Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games
A/n: I wasn't going to put this up today but got so disheartened by an e-mail I received about an exam that I found it was the only way to cheer me up. So, I hope you enjoy :)
3) The Show Must Go On
I end up talking to Mattis for the entire hour. It's stupid, I know. The pair of us are going to be fighting for our lives in one week and we'll become enemies. The last thing I should be doing is making friends with him. But he's friendly enough with a very odd sense of humour and so talkative that the conversation has stopped feeling awkward. Nevertheless, I'm still wary; he could be acting.
I learn a few things about him though. He's fifteen and lives a few blocks away from me. He's the oldest of four and his father is disabled. He has a girlfriend. He works in the factory where the Vales worked and knew of their deaths. He promised his family he'd come home but they all knew it was an empty promise.
More than that, I realise that he's only nervous around people he's just met or people who are "bigger" than him; once he's comfortable around someone, he stops stuttering. He is, at heart, a very simple person who wants nothing more than to be left in peace to enjoy himself.
Assuming he isn't acting, of course.
At the end of the hour, I comment that we should go to visit our respective mentors. He runs his hand through his short hair and agrees. I notice that he suddenly hunches over as we walk and there is a bit of a stutter in his voice when I say goodbye.
Apa is sitting down when I enter. She observes me and simply nods when I ask if I can sit down as well. I try to relax but this woman with her sharp gaze unnerves me.
She asks me what skills I have. Truthfully, I tell her that I don't have any. She rolls her eyes – a common thing for her to do, I think – and tells me to talk a bit about my general strengths and weaknesses.
I consider this and then tell her that I'm relatively intelligent and a good thinker. I don't get attached to people easily – which must surely be a strength in the Hunger Games – and add that I'm not a bad runner. My weaknesses comprise of knowing no fighting skills and no general survival skills as well as having a general disbelief that I have any hope of winning. She tells me to start believing I will win otherwise I won't. This is true but I don't think it'll make much of a difference; except I'll be more disappointed when I die.
She tells me that I should focus on learning survival skills and use my intelligence to outwit my opponents. She asks me if I'm any good at acting to which I say no. She closes her eyes and then opens them. After a few more seconds, she repeats her advice and adds that if I can learn a weapon, that would be good as well. Then she tells me to go. She says dinner will be in a few hours and after that, we'll watch the Reaping re-cap and assess my competition from there. As I leave the compartment I hear her sigh in frustration.
I suppose that, to her, I must be another tribute who's going to lose. The best tributes are from Districts 1,2 and 4. Any other tributes who win are always exceptional in some way. I think the only ability I've displayed is the ability to annoy people. It's a pity that's not a valid method of killing anyone.
I go back to my compartment. There isn't much to do in here. It's filled with luxuries like clothes and a shower and expensive curtains but it's not made for entertainment. That strikes me as stupid, really. I'd manage fine without the nice choice of clothes if I could have something to do in here. Maybe Capitol people just stare at their nice belongings all day.
I take another shower, just for the hell of it and then decide to take a nap. But the moment I lie down, someone knocks on the compartment door. When I open it, I see the grinning face of Mattis. He asks to come in and, wordlessly, I let him. I wonder if it's a good thing we're becoming friends. I guess we could be allies in the arena but I don't know how well that would work. Maybe I'll suggest it to him later.
"How'd your meeting go?" he asks. "You were right – Oleander doesn't like people."
"I don't think Apa likes me much. I don't think she likes anyone much though."
"She has faith in you though?"
"I ... don't know."
He smiles. "Well, you were better than me then. Oleander told me that unless I get some backbone, I'm going to die."
"He has a point," I observe.
"Yeah but he also added that even then, I'd need a lot of luck to win." He pulls a face. "I've been a tribute for about three and a half hours and my mentor's already given up on me."
"So has mine, probably," I say, "so we're still on even footing for winning this bet."
"At least Apa didn't tell you you're going to die. Maybe she has more hope in you."
