CONFUSION ON THE TRAIN
The sound of the Mockingjay is haunting. I can't shake the ghosts in this room. I pace, it brings my father to mind. I try to sit down, I am simply too restless. I am startled by the door opening.
Torn's tear streaked face is my first sight. She walks straight to me. I remember the kiss by the still. If she kisses me again, I am going to kiss her back. When she presses her face into my chest, I fold my arms around her We stand like that for a long time. She pulls away, takes my hand and pulls me to the couch.
We sit side by side. She reaches in her pocket, she pulls out a small silver flask. She hands it to me, pulls her legs up and once again rests her head on my chest. I feel a strange warmth pass through me. I look at the flask, mostly to distract myself from how Torn feels up against me. Its silver, it is engraved but it is very worn. You can read the name Jack, the next line has 09 - 05 but the year is worn away, most of the last line is worn away only the year 1911 remains.
Her soft voice brings me back. "I want you to take it with you. I know you can't have it in the arena. But till then and after."
I want to say there may not be an after. Instead I open the flask, take a deep swig and hand it to Torn. She takes a swig and hands it back. I put it in my pocket. I can't sit here any longer. This is to confusing. I start to pace again.
She reaches into her other pocket, she pulls out a perfect copper ring. It has a Mockingjay engraved in a simple band. She grabs my arm to stop me. She hands it to me. I slip it on my finger, I play with it. Spinning it mindlessly, just staring at it. Again her voice brings me back.
"The copper is from my still, my brother did the engraving. Its for luck. I really meant it when I said 'stay alive'."
I found myself reaching for her. I pull Torn up against me. I kiss the top of her head, her face, her mouth. I didn't ever want to stop. She is kissing me back just as desperately.
She pulls away just before the peacekeeper opens the door.
Her parting words "You don't have any idea the effect you have, do you?" She follows him out.
She left quietly, glancing just once over her shoulder. I am dumbfounded. I have never kissed any girl, I never thought about kissing any girl but Maysilee, but now my mind is filled with Torn. I start to pace again. In reality it is only a few moments but it seems like forever before the peacekeeper comes to get me.
I am walked to the waiting car. The windows are dark, the interior is leather. There are two bench seats in the back, facing each other. I am pushed in beside Sage, directly across from Maysilee. It is a short ride to the train station. None of us speak. Maysilee has stopped crying, but her misery is clear. I can feel her looking me over. I want to know what she was thinking. Worse, I want to know if Torn is still watching. The car has to slow, the peacekeeper not driving gets out and disperses the crowd.
When we arrived at the platform cameras are everywhere. They train the lenses on our faces. Both of the girls look frightened, Sage and I looked angry. It takes a long time to get from the car to the train. The reporters shoot questions at all of us. Ezera and Samme answer or deflect them, the tributes are silent. We enter the train. Each of us is assigned a room.
I look at my reflection in the mirror. A purple bruise is raising on my cheek where Jaxon landed a solid punch. There is a small smear of blood under my nose, there are more drips on my shirt. I pull the small flask from my pocket, it fits perfectly in my palm, I run my fingertips over the cool surface. What was she thinking, why now? Torn?
My compartment is large. I have my own bathroom, there is hot and cold running water. I fill the large tub with water as hot as I can stand. I sink in, just my head and shoulders are above the water. There is a light knock on the door. It is Ezera's voice, but different, it is soft calm and almost soothing, there is no Capitol inflection or shrillness. "Dinner in one hour. Be on time or deal with me." I soak as long as I dare.
Pulling myself from the water, I take another hard look at my reflection. I am well fed for a child from the seam. I am fairly tall, my frame is filled out. I have well defined muscles from the work in the woods, at the hob and around the house. My shoulders are broad and my waist is trim. My legs are sturdy. My hair is dark, my eyes grey, my nose is straight and strong, I have a cleft in my chin. I am satisfied with the way I look, but wonder for the first time what others see.
I open the drawer and find an assortment of clothes. I choose simple black pants and a black t-shirt. I spin the band around my finger, the engraved Mockingjay. The haunting melody of taps comes back. The way the three of us looked on that screen, so young yet so hard, angry and rebellious. I shake my head, run my fingers through my hair, run my hand over my face, take a deep breath and pull my self together. I head to the dining car for dinner.
There are several tables in the dining car, they seat between two and eight people. They are set with real China and crystal. I am the first to arrive. I take a moment to decide where to sit. I choose a table by the windows for four and sit down. A waiter from the capitol pours ice water into a glass with a stem. I have never seen water to drink with ice in it before. A different waiter places a bowl of creamy cucumber soup in front of me.
I hear Samme enter before I see her. I am startled by her appearance. The lost little girl of a Victor is gone. She wears a flame red silk blouse and a black skirt. The skirt stops just past her butt, exposing her shapely legs, she has on high heeled shoes, I have only seen in capitol propaganda. Her hair is lose cascading down her back it is longer than her skirt. Her makeup ages her face some. She chooses the seat directly across from me.
It is Ruthie who arrives next. She has on a long shirt with a belt, her small feet are bare. Obviously everything was too big for her. She looks clean, her skin even looks a little brighter. She takes a seat at a table for two. She seems perched on the chair as if she could bolt at any moment. The waiter brings her a tall glass with a thick brown liquid in it and pours her water.
Maysilee arrives, she has on soft pink pants, they gather around her waist, falling gently over her hips. She has on a plain white t-shirt, it clings to her, her breasts are perfectly shaped by the soft material. She looks around the room. Her gaze lingers on Samme, scans quickly over me finally resting on Ruthie. I want to call out for her to join us, but my throat closes and I can't speak. She sits with Ruthie.
We hear Ezera lecturing Sage about the importance of staying on schedule. They enter together, Ezera keeps talking never even pausing. Sage sees all of us looking, his face goes red and his eye are focused on his feet. She puts her hand on his back and pushes him towards me. He takes the seat beside me, his eyes trained firmly on his plate. Ezera sits next to Samme.
The empty bowl in front of me is replaced with a decadent salad. Fresh greens, nuts, berries, dried fruits, cheese even seasoned small cubes of bread. Finally I look up, her face is amazing. Ezera's eyes are the palest blue I have ever seen, but they have a thin ring along the outer edge, it is the deepest blue, it sparkles like sapphires. Her skin appears a sun kissed bronze. Her spots do indeed resemble a leopard, they are varying deeper tones of the same bronze as her skin. They looked natural not actually tattoo'd on. They run in a path around her hairline, very narrow along her forehead, around the edge of her cheek, along her neck, over her shoulder and disappear into her shirt. Her lips are soft pink and they look moist. She wears a simple green sweater, her hair radiates on the dark background. Why am I thinking about what it might be like to kiss her? I have never kissed a girl before today, now it seems to be my first thought every time I look at one. I run my hand through my hair. I feel the ring against my head and my thoughts are back on Torn.
When the soup is placed in front of Sage he reaches for it. I grasp his wrist and hand him a spoon. "We will not act like animals until it becomes absolutely necessary."
Both Sage's and Ezera's eyes widen in surprise. Samme looks at me with interest for the first time. I help Sage with his silverware throughout the feast. I have never seen so much food. I miss the taste of fresh game. There is not much conversation.
When we finish, Ezera stands and speaks. "The replay of the reaping is in fifteen minutes. Be in the TV room. Be on time."
Maysilee practically bolts from the room, I wonder what is wrong. I notice Ruthie is moving slowly, her gash and bruise are worse than I remember. I want to take the wistful look off her face.
We gather in the TV room. Ezera sits in one chair and Samme in the other. The only space left is a small couch. I sit at one end, Maysilee comes in and sits at the other, she seems to pull herself as far from me as she can. Sage settles between us, Maysilee seems to relax, I feel that familiar pang of jealousy. Ruthie is last, there are no seats left. I reach out my hand and pull her onto my lap. She is trembling, I run my hand down her back, then rub circles at the top. It reminds me of my sister, Brie, this is how I calm her from nightmares. Ruthie settles in and I can't help but compare her to Brie. Ruthie is actually smaller than Brie, and Brie is but seven years. Her breath calms and she rests in the crook of my arm. Thinking of her fate makes me want to scream. We are all on time.
The screen comes on. The commentators face fills the screen, her skin the color of sea water, there are gold and silver curly cues tattoo'd around her eyes and across her forehead. Her hair is swept up in a series of curls, it is the same color as her skin by her face fading to silver tips. Her eyes are the same color as her skin, and her lips are only slightly darker. She looks like a turbulent crashing wave. The effect is startling beautiful even if totally unnatural. The Anthem began to play.
For the first time since the stage in the square, where she welcomed the crowd, I hear Samme speak. Her voice is as different from the girl in the square as her appearance.
"Ignore the careers and any bigger tributes. Pay attention to the others, think about how you can use them to stay alive." Her voice is pitched low, it commands obedience, it is almost militant.
Now this woman has my attention. "Only one person is getting on a train and coming home. It will be one of you, I won't have it any other way so start getting tough and paying attention."
Ruthie starts to tremble again, tears run down Maysilee's face, Sage seems to cease breathing, I look Samme straight in the eye. I know she means me, now I am the one who can't breath. My expression never changes, I never stop rubbing Ruthie's back, I don't look away. Nothing changes, but everything is different.
I am myself, there is no one else I can be. I have always paid attention to every detail. Its what makes me an efficient tracker, a ruthless hunter, and a shrewd trader. The parade of districts begins. I haven't made an attempt to analyze the tributes since Veiner was reaped. I try to push Veiner out of my mind.
