District 44
Chapter 5
I look around and see every station filled with Tributes. All the weapon stations are full, all the agility courses are full, and all the technical stations are full. And then I spot it. The tiny table in the dark corner of the room. Nobody's there. Good, something I can do on my own. I walk over there and a man wearing circular glasses stands up.
"Oh, thank god. I thought nobody was going to come over. They see the food and 'Healthy Diet' sign and they think it's boring. But I can assure you Tribute… err, 12, that t is not. It may just save your life." He says.
"You can call me Vivron." I say, which makes both of us calmer.
"And you can call me Lionel." He smiles. "Right, shall we get on with it?"
I nod and he shows me a large leather book. For the next hour or so, Lionel and I look over various herbs and berries that I might see in the arena. It was a little boring, because there were so many of them, but if I remember it all then I'll be able to eat. It's quieter too. Everyone is mumbling or grunting whilst using swords and axes. Some of the other Tributes are weak yet some are really strong. I haven't tested my physical or mental strength. Everyone keeps looking at me. I think it's the hair.
I decide to stop with the berries and plants and move onto something else. I say goodbye to Lionel and thank him for his help and walk around the room. I watch the GameMakers drink and laugh, not paying any attention to us. One knocks into another and before I know it they're fighting. They fall to the ground punching and kicking each other. They roll into a fancy, white plinth which is holding a remote. It falls to the floor and they roll over it, crushing it. I swear to you, the air around the platform rippled then disappeared. I didn't know what happened to the air but my confusion is sorted right away.
"The defence is down! The defence is down!" Shouts a Game-Maker in the microphone attached to his uniform.
The two GameMakers, still fighting, roll off of the platform and onto the mats below, right in front of me. I've seen and broken up many drunken fights. So I reach down and grab the one on top's shoulder. But he reacts badly and flails his arms around. I try to dodge them but one gets me and smacks me right on the nose. The unexpected hit sends me flying backwards. All the other Tributes are stopping now and staring at us. I reach up to my nose and a sharp pain runs through it. He broke my nose, I thought. I get up again, this time angry at them and I charge at them. I knock the one on top over and I secure his flying arms and legs. I sit on his back so he can't get up.
"Stop moving and it won't hurt so much." I shout at him.
"Get off of me!" he shouts back.
"That's right, girly can defeat you. You lost. You stupid." Slurs the other man. I notice his nose and lip are bleeding. "Nice one, Tribute one, two."
"Hey! Hey, listen to me. I am not 'helping' either of you, ok? I'm not on your side or his. None of you deserves my help. Get that into your thick skulls. You lot aren't supposed to fight. We are. The children of your Isle." I shout back, angrily. "And it's twelve!"
I climb off of the man and he exhales heavily as the pressure is taken away. All the Tributes are watching me, the GameMakers are watching me. No one looks scared, just shocked. I even think I see a little smile creep onto Herbert's face. I wipe the blood from my face. June waddles forward, looking like she's going to say something. She doesn't see the drink spilled on the floor and slips. I don't know why I did this. I don't like people from the Capitol and I don't care about June. It's probably just an instinct. June slips, falls off of the platform but before she can land on the floor my reflexes kick in and I run, hold out my arms and catch her. I realise what I've done and immediately drop her on the floor. She lets out a little squeal as she lands on the plastic blue mat.
Everyone is standing around with their mouths agape. Just what I need. More attention. I march over to the knives station and I start brandishing one. I turn my back to them but I can still feel their eyes on me. Slowly, I hear them resume their stations and duties. I feel a presence behind me and I turn to see Cash picking out a sword but snatching glances at me. I throw my knife at the practise dummy. I hit close to the centre. Not bad for a first try.
"How did you do it?" he says. He's right behind me. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.
"What do you mean?" I ask, collecting my knife.
"How did you manage to catch her? You're so small, she would have crushed you. How did you do it?" he replies.
If I'm honest, I have no idea how I did it. But to show my control over everything, I say:
"I'm stronger than I look."
Maybe I am stronger than I look. I mean I used to climb trees all the time with Joumana. We have this special tree where we used to go when we were little and when we were sad. Now we're 15 we've stopped going to it. But I miss the large oak that was so familiar. If I could go there again, I would.
