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XXXIII. Last Day
"What's… this?"
Marlene crinkles her nose in disgust as she lifts up the flimsy, black article of women's clothing - or rather, Cashmere's bra. Smirking at her, I raise an eyebrow, suggestively. "Do you really need me to tell you?"
Joseph lets out a bark of laughter, failing to cover it up in an exaggerated cough, and Thomas' eyes seem to bulge out of their sockets as he blushes furiously.
"Never mind."
It's been two days since the argument between Marlene and Dee, and thankfully, nothing else has happened between them. Unnecessary drama before the Games isn't needed. Our two tributes have only just returned from their private sessions with the Gamemakers, and they're both nervous. It's not the staring-out-into-nowhere type of nervous. It's the whole body shaking, hand trembling and pressing lips together kind of nervous.
Marlene had thrown a fit at first. She'd entered the training room when the Gamemakers had gotten a little bored of the tributes of District Three, and had apparently, screamed for them to look at her - not that I'm all that surprised, of course. She'd thrown few spears around and mutilated several dummies in succession. Her game plan was obvious: injure from a long distance with a ranged weapon - most likely a spear or throwing knife - and then make the final blow with her sword, assuming that she hasn't already killed them, and no one else claims the kill.
Thomas, on the other hand, had apparently tied up a dummy, trapped it in a net and thrown a dagger at its heart - and it was spot on. Not many thirteen year old kids can achieve so much, but after watch all twenty-four tributes from above, I've noticed that this year, the field really is more advanced than usual. And it frightens me to no end.
Dinner goes by with a tense silence, as we wait for Caeser Flickerman's jet black hair to appear on the television screen. Joseph and I stuff our mouths with the delicious food that we're provided, not wanting anything to go to waste, because why not? He's only granted the chance to eat in the Capital every few years when he mentors, and I love to experience something different every once in a while. Of course, nothing can compare to the seafood back home.
Marlene picks at her food, sliding the prongs of her fork around the plate making her mashed potato look unappetising. She frowns and looks at her plate, like it's the most interesting object she's ever come across. For the past two days, I've realised that long gone is the girl who was so determined to avenge her younger, deceased brother. She's been replaced by a young girl, so innocent and misunderstood back home and seeks for the comfort and understanding of at least one person.
Her eyes, often resembling the cold and bitterness of winter, have gone soft, and she looks as if she's sorrowful. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she regrets volunteering. Black rings decorate the patches around her eyes - she obviously hasn't been able to sleep properly - and Caecilius has constantly fretted over how she'll grow to become ugly if she doesn't appreciate her beauty sleep. Her movements are more sluggish when she's not training, like she's forcing herself to do something unwillingly, or she already feels as if she's been defeated.
As much as I hate to admit it, I've grown a soft spot for her. I wouldn't be able to cope with her death in that arena, but I'm betting that she won't die… hopefully.
The anthem rolls on screen, and I pay no attention to Caeser's usual introductory speech. When the scores are displayed, I swallow the chