Hey, another update already? I know, this is what happens when I'm broke and have no coursework… I write like a man possessed! :D Now, this is the end of the District 12 Reapings. So a little more Haymitch and Effie, and they won't be like 'lovers' at all… I just want to explore the Haymitch/Effie dynamic and I really think that Effie was more involved in the rebellion than we get from the books. So, Effie will be the same but underneath her wigs and stuff… well in the immortal words of Mean Girls, Effie's hair is so big 'because 'it's full of secrets'.
P.S: If you have never watched Mean Girls, first of all watch it ASAP and secondly…Have you been living in a cave?
Oh, now credit for the tributes (who you'll definitely get a flavour of in this chapter!):
PenMagic for Archie Cross
AND
Morning Hutcherson for Livvya Howell
Haymitch Abernathy, District 12 Mentor
Miss Trinket, or Effie as I should start calling her, looks as though she is about to faint; well this is the harsh reality of the Hunger Games and I know that the Capitol lead a sheltered life but they have to know that even 12 year olds aren't safe. Is it different watching someone die on a television screen than calling them to their death? It must be because Effie is shaking like a leaf, or more accurately shaking like me; even thinking about these damned games make me need a drink and knowing this little girl in my arms is more than likely doomed to die a most likely painful death well it makes the prospect of a drink look all the more brighter but I promised to not drink and to be a 'competent' mentor on the orders of Miss Trinket herself.
Effie seems to regain composure but I notice the forced aspect of her smile, and the tears pooling in her eyes; I may be renowned as the alcoholic victor but I did win and it wasn't my physical abilities but my intelligence that won me the 50th Annual Hunger Games and I'm smart enough to know that Miss Effie Trinket is definitely shaken by this. I look down as she moves across the stage to stand before the crystal bowl, ready to select the male tribute that will be joining Livvya on the journey to the Capitol and more than likely on the journey to the after life; if you believe in the after life that is. Silence reigns, shouldn't she have called a name by now? I look up and see her standing before the bowl, her hand shaking and reluctant to pick a name; hesitant to send a child to their untimely demise. Could it be that a Capitolite is capable of compassion? By now she has a slip and she is sweeping across the stage.
'Archie Cross. That is the conclusion of the District 12 Reapings for the 62nd Annual Hunger Games. May the Odds be ever in your favour' Her words are hollow, her early enthusiasm has faded, any form of pleasant façade the woman I once deemed to be an annoying harpy maintains is forced and there is a mournful tone to her voice. Not many would detect it but I do, I may spend a majority of my time slumped over in a drunken stupor and covered in my own vomit but for some unfathomable reason I notice little nuances; like Effie's reluctance to call a name or the way she stares dejectedly into space as the boy makes his way onstage.
The boy? Oh yes, as a mentor I should see who I'm working with; this Cross lad looks familiar with his hazel eyes and the blonde hair; he doesn't look like a District 12 kid, town or seam. He is rather tanned and although he is skinny you can see the wiry muscles that line his limbs. Cross? I know it now; his brother was the kid who committed suicide a while back, the kid was a bit different and the town bullies pushed him over the edge: Bastard kids, why do you need bullies in a world where the Hunger Games exist? So this must be his brother, or relative cause there is a likeness between the two. His a bit closer to the stage now and I get a proper look at the kid and I can tell he's a fighter and that'll help him in the arena; it's in the way he squares his jaw and marches on stage without hesitance before turning to glare in the camera. For once District 12 may stand an actual chance.
Effie Trinket, District 12 Escort
Well that was simply horrific, more than horrific it was beyond disturbing; my training had never prepared me for this, to send two children to their deaths. I thought I could make sure that 12 had a Victor, and by Victor I mean someone unlike Haymitch Abernathy although he seems to have changed his tune and trying to achieve an acceptable level of competence. These are children and in all fairness the blasted 'Dark Days' happened 62 years ago; I doubt the Hunger Games are truly necessary anymore, or maybe there is an alternative that doesn't result in children dying. It's all rather stupid in my honest opinion. Oh my goodness, did I really think such blasphemous thoughts? Am I criticising the government which has given me everything? Fear slices through me, this cannot be happening: First of all, questioning the authority of a presidential decree is punishable by death whether you hail from the districts or the Capitol and I very much so enjoy belonging to thee land of the living and secondly, thinking these things goes against everything I know.
I'm already more than likely facing disciplinary action for my poor performance at the reaping; let me just say that for once protocol seemed to go out of the window, am I really ready for this? I don't think I am, seeing these children die isn't a sight I want to particularly see and what happens if I bond with them? I take a calming breath just as I was taught in my techno-Pilates class in order to regain some sense of decorum; on one hand I am totally embarrassed that I messed up in front of Panem but on the other I'm determined to bring home a winner and to do that I have to as efficient as possible because efficiency is the key that can open any door. I snap my fingers and my prep team are at my side almost instantly, they fix my make up where it has run and I look in the mirror: Perfect as usual, now I need to become the bubbly and obsessively efficient Effie which the Capitol expects; whether or not I'm having second thoughts about this escorting business or even the Hunger Games themselves.