"Ok then, if you think you're strong then throw that." He points to a large weight next to the weight station; many of the bigger male Tributes are over there intimidating the younger and smaller ones.
"I can't." I say. The weight is big and I'm not sure I can lift it let alone throw it.
"The Tributes are looking at you as if you're a piece of dust that can be trampled on. They want to get rid of you. Show them you are a strong contender." He says.
"Why do you want to help me?" I ask him.
"After you catching June and splitting up that fight. I figured I'd rather have you as an ally than an enemy." He whispers.
I need to show them I am a threat, make them scared. So I nod in agreement and casually walk over to the weight station, my nose still throbbing. Some of the boys ignore me but most snatch little looks at me, wondering what I'm doing. I approach the weight and my heart beats fast. What if I can't do it? I place my hands around the handle and lift it. It's heavy but I can lift it. Now, where to throw it? I spot an abandoned practise dummy. Throw it now, whilst everyone is interested. I spin and let the weight fly out of my hands. It smashes into the dummy, splitting its head into tiny little shards. All the boys drunk from the flying splinters. They're all staring at me now.
I walk back to Cash. Other Tributes are muttering to each other.
"Happy?" I ask him.
"Yes, they look properly freaked out." He says.
He's got an accent. Not like anyone from here but he sounds like President Snow. He must have been imported from Panem. That's strange. Hardly ever, are people imported from Panem. They're imported from other places to keep up the population. But people from Panem are a speciality. I should have known. His appearance is a lot different from everyone else. Tall, sandy blonde hair with blue eyes. Very different from what you get in District 44.
"Are they still looking?" I ask, picking up a knife and fiddling with the handle.
"No, but the GameMakers are pretty shaken up." He says, throwing his knife. It hits the target in the centre.
"You're really good at that." I say.
"Thanks, I used to work in the forest back home. We used to do this for fun." He replies, collecting his knife.
"And where is home?" I ask. I'm being nosey but I don't care.
"I'm not allowed to say." He says, lowering his voice.
"Why not?"
"I'm not allowed, ok?" He's getting agitated. I can hear it in his voice.
"Fine. It doesn't matter anyway." I say. I throw my knife and it hits close to the centre again.
"Not a bad aim." He says. "But, you could improve. Here let me show you." He grabs my wrist and moves in close behind me. I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck.
"What are you doing?" I ask. It's a little startling.
"For the cameras." He whispers into my ear.
Why? Why would he do this to me? Every second he is there, the more cracks appear in my perfect reputation. He grips my wrist and slowly bends it, aiming straight at the target.
"You have to move it like this." He says with his voice silky soft. He places a knife in my hand. "Now, aim straight."
He throws my hand forward and it hits the target in the centre.
"Thanks." I awkwardly say. I struggle to get out of his grip and collect my knife.
Three bells ring loudly, alarming the younger Tributes.
"Lunch!" shouts the lady dressed in black and grey.
All the Tributes file out in awkward conversation. How can they even talk to each other? I can hardly look at Cash without thinking: 'Am I going to kill you or are you going to kill me?' We walk out of another glass door, this time with 'DINING HALL' printed on it. Inside, the room is long and warm. The walls are painted red. The colour of roses, the colour of blood. There is one long, shiny, mahogany table down the middle of the room where the Tributes are supposed to sit. Lining the walls are portraits of Prime Minister, President and April snow as well as other family members. I don't even know who half these people are. Around the edge of the room there are buffet carts piled high with dishes of random looking dishes. I opt for the dessert carts. There are warm cakes and cold jelly-like substances with sticky, chewy pink sauce in the middle. No cherry pie. There's a green crusted pie with a lumpy apple filling but the smell of it make me ill. So I opt for a red cake with deep red, thick icing. I cut myself a slice and place it on my silver tray. I grab myself a drink from the tray labelled 'Pineapple'. I carry my tray to the table and sit down. I lift my fork and cut myself a bit of cake when I feel eyes on the back of my neck.
"You just can't help yourself can you?" sneers a girl.
"What?" I ask, turning all the way round to face the large, monstrous girl with flaring nostrils.
"You heard me. Why can't you just butt out? Why do you have to be the centre of attention? You're nothing special." She snipes.
"Trust me, I don't want to be the centre of attention." I reply.
"Oh really? And I suppose what happened out there was a spur of the moment thing?" says a broad shouldered boy from behind the girl.
"Yes it was. Do I want some sort of special treatment? No. Did I want to cause a scene? No. Was it just a reflex? Yes. Can I help or change what has recently happened? No. So just shut your pie hole and leave me alone." I say with no intent of saying anything else.
I spin back and slice myself another piece of the cake. A silver knife slams into the table next to my hand, the metal attached to a hammy fist. I look up to the girl, red in the face, glaring at me. Everyone else in the room has stopped talking and are staring at us. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and I get a sickly feeling at the bottom of my stomach. She leans down and I feel her breath on my ear.
"No one talks to me like that and gets away with it. You will pay for humiliating me. You won't win this Game. You never will." She hisses.
Leaving the knife in the table she stomps away with a group of similarly terrifying Tributes. I shake my head at her pathetic way of trying to scare me. What makes her think she can treat me this way? She's in no way special. I mean, she is pretty handy with an axe, but everyone has strength. But everyone also has a weakness.
"They're the careers." Says a light voice from next to me. I lift my head to see Shelby sitting down on my bench with a huge gap between us.
"Her name is Devyn and the other guy is Brent. I heard them talking earlier." Cash sits in between us with his drink. I see he can't eat anything either. Shelby, on the other hand, has mounds on her dish which look out of proportion with her tiny body twelve year old frame. "Devyn's the bully."
"Ok, so what am I supposed to do with this information? It's not like I can retaliate. There's like 6 of them and one of me. I'd be crushed." I croak.
"Yes, but there's also Peacekeepers all around here and the Avoxes." Informs Shelby.
"The what-what?" I ask; confused by what or who she meant.
"Avoxes" she pronounces. "They're criminals from the Capitol. Have you ever wondered why they don't talk? It's because they can't." she lowers her voice to a hoarse whisper. "Being an enemy of the Capitol means that if you do something wrong you'll end up like them. No tongues, imprisoned as slaves forever with no escape, no hope of affection."
She has lowered her gaze. Afterall, there can only be one victor of the Games. We suffer death whereas they have to live their full lives being constantly reminded of their burden on the capitol. A bit like Mrs McClaven.
"How can you eat that stuff?" Cash tries to distract us.
Shelby shrugs. "I suppose I have to. I don't want to collapse from hunger."
"I don't know how you do it. I can't keep the stuff down. That's why I just stick to this." Cash holds up the glass with his drink in it.
"What flavour is it?" I ask, changing the subject completely away from death or suffering.
"Pineapple. You?"
"The same." I say, confused to why we chose the same drink when there's such a variety. "Why'd you choose that flavour?"
"I had some for dinner last night and it's the best thing we've ever tasted. Why'd you choose it?"
"I don't know. I like it over all the others but I've only had a few of them." I trail off. His eyes twinkle t me as I blabber on. Why is he doing this? Why is he being friendly to me? I'm supposed to kill him but it's making it harder for me to do that. I eat my cake and shut up about the drink. I watch the gooey red icing in the centre of the cake drip out onto the plate. It's a bit sickly but for some reason I can't stop eating it.
"Here, let me." Says Cash. He leans over me and quickly pulls the knife out of the table. He places it next to his drink.
The atmosphere in here is unnerving. It's awkward, uncomfortable and really stuffy in this imprisoned room. Why do they do this to us? Lock us in like cattle ready for slaughter.
"I saw Devyn's face earlier when you were fighting those GameMakers." Says Shelby.
"Hey, I wasn't fighting them ok? I was breaking up their fight. I always have broken up drunken fights. Liquor always keeps Sector 12's minds at rest. Mainly because they don't know what's going on half the time. I don't really like it. It tastes too sour. I have to drink something sweet." I interrupt.
"Like Pineapple." Comments Cash.
"I suppose." I contribute.
"Anyway, I saw her face. She looked pretty shocked. I mean, I thought I saw a bit of fear. You have to worry about." Continues Shelby.
