Glimmer

The boys, and Clove, are determine to parade their strength to the rest of the tributes. I stick to the archery station though, trying to perfect my aim on the dummies that are further here than they are back home.

The trainer tries to help me but I quickly shoo him away. I've been doing this most of my life. I really don't need him telling me what to do.

Still, it's almost painful how frustrating this becomes as my arrows wobble and then fall short of where I want them to go.

The bows aren't too different from what I've been trained with, certainly less decorative. My favorite had been a pink layered one with green vines crawling up the arch and lavender flowers sprouting up in different areas. For such a beautiful area, the Capitol knows nothing of decor. Then again, just about everything fashion and current trend comes from One. What could they possibly do without us?

A smile twitches on my lips as I raise the bow.

Pull. Release. Fail.

Any trace of humor falls from me then as I stomp my foot and let out a groan.

This is ridiculous!

I'm Glimmer, the Career tribute from District One. I'm beautiful, I'm terrifying, I'm sexy.

The chances of me winning these games go up every time Mace throws himself into a fight with no technique or Ammolite gets too cocky (it's his greatest weakness.)

I take another deep breath, glare at the instructor who attempts to make his way over, and then raise the bow once more.

Pull. Release. Fail.

I frown at my arrow, lodged into the ground at the feet of the target. Then I quickly wipe away my frown. My mother would smack me if she saw me frowning in the Capitol. Or she would have killed me for missing the target so many times. I spare my mother a moment of thought. The ring that sits in my room with the cute little poisoned dagger beneath a gorgeous gemstone. My backup, she said, my default plan.

I miss my father…

I drop the bow, tired of using the damn thing.

It's useless to me.

Out the corner of my eye, I fear I see Clove smirking.

Her. She'll be the one to kill me. She probably called dibs by now. I doubt Ammolite or Mace put up much of a fight. Or the District Four tributes who probably fear the same things I do.

The academy taught us to flirt with the Career boys. Made you seem desirable to the Capitol, made the Career protect you. Even if it was for a little while.

I'm pretty sure Ammolite and I are related. Distant, far off cousins.

Mace is handsome but he is all muscle and no brain. It might work for a while but at some point he would panic and kill me.

The District Four boy, whose name I don't bother to learn, will last a minute (tops) in the bloodbath.

Glimmer. Is. So. Screwed.

Yes, yes she is.

I walk away as gracefully as possible, heading to the bathroom to re-braid my hair, hoping this will relax me enough to shoot a bow.

I push through the doors and almost laugh as the girl from District Ten waits until I make it to the sinks before shooting out of the room without a second glance.

And it leaves me alone with Twelve who scrubs furiously at her arm.

I pull my braids out, determined to ignore scum from Twelve. Honestly though, she isn't that ugly. Not like the previous girls who went to the Hunger Games from Twelve, with eyes to close together or noses that were pushed into their faces.

I expect her to finish soon with the constant washing, but I'm done with both braids and there is no sign of ending on her part.

"Trying to get rid of the coal grime Twelve? They have something called a shower here in the Capitol." I put on my sweetest smile, one my mother would praise, and meet Twelve head on.

Her lips curl and her nose scrunches up as she twists her head and seethes at me. Maybe it won't be Clove, maybe this one has tricks up her sleeves.

"Well One, why don't you learn how to shoot a bow in that academy of yours?"

My eyes widen and my mouth falls open as I try to find a retort. She spots this and laughs. "Don't think too hard. It's a fire hazard."

"And you would know!" I yell, aware of how pitiful my comeback is.

I remedy it by lunging at her.

I'm aware that I'm not supposed to fight with the other tributes. What I'm doing is illegal. Honestly though, I just don't care at this point. I'm a dead woman walking, why not go a little crazy?

I'm screeching, throwing punches at her and satisfied whenever my fist digs into her flesh, be it her face or stomach or chest. I scratch her neck, digging my nails in and pleased to see them coated in blood.

She rolls and I don't even think about the fact that I'm on the ground of a bathroom as she sits on top of me, slamming her own fist across my face. Over and over and I know there will be bruises.

Her hands encircle my neck and I begin to buck furiously, trying to get some leverage on her. She grips harder, bringing my head up and slamming it back down. By the time the Peacekeepers arrive, black dots dance in my vision and I can hardly move.

Somebody grabs my arm, I moan when they drag me to my feet. There's so much yelling and so much manhandling that I can barely keep my head up.

I stumble around as they drag me out. I don't know where Twelve is, something tells me she is nearby as the group of Peacekeepers drag us through the stations, past the mystified tributes who watch us curiously.

We're dragged through another door and into a quiet room where the air blows lightly and there is little noise but the occasional laugh. It does not reek of sweat and fear but of lilac and a hint of cinnamon.

