Jonathan and Katie have locked themselves up into an alliance... however, where else could it lead them? Who will they have to betray, and what will happen to those left behind? Are they good enough tributes to impress the vile Gamemakers…? After all, it's the Gamemaker's Plan. Enjoy Chapter 5: Failed Impressions.
I'll say it here, and I'll say it first. Whichever philosoph, perhaps with graying hair and a wrinkled face, a hawkish, crone-like nose, regardless of their appearance, whichever one of them said that sleeping is overrated, they're liars, pure and simple. Sleeping is underrated, especially when I'm not tormented by nightmares twenty-four seven, which of course, isn't true, but does any embellishment hurt?
Truth be told, I slept quite peacefully. There was rifts of Bailey here and there in my dreams, which I expected, as I often had her visit my whimsicalness in my mind whenever she wanted to. We hunted together, a callback to me shooting things, but they got a bit disturbing when all the objects my arrows would find had a resemblance to that guy, Lone, from District 6. Who even names their child that? Anyways...
As Bailey and I hunted in this dreamlike world, we came across this place that I've been to plenty of times in District 12. It's called Pratum Amor, which means Meadow of Love. Yes, I'm sighing as I mention this, in my sleep, because that phrase is in Latin... Bailey and I were goofing off in the library when we came across this ridiculously large, dusty, old book in the Languages section. We had just come across the meadow a bit earlier in the week, hunting during school hours, and we wanted to name it. It'd be our spot, despite the entirety of the District 12 forest being our spot, since, as far as I am aware, her and I are the only people to venture beyond the fence.
Well, I doubt that to be the case, but I have never come across another person besides her whilst being surrounded by the foliage. If there were other people out there, I don't know the chances of us finding them likewise to them finding us. The meadow is picturesque, actually, where if you read about it in a book, you'd envision it all inside your mind. There's an emptiness to it, being surrounded on all sides by the heavy wood, an expanse of blue sky above us when we came across it. There are flowers of every kind imaginable blooming, and as far as I'm aware, there are other pockets of the meadow that can be explored.
I awoke to another day of Henry slamming his fist against my door. "Jonathan, you need to get up now!"
"Just five more minutes... please," I groaned. C'mon Henry, help a brother out here! Can't you see when a young tribute is having amazing dreams and you're going to try and come along and ruin them? What's up with that bullshit?
Another resounding, and if even possible, louder knock than before comes from behind the door, almost as if Henry was slamming himself into it with his entire body. A lot has happened in six years where he used to not have any upper body strength, and now he's a bit larger, faster, stronger, and so on and so forth.
"Hold your scotch Henry Kraving, I'm coming!" I yelled back, throwing off my covers. I did not need some Peacekeeper squad to come in and drag me from my bed and execute me for not getting up. In all honesty, though, I am sure there are tributes who don't care about this thing, like the Careers, and I bet you they get sleep time.
When I wrenched the door open, prepared to give Henry a mouthful - because I had one for him, believe you me - I startled once again a poor Avox; here she is just trying to do her job and the wrath of Jonathan Crimson comes bearing down on her; bless her heart. "I- I'm sorry... ma'am," I choked on the end of that phrase. She seemed to be female, so that's why I went the polite approach of calling her ma'am... despite the fact that this is the Capitol. These Avox servants had their tongues cut out... I highly doubt that's what screams hospitality.
The Avox handed me several pieces of clothing, turned around, and knocked out Katie's door. Oh. So Katie gets woken up all politely with gentle knocking and sweetness from Georgia's own repertoire, but I'm exposed to Henry's scathing attitude and hoarse screams. Well, I can die saying I was unfairly treated in the Hunger Games; that'll get me exactly zero sponsors, but that's all good.
After struggling myself into a pair of our training outfits, a nice black shirt with a red jacket, Katie and I congregated on the couch in the living room. "You look good," I said, meaning it harmlessly. Katie raised an eyebrow. I don't know if always giving her some encouragement at the beginning of each day was going to be the right way to go, but honestly, I can't tell anymore.