"Better people skills, I think."
He raises an eyebrow and we start laughing. After that, he comments that he's bored which is one of the reasons he came to talk to me and would I like to play a game? I shrug and agree. We end up spending two hours playing some kind of gambling game with some stone dice he owns – his district token which his brother carved for him. After a while, Mattis suggests the loser having to do dares. I stop him on that one because if we do dares, we'll end up suggesting more and more stupid things which would result in us either dying or really annoying our mentors.
By dinner time, we've played the game to exhaustion and started up a new word game. We head to dinner together. As soon as we enter, our mentors' eyes snap towards us and I can tell from Oleander's expression that he doesn't like that we've become friends. He waits until we've sat down and food has been served to ask us if we're sure we wouldn't like to be trained together.
The answer he's expecting is yes. But Mattis looks at me and shrugs. "I ... uh ... I don't mind."
"Are you two planning to team up in the arena?" Oleander asks.
"Our discussions hadn't gotten that far," I answer. Which is true. Our discussions have been about winning gambling games rather than strange murder games.
"It's a good idea," Apa remarks.
Oleander thinks. "Yes, I agree actually. The pair of you are useless. Maybe if you team up, you'll have a chance. Only for a day or two. Then you can split up or do whatever you want."
I don't think telling your tributes that they're useless is a good technique. Apa doesn't comment. I find this a bit unfair – she told me I wasn't allowed to think I was going to die. Why is Oleander allowed to tell me I will? I know he's a victor and therefore very important and so on but his tributes would probably live longer if he didn't tell them they were going to die. Especially not within a few hours of actually meeting them!
Then again, maybe he's trying to inspire us to prove him wrong. After hearing that, I don't really feel like doing badly and dying, just to spite him. But I also don't feel like doing anything for him so it's a bit of a moot point.
Having decided that they'll mentor us together, they start giving us general advice (at least, Oleander does and Apa simply nods). They tell us to run away from the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. To use the one minute before the gong sounds to assess our arena. To find water as soon as possible. Mattis and I aren't allowed to talk during this which makes me feel like I'm in school.
After dinner, we watch the Reaping re-cap in one of the bigger compartments.
District 1 comes first. What catches our attention is that the male tribute is the younger brother of last year's victor, and he's volunteering as well. Gloss Ludovik. The cameras pan to his sister's face for just one second but it's enough for me to note the surprise and upset there. She obviously wasn't expecting this. I wonder what inspired him to do it. Is winning really such a big thing in District 1 that everyone in the family has to take part?
The tributes from Districts 2 and 4 look just as brutal as they do every year. Other than that, there doesn't seem to be anything amazing about the tributes this year; the boys from 6 and 12 look a bit stronger than usual and the girl from 10 is pretty calm but, really, it's just average.
Our own Reapings look pathetically normal as well. Actually, they look worse than the others because the camera focuses on Mattis and my failed attempt at a handshake. But, for the most part, I look relatively calm and Mattis looks like he wants to vomit. We just don't look like a pair of tributes with a strong chance of winning.
Once the Reapings are over, Oleander asks us who we think our biggest threats in the arena will be. I tell him the tributes from One, Two and Four. From behind me, Aculeo barks that every tribute we see there is the biggest threat because they all have to die for us to come home. I jump. I didn't realise he was behind me.
Oleander nods as though Aculeo has said something of great wisdom. For some reason, this irritates me.
"Not really," I say. "You asked for the biggest threat. The biggest threat will be one of those tributes; the others are just smaller threats."
"No. He asked who the biggest threats would be. The tributes are the biggest threats," Apa says.
"Exactly," Oleander says. "The other threats are the environment, the Gamemaker traps and your own stupidity. But none of these are as deadly as the tributes."
