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TRAINING, DAY 3
The cafeteria is becoming steadily quieter, as the tributes are taken away one by one for their evaluations. Merida sits at a table in the corner and toys with her lunch. Her partner has wandered off to talk to the burly boy from District Twelve, but it's really just as well; Duncan can look after himself, and he knows her just well enough that he might see through her stubbornly calm expression.
Merida is determined not to show even the smallest sign of the way her stomach is churning; but if she eats another bite of anything, she's convinced she'll make her impression on the Gamemakers by throwing up all over the training hall floor.
"Jack, it's gonna fall!"
"Shh!" There's a burst of smothered giggles. Startled out of her cloud of nervous anticipation, Merida glances toward the other end of the table.
It's the kids from District Five; she heard their names during the parade. Jack, obviously, and...Ella? No, Emma, she remembers. They had brown hair in the reaping recaps, but their stylist has transformed them into a pair of eerie snow sprites. Even in their plain training uniforms, they look otherworldly.
The bread basket at their end of the table has been emptied, and its contents are piled up into an elaborate tower on the tabletop. "We're wasting food," the girl - Emma - whispers, trying to scold, but still suppressing giggles.
"Who cares?" Her brother is carefully balancing a roll on top of the teetering tower of bread. "This is fun. Anyway, they've got more food here than they know what to do with. There we go!" The roll is securely in place at last; they both pause to admire their work-in-progress. "See? I told you it was fine. Hand me another one, okay?"
"There aren't any more," Emma says. "You used them all." She sounds disappointed, but they're still grinning at each other. They have the same slightly crooked smile.
Not so otherworldly, after all.
Merida bites her lip, thinking. Then she picks up the brimming bread basket by her plate and slides it down the table toward them. "Here," she calls; they look up, startled, and the boy - Jack - reaches out just in time to catch the basket and save the the entire tower from being knocked down.
He narrows his eyes at her; for a split second, his playful mask fades and Merida glimpses something cold and brittle underneath. Mistrust? Hostility? Whatever it is, it only flickers across his face, and then he's all fun and games again.
"Hey, thanks," he says, and adds mock-solemnly. "You know, I think we've got a shot at breaking the all-time record with extra resources like this."
"Your brother's a bit mad, isn't he?" Merida smiles at the girl, who smiles back and ducks her head shyly. Her brother huffs, and gives Merida a look of comical offense.
"Well, excuse you," he says. "For your information, tower building is a Forrester family tradition. We don't normally use bread, I'll admit..."
Merida snickers. "Forrester, nothin'," she says. "With hair like that, they should be callin' you Jack Frost."
He grabs a snowy lock and pulls it down to peer at it crosseyed; his sister giggles again at the expression of mock surprise on his face. "You know, you've got a point," he says, and grins wickedly at Merida. "So, what do they call you? Firelocks McCurlywig?"
"My hair is natural, thank ye very much," Merida scoffs, but she's laughing now in spite of herself. He's funny, damn him. She hasn't really laughed like this since before the reaping...
"Jack Forrester."
Silence falls in the cafeteria. A white-uniformed Peacekeeper is waiting in the doorway. Jack shifts slightly on the bench, as if he'd like to hide Emma from the man with his own body, and Merida sees that same cold, frightened look flicker across his face again. She recognizes it now. It's desperation. Not to survive or to escape, she'd wager; but to protect the little girl he's been so carefully distracting from her own terror, with jokes and laughter and silly banter.
Reluctantly, Jack pushes back the bench and stands. Emma catches at the hem of his shirt, and he stops. Her eyes are full of fear; his hands are clenched into fists. Have they been apart since they were reaped?
It occurs to Merida that this girl is hardly older than her little brothers.
She takes a deep breath. "Emma?" she says, as gently as she can. "Why don't ye sit here wi' me, till it's your turn to go in? I'd be right grateful for the company."
Both siblings turn to stare at her. Emma simply looks surprised, but her brother is frowning suspiciously. "You - " he starts to say, but Merida cuts him off.
"My name is Merida DunBroch," she says, proudly lifting her chin. "If ye need an ally in the arena, look to me."
The Peacekeeper clears his throat. "Jack Forrester," he repeats, louder this time.
Emma reaches out and takes Merida's hand; her small fingers are warm. "Go," she tells Jack. "I'll be okay."
They will drag him bodily out of the cafeteria if he tries to stay, kicking and fighting if necessary, and all three of them know it. "If you say so," he says, casting a dubious look at Merida. "I'll meet you back in our rooms, okay? Good luck." And then he's walking over to the doorway, where the Peacekeeper takes him firmly by the arm and escorts him away.
They stand and watch him go; Emma clutches Merida's hand tightly, but doesn't say a word.
Elinor DunBroch always did scold her daughter for being too impulsive, too inclined to make rash and headstrong decisions on a whim. But Merida figures that she would approve of this impulse.