"Thanks," she responded back much quieter, hands fiddling with a bit of the fabric at the end of one of the arms. I raised an eyebrow at her, slightly turning my head though so it made me more in direct line with our mentor and our escort, almost like a what gives sort of glance. Yesterday, all of a sudden, I'm thrown into a mess of an alliance with a hash of districts I didn't even know could work together, and I whole-heartedly, and perhaps fool-heartedly signed myself up. Great.
When the thirty awkward seconds passed, I took the lead and sat opposite Henry, Katie opposite Georgia.
Georgia and Henry looked like they had already been sitting since the Avox gave Katie and I our clothes, and from their expressions, they were pretty nervous. They had the right to be, after all, the very next thing that came out of our mentor's mouth somewhat assured me that our feelings and nerves and pits of nausea in our stomachs were 1000% justified.
Once it seemed like both Katie and I were comfortable, or as comfortable as we could be while preparing ourselves for each other's deaths, Henry didn't stop talking. "Okay you two, today is private sessions," he lets a pause rest there, stopping, I suppose having the gravitas of what he just said hang over us. Private sessions were indeed life or death. "This is where they, and by they I mean the Gamemakers, bring you in one by one and evaluate your skills on certain weapons or anything for that matter. Throw a knife, shoot an arrow, sing, I really don't care as long as you do it well."
He left out a very important part, about the tributes being ranked on a score of 1-12, and that was essentially God, or rather, President Lee Snow giving us either a wreath of beautiful flowers for us as a gift whilst in the arena, or a wreath of thorns, which meant 'You're on your own. You're dead'. The higher the score, the more desirable we look to the populace of Panem, and perhaps an ego boost or two. The lower the score, we might as well throw in the towel. I've heard special situations where a tribute who won in the last thirty years or so only snagged the score of a '3', which means he outlived all the Careers, and other outliers... it's an impressive feat.
I hadn't exactly pondered on what I would do, truth be told. I suppose... archery? It's what I've done my entire life, and since it looks like District 12 is rampant on trying to get Katniss 2.0 in the arena, maybe it'd work. I still am not as good as an archer as she is, though, because there were things our old infamous prodigy could do that no one else could.
Georgia dabbed the sides of her lips with a napkin. "Do you know what you're going to do?"
I smiled. Even though I don't know what I was going to do precisely when I stepped into the room, saying 'I don't know' to the only two people who are somewhat, hesitatingly, on our side... you got to have an answer. I mean, again, all cards on the table, what exactly would I do in there that didn't cater to my skills? Throw weights? Try and balance on the tightrope like the girl from District 1? "I'm going to shoot some arrows." I made sure to give a slight smile at the end of it, boost all the confidence points we can get.
"And you?" Henry asked pointing at Katie. She jumped a bit, perhaps being put on the spot.
"Throw some knives and maybe do some memory skill thing, I've been sticking to it for a while now and I kind of memorized it." I gave her another piqued eyebrow raise. Isn't... the memorization skill thing on edible plants... isn't that the whole… point...? Katie's face flushed with red after she finished saying that; I think it got through to her close enough.
Georgia broke a smile. "That's the point darling."
Henry looked at his watch. I think he makes it intentional, waking us up, giving us the smallest pep talk literally in the entire world, and then throwing us into the lion's den. "It's getting late. You two need to head down there."
Katie and I nodded simultaneously, me standing up and bit after she did. "What would make you disappointed in us?" I asked, wanting to clear the air on that. The Gamemakers can be an unpredictable bunch; there's been a one or two passed around, but usually the scores range from three to six... which isn't terrible, but with Careers always having nine's and ten's, and the seldom eleven, you need everyone on your team pulling their weight. Not that I felt Katie and I were so astronomically different in our skillsets, it just wouldn't be the same if I got an nine, and she a three. The disparity would drive us further apart, in all honesty.
Our mentor locked his jaw. I don't think he expected someone to ask a question as forthright as that. I remember hearing, between the Careers, that their mentors said anything less than a '9' is disgraceful to the district, and they better prove everyone out there who's the boss. "Just... don't get a lower score than what I think you deserve." Ah... ever the man of mysteries.
"And what score would that be?" Katie furrowed her eyebrows together.
Henry quipped a small smile back at us, saying nothing. "I've wasted too much of your time. Go and get ready."
My district partner stomped the ground in childish frustration like she had done in the elevator yesterday, and when we were watching the reapings four days ago. We didn't have the time to afford another argument, so I grabbed Katie by the hand and practically dragged her, heels making scuffed noises on the tile, all the way to the elevator. Before the doors could close, Georgia came running up back into the living room on her heels.
"Good luck, you guys," she called. The everlasting, most important advice ever. Good luck. As if luck is on our side.
Katie looked at me, her face nauseous, once the time passed and we were safely stuck in the slate cube. "I think I'm going to throw up," she groaned.
I could've been compassionate and hugged her, but part of me wanted to be a bit snarky, and a bit of an asshole. "If you're going to puke, please do it on a Career and not your district partner." It'd be quite hilarious. It'd also make her, and me by guilt of association, dead meat. She probably wanted to hear, "Don't worry Katie, I'm here for you," and instead I drop the zinger of being repulsed by her vomit.
She pressed her face into her hands, and for a second I'm afraid she was going to burst into tears. We cannot allow ourselves to look weak in front of the other tributes, especially with what seems to be a far more barbaric and brutish set of tributes than before. Having not just the usual one, but another Career pack from other districts... an alliance of lethality; if I knew how to stop Katie from crying, there was going to be no way in hell I'd allow it. "I just want to go home Jonathan, I don't want to die in vain here."
"I know Katie, I know." I soothed back, this time taking the step forward and wrapping my arms around her. However, a voice in my head whispered back to me, a saying I didn't have the heart to utter. There's twenty-four of us, and only one comes out. You don't get to go home, and not die in vain, because it means you're going home over my dead body. I have a family to go back to, and so do you, but if only one of us is making it out alive, I plan on it being me.
Then, as I lifted my head up, I froze for a brief second. Everyone was staring at us, the elevator door had opened. We had been standing there, me with my arms wrapped around her body in a hug, as she rested her face in her hands or on my shoulder... in front of everyone. So much for not making ourselves looking week. Dammit. Dammit! How long had we been standing there, and then how long till someone had decided to say something? "What are you two doing?" asked the boy from District 1, who had stepped forward, his face twisted with amusement.
Immediately, as if we were both on fire, Katie and I recoiled away from one another, stepping out of the elevator and away from each other's presence. We had been the very last tribute group to arrive, which only seems to be the icing on the damn cake.
"Arman, shut up!" hissed his district partner, the blonde girl from District 1, the one who did the cartwheel to the stage, and the one who has bragged saying she will be walking the high tightrope above the training center. So, not just Altha, but there's also Arman.
Altha snapped her head towards the arguing pair, claws brandished. "Leeane, why don't you shut up?"
The three Careers and then drawing in the other girl in the pack, the one from District 4, got into a heated argument over morals and rights and who to be friends to, and which Career alliance member is going to be crossed off the list first - everyone was pointing at Leeane when this started, including Arman - and I could only stand there in disbelief, wanting to laugh. While the Career tributes argued, I took the time to glance over at what the others were doing. Most were by their District partners, as I had expected, but then there was the other group, the other alliance that I had noticed at lunch two days ago... the one with Lone, and his sister Rachel, from District 6, two other districts: District 9 and District 10, standing together, almost huddle formation. They'd occasionally poke a glance over at an arguing Career, their faces distorted in laughter. They're mocking the Careers. Because here, the Careers are acting like children, and this other group is preparing to murder us all. And murder us all they will.