Strictly speaking, that isn't true. If a Gamemaker trap can kill me on sight then that's got to be deadlier than a small thirteen-year-old who can't use a weapon. But I don't point this out because when I open my mouth, Mattis kicks me. If nothing else, we seem to make a good team with people – I can be the answerer, he can be the person who stops me making enemies out of everyone. If only they'd let us be interviewed in pairs.
They tell us to go to bed because we have to be up early tomorrow and when we're in the Remake Centre, we should just go with whatever the stylists do to us. Mattis looks terrified. This is the second time we've been warned to be compliant. I can't think of why I wouldn't be but then, I've never had anything done to me by a stylist. Perhaps it's horrible. That's probably why they have the saying "beauty is pain".
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I'm woken up by Aculeo banging on the door and yelling that if I don't get up, he'll come in and wake me up. Apparently, the concept of 'sexual harassment' is unknown in the Capitol. Or, at least, the concept of angry people complaining about it anyway. Not that it's particularly popular in District 5 either because the Peacekeepers punish anyone who lies to them or who they decide is lying. Still, you hear stories.
I get dressed. For the first time, I properly appreciate the clothes in the compartment because they're a lot less itchy than my ones at home. Then I feel guilty because I'd rather have the itchy clothes and be at home with my family than have these clothes and be here.
I should stop thinking about what I wish would be true because that does nothing but reminds me of what I don't have. I don't think I'll be any more successful this time than I was the last time I told myself this but if repetition reinforces things, hopefully it will work. Or I'll just kick myself for failing to do it. Either one.
Mattis is already in the dining room, eating breakfast. The mentors are nowhere to be seen. He asks me if I enjoyed my wake-up call. I answer with a rude hand gesture and when he objects, tell him that it was him who told me to swear more.
"You do seem tougher," he comments and I have to laugh.
Once we've eaten, we go back into the corridor. Through the windows, we can see multi-coloured buildings and people. I find my feet moving of their own accord to the glass to get a better look; I didn't think this many colours were actually possible.
When the train slows down, people start waving to us. I don't wave back. I doubt these people can even see us properly, let alone remember who waved to them and I don't want to wave to a group of freakily dressed idiots who are betting on how long it will take me to die. Mattis doesn't share my sentiments; he waves back.
Finally, the train stops and we are taken to a building called the Remake Centre. Aculeo marches us through as briskly as possible – I barely have time to say goodbye to Mattis before I'm sent into a room.
It's big and filled with a few odd machines and three smiling people. As I enter, the door locks behind me. This all feels very sinister.
I'm told to undress. I ask why and they tell me that they have to completely re-do me. When I say that beauty is natural so anything they do won't help my case, they laugh and tell me that if I don't undress, they'll have to undress me. I strip as quickly as possible, alarmed at the thought of that happening. Then I realise that they will be coming close to my body anyway so I could have let them undress me. I suppose that this way, at least, I've kept some dignity.
They put me in a bath and begin to scrub me until I'm sore. During this, I learn that their names are Terentius, Gallus and Vita. They've been working at the Hunger Games for five years. Despite this, they're surprised at how thin I am, how dirty I am (apparently my use of the shower on the train hasn't improved me much) and how quiet I am.
After the forced scrubbing, they begin to tear hair off my body. The first time they do it, I give a yelp of pain which they laugh at – but not in a mean way. After that, I don't say anything about it since it'd be a waste of time.
As I listen to their chatter and answer their questions, I realise that Gallus and Vita are intelligent but what they're coming out with is so stupid that I have to double-check to make sure they haven't swapped with some kind of doppelganger. I can't stop myself from making scathing remarks occasionally. It goes over Terentius' head and occasionally over Gallus' but I can tell that Vita understands it. She seems to make more of an effort to watch her words when she speaks after that.
By the time they've finished doing strange and painful things to my body, it's time for lunch. They press a button and, to my surprise, food appears. They tell me that I'll meet my stylist after I've eaten but I'm too busy staring at the food. The idea of being able to summon food at the press of a button makes me feel awful. I spend hours working for a small amount of money and then more time arguing with people for food – and usually not that successfully either! Here, you press a button and it instantly appears. When the stylists say, in a reluctant tone, that they have to leave, I'm too disgusted to suggest they stay as they want. They leave in silence.
I really want to throw the food away or just ignore it. But I can't bring myself to do it. I've spent too long being hungry to ignore food when it's placed in front of me. Besides, my protest would have no impact on the Capitol so I may as well eat it. It doesn't mean I don't feel guilty when I do it though. Must be nice to be Capitolians and not see the faces of people they know when they eat this stuff.
My stylist enters just as I finish eating. I've seen her before – she's been a stylist for District 5 for three years. Her name is Iunia and she's always extremely happy. Since I've annoyed two mentors, three stylists and a District Escort, I'm determined to stay on her good side. I don't know why but it seems important to have at least one mentor-type person who will wish me good luck and mean it by the end of this.
After we've introduced ourselves to each other, she looks at me. "Can you guess what I've got for you?"
"Nope," I answer truthfully. Then I remember to stay on her good side so I smile. I can't bring myself to be any more excited than that. Everyone knows that the sponsors will be ignoring us. Energy production is not known for its spectacular beauty.
She smiles anyway. "Well, you're all about the energy, yeah?" I start to nod and then realise that this is one of those conversations where I'm not supposed to join in i.e. a monologue. "So I thought – let's get that energy into the crowd. Close your eyes."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and shut them instead, as she ordered. After a few seconds she says I can look.
"What do you think then?"
She's holding up a black dress with sparkling, blue lightning bolts. "It looks nice," I say. Which is true. It's not spectacular but I can easily live with it.
"Oh, oh, you haven't seen the best bit. Close your eyes." I close them. "OK, open. Ta-da!"
For a moment, I'm speechless. I'm looking at what must be the ugliest tiara known to man. It has a windmill sticking from the top of it.
Apparently taking my silence as a good sign, she shows me two equally ugly armbands with some kind of chimney protruding from them.
"Very ... different," I say. She smiles and then tells me that she's going to restyle my hair out of its usual plait and colour my skin so that I'll have a slightly grey tinge to it. I would argue with her about all of this but I don't think she has time to change her design ideas now so I agree. I'll just have to accept that I'm not getting sponsors from the Opening Ceremony. I didn't really think I would anyway so at least I don't have any way to be bitterly disappointed.
By the time we're done, I look stupid. I don't think I look stupid in the way where I will suddenly spot some kind of hidden genius and discover I'm beautiful. I just look stupid. Iunia doesn't seem to notice – she keeps gushing about how amazing I look, how I need to direct some positive energy into the crowd and how much they'll love me. She adds that this means I should smile. I force my lips upward. After all, the show must go on ... even when it's going to be a disaster.
She directs me downstairs and into the stables. Mattis is already there, standing by a chariot. His skin has turned black with lightning bolts printed over his arms and face and suit. He's wearing a hat with a windmill. I walk over to him.
"Looking good," he says in a voice which shows he is trying to suppress his laughter. "My girlfriend would be jealous."
"You don't look much better," I reply.
"I don't know. I think this hat makes me look great."
"You look stupid," I mutter, not in the mood for jokes.
"I know," he says. "But at least we're not alone. Check out District 8 and 12." I have a look. District 8 is designed as patchwork. And District 12...
"Wow." I say. "Suddenly, I love Iunia."
He laughs. "Thought seeing District 12 would cheer you up somehow."
I force myself to stop staring at the tributes from District 12. We're told to get ready to go. I stand on the chariot, next to Mattis, and feel very glad that no matter how stupid I look, I am not naked and covered in black paint.
I look around. We're behind the District 4 tributes, who are dressed in some kind of nets, and in front of the tributes from District 6 who don't look much happier than we do. At the front is District 1. I catch a glimpse of the tributes. They both look very confident and very stunning. Gloomily, I realise that most of the sponsors are going to go for them over me and Mattis.
