shy boy with his mother donates half his yearly pocket money—about a third of the first lady's gift—to "my pretty younger sister, who is probably smart like I am, but prettier". I thank them both of course. At this stage, every little bit helps. I know at least three groups we can call on in need, which actually puts us up compared to this time last year. Beetee swaps in for me at lunch time, after a morning fixing some minor glitch at the Masterson's workshop, leaving me free to go watch the limited glimpses they give us mentors of the tributes training.
I get a few shots of Balia and Jakson talking to the golden-haired girl from Seven and another of Tyan trying and failing to impress some of the Career boys in a fighting ring. I end up spending the second morning at one of the Heavensbees workshops, trying to pick apart a technical diagram and accompanying circuit board that apparently "works on paper" but fails in reality. I end up taking them home with me to keep studying. Something to focus on if I can't sleep again.
I'm met at the door by the Escort from Seven, who leads me over to their mentors to sign some formal alliance paperwork. While some alliances are formed by chance or opportunity in the arena, any that are decided before the Games start allow mentors from those districts to share resources, including sponsorship money which can be transferred to an ally upon the death of the original recipient.
The initial form is just for little Caitri Downer, but an hour after the tributes get back their Escort knocks on our door to add Oaklan Warren, the older boy from Seven to the deal.
"He seems ok," Balia tells me as we sit down to talk through anything she has learned from this second day. "He doesn't like Caitri as much, thinks she's weak. And Jakson," she adds quietly so that the other boy in the lounge doesn't hear.
"But he says he's happy to work with me. Thinks I'm smart and will get extra sponsors because of you. And I need someone big."
She does admit to trying to get the non-volunteer boy and girl from Four to join her too, but both of them are apparently still trying to get in with the Careers. With as much success as our Tyan. "They did let the boy from Ten join them, though," she says. "You know the strong one. Caitri thinks he's gorgeous, even after I reminded her that he's trying to kill us."
She swallows heavily, hand clenched as the constant reminder of her looming fate washes over us.
"Anyway," she continues shakily, "I'll give Cruz one last try tomorrow morning. He and Oaklan were at least talking a bit earlier. And he says he didn't really train for the Games but he knows how to use a spear."
She gives me a shaky smile as she takes my hand. "I'm doing everything I can Wiress. We both are. But if anything happens, if I…you know. Try to get one of the others out. Of my allies."
I agree, of course, since it seems to matter to her. When I try to sleep I see Oaklan and Caitri hacking her to pieces with oversized axes, and spend the rest of the night tinkering with the problem circuitry.
Unlike previous years, the tributes don't get a third day of training as it is filled with their private sessions. These are also cut back to just ten minutes each, which has several of the Career mentors up in arms. Brutus is particularly vehement that his tributes should have their full allotment to show off their true potential. He suggests cutting the last two districts down to five minutes each since "It's not like any of them are going to make it to the first sunset."
The Gamemakers hold firm, however, which means Balia is free shortly after the second hour of the morning. She decided that she was capable enough to spar with one of the unarmed trainers, and claims she held her own for a good few minutes. She also says she made a simple snare and strung up a training dummy, just to remind the Gamemakers whose sister she was.
She scores a seven for her efforts, the highest of our four tributes, one point higher than her ally Oaklan from Seven. Seebee, who spent most of her training days practicing knife-fighting without much success, claims that the Gamemakers are clearly biased.
The Career pack, which formally includes the handsome Trey from Ten and does not include the weaker kids from Four all score eight or higher, Amber Noble topping the pile with the only eleven. She apparently tracked down Balia on the first day of training and told my sister in explicit detail how Balia would die. I already hate my dark mind for leading me to hope that if my sister does die it's at the hands of someone that will kill her quick and clean.
