Hello, valued readers! Welcome to Chapter 10!
In this chapter, the interviews take place, Jet gets a special gift and maybe comes to better terms with who she is, and Gloss and Jet share a tender moment, yay! Oh, and Sheen has some redemption (finally).
Thank you for the follows and favorites. They are greatly appreciated and encourage me to get these chapters out even faster for you guys.
Again, I apologize for any errors, grammatical or spelling. My computer is pretty shit at the moment.
Also, I have indefinitely postponed my story "As Long As You Love Me". I have no idea when/if I will return to it, so I plan on updating this story and my new one, "Underworld of Dreams" as regularly as I can. Please go check it out and let me know what you think through a follow, favorite, review, or private message.
Enjoy!
Breathing heavily, my chest heaves up and down as I rest my forehead against Gloss'. His hands are wrapped in my hair and my fingers are splayed against his chest. I open my eyes slowly, a smile tugging at my lips as my gaze meets Gloss', the two pools of oceanic blues and greens that made me feel like I was drowning in them.
"Remind me to not get too carried away," Gloss jokes quietly, his lips pulled in a lopsided grin that made my heart do flips in my chest.
I let out a soft chuckle as I sit down on my bed, letting my legs stretch out in front of me. The shame of my last panic attack was still burning in my chest, but Gloss didn't seem to mind. Hopefully that wasn't just a facade.
"Now teach me how to tell the Capitol that I'm not going to die on the first day," I finally say after a few moments, referring to the interviews that would be taking place tomorrow.
Gloss lets out a soft laugh at that, shaking his head. "You really don't need to worry about much. They'll like you already just because you're a career."
"Yeah, but what if I say something stupid?" I ask inquisitively, knowing that there was a very real chance that I would do that.
"Oh, you'll be fine. Talk about your life back at home, your hobbies, your family, things like that. Oh, and be sure to compliment that Captitol. A lot. They fall for it every time," Gloss replies, giving me a charismatic wink and a grin.
"This stuff is so easy for you, and I'm so...awkward," I sigh exasperatedly, wishing for once that I had been born with at least some of my father's charm and zest when it came to public speaking and interviews.
"Hey, anyone can be good at this. Like I said, Caesar will do most of the talking. Just make jokes and smile a lot."
"But I'm going first. What if something goes wrong and I don't know when to go on the stage, or they're not done setting up and I just walk out there?" I can feel the panic rising in my chest as I think about the most irrational things that could happen to a tribute.
"The Hunger Games have been going on for 69 years. I really don't think any of that will be a problem. You're just looking for reasons for you to fail, and I don't get it. You're a winner, I can feel it."
His words bring me back to what really matters- The Games themselves. I'd gotten so worked up in worrying about my interview that I really hadn't even thought about the Games for a quick minute. I was so scared. Hell, I was terrified.
Gloss picks up on my insecurity after a moment and speaks in a soothing tone. "Just be yourself, no matter how generic that sounds, and you'll do great, I promise you. Okay?"
"Okay," I whisper back, not really believing him, but not wanting him to worry. What was so great about being me, anyway?
Strong, brutish hands are grabbing me, but I don't know who they belong to. It's dark and freezing, the moon clear in the sky, casting a ghostly silver light on the landscape. The trees that are lit up look like the desert trees we'd seen in school textbooks.
It's then that I realize I'm on the ground, and the hands are around the nape of my neck, pulling me up off the dusty ground. The ground was cracked in some areas from lack of water, I observed, as I seemed to be lifted up into the air in slow motion.
Finally, I'm on my feet, and I spin around as fast as my dream self can muster, seeing Sheen, my district partner. Dried blood is caked around his face, his eyes deranged and wild. For a minute, I worry that he'll kill me, but then he shouts, "Go!"
Trusting him, my feet start running, but I'm not fast enough. I hear what I suspect are coyotes howling in the distance, and my feet can't carry my away any quicker than what I'm going. Glancing behind me, my raven locks bouncing in the same, painfully slow motion as everything else in this reservoir of hell, I see my district partner being stabbed by the brute from 10. Wyatt.
I want to scream, but I'm mute. I can't speak. Sheen crumbles to his feet, and a cannon booms loudly in the distance. Wyatt turns his crazed gaze on me. He's coming for me.
I am going to die.
I wake with a start. It's sometime in the middle of the night, seemingly. The rest of the day had been typically plain, Gloss and I just talking about strategy until dinner, where the entire District 1 crew was actually having conversation with one another. Sheen even smiled a few times.
It was strange, the changes my district partner had gone through. In the beginning, at the Reaping, he was calm, confident, and maybe even a little cocky. I also recount that he was the same way when we went to school together, and training. He also had a girlfriend at home, I think. Those qualities made him seem more human than the fact that he was a ruthless killing machine who was currently going through a depression.
Now, Sheen seemed to me like a stray dog who had been cut from the pack and was looking for revenge. He had dark hollows under his eyes, and his thick dark hair that had originally been immaculately done everyday was now a wild mane atop his head. His eyes showed no empathy or compassion, only hatred and the twisted determination that came with the will to win the Hunger Games.
Ever since he had been marked by Gregor, which was supposedly a 'joke', he seemed more serious about the competition, but not necessarily his training. I remembered several times where during training he had been careless or too aggressive, not exact enough to make the hit critical or successful, but sometimes, the victor of the Hunger Games was the crazy one that got away.
Glancing back at my clock and seeing that it was in the infant hours of the morning, I roll back over, praying to God that nightmares don't plague me for the remainder of the night.
It is my prep team that wakes me up the next morning. I'm almost embarrassed to be seen in a state of undress, wearing just a slinky nightgown from the Capitol's endless supply of wardrobe. Once I'm clearly awake, I almost appreciate the presence of my prep team. Wamilda, the crude and dry old crow who doesn't smile, Orde the dashing man with the grey hair and dark eyes, and Lima, whose skin was now totally golden, including her eyes. Her hair, however, was now a bright blue mass of hair that still towered high above her head. She looked better than the last time I last saw her, at least, when she was green from head to toe.
Rushing me into the bathroom, I'm glad that they decide to stand outside the door as I hurry with my shower, not really able to enjoy it as I usually do. Why was I confronted with them in the morning, anyway? I was fully capable of doing this stuff by myself. They could have just waited for me.
I roll my eyes at the thought as I exit the bathroom, wearing a simple white jumper that's comfortable and easy to change in and out of, sliding on a pair of sandals provided for me. Fluttering excitedly, Lima takes my hand and leads me out of the District 1 quarters. which are surprisingly quiet. Where were they?
"Where is everyone?" I ask my prep team quietly.
"Oh, they've already left, darling. It looks like you were the one who wanted to sleep in, hm? That's fine, I..." Lima answers me as I zone her out after a while, her overly sweet voice annoying me. She's also really holding my hand tight, I think to myself, making a face as I try to pry my hand from her grasp to no avail.
Orde and Wamilda stay quiet the rest of the time as I ponder over what Lima had said. Me? Sleeping in? I was in disbelief until we walked by some windows where I saw that the sun was already in the sky. I was used to waking up before the sun, definitely not after. Surely I hadn't slept that long?
I shake the thoughts off, figuring I'd drive myself crazy if I kept thinking about it. Soon enough, I'm in the prep team's domain. I sit on the hairdresser's chair as they busy themselves with doing my nails, hair, and makeup. I'm grateful that they decide I don't have to be plucked free of hair again.
A couple of hours later and I'm finally done with the ordeal. I'd been ordered to close my eyes, as they didn't want me to see the 'masterpiece' they'd created, according to Lima. Orde and Wamilda had really only said a couple words to me here and there during the whole time.
When I open my eyes, I'm almost shocked at what I see in the mirror. I hadn't even noticed that they'd dyed my hair; I just figured that it wasn't shiny and sleek enough to their standards, but it sure was now. My hair looked even longer now, as they had straightened it, reaching almost to my hips. The original dark-brown tresses that had appeared black were now truly black, so black that it looked like the wings of a raven. A natural-looking blue sheen appeared against my mane of black as I turned my head, catching the light. It truly was strange seeing myself look so sophisticated, and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. Was it maturity?
Once I had gotten past my new hair, I also saw that my makeup had been done in a similar fashion. My face looked paler, especially with the contrast of porcelain skin against ebony hair. My eyes had the most dramatic makeup I'd ever seen. Black eyeshadow was expertly applied to my top lid, the color extending in a wing, accentuating my pale blue eyes. Fake lashes donned with a slight metallic sheen to make my eyes sparkle even more. The eye makeup almost makes me look like I had raven's wings on my eyes.
The blush on my cheeks was a light red, highlighting my cheekbones. The color on my lips was as deep of a black as my hair and eyes. Curiously, I bring my finger up to pat my lips, and sure enough, not a single black mark resulted from it. I would have to really try to get the stuff off tonight, I thought to myself.
"Well?" Orde finally asked, his voice surprising me.
"I love it. Thank you guys. So much," I answered honestly, a small smile adorning my features.
Lima claps her hands excitedly at my reaction, satisfied with the fact that I seemed sincere, and I really was. Before I even had the time to look at my reflection again, my prep team is being rushed off and soon enough, Gomo, my stylist is back. Same as last time, he has his characteristic long whiskers, snowy hair, and smart eyes. He doesn't bother to greet me, unsurprisingly.
Instead, he just leads the way to his rooms, much like he did for the tribute parade. I follow closely behind, eager to see the newest creation he's made for the interviews. I would be going first, as the District 1 female always does, and I was hoping that I would make an impression on the sponsors that could end up saving my life, ironically.
As my quiet little stylist disappeared into one of his rooms, I waited patiently, taking in the quaint scenery once again. His rooms were still just as comfortable as they had been. Waiting a few more moments, I respond immediately when I hear him clear his throat, appearing in the doorway and signalling for me to come to him. I comply eagerly, shuffling in beside him as he unzips a garment bag before me.
Immediately, I'm in love with the sight before me. The dress is long, much like my first one, made out of black lace with raven's feathers smoothly and flawlessly applied throughout the gown, almost looking like they were applicants of some sort, but from here, I could tell the shiny texture and the miniscule imperfections along a single feather indicated that these were real.
The gown caught the light effortlessly, sparkling even with the entire thing being the same deep black as my new hair. As Gomo removed it from its bag, I saw that it had long sleeves, feathers threaded throughout their seams, making it look like my arms would be made of pure obsidian that bedazzled. The sleeves were loose and free-flowing, imitating wings, almost. The bodice itself was intricately made, diamonds that were pitch black littered the silk fabric that lies just beneath, the neckline very low cut. I could tell that that part of the dress would hit just below my breasts.
Gomo turned around and I took this as my time to undress and get in the gown before me, made just for me. As I slipped it on careful not to smudge my makeup or mess my hair, I wasn't surprised that it fit perfectly. Once inside the dress, I realized that the things that made the gown sparkle like it did was because of the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of jets that were entwined within the fabric, the very stone I was named after. I was tickled, and managed a wide grin and delighted chuckle.
Taking that as permission to turn around, Gomo's eyes twinkled at the sight of me, a look of approval on his face. "Tonight...you will be the blackbird- beautiful, dark, innocent...free," Gomo's soft voice spoke, his tone wistful as he looked me up and down.
"Thank you," I spoke softly, trying to hold back my tears. I was so choked up with emotion in that moment. Oh, how I wished to be free. To be back home. If only I could fly away from all of this.
Suddenly, Gomo spun around as if he had forgotten something. Rummaging for something, he faced me again, his hands behind his back. "I've gotten you a gift I'd like you to use for your token," he spoke, this time in a more forceful voice, his words more together than usual. When he typically spoke, it sounded like distant words loosely combined to make a random sentence. I suspected his mouth couldn't keep up with his head.
As Gomo brought his hands in front of him, he opened his fingers, displaying a metallic raven feather. He lifted his hands up, having to lean up a bit to put the pendant around my neck, as he was shorter than me by a few inches. He smiled softly once the necklace was in its rightful place, producing two strings of thick, black diamonds from his pocket.
"It's time we stop wearing pearls...and wear diamonds...strong, sturdy like them, you are. You will...win," his tone had gone back to that soft, passive voice he usually spoke with and I tried my hardest to continue holding in my emotions.
Just in the few short days that I had known him, Gomo had become a reassuring and safe presence for me. I felt like he was the grandfather I had never gotten to know, and I was thankful. Originally, I had planned on bringing my mother's pearl necklace as my token, but Gomo's words made me rethink my decision.
I would wear the feather necklace, for I was no longer a scared little girl who wore her mother's pearls. I was Jet, and I was going to be strong, for my parents, my district, and the few friends I had. I was going to win the Games, but not through murder. I was going to win them by being the strongest one out there, and I knew I could do it.
After some last minute preparations, I was ready for the interviews. The 24 tributes were currently congregated in a hallway, me in front, then Sheen, then Ameda, then Gregor, and so on. Sheen was dressed in a black suit with a black undershirt and tie. He and I were matching.