'Now, I want the train departing at exactly 4pm as it would arrive in the Capitol tomorrow around lunch time. I will devise a new agenda to be applied throughout the train ride and pre-games to ensure it all runs as smoothly as possible. Now go, today is a big, big day for us all. Oh, and someone please bring Mister Abernathy to me as soon as possible I have a few things we need to discuss which I can factor into said agenda. Are we clear? Thank you and Happy Hunger Games.' And just like that I'm back to being the Capitol Effie Trinket, but I think I may have a little something up my sleeve, metaphorically of course seeing as my sleeve is tailored perfectly so that nothing could ever get up there.
Archie Cross, District 12
The first thought that passes through my mind is that by some circumstance the Cross family must be cursed; I mean our parents lost one son a matter of months ago to suicide and now I was picked to enter the Hunger Games: a tournament which will most likely result in my death. Now, that is simply unfair on everyone; losing two members of the family in less than a year and what is the purpose? I have never done anything wrong, always content to slip into the background so why out of every name was I picked. I mean I am 15 years of age, and although it sounds selfish I want to live; I want to win because there is so much I want to do that I haven't done: I've never been kissed and although it may sound stupid I've never really had a friend who wasn't one of my brothers. I'm determined to make sure that the Hunger Games don't take this chance away from me; I will return as Victor, well I'll try my damn hardest either way, and I will continue on the path I want my future to take: I'll make my own choices, I will have the freedom to do as I please within limits and for once I may be recognised as Archie Cross, not as the brother of Aly Cross the 'freak'.
I don't mean that I don't want to be associated with Aly because he was my brother and my best friend; but if by some miracle I do manage to escape this whole shebang with my life intact well it will truly be a good punch in the faces of every snobby merchant kid who taunted Aly, whose vicious words drove him to take his own life. Hopefully after these games those bastards will be eating their words: every taunt, every snide; petrified to try and make me live a life of torment any longer. They will respect me, fear me and although I'd ideally live in a world where everyone would get along and make daisy chains well obviously not that much because it's just pathetic; but really is it too much to ask for human beings to maintain some resemblance of civility? Not in my opinion but this is Panem and well humanity isn't what it once was, it's more flawed than ever seeing that we're responsible for the creation of the Hunger Games.
In the best of circumstances I'll be back here in District 12 in around two weeks and I'm not naïve enough to think that I won't have been changed; you must be mentally challenged to think that you escape an encounter with the arena without serious repercussions emotionally, mentally and physically. But I've been put into a situation that is a matter of life and death with no other options: I choose life and attached to that is all this baggage but I think that the familiarity of home and my family are enough to compensate for this; the opportunity to find love and the chance to pursue whatever interests I have is something that I'll win alongside the title of Victor.
I run my hands through my short blonde hair, I am a bit pent up but I think this is how you have to be in the Hunger Games; like saying goodbye without any idea as if you will ever see your loved ones again is daunting; the uncertainty and the confusion is a tad overwhelming but I need to have some shred of confidence or else I'll become the typical District 12 bloodbath victim and that is not what I'm expecting to happen. I'm not necessarily a natural born killer, but I'm a survivor; I've lived years being the subject of jokes and I've watched one of the people I love be broken down so much that they lose the will to live: That is strength and that is my key to survival.
I've been standing around waiting a few minutes now for visitors and no one has come and I actually a little disheartened by this turn of events; I mean I know my family love me whole heartedly and I'd never question it; so why aren't they here? I mean I can sympathise that it could be difficult to say goodbye with the finality of the whole scenario but if you think about it I'm the one who's going to be fighting for my life. Before I can become too bitter the door is thrown open and my parents rush forward to throw their arms around me; my mother Alicia is swimming in her tears and it's scary: My mother is sophisticated and although not negligent of us she us generally hard faced and rarely shows any outward sign of emotion.
'My baby boy, Archie. Don't die please, just come back to us. It's too soon…' I suppose the grief of losing one son and facing the possibility of losing another can break even the strongest of women, she just strokes my face and although most teenagers would push her hand away because of the 'babying' quality to the gesture; I do no such thing because it is strangely comforting and I know that whatever may happen, I'll always be my mom's little boy however childish it may sound.
'Archie, this is a contest that only men can win…and you're a man. As much of a man as I, Patrick or even Aly before he left us. Do what you must.' My father Hamish, is not a talkative man; nor is he brooding, he is just a simple man who is content with his lot in life and doesn't see the need to talk about every little thing but I truly appreciate his effort to comfort me with his words and I feel pride welling in my chest; being called a man by one of your male role models is something which does great things for your confidence.