The feisty girl from Six, the pretty one from Eleven and the stand-out blonde from Twelve all pull eights as well, and one of the surly boys from Twelve even manages a nine. The rest of the field cluster between two (the crying boy from Seven) and seven (Balia, a few of the others who showed a bit of spirit). For her interview, Dido dresses Balia in a close replica of my victory gown as a further reminder to the crowd. Lorcan finds a few spare seconds to give me a quick hug and an apologetic whisper that I have to go through this, and promises that he'll be there if I need him later on. With two tributes to dress, he and the others don't have much time to spare for me, and eventually I stop getting in their way and take my conclusions about the fanciful and clearly faulty circuit board back to the Heavensbees.
Beetee agreed to take all three of the others through interview prep, averting any nasty fights between me and Seebee and giving me as much time as possible to spend with my sister. I don't tell any of them that I spend each night staring longingly at the remaining drug tablets which I know from experience will help me disconnect from the world. Every night so far I've put them back in their hiding place, though I already know the exact trigger which will cause me to give in.
When my little sister steps on stage, balancing gracefully in her three-inch heels and waving to the crowd she is every bit as beautiful as any princess from her favorite fairy-tale stories. She glistens with light, reflections from the hundreds of tiny silver threads woven through her thick black curls and around her neck she wears a jeweled replica of the district token that I made famous. The actual ring, along with the cord I wore it on are already in Dido's care in preparation for the arena.
She manages to keep a calm facade through the chest-pounding, throat-slitting threats of the Careers, even managing a weak smile in response to Amber's claim that she has some unfinished business on behalf of her brother. When her own turn comes to speak she does well enough. People remember her from interviews just two years back and they definitely remember me. She claims to have lost all fear of the Games after watching me survive my way through and that she will never give up fighting to get back to her family. Jakson, who follows, praises her for her courage, which he claims has inspired him to keep fighting too. As the night wears on the faces, despite my best efforts to concentrate, begin to blur. Strong tributes who claim that they can fight their way out of anything, sly ones who say they know better than to stand and fight, who will use the terrain to their advantage. One of the boys from Five goes into detail about taking and holding the high-ground as though he wouldn't lose an arm wrestle to my sister.
The kids from Eight all acknowledge that they plan on sticking together and that they can overcome great odds with teamwork. Handsome Trey from Ten throws a grin towards the Careers as he talks about finding strong friends who he can respect despite their different backgrounds. Meadowlark from Eleven lets slip that she plans on hiding up a tree since climbing is all she is good at.
The smaller girl from Twelve spends the second half of her interview with tears streaming down her cheeks, though she makes an effort to keep talking about her family. Their other girl is full of fire, and compares the other tributes to a flock of pigeons and herself to a bird of prey. Or maybe a mockingjay. Caesar doesn't quite seem to get where she is going and, after a few seconds pause, reverts to asking about Maysilee's twin sister. The last tribute to speak, the surly boy from Twelve who pulled a high score actually manages to get a laugh from the restless crowd when he declares his competitors "a hundred percent as stupid as usual." This earns him some nasty looks from the Careers, which I hope will translate to them hunting him over my sister when the morning comes.
The thought nearly jars me out of my seat. By this time tomorrow there is a very good chance I'll be crying over my sister's dead body. I have to keep up hope, though, I remind myself as we all stand for the anthem. Beetee helps side-track the other three once we get back to the apartment, giving me a chance to pull Balia into my room to say goodbye, at least for now. She makes me promise again to not blame myself and to live a long and happy life if she doesn't make it and to look after Malcy and our parents and…
We end up holding on to one another until one of the avoxes that attends the rooms knocks and gestures that she has to leave. "I'll be watching….always…"
"I know," she says. "I love you big sister."
I give in and take the stupid pills as soon as she is gone. I won't be able to function tomorrow otherwise, especially since mentors of the fallen tributes are expected to give interviews in the evening of the first day. Setting three different alarms, including one which has a vibrate function that I wedge under my pillow I finally manage, with the help of the drugs, to fall into a restful and dreamless sleep.