"Go!" a man's voice shouts. I see the doors to the City open and then District 1 are trotting away. District 2 follow then Three. Our horse moves forward and I stumble slightly. It makes sense that this thing won't be stable. Why didn't I expect that? Next to me, Mattis is regaining his balance as well. If we both fall down, our 'tough tribute team' will exist no more. Not that it ever really existed to begin with.
Far too soon, it's our turn to leave the Stables. As we enter the blinding sunlight, I try not to shield my eyes and instead focus on standing upright ('still' is not an option). People are clapping and cheering as I hear our names being announced but I think it's the sort of clapping and cheering that comes naturally at these events. Unless these people are energy fanatics, they're not going to be incredibly impressed with us.
True enough, although we go through the streets and wave and smile a bit (I'm not quite directing positive energy back but I'm not glaring either), I hear them chanting things like "District 2!" or "Theodore!" Many districts but mainly Districts 1, 2 and 4. We're being ignored. It's not a nice feeling.
I try to focus on the beauty of the city instead but, after a while, I get used to the fantastic splashes of colour. So I imagine all the ways I could destroy this outfit because that's a better way to pass the time than focus on the fact that we're being completely ignored. I'm glad when we finally enter the City Circle. After the circle, we get to pause and I can stop feeling like I'm about to fall over.
President Snow starts to speak. His speech never really changes much so I decide it's safe to tune out after a minute. On the big screens, the cameras are flicking from President Snow to every tribute. I wince when I come up on screen. I look just as stupid as I thought I did. Better than District 12, but still stupid.
Finally, he tells us that he is sure we'll put on a spectacular show and hopes that odds will be ever in our favour. I wonder if he ever thinks about this speech. We all know it's crap. He doesn't give a damn which one of us wins as long as one of us does. He doesn't care that twenty-three of us are going to die.
It's a good thing Panem isn't a democracy or he'd be voted out as soon as possible. Or maybe not – maybe the Capitol citizens would outvote us. But I doubt it.
Finally, it's time to go back to the Stables. I've given up with smiling and waving but Mattis kicks me until I do some half-hearted movements with my hands. He kicks me again so I really start waving. I think I look like a maniac.
Maybe Mattis is right, though. I shouldn't give up just yet. If I look at this logically, I have a chance of coming home alive. Maybe I shouldn't let this chance diminish. Maybe I should try and make it grow as large as possible.
Besides, even the toughest tributes chances are, objectively, between ten and fifteen per cent. No one has any odds in their favour. That's why you have to force the odds into your favour. Now, if only I knew how to do that, I'd be sorted.
We jump off the chariots once we're inside, right into the sidelines of an argument.
"Watch where you're going, you idiot," a girl's voice is snapping.
"You're just blind," a man snaps back. Mattis nudges me and I realise that it's the tributes from District 1 who are arguing. "Watch where you're going first or are you too stupid to do that?"
"Just remember, Gloss Ludovik – I don't care who your sister is; you're not going home this year."
"Bite me," is the response. The male tribute from District 4 walks over and tells them to stop arguing. The girl swears at him. Gloss shrugs and starts to head out of the Stables.
I wonder whether they'll be allying this year at all? If they're arguing already, maybe the toughest tributes will go by themselves. That will make the prospect of success more likely. But I somehow doubt it. They'll ally, just like they always do. Humans are creatures of repetition.
Still, I can't help but be curious about Gloss Ludovik. He sounded tough but there was something about his tone of voice which makes me think he doesn't always act like that. Although his tone of complete unconcern sounded more natural.
"Anfisa? Anfisa? Are you there at all?"
Mattis' voice jolts me back to the present. "What?"
"Come on, do you want to get these costumes off or what?" He points to the exit. "Let's go already. What are you staring at?"
"Oh ... nothing."
He laughs. "Nice time to space out. Let's go."