It seemed like the argument between the usual cream of the crop would never end, till Atala's voice rang from the corridor. "I need Arman from District 1."
Everything slowed down to a cease fire. Arman swung his shoulders back and grinned, pushing his other fellow tributes out of the way. What an asshole. Leema rolled her eyes at the cockiness they showed. With yesterday having been more time for one person to train, instead of the first day where it was all joint exercises amongst all the tributes, I didn't have much time to speak to anyone in the newfound alliance. Felice kept to herself, actually, Leema wasn't anywhere to be seen, and Colby had to quit halfway through the day because his leg was giving him issues. Time slowly ticked by. Colby, the girl from District 4, Felice, Lone, Leema, Lyon, and the list just went on and on.
Just us. Just the two District 12 tributes left. Left to watch as people go in and do not come back, which was surprising, since I would've thought, had I not known better, that we were marching to our deaths, and that this was the Hunger Games.
"You'll do great," I told Katie, the moment Melissa went walking through the double doors, in a fit of hysterics.
"Better than her... at least," she said back, and even though it was sort of rude, it was the truth.
Finally, after what to have had been an hour long wait, if not more, of seeing people get up and go, I heard Atala say, "Jonathan Crimson, District 12."
I stood, nervously, my hands shaking, looking down at Katie who was about to hyperventilate. "See you on the other side." Did she have anxiety issues I never knew about? While she was Bailey's best friend, I only knew her through mutuality... not that we had been the closest of people, either. Jonathan Crimson and Katie Wenshaw… not the strangest pair of tributes to ever be together.
Katie looked up at me, trying to brave a smile. "Later Jon, good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor." Did she really just- I'm going to forgive her for that.
I broke a weak grin. "You'll do fine," I reassured her... although this one, even though I said it only ten seconds ago, was lesser, not as reassuring. My own confidence could very well wane. If mine did, surely hers did too.
I walked in to the main room, leaving behind whatever semblance of comfort I could've had with me and noticed how dark the Training Center seemed. Maybe shooting a bow wasn't the smartest decision. I don't have the best vision at night, and I never have. The head Gamemaker was sitting in an ornate chair, with a martini glass clenched in his hand. So... not only were these Gamemakers waiting for this day to be over and done with, they were drunk. Or at least the one who mattered the most, Mr. Wyatt Crane, Seneca Crane's son who took his position after Plutarch Heavensbee. I walked over to Wyatt and spoke as loud as I could. Make sure they remember you, right?
"Jonathan Crimson, District 12." I said, my voice hollow. I couldn't even follow my own advice.
Wyatt looked away from some idyllic structure on the wall, a hand underneath his chin, the other gripping the martini. "Oh, another boring tribute..." Did he just... yes, yes he did. It looked like they really didn't care about us. "Your skill Mr. Crimson?" His tone of voice suggested more than anything that he didn't give a rat's ass care in the world what my skill actually was going to be.
"The archery range, Mr. Crane." I said, throwing in my respect where it mattered most. Brownie points, right? Not as if these points were going to help me very much...
Wyatt raised an eyebrow, obviously remembering Katniss Everdeen's arrow blunder. Everyone in District 12 knew the story, since Haymitch Abernathy loved telling it for the two years left of his life that he'd have... Katniss being ignored by the Gamemakers for missing an arrow shot, and then shooting at an apple stuck in a dead pig's mouth, the pig ready to be carved up and put on display for the Gamemakers to enjoy; she was the very last tribute, and it made them get her attention. "Very well, Don, raise the lights."