"I've been thinking about how I'm going to play this and I've come up with something. Ok, so for starters; no alliances because you'll end up having to kill each other and I don't think I could do that. Secondly, I'm going to use the '3 strike' rule." I say.
"What's the '3 Strike' rule?" asks Cash.
"I see you once that's one strike, I see you again that's two. And if I see you a third time, strike you're out. So I suggest that you stay away from me in there because, I'm sorry, but I'll do anything to survive." I reply. I get up and walk out of the dining hall as the bell goes. I walk through the Training Centre which is now dark and abandoned. I hear the other Tributes walk back out to go get changed. Photo-shoots next.
They are never fun. The Capitol thinks it's brilliant to dress the Tributes up in ridiculous Sector coloured outfits and then take pictures of them. Humiliating. They always look ridiculous in the Capitol clothes. Especially the younger ones. The GameMakers always use the photos once you die to show the Capitol a montage of all the Tributes that have died that day from each District. If you're from Sector 119 of District 44, you'll be last.
I get into a lift by myself and I press the button for the rooms. A few Tributes hover at the door but do not get in. Not with the face I'm pulling. My face is thunder. The doors close and I relax the muscles in my face. I hope so much that I don't have to kill them. I don't know if I could do it. But they have to go. I need to get back to Teddy.
The lift doors open and it's not my corridor. I get out anyway and search the corridors for any sign of my room. None. It seems like I'm searching for ages. Wow, the Capitol must love this. The stupid girl Tribute who can't find her room. I think I'm going the wrong way. The room numbers keep getting higher and I need them to go down. Where am I even going? Ok, I'm officially lost.
I turn down more and more corridors. I hit the 70's and realise I have to go somewhere else. But before I get the chance to turn around a pair of hands grab my shoulders and pull me into their room. They slam me against the closed door.
"Why do you have the Mockingjay on you?" hisses Cash in my ear.
"I don't know…" I stammer. The shock of being grabbed is just wearing off. I look around his golden and white room. Then back at him. He still has his hands on my shoulders but he's not wearing his top. I can see his muscles tense as he squeezes harder on my shoulders.
"She already got me in this trouble; I will not have her ruin your chances as well as mine. Take them off." He orders.
"I can't I'm not allowed." I mumble. He's so much bigger than me, it's scary.
"Why?" his face grows serious.
I look up at him. I can't tell him. They have cameras everywhere. Except my room. Ronald assured me absolute privacy. I could tell him there. But why should I? I only met him today. I can't tell him. It's my fault he's going to die. Instead, I push his arms off me and hug him tightly. He's startled by this sudden outburst of friendship.
"I'm sorry." I whisper.
Before he can say anymore I run out of the room, leaving him confused.
"This isn't over Vivron!" I hear him shout, but not angrily.
I quickly walk round more and more corridors, becoming more and more frustrated, until; finally, I find my room. I push the door open exhausted and stare at the long brown dress and hair accessories on my bed.
"Oh god." I say, horrified that I have to wear this thing.
I pick it up. What the hell is it? How do I put it on? The toilet flushes and I immediately drop the dress into a pile on the bed.
"Oh, sorry about that. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I have such a tiny bladder. Oh, my dear. You have the most extraordinary hair colour. I love it!" beams a round woman, her hair, a golden colour, curls around her face. Her rosy cheeks dimple into a huge grin as she embraces me in a warm hug.
"You smell like a boy. Is that where you've been all this time?" she asks, holding me at arm's length.
"No, I got lost." I say, a little too quickly. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry dear. How rude of me. My name is Bela, and I'll be your stylist this evening. Don't look at me like that. All the girls get one. But between you and me, I'm the overall stylist for District 44. I didn't design your dress though. I think I should have." She introduces herself and picks up the dress. "Now, let's get you into this and up to the studios."
She hands me the dress and I walk towards the bathroom.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
"To the bathroom?" I say, wondering why she wants to know.
"Oh, you don't need to be embarrassed. You can get changed out here." She smiles. "It's only me."
Awkwardly I smile at her. I peel off my training clothes and I notice her staring at my face.
"What?" I ask, uncomfortable at her gaze.
