A/N- Thank you for reviewing, favoriting my story, or even just reading. I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
My next two days are basically spent hanging around the other victors. I've started talking to Amana only when necessary, doing my best to convince myself that she's the spawn of Satan. It actually isn't hard, since she's basically told me that she doesn't need me anyway. I'm still planning on helping her out in the arena, but outside of it? I'm not concerning myself too badly with her problems.
She's at training most of the time anyway, which makes my life easier. I spend most of my time with Chastity, mainly to keep up the appearance that we're going out. We don't talk very much, though. She refuses to talk about herself or anything really. In those two days we spent together, we were side by side most of the time, and she spoke maybe a dozen words to me the entire time. I don't take it personally, though. She's just really quiet.
I do make a few other friends, though, not the least of which is Haymitch Abernathy. He's still shit faced every time I see him-I'm starting to consider that a personality trait of his, instead of just a condition-,but his sarcasm is entertaining, and I can relate to his hatred of the Capitol. He never actually says anything about it, but I can see it in his eyes, in the way that he talks about them. I doubt he'd tell me exactly what they did to him if he was on his deathbed, but that's fine. I'm not interested in sharing my story about Annie with him either.
Just because I don't want to tell him that doesn't mean that anything is wrong with him, though. Actually, I hate to admit it, but I start looking up to him. I know that a lot of Victors don't know about what Snow does to me. If you aren't physically attractive, and I mean attractive enough for the Capitol, chances are that you don't know about it, unless you're part of one of the rebel groups. Because of this, a number of Victors basically treat me like crap. Haymitch, who's probably too drunk to care what other people think, gets into the habit of cussing out anyone who makes a comment about me, or who even looks at me funny. I actually start doing the same to Victors who comment on Haymitch's drunkenness, or if they say something about how he ignores his pathetic tributes. Basically, Haymitch and I bond over asshole Victors that think they're perfect.
Then there's Chaff, who's actually Chastity's uncle. He's one of Haymitch's friends too, and they spend a lot of their time drinking with each other. That's how I get to know him. He's basically the opposite of Haymitch. Instead of looking down at everything and hating himself, he has more of a glass half full approach.
He laughs at everything, mostly himself. I would like him better if he didn't spend so much of his time teasing about not drinking. I have too many things that could slip from my lips too easily if I did, though, no matter how tempting it'd be to blotch everything out. Besides, I have a bad enough reputation. I don't need to be known as a drunk too. So, I spend a lot of my time watching Chaff and Haymitch pass a bottle back and forth, with Haymitch snapping at anyone who looks at us funny, and Chaff laughing at him.
That does get tiring after a while, though, especially with the fumes of alcohol in my face. Whenever I get sick of them, I talk to Lavinia, a forty or so year old woman from District One. She has four children at home, and she's one of the nicest people that I ever met. We talk about how we miss our home, she asks about Rafe, who I've mentioned in interviews quite a bit. One time I ask her about her kids, and she goes on for almost an hour straight about how amazing all of them are. It wasn't even boring, just because she was so happy about it.
She had a smile on her face the entire time, and it's obvious that she worshipped them. Just talking to her has me thinking about Annie, and how good of a mother she'd be, but of how we can't have any kids, not unless the districts rebel anyway. Then I wonder how many kids that I have floating around, and I cringe at the thought, so I make myself focus on stories about how good her oldest son is at wrestling, and about how he's already safe from the Games, and that she just has three left to get through the Reapings now.
When I'm not talking with the Victors, I'm doing a somewhat pathetic job of landing Amana sponsors. Basically, I start out talking to some people Alva set up for me. Then, I just walk around the rich parts of town and ask if anyone wants to sponsor Amana. I only spend maybe two hours on that, though, so it's not like it takes time away from my busy schedule.
So, those two days aren't horrible. Well, except for the training scores, maybe. The highest is an eight, which disappoints the commentators. They're predicting a somewhat boring Games this year. The girl from Seven and a guy from Six even got twos.
"Maybe you actually stand a chance," I tell Amana sarcastically when the scores are finished. She got a six doing I don't know what. Maybe she could complain ferociously enough to scare the judges. She glares at me.
"You're a prick."
"You're the one who won't listen to me," I say, then go back to ignoring her. Adair tries not to laugh. I like him. He's quiet, but he's nice, and he does stand a chance of winning. He's the one who scored the 8. I'm going to be rooting for him.
The third day, however, doesn't turn out so well. I sit around and watch TV while I wait for Alva to finish with Amana so I can "help" prepare her for her interview.
"How was your lesson with Alva?" I ask when she walks in.
"That girl is such a bitch," she says. I have to resist the urge to laugh. Alva is too peppy. Amana is a bitch. I'm tempted to ask her if she's ever looked in the mirror, but I already know that answer to that. I think that she's like Narcissus, a guy from ancient stories who fell in love with his own reflection.
"They just have weird customs," I answer simply, not wanting to start a huge fight.
"You'd know that, wouldn't you?" she asks.
"I guess I've spent some time in the Capitol," is my response. Then I steer our conversation back to the interviews. "So, what personality are you going for?"
"Do I have to pretend to be something?" she asks.
"Nah, the Capitol likes that brainless slut attitude you have just fine. It'll actually be perfect." She snorts.
"You're talking, you stupid man-whore." So I walk away again. So what if her interview isn't perfect? She's going to die anyway. I don't want to seem so careless, but if I'm going to end up mentoring for a while, I don't want to go crazy. There's nothing I can really do for her, so I don't know why I need to try.
I'm not going to say that Amana had a bad interview, but it wasn't good either. The best was actually from the girl from Seven, Johanna Mason, I figure out her name is. By no means did it earn her sponsors, but I think that it earned her sympathy from every person in Panem.