Ameda looked boyish and strange in her short dress and I couldn't help but wonder what District 2 was thinking when they styled her. Her shoulders were much too broad for the straps of the dress, and I felt a slight pang of pity for her. At least I could feel confident in my amazing dress. It was one less thing I had to worry about.
Gregor was clad in a blue suit that didn't quite match Ameda's sad attempt at a yellow sundress. Everyone else appeared to have regular formal wear on, looking much like the tributes usually do. In my opinion, even though I'm slightly biased, I'm confident that I was the best dressed one, and hopefully this would help me impress the sponsors even more.
Gloss had wished me luck before going out, but now that I heard Caesar's voice from the hallway, I knew the ceremony was starting and I began to get nervous again. As if picking up on my anxiety, Sheen gave me a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I glanced at him, giving him a quick smile of gratitude as he wished me a good luck, an Avox coming to escort me to the stage.
Forcing myself to stay cool, I took deep breaths, thankful that my heels were strapped, as my feet were sliding around on the shoes uncomfortably. As I entered the stage, a bright light shined on me and I struggled to not seem like I was blinded. I gave as charismatic a smile as I could muster, waving a hand as I made my way over to the chair that was provided for the tributes to sit on as Caesar interviewed them.
"From District 1, Jet Maisivitch!" Caesar exclaimed, and the crowd went wild. I gave them a modest smile as I took my seat, smoothing out my exquisite dress.
"Wow, you are stunning! And it's not just your dress, right folks? I mean, look at her! Look at her!" Caesar exclaimed repeatedly, and I fought off the urge to blush. I wouldn't impress them if I was up there blushing like a little kid. My eyes scanned over the crowd and I was more than relieved to see Gloss sitting among the other mentors, his eyes finding mine immediately, a smirk playing on his lips. Smirking right back at him, I elicited a few screams from the crowd as they started to clap wildly. Easy crowd, I guess. There was no way they could know I was smirking at Gloss, so most of the males and even some of the females in the audience 'swooned'. For once in my life, I felt the slightest inkling of what it felt like to be admired and adored by people for just your looks.
"So, miss Jet, it is so great to have you here. How do you feel about being here?" Caesar inquired, and I knew that the formal interview process had begun. Knowing that if I rung my hands repeatedly that I would look weak and nervous, I placed my hands down, beside my thighs on the chair. I sat up as straight as I could, my hair brushing the small of my back as I tilted my chin up slightly to appear more noble and prideful.
"It's absolutely terrific here, Caesar. Why, I think I'm most reluctant about going to the Games because I won't be able to experience the food and luxury until I get out of there," I cringed internally at my statement. It seemed so shallow and conceited, but I guess the Capitol loved it as they clapped and laughed elatedly. Strange bunch.
"We're glad you're enjoying your stay, but was that confidence I heard in your voice? You intend to get out of the Games and return home to your loved ones, yes?"
"Oh, of course. I'm very confident, Caesar. I'm definitely one to watch out for," my tone was slightly coy and almost borderline flirtatious, I realized too late as I countered back, narrowing my eyes slightly, batting my exceptionally long eyelashes that were almost too long with the presence of falsies.
"Ooh, would you listen to that confidence, folks? If I were you, I'd be seriously considering putting my money on this little bird here," Caesar exclaimed, his teeth a sparkling white as he grinned wide. I wanted to kiss his feet at that moment. He always tried his best to bring out the best in the tributes, and I was more than glad that he was almost transforming me into this confident career in just minutes.
"Now, Jet, what are some of your strengths? And what was your training score, may I ask?" Caesar changed the subject quickly, knowing that we were on limited time.
I debated inwardly for a few more moments. I wasn't sure how much I should indulge in him. The other tributes could hear me, and I knew if I wasn't careful, they would know too easily how to defend themselves from me, and while I didn't plan on killing anyone, I also needed the reassurance that I could at least surprise an attacker with my extensive knowledge of defense. In the back of my mind, I remember the training day where Gloss and I had sparred and I had won, not because of all the years of training, necessarily, but because I naturally had good defenses.
"Well, you'll just have to wait and see until the Games, right? My training score was a 10," I answered his first question with a question, my tone mysterious and secretive, more than pleased that he and the crowd seemed to think I answered correctly.
"With such a strong training score, we can only assume how dangerous you are. She's a beauty with brains, folks! Now, on a more serious note, what is your family like back home in District 1?"