"We'll have to cover up that huge broken nose of yours. I'll fetch someone. You'll be alright doing the dress up by yourself?" she asks.
I nod and she shuffles out. I'm left alone and I quickly slip on the dress. Instantly, it swallows me up. It's huge and puffy with ruffles and bows on it. It's hideous. It's disgusting. It's embarrassing. Why do people in the Capitol find this fashionable? It's depressing. I slump on the bed, crumpling the brown blanket. Bela returns with a stern looking nurse and a look of complete horror flashes across her face. But she soon regains her calm and comforting look.
"I'm sure they won't mind if I tweak it a little. Afterall, in the second Hunger Games I am the official stylist for District 44." She reminds me. I'm beginning to get the feeling that she's excited about that fact. "Stand up."
And I do. The dress clings in all the wrong places and is baggy in the others.
"Let me see what I can do here…" she ponders. " Ah I know."
She opens the black case she brought and I see an array of threads, needle and scissors, ribbons, gems and make-up kits.
"Let's get started." She smiles and sets to work on my dress, hair and broken nose.
"I think I've got it." Bela mumbles to herself. She steps back and presses the panel in the wall. It clicks out of place and slides to the left. A long, shiny mirror moves forward and reveals the new and improved dress. Around my feet are masses of scrap material. I look up and see the dress has been cut down considerably. The top is tighter and brings in my waist. My feet are hidden under the long drape of the dress. Up the side are scrunchy flowers. She's taken the netting and made a few flowers out of that. The sleeves have been taken away and have been replaced by thin straps of ribbon.
"Yes. I think that'll do. Sorry it's not better. If I had more to work on, it would be better." She apologises.
"No, it's great. Thank you. At least I won't look bad. Umm… thanks for covering up the huge bruise." I say.
"Oh, Hun. That's nothing. You wouldn't look nice with lots of make-up so I tried to keep it natural." She smiles warmly and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. "There."
I smile. She treats me nicer than anyone ever has. Maybe she doesn't know I'm an orphan. I bet she'd change her tune then. But I push the thought out of my mind. My mind turns to the photo session. I look at the clock. I'm late. Oh god. I'm late.
"Bela, do you know how to get to the Photo-Session?" I ask.
She smiles. "You can come with me." She grabs my hand and pulls me out of the door. "You're going to sit with me."
Trying to walk in heels for the first time is hard. But trying to walk quickly for the first time in them is really difficult. She pulls me down the white corridors and towards the lifts. I trip over my dress repeatedly. I'm trying to carry my dress and walk at the same time but I keep dropping it. We travel down into the corridors beneath and run through those too. She leads me through a door marked 'Studio Waiting Room'. She charges in with me, linking in her arm, startling the Tributes inside. Their dresses and suits are enough to make me cry out with laughter. I would have as well, except for the fact that everyone was staring at me.
I catch jealous eyes looking at me, wondering why I get the nicer dress. But I'm not there for long. Bela drags me through into the next room where Shelby is being photographed. She looks surprised to see me and loses concentration on the camera. Bela doesn't stop there and drags me again through another door. Inside are many stylists in their weird clothes. They all stare at me, some in confusion, some in curiosity, some in disgust, Bela just carries on and we sit down on two bright pink sofa chairs. It is incredibly comfortable. I don't really want to get up again. I feel awkward in this room. No Tribute has ever been in here or is ever supposed to be here.
The Stylists are talking among themselves. They ignore Bela and I but I don't think she minds. We sit in silence. I take the time to see what she's like. Bela is of medium height with swirly metallic silver tattoos up the side of her face. She is round and dressed in a pink shirt and green flowy trousers. Her hair is tied up in a fancy bun. She reminds me of a flower with her colours. Compared to the array of colours I see around the room, Bela is dressed more natural than anyone. My eyes are lined with brown eyeliner in swirls too with tiny little brown gems in the centre of the circles.
"Why am I in here?" I ask Bela.
"Because I don't want to be lonely and I'm certain that you want to have a conversation rather than sitting by yourself." Answers Bela. She leans into my ear and whispers. "I know about Beetee."
My heart starts pounding. If she knows and she tells someone, I could go to prison. No worse, I'll be publically executed or become one of those Avoxes.
Her face softens "Don't worry, I spoke to Ronald. I'm not going to tell. Ronald and I go way back." Her voice is so quiet can barely hear it.
My heart stops pounding and slows down to its normal pace. The muscles in my face and neck loosen. I relax and sit back in the spongy chair. Bela taps the sole of her shiny, sleek black shoes. On the side of the room is a large, dim window which we can see the studio through. I don't think they can see us though; at least Shelby doesn't seem to see us.
It's a long wait till Sector 12. I didn't know how long these things would take. Longer than I expected. Before long, I was summoned to stand on the red cross in the centre of the room and pose before the overly enthusiastic man with the big silver camera. He's weird. I mean, when someone takes your picture you're supposed to pose but with this man he runs around you shouting things like "That's it!", "More passion, more passion!" or "You look beautiful." It's especially weird when I'm staring at him in the most confused way possible. When I had my photo taken for the orphanage, we were in and out of that room before you could say 'Hunger Games'.
I want to shout at him before I leave but I can't. It would be rude. So, instead I stand there and stare right into the camera with a look that says 'I'm strong and I'm going to win."
"Marvellous." Breathes the man as he takes more photos.
He nods and I'm escorted out of the room and to the lifts. I get inside the chilled box and it goes up and shortly I arrive back at my corridor. I saunter slowly in my painful heels, down to my room and open the door. On my bed is a nice cream and coral dress. Wow, I actually get to wear something nice. I lift it up and see that the top half looks like a shirt with no sleeves and the bottom half looks like a tutu. It's beautiful. But not what it's for. I have to wear it to the Tributes dinner tonight. It's so awkward out there because you sit around in silence while you eat among the people who may or may not kill you.
Bela rushes in. I drop the dress.
"Oh, you like? Good I wanted something like that. It would suit you." She picks up the dress. "We have a long time till our due down there so let's get started."
I'm staring at my reflection. I look strange. My hair has been platted to the side with small swirls and curls down my face (Bela loves her swirls). The dress fits perfectly and she has put me into some flat red shoes that have black gems on the ends. She has placed larger black gems in my hair which wind down my plat. It doesn't look too bad. My nose is now a brilliant blue. It looks so bad, mainly because Bela can't cover it up. Oh well, it doesn't matter.
I wish Dora were here. She could cheer me up with her drawings. They're always beautiful. They can cheer anyone up. I wish kip were here. He'd protect me form them. He'd tell me it would be ok even though we knew it wouldn't. I miss him. I miss Teddy. Just being here reminds me that he must be so lonely. I can't die. I can't leave him alone. Not like our parents did. Just thinking about Teddy makes me remember the letter. I can't believe I wrote that. It's so promising. What if I can't fulfil that promise? There's no way I could apologise for it.
The door opens. It's Cash. What's he doing here? He's wearing a black suit with gold detailing. He looks good.
"Cash? What are you doing here?" I ask.
"You look amazing." He says, shutting the door. "Apart from the massive nose."
I turn back to the mirror and stare at my nose. It doesn't see that big to me. "It's not that big."
He walks towards me. "Yes it is. But you look good. It sort of makes everyone think before they go near you."
I turn back around and sit on my neatly pressed bed. Cash joins me. It's weird but he's got the bluest eyes. They're encapsulating. They could hypnotise anyone. He notices me staring at them. He smiles.
"We only have one day left. I might not make it out. You might not either." He takes my hand. "I like you Vivron and so I need you to understand this. I don't want to kill you, so when we get into the arena I want you to stay as far away from me as possible. Can you do that?"
I stare at him. Where has this come from? Why now? Why here? "Yeah, sure. But what if we're the last ones?"
"I don't know." He drops my hand and looks down at the floor, defeated.
His look depresses me. Does her care about me? I think I care about him. I don't want him to die. If I die, I want him to win. More than anything. Actually a lot. It surprises me.
"You look beautiful." He mutters.
I smile. The compliment makes me blush. No one has ever taken interest in me before. They would always tell me what to do or what not to do. Kip never told me how beautiful I was.
I kiss him.