'Thanks, I'm going to try my hardest I promise. Break the losing streak for 12 eh? I mean if Haymitch can do it anyone can right?' How ironic? I was under the impression that my parents would be comforting me but alas I find myself fighting the dark cloud of grief and depression which hangs over my parents. Things never really go the way they're meant to with Cross family though so I don't know why I wasn't expecting this role reversal with my parents. They seem to chuckle at my light humour and then we're discussing how life is going to work with me in the games, who'll be doing my chores and everything; but they're talking about it as though I'm definitely going to win and although their confidence is flattering and I have every intention of trying to win: they need to be prepared for anything but how do I broach the subject of my potential imminent death?
'Anyway where's Patrick?' I know that asking about my brother's whereabouts will be a good way of steering this conversation in a more comfortable direction; to be honest I'm actually rather curious as to where he is seeing as I thought he'd be the first to burst through the door hitting me with advice and that but he still hasn't shown his face. Maybe he thought I'd want to see our parents first which is pretty logical but obviously I want to see him, we're the Cross brothers: It's like a sacred bond, even if it sounds girly we're always there for each other and have each other's backs; Isn't that what being brothers is all about?
I notice that both of my parents are avoiding looking at me; my father seems to be overly interested in the ornate grandfather clock, it is beautiful I'll give you that with the cherry wood carvings and the golden dials but I know the purpose of this: they're avoiding the question and it's really grating on my last nerve. Why hasn't Patrick arrived yet, I just stare imploringly at my parents; they will end up answering this question.
'I'm sure he'll arrive soon Archie, he just disappeared as soon as the reapings concluded. I don't know exactly where he is.' My mother was trying to appease me, but really how can she comfort me? I'm feeling really betrayed; hell, he and Aly were the only two friends I've ever had and they've always been there for me. And right now I think I need my big brother more than ever and this is the one time he decides to leave me hanging, great. My parents sense my dejected mood and although they try to cheer me up, in vain, I just tell them I need to be alone and they go; and we're all uncertain as to when our paths will cross again. I'm rarely aggressive but I start to punch a stuffed satin cushion so much that the feather fall across the floor, I cannot remain angry for long though; if I am going to have any chance of winning I need to keep my cool, I won't win on being the biggest or the strongest so I'm going to need strategy and for that I need a level head.
'Well, you're pretty angry aren't you?' Oh well look who it is, Patrick Cross finally arrives and my anger vanishes; we're so close that it is too hard to remain angry with him, I mean he is my brother. The man of the moment is leaning against the doorframe, his muscled arms crossed against his chest as if to try and radiate a sense of nonchalance but I know better; when you know someone so well you can read them pretty well and I know that my brother is scared; maybe it's the tightness around his eyes or how his hands are balled into fists.
'I was 'cause I thought you weren't going to show your face old man' I smile, just seeing him makes me feel a bit better about the whole situation; Pat looks offended for a second and then just grins, walking over to me and punching me in thee arm. The sad thing is he doesn't hold back and it hurts, I thought he'd be a bit nicer seeing that I'm about to enter a fight to the death but this just proves that not even the Hunger Games is stronger than our brotherhood.
'Of course I was going to come, brothers forever man; you know I've always got your back Archie. I had to fetch something but I always intended on coming up. I'm just pissed that I couldn't volunteer.' The thing is if Pat were of reaping age he would've volunteered; he's always been the leader of us, and I wouldn't of been surprised that if he had been reaped when he was eligible that he would of returned home as Victor; but that's not how the world works, this battle is mine and depressingly mine alone.
'What did you have to get then?' He just smirks and pulls out Aly's old crucifix; personally, I'm not a believer in God and what happened with Aly just made this belief of mine firmer but Aly always believed in God and for that reason I've always respected people who have a sense of faith. This is my token, because physically I'm going into the arena but I know that Pat and Aly, wherever he is, will be with me in spirit at least. I just hug Pat, yes we are brother who have no qualms about physical affection but I try to communicate how much it means simply through this simple gesture; I think he understands as he squeezes me so hard that I know he understands.
'Until we meet again little brother' one positive thing is that however this ends I'll be seeing one of my brothers again. Then the Peacekeepers with their pristine white uniforms arrive to escort me to the train and then I know that then is when it all starts to change; this morning I was simply Archie Cross, concerned with who would be my first kiss but as soon as I get on that train my major concern will be who and how I'll be killing 23 other people.
Livvya Howell, District 12.