Don Terio, or rather Donald Terio, the man Wyatt addressed, was standing farther from the group. He was another famous Gamemaker underneath Mr. Crane, perhaps even more famous, since he was a District 2 Career not that many years ago. He's a victor, one of only two victors in the Hunger Games history to be offered a spot, the other some victor from District 8 that I couldn't quite remember the name of at this point and time. However, what made Don and his situation so strange was that he still mentored tributes from District 2, so for Altha and her partner, they were being mentored by Don and whomever the female victor was for this year. He flicked it on a light switch, letting me see his balding head, his hawkish like nose... and a stare that pierced through you. "Good luck, you're going to need it."
I nodded, acknowledging, for once, his words of wisdom, and walked over to the arrow station. It was a beautiful looking area, the bow stuck at an angle, almost like the structure of a harp, swinging ever so slightly on the headboard. I fingered the steel bow and wrapped the bow string around my fingers. Each arrow glowed gold in the lights, and the blue neon lights illuminated the target like a runway, distanced about ten yards, perhaps a bit less, perhaps a bit more. I stood on the marks where the archer was supposed to stand, indicated by the yellow feet. Breathing heavily, I strung the bow and fired, the arrow missing the target. It had been just like when I missed the knife throw... and Lone rubbed it in my face. Wyatt laughed and like an uproar, the other Gamemakers started to chortle at me, at Mr. Crane's behest. My face reddened, turning around to them.
No. Not happening. Not on my watch. I am a much better shot than that and you aren't going to dismiss me. I dismiss you. Tilting my head, Wyatt had gone for a drink from his margarita, but instead of sipping it through the straw, he drank it from the glass... preparing himself to get hammered, I presumed. The trickle of a bead of condensation running down the glass, ice cubes clinking together... all I saw was white. White, pure anger, and without thinking I loaded my bow and fired at the Head Gamemaker. Wyatt's face changed from humor to terror, having seen my actions, and he slammed his martini down on the table, scooting away from it as far as possible. I wasn't even trying to aim for Wyatt, the dumbass. He isn't that important in which I'd try killing him. The Gamemakers stood in awe as my arrow slashed his margarita glass and with a thump it landed in the seam of the wall like it did when I fired my arrow at Lone. Silence... dead silence, except for Don, who spewed water all over Wyatt. Wyatt was sitting there speechless, looking at the wall where my arrow was, his ruined martini glass which had shards of ice falling to the floor, alcoholic liquid spilling out of it, and back at me. I gave him a salute.
"Thanks for the attention, assholes!" I snarled, flinging the bow up at the Gamemakers, and not turning my head back at them to even give them a second glance, I stormed away.
I hurtled myself past the avoxes who stood in dumbfounded shock. Past Atala who was at a loss for words, desperately trying to fumble for her clipboard, and even past Katie who had waited patiently, hearing my snarl, standing up when I stalked past, but I ignored her too. I smashed my fist on the button for floor 12 in the elevator, not ready to face the crew that is my team. I'm pretty sure Katie wouldn't attack them... not like I did... and not like Katniss...
A pang of dread hit me, a cold chill seizing my arms. I resemble Katniss Everdeen, I resemble her a lot. No matter how I try to evade this, this fact, I ream myself back into that circle. She attacked the Gamemakers in her private session, everyone knew that. She was on 'fire' for her chariot ride. She made many enemies, which it looks like Katie and I are having an awesome track record with. Katniss Everdeen was an archer, a hunter... and here I am being an archer and a hunter... I was screwed. When the elevator opened, Georgia ambushed me and sat me down on the couch.
"Wait for Katie, she'll be here shortly," she whispered.
I drummed my fingers on the couch and waited for Katie. Whatever she was going to do... it couldn't be as bad as mine, I tell you that. Ten minutes passed, in silence, since Georgia had disappeared, and the elevator door screeched open Katie storming out like me in much similar fashion, fury in her eyes. This was the angriest I had ever seen her, and I could guess where all this anger was about to be directed... dammit.
"What the hell was that for Jonathan?" Katie screamed at me, throwing her hands on the armrest of the couch.
I paled, my face losing color fast. "I had no other choice." What a great response back to her, Jonathan. Not.