I don't know why or what for, but I might die in two days. Our lips meet and at first it's awkward but soon we don't fumble and I place my hands on his strong chest as his hands run up my waist and neck. This is good, isn't it? Or have I don't the worst thing imaginable? I remember mine and Kips' kiss and remember its awkwardness. It wasn't like this.
There's a knock at the door and we immediately pull apart. I stand up and answer the door. It's Bela.
"Oh wow! Don't you look amazing?" she exclaims. I let her in and Cash stands up, abruptly wiping my lipstick from his mouth.
"Well, I should be going…" he stammers.
"No need. You can go down together." She obviously didn't notice the mouth wiping. "It's good to have a friend."
So we exit and make our way to the lift, where Bela bids me goodnight. I stroke the Mockingjay earrings that I have hidden with my plat. Ronald told me to wear them so I presume he means through everything. Cash bends down and kisses me on the cheek. It's a small gesture but I know that it means a lot. Do I feel guilty? I don't think so. It's not like Kip loves me. He just didn't want to lose his friend. It was in desperation. But, then again, maybe this seems alright because we're desperate to be loved before we die. I don't know, it's all very confusing.
The lift hums in its familiar way and makes its upbeat ping as we exit into a long hallway. At the end of the hall are some double doors made of mahogany. We push through them and there are large round tables all over the room. Many Tributes are already there and I hear more arrive behind us. We enter and see Shelby sitting alone. I point. Cash nods and we sit down next to her. I catch Devyn glaring at me. It's my huge nose, isn't it?
"Don't pay any attention to her. She's in a mood because she was caught sneaking into another Tributes' room and everyone keeps teasing her about it." says Shelby, still looking at her empty plate.
"Really?" I don't quite believe it. Devyn in embarrassment? It's so surreal. It feels good after she threatened to kill me. Serves her right.
"I only overheard some others gossiping but I think it's true."
I look back at Devyn; she's playing with a long silver knife. I feel a bit sorry for her actually. I mean, she could die and everyone will remember her for this.
But then Cash finds my hand under the table and squeezes it which pulls my view away from Devyn and down at my empty plate. My cheeks flood with blood. He notices me blushing and grins.
"What are you smiling at?" asks Shelby. She looks so tiny in her purple, frilly dress. She's barely 13 years old and they're making her fight to the death. Just looking at her makes me despise Prime Minister Snow even more. She peers over the table. "Oh" she nods after seeing our clasped hands. "I see."
"You can't tell anyone." I plea. Cash frowns at me as if to say 'Why not?'
"Sure. I won't."
A jingly bell rings and we all look up to see June, Herbert and Steenie walk in, in all their finery. June's looking as ridiculous as ever in a gold dress and matching shoes. All her jewellery is purple to match her hair and eyes. Herbert is wearing a navy blue suit with blue sequins in the shapes of waves up the sleeves and body. Steenie is wearing a tight red dress that flares out at the bottom. She looks like a fish.
They flounce in and take their seats at the head of the room. June stands up, startling one of the guards who are trying to tuck in her chair.
"Ladies and Gentlemen." She announces. "You all look fabulous, don't you? Well I hope you enjoy tonight's dinner. It's going to be amazing!"
I look around the room and see the miserable looks on everyone's face. It makes me want to laugh.
Another bell rings and an assortment of waiters and waitresses enter carrying small and large platters of food. A strong smell of food lingers in the air. My mouth waters. I'm so hungry. They place the platters on our table and reveal the wonders underneath. I mismatch of colours and smells are unveiled and you see every one of the Tributes faces leer forward in eagerness. Most of these Children have had hardly enough to eat all of their lives. The look of lust for the food is enough to make anyone feel depressed.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Asks Steenie as she cuts herself a piece of meat.
The Tributes take this as a 'Go' sign and they race to swallow their food. I sit there, staring at my empty plate. I don't feel like eating. Not now. Cash places a slice of a meat on my plate.
He leans in and whispers "You need to keep your strength up."
And I realise he's right. If I want to win this thing then I need to be strong. Physically and emotionally. I need to ignore the questions circling my head. There are no rights or wrongs here. This is a game. And I am determined to win.