The crowd suddenly went very quiet and they were hanging on the edge of my every word. I took a deep breath before answering his question as sincerely as I could, "I'm an only child. My father is the mayor, and my mother appraises jewels. We're all very close, and I live a very fortunate life. I have some close friends, and I know where I belong- at the top," I added at the end, ending my slightly sappy speech with an arrogant statement that turned my stomach. I actually belonged at the bottom.
All through my life, especially at school, I had been the outcast. My close friends hadn't come to see me off on the day of the Reaping because they weren't allowed to talk to me outside of school. Their parents were resentful of mine, who just assumed that we were far better off than they were, which was actually pretty far from the truth. We struggled just like everyone else.
"Well, hopefully you can return home to your parents and friends a true victor. Give it up for Jet Maisivitch, everyone!" Caesar exclaimed one last time as he cheered and the crowd went up in screams. I stood with Caesar, smiling softly as he kissed the back of my hand, following my instructions to leave the stage quickly afterwards.
As I was exiting I muttered a good luck to Sheen, smiling reassuringly at him. He had makeup underneath his eyes to mask the shadows and for the first time in a while, his hair was done the way it used to be. I felt a pang of guilt, not wanting anyone to die tomorrow. The Games was a monster that stole from the good and oppressed and gave to the greedy and rich, all for the sake of entertainment.
Entering the hallway once again, Ameda glared at me and Gregor blew me a kiss mockingly, wagging his bushy eyebrows up and down. I rolled my eyes in disgust and scoffed, going to the elevator. I suspected that Gloss would be making his way there soon if he wasn't already there, and on my way back to the District 1 quarters, there was a television screen and I watched as Sheen made his way over to his seat. I could tell he was nervous.
Throughout his interview, he was, for the most part, charming and charismatic, a side of him I really hadn't seen before. I'd really only seen the arrogant boy who was too full of himself or the depressed shell of what he used to be, there didn't seem to be an in-between. As the elevator doors dinged open, Sheen's interview was just beginning to end, and I knew he had nailed it despite the early jitters in the beginning. I could only hope I looked that good.
Making my way into the living room, I smiled to see Gloss sitting on the couch. "Hey," I greet as I walk in the room, a gentle smile on my features.
Gloss turns around instantly, his lips mirroring the same smile as mine. "Hey there, little bird," he says, taking the name everyone seemed to be calling me today.
"How'd I do?" I ask, arching a dark brow as I go over to sit next to him.
"Absolutely terrific," Gloss responds quickly. "Who knew that you could have some ego in you," he mused more to himself than to me.
I shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I have some hidden talents, don't you worry about it."
"Well I'm glad," Gloss bantered back. A comfortable silence spread between us before he let out a yawn. I could tell that he was obviously very tired, and I felt bad for keeping him up late in the night the past few days with my constant nightmares and other social complications.
"I can head to bed if you want to," I offered, not wanting to make him feel like he was forced to stay up just because I was.
He nodded a few times and he surprised me as he actually followed me to my room. I assumed that he would go to his room. "You sleeping here tonight?" I joked playfully as I headed to my bathroom to get changed.
"Well, it very well could be our last night together and I want to know what it's like to wake up to you at least once in my life," Gloss' words sent me for a loop. Almost immediately, I felt betrayed and sick. I thought he thought I could win this?
"What, you don't believe in me anymore?" I countered, not wanting to get too loud as I heard Cashmere's and Sheen's voices as they entered the quarters.
"It's not like that, Jet. I'm just saying there's always a possibility and I would hate myself forever if I didn't cherish this night," he hesitated a moment before continuing on to say, "I know you don't believe that Jet, but please, don't get discouraged. I think you can win, I just want to be careful."
I nodded, accepting his answer. It took me a few moments, but I realized that he was right. What if I died due to exposure or something? Who knew what the arena was going to be like. After getting changed and scrubbing the makeup off my face, I set my new token on my nightstand, kissing my mother's pearls. It was a new era, and those pearls were the sign to the end and that steely feather was the signal of a new age.
Cuddled up with Gloss that night, I realized that I was fighting for more than just myself. I had to come home for someone more than myself. I had to do come home for the broken man with the blue eyes who had finally found his light, and that light just so happened to be me.
Ooh, how exciting and fluffy, right? If you guys haven't gathered yet, Gloss and Jet have totally fallen for each other and it makes my heart skip a beat. What cute love birds they are. Anyway, let me know what you're thinking so far! We're just getting to the fun stuff, as Jet will be getting into the Games next chapter. How exciting is that?!