Henry came out of his own room, this time not holding any form of spirits, about to exclaim some form of congratulations when his actions ceased, noting Katie's anger. "Whoa, calm down. What happened?" he asked quizzically, making his way to the couch. I didn't quite expect Katie to get so... enraged.
"ASK HIM!" Katie snarled.
Our mentor looked at me, his face sobering up, shifting to serious. "Jonathan, what is she talking about?"
I spoke after a few moments of hesitation, my voice cracking. It's not like I could deny it. How would I be able to? With Katie harping down my back and all. "Just like Katniss, I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers. Out of anger."
Henry widened his eyes. I don't know what he was going to say, because at precisely that moment Georgia walked in. "Okay, you guys! I just got told from Louis Grande himself that the private session scores are about to be announced! Let's see them!" she then shifted her way to the couch, Henry parting from me, and Katie giving me glare as she sat on the opposite side, away from the trio.
I shuffled over and let Georgia sit down. "I don't want to see what Lone got."
Suddenly, the TV screen lit up, almost as if on cue, and there was Louis Grande. Louis Grande, some protegee of our former, after Caesar Flickerman's retirement, became the new Master of Ceremonies, but since traditions die painful deaths in Panem, he decided to dress the same, and even act the same... the midnight blue sparkle in his eyes and the glitter in his hair. Louis began to speak and I was getting terrified... could they even give tributes a score of a zero? Leeane and Arman from District 1 scored tens, Altha scoring a nine. Colby scored a seven, with a crippled foot. I sat up a bit straighter. What could he have done, hobbling around, to impress everyone else so? Felice scored a three, bringing me back to the idea of the kid winning when he only had a three. But, still... ouch. Lone and his sister, Rachel scored elevens, a first in the Hunger Games world, I believe, for two tributes from the same district making the same score, at such a high one as well. Leema scored a seven, and like Colby, I wondered what the must've done, Lyon scoring a nine. The boy from District 9, the one I had seen throw a spear from the rigging above the training center, scored a ten and Madison scored a six. Ramon scored an eight.
Then we got to District 12, and from what the others had been receiving, I was worried on my behalf. For some reason, Katie went first; with a score of nine. I congratulated her with an easy smile. Then my face appeared on the screen. Suddenly, Louis looks surprised, as if I scored a zero. Did I... did I really just score a zero? Then, with my bated breath being heard over the loud drumroll, the number '12' flashed under my portrait and Henry spewed his drink all over Katie. Katie was too overcome with joy to be mad that her pants were soaked in soda.
"A twelve Jon, that's amazing!" Katie gushed. I wanted to retort back at her that the happiness she had given me was coming from out of left field... just moments ago you were enraged at me for shooting at them.
Georgia pursed her lips. "What did you do Jon or am I not allowed to ask?"
Henry cracked a smile. "Oh, you have no idea."
Georgia raised an eyebrow. "Jon, tell me; what did you do for the Gamemakers?"
I reddened. "Um, the Gamemaker's laughed at me so I fired an arrow at them like Katniss, and I shattered the head Gamemaker Wyatt's wine glass."
Georgia stood frozen for a minute and then she burst out laughing. Katie and I glanced at each other. Georgia wiped a tear from her eye. "You are kidding right?" She looked at our faces and her grin vanished. "Oh my god, you aren't joking! Dear lord Jonathan, what's wrong with you?" Oh, that helped me there!
Katie stood up. "There is nothing wrong with what he did, especially if he just scored a twelve!"
I shot to my feet. I am not letting that slide. "How come you are protecting me, when you walked in an hour ago you were pissed at me!"
Her face looked hurt, as if I had slapped her. "I didn't realize that venting anger out on someone gave that person an edge."
Henry smiled. "It usually doesn't help you, but in his case; it did."
I don't know what to feel except this...
I just scored a 12.
A 12.
Katniss Everdeen, eat your heart out.