Imagine this seventeen year old girl, smaller than almost any of the other tributes, with these huge brown eyes and the wiry build of the starving. That alone would get her sympathy. Her story, however, is practically heartbreaking. It probably takes away her last hope of being seeing as anything other than an easy kill, but it almost makes me cry.
Her mother had her when she was sixteen, and she raised her without a father, with almost no money. She had a sickly childhood, and could barely leave her house until she was seven. Then, she finally had a chance to go to school, which was the happiest thing that had ever happened in her life.
Only as soon as she was better, she also had to start working. She mentioned working for some of the lumberjacks, even though she never specified. I'm guessing she probably made them food or something. Whatever it was, she's spent the last ten years of her life working to help her mother, making money and taking care of her. Now, she insists, that she only hopes her dearest mother will be able to survive without her.
"So you don't think you'll be able to win?" Caesar Flickerman asks her. She shakes her head sadly.
"I've never had an opportunity to learn how to hunt, or fight back in Seven," she says in a soft, sweet voice. "Besides, I can't imagine myself killing someone anyway."
"Well, I'll still be wishing you luck," Caesar says. Johanna gives him an angelic smile.
"May the Lord bless you, Caesar," she says. Then her bell rings and she's done. She actually has some of the people in the Capitol crying. It isn't fair, really, that someone like that should be forced into the Games. It almost makes me sick.
That night, I'm actually nice to Amana. She's going to the Games tomorrow, and I try to make her last real day not miserable. I give her pieces of advice that are as helpful as I can manage, and I even mention how much I liked her interview, even though I didn't pay much attention to it at all.
"Thank you," she says softly. She's getting nervous, and I can tell that the reality of what she's about to do is really starting to dawn on her.
"You do have a chance," I tell her, no matter how much I think otherwise. "Just make sure that you keep your head on straight." She smiles at me.
"I'll keep that in mind." I turn to go find Chastity, then stop at the last second.
"Amana?" I say.
"Yeah."
"You really aren't that horrible."
"Neither are you," she says. Then I leave her to face whatever fate lays ahead of her in that arena. All that I can do it hope and pray that she doesn't die too horrible of a death.
That night, I can't sleep. Chastity stands in front of the window, staring at the sprawling city outside. I'm pacing back and forth, mumbling to myself. I probably look crazy, but she doesn't comment. I'm terrified. I don't want to watch these Games. I personally know two of the tributes, even if I don't like one of them very much.
I know the other mentors, too, so it's not like I can just go rooting against all of the other tributes. I know that Haymitch's two aren't going anywhere, and the ones from District 11 aren't exactly loaded with potential, but I don't want to see any of them die. Other than my own Games, and Annie's, this one is easily the hardest. In just hours, I'm going to be watching another blood bath, watching twenty three more innocent kids die. Then I have to see the reactions of the people who knew them.
"You have a problem with worrying too much about things outside of your control," Chastity comments to the window, not glancing at me, not raising her voice to indicate that she's talking to me in any way, but it's not like she could be talking to anyone else.
"I don't believe that there is anything completely out of my control."
"You should know better by now," she says. I want to argue, to tell her that everything that happens in my life is triggered by some little move that I make, or that I fail to make. She wouldn't listen, though. There are people that you argue with, and there are people that you don't. Chastity is one of the people who you just let think what she thinks. Besides, I'm guessing that if I challenged her, she'd dig up some example to prove me wrong, and I'd end up looking stupid.
So I keep pacing, and she keeps staring out the window. Eventually I get tired and go to bead, but she's still staring out the window when I get up the next morning.
"Good view?" I ask her, not expecting a response.
"There are no stars, no sun here," she says softly. "The buildings and lights are all that you can see. Just more proof of people trying to play God." Then she leaves her post and walks out the door, her face a blank slate.
I stay in bed, not wanting to get up. It's early, the sky is still pink, but the tributes leave soon, and I have to be ready. Both Mags and I will be in a room together, with screens showing us each of the tributes, as well as another one that will allow us to look wherever we want in the arena.
We're allowed to conference with other district's mentors, but only if we ask them and they give us their permission. If both of our tributes die, we'll go to help another district, as long as they allow it. We have a machine to contact any of the districts, another to get a hold of sponsors, and then a third one to control what our tributes get.
There's a screen for both Amana and Adair. Each screen has an amount of money that sponsors give us, or a specific object that they want to send in. If we want something specifically, we search through a huge selection of items, select what we want, and the machine will contact the sponsors. Any sponsor that agrees with the choice will funnel us the money needed to send the item to the tribute. If another district wishes to send our tribute something, which is extraordinarily rare, then another picture flashes, we see what they want to give, and we can let it through or not.
There are two beds in each small room, other than Haymitch's and the mentor from Seven, because they have only one tribute each. They get one bed to save space. Before a mentor wants to go to sleep, which we're only supposed to do if totally necessary, we tell one of the machines that we're going to bed, and they'll alert us anytime our tribute is close to activating a trap, whenever they're in an encounter with other tributes, or if they're in need of something.
That's basically how mentors live when they have a tribute in the arena. There are other little things too, some extra rules and things, but from what Mags told me, that's the gist of it.
Mags grabs me just a few minutes later, and takes me to a totally separate building made specifically for the mentors. Then we retreat to our room, turn everything on, and get ready for the Games. Right now, we can see the tributes in the stockyard, get ready for launch. There's a clock on top of the main screen, which shows us what the average audience would see. Claudius Templesmith's voice rings from a speaker in the background, summing up each tribute and giving betting odds.
Then the tributes step on their platforms, the clock ticks to zero, and everyone is lifted into the arena.