Daddy gave me some great advice as to how to deal with the whole Hunger Games experience; I may only be 12 years old and in comparison to many of the other tributes I'll appear a runt. Nobody will consider me a threat whatsoever but maybe I'm not as innocent and harmless as my appearance indicates; I'm not silly and I know my chances aren't good being 12 years old and on top of that, being the tribute of District 12 which has the worst track record when it comes to having Victors but I cannot simply lie down and accept my fate. I need to show everyone not to underestimate me, because it will cost them: In theory, the careers will spend time targeting 'threats' and if I'm able to survive the initial bloodbath which happens at the cornucopia maybe my little plan may actually work; I'll need as much luck as possible but isn't that what the Hunger Games: A game of luck?
I look at the people who are sitting around me; I have the Capitol lady, Effie something opposite me and she doesn't look like any of the other Capitol people I've ever seen although it is rather obvious she's had some surgical enhancements: she doesn't look artificially happy or enthusiastic, in fact she seems to be surveying me and the Archie boy with a thoughtful expression. I know better than to ask about what's the cause of the change in her demeanor, from now on every word I say and every little thing I do could have devastating consequences. I have a role to play; I'm going to be the quiet and naïve young girl who is amazed by the Capitol and garner some sympathy, ideally I'd tell them how dumb I think this whole thing is but that is just as bad as signing your own death warrant, which isn't something I really want to do. Oh, I'm meant to be amazed by the Capitol aren't I? Well best put the plan into action now.
'Oh Effie, your dress is very pretty. As is the whole training, you must feel very lucky to live around such wonderful things. I wish I could be around things like this all the time.' Did she hear the slight venom in my voice? Did I overdo it? Can she read my face as well as everybody else? Oh it doesn't matter now; Effie is genuinely smiling at me and reaches over to place her hand atop my own. I should hate this pink-haired woman but there's something about her: I want to trust this lady, I do trust this lady.
'Livvya, it's not as nice as the colour of your eyes. I know you and Archie may be scared and I'm very sorry for what's happened to you both but I'm going to help however I can' What? Did this Capitol woman just apologise to us and sincerely at that? Well that was very weird but that's not the point I look down, well it seems that Miss Trinket isn't your ordinary Capitol 'bimbo' or whatever the word is that my father uses. I look towards Haymitch and Archie and they're both looking as shocked as I feel so I think I'm correct in my assumption that this is not the normal way for Capitol people to act and I start to like Effie even more for it. Without reason Effie excuses herself from the room with the promise she'll be back on time for dinner, how strange?
'So you two, welcome to the Hunger Games' I return my gaze to Haymitch, his seam grey eyes are more alert than any other time I've seen him; usually in the hob where he is buying alcohol from old Ripper, I take this as a good sign and just smile happily even though I'd rather tell him that I'd rather not be involved in the Hunger Games at all; I don't think my smile fooled him at all though because he laughs at my expression. Why did I have to have such an expressional face? So I drop my act for now, in all honesty I'll only need it in the interview; it's about sponsors and I don't care what the other tributes think, no matter what they'll think I'm weak and even if I do get a good training score they'll assume it was a fluke.
'Now, I'm going to mentor you to the best of my abilities, but first of all I need to know whether or not you're training alone or together?' Wow, usually Haymitch is too drunk to form a coherent sentence and now he seems to be taking his role as a mentor seriously; I said the Hunger Games were a game of luck and it just seems lucky that I was reaped the year that Haymitch decided to actually do his job; maybe my plan will work, I've been pretty lucky so far: My little fainting episode at the reaping will ensure everyone looks over me as a weakling and now Haymitch is sobered up. I'm so elated by how things are turning out that I only just catch Archie's words.
'Alone' Well, I'm a little annoyed; Archie seemed nice and I was banking him being my ally because I'm going to need someone to protect me in the arena, I need someone who can fight. He is looking at me, his expression a clear apology; maybe he could see I was a little irked. Oh well, I know what he thinks: 12 year old, going to be a useless ally; How funny when he see's I'm not as harmless as my stature implies. I'll just find another ally and I'll make sure he recognises his mistake; oh my, why am I being so vindictive? I just smile at him and look back at the tablecloth. He is not a bad boy, but if I'm coming home he has to die it is as simple as that however crude it may sound.
'That's okay Archie, I'll work with Effie.' He looks relieved, what did he expect me to do? Kill him? We're not in the arena yet for Panem's sake. In fact this may be beneficial, I'll tell Effie my plan and then Archie won't realise until it's too late and my plan is fully in action. Shame for him but under these circumstances I can't necessarily pity him.
There we go people, Archie and Livvya! What do you think? Now, these damned reapings will be over soon..and then onto the Pre-Games which are planned and will be rather long but nowhere as tedious as the reapings ;) and we'll see some familiar faces… Umm, Now REVIEW…Tell me anything, your favourite tributes so far, anything you'd like to see, any suggestions… :D
Loves Yah xx