The stage in District one is huge, it is made of highly polished wood. There are several rows of seats, all but the front row is filled. There is a podium but there are no reaping balls. When the cameras pan the crowd it is like a party. The atmosphere is wrenching, why has District one bought into the capitols sick thinking. The District one Escort is a short round man. His suit and skin both sparkle like fresh snow. His voice is the standard shrill voice of the capitol. "Introducing our ladies First: Ruby Blader." She is tall, a good five inches taller than the Escort. She is broad shouldered, heavily muscled. Her hair is red and her eyes brown. Her parents flank her, they walk to the end three seats, her parents sit, she stands exactly as Sage had, in front of her chair. That voice rings out again. I tune out the commentators voice. And watch the tributes. The second girl is shorter, her hair is the color of wheat, her eyes gold and brown. She is muscular too, but she seems more supple. Her parents sit and she stands. The boys are a set of brothers they are introduced together. Typical District one brutes, both have blond hair in a halo of ringlets and brown eyes. The taller ones eyes look cold, they have seen too much, the rage is locked tight beneath the ice. His movements are metered precise. The shorter ones eyes are hot with rage, his hands clench in and out of fists, he can barely maintain his position in front of his chair. I decide the shorter boy is a liability to the Career pack.
The stage in district two is smaller. There are several seats with Victors sitting beneath the large screen. Again there are no reaping balls, there are no stairs, there is only the running lanes from each side of the town square and the artificial climbing wall at the front of the stage. Their host steps to the podium. She looks like a hot pink Peacekeeper, it is completely outrageous, her hair is even shaped into their helmet. Her voice rings out ladies first. three girls are running down each walkway, I see a girl on the left pull the girl in front of her down by her braid, landing a booted foot squarely on her back. She never lost her stride, never slowed down. She launches herself as far up the wall as she can. The third girl is right on her heels. The lead girl makes the top of the stage, plants her feet in the girl behind her shoulders and pushes her from the wall. It is at that moment that I notice the two girls are identical. A girl at the right makes the stage before the girl on the left can recover. If she hadn't been pushed, the girl looking up cursing her sister would be the second tribute. The boys race is much the same, although it is less viscous, no one is thrown to the ground, no one is run over or kicked, it is purely a race. The four tributes stand shoulder to shoulder, they are all within an inch in height, they are heavily muscled, both girls medium brown hair is in a single braid, the boys is buzzed to their heads, they wear sleeveless Black Peacekeeper training suits.
The District three reaping is much more familiar. There are the two large clear reaping balls, the camera scanned the crowd, most of those in the holding pens appeared small and frail. I notice one boy, he is midway back in the group. He stands, his arms across his chest, his head up, eyes clear cold and untroubled. I recognize the look, it is the one I would have worn, if I had not fought with my best friends. He has decided that the odds are not in his favor and he will be reaped today. I wonder if he will volunteer. The first girls name is pulled. She screams, she holds tight to the girl beside her, a peacekeeper actually has to carry her to the stage. The second girl doesn't make a sound, she holds her hands together wringing them, but there is no screaming no tears. The boy I spotted is the first name pulled, he walks with resolve unhurried to the stage, the other boy is unremarkable.
It goes on and on, forty eight tributes is a lot. Finally, they reach District twelve. Ruthie's name is pulled, you see her make her way to the stage. The second name is drawn, the camera is on Maysilee, then the view splits and I am on my knees vomiting. No one here saw it earlier, Maysilee screams and runs from the room. I want to chase her, pull her to me, explain. But Ruthie is still on my lap, and she is trembling again. Samme looks at me, she seems to be assessing the effect of my feelings for Maysilee. The fight is on the screen. Then you can see us on the big screen behind the stage, being held by the Peacekeepers. I am in the middle, my face betrays me, I am angry and rebellious. My jaw is tight, my eyes cold and unmoving. Sage is walking to the stage, I never flinch, I never move. Then my name is called. I shrug off the Peacekeeper and walk to the stage. My back is ramrod straight, my fists are balled at my sides and ice water runs in my veins. Before the tape cuts to President Snow you can hear the first strains of Cedaris whistling. I can feel Samme watching me but I can't stop the single tear. Ezera follows Maysilee out of the room.
Snows speech is long and drawn out. Maybe it is that it is his first Hunger Games, maybe its the quell or maybe he just likes to hear himself speak, I just want to be done and get out of this room. During Snow speech Ruthie has drifted off to sleep in my arms. I reposition her against me and get to my feet. Ezera has returned from Maysilee's room. Our eyes meet over Ruthie's head, she puts her finger across her lips and motions for me to follow. We reach Ruthie's room, Ezera pushes the door open, I carry Ruthie in, settle her in the bed, pull the covers over her and turn to leave. Her little hand grabs my leg almost sending me sprawling. I look at Ezera shrug my shoulders and perch on the edge of Ruthie's bed. I gently rub her back, I can feel Ezera just watching me. Then she is gone, I stay with Ruthie for a long time, finally she makes no noise when I stand to go.
The train is quiet as I make my way back to my room. Light only shines under one door, fretful cries are muted, I am sure it is Samme's room, that she is having nightmares. I walk by, I am not ready to face a Victor's nightmares. I reach for the silver flask, I run my fingers over the engraving, it feels solid, real, the way only some thing that has endured great time and hardship can. I take a long swig and then another. I strip and crawl into bed,
My dreams are a jumble. Torn's face is prominent, the tears staining her checks, the smile over her shoulder as she ran, her lips right up against mine. Veiner dying, the twisted body's from the mine explosion, Maysilee's mouth screaming. For a short night it seems to go on forever.