I'm thrown to the ground, as is Twelve who struggles to stand up but is forced back to the ground by one of the Peacekeepers.

When I finally catch my breath and look up I am met by the disapproving face of Seneca Crane.

There are a few men behind him, but they appear too drunk to care what we're doing here.

"What's the meaning of this?" Crane asks, his own voice slurred by the alcohol.

"We caught these two fighting sir."

"Fighting?"

"Yes sir."

His eyes dart to us, going back and forth as he looks on, no longer disapproving but rather bored and unamused.

"Fighting." He repeats in a slower voice, his hands are clasped and he rests his chin on both thumbs, eyeing both Twelve and I.

"What were you fighting about girls?"

He continues to look back and forth between us, awaiting a response from either one of us. I almost jump on this, searching for any answer that would make sense. Can I say she attacked me first? Would they see through that lie?

Something tells me yes, he would see through any lie that I uttered.

His patience is growing thin, I see the anger uncurling in his eyes. He must know the trouble it would be to get two new tributes and bring them all the way to the Capitol. His eyes fall on Twelve, the most promising thing to come from her district in decades. Such a shame it will be to get rid of her, he must ponder.

I think quickly, trying to find the correct answer to this.

"I- I," her eyes flash to me. It's the fear in them, the absolute terror that grows when she must realize I'm selling her out. "You see Mr. Crane… Twelve-"

"Katniss." She snaps, the terror still present in her face but not in her eyes.

"Katniss and I we were… we were…. Practicing." I say pitifully.

"Oh?" Crane asks, not at all convinced or swayed.

I quickly look over to Twelve, to Katniss, and hope she knows how to get us out of this.

I'm too pretty to be an Avox.

She nods slowly, "One said she knew how to wrestle… I didn't believe her." As an afterthought she throws in, "purely sport. No maliciousness behind any of it."

I nod quickly to back this up, then I look to her, "Glimmer. My name is Glimmer by the way."

Again, her nose scrunches with what I assume is disgust. I take a sniff of the room but find nothing that warrants such a look.

"That's not good enough girls, Atala clearly said that there was to be no fighting." His face grows darker and I know this is it. The Peacekeepers that stand behind us will grab us and drag us away and then they'll cut out our tongues and torture us and destroy us… Oh God.

I can't breathe, speak, or think.

Why did I go after her? Why did I do something so stupid?

I've always been stupid though, that's how I got here in the first place.

Before I think it through, before I ponder of the consequences, I'm throwing myself forward and yelling the first thing that comes to mind.

"It was a surprise! It was supposed to be a surprise! We were arguing about the conditions of alliance!" I screech, keeping my head low and not daring to look anybody in the face. When I realize what I've said, I go on. "She said I was useless, wanted to know if I could actually fight hand to hand so I showed her. In the excitement… in the spur of the moment I got carried away…. I'm sorry."

It's so quiet in here. So quiet that I actually hold my breath.

The Peacekeepers do not seize me though, and I think this must be a good sign.

One minute. Two. Three. Finally I take a chanced and peek at Katniss.

Her face is a mixture of emotion, namely there is still the terror. Now there is also anger and when she looks at me and I dare to think there are some signs of wonderment.

She doesn't want this. I don't want this.

We both agree we need it though.

And slowly, together, we turn to Crane.

I can't read his face as I can with others. It's swiped clean of any and all emotion, even his eyes look on blankly as Katniss's and my future hang on a thin string.

And finally, when I feel I can take no more, he finally speaks.

"An alliance? Between District One and Twelve… It's never been done before."

"In your Games, Mr. Crane. It would be legendary." I say softly, hoping to squash and qualms he may hold.

"They would never see it coming." Katniss says beside me.

Another moment goes by and suddenly Crane is laughing. Giggling. We're handing him one of the biggest twists of this year's games. We're giving him his position of Head Gamemaker for the rest of his life, until he's good and ready to retire, we've handed it over to him in a neatly wrapped present.

Suddenly, he's waving us off and still giggling.

"I look forward to the show ladies, though, do refrain from too much practice tell than, won't you?"

I nod, I can only assume Katniss does as well. We turn and are escorted out of the room, both of us in a hurry to leave and letting out our held breath as we break back into the training room.

It's empty and it's not until I look up at the wall that I realize it's because it's lunch time.

Standing in the relatively empty room (there are a few trainers but they are far from earshot) I decide to establish a few things with this girl.

"This is all your fault!"

"My fault? You attacked me, you said we were allies."

"It's a good idea, better that than Avoxes."

To this she sighs and actually seems to concede to.

"Look," I relent just a bit, "let's just have lunch together and discuss this. Alright?"

She continues to watch me with pure hatred and just as I regret not giving her up to Crane, she finally gives in and begins making her way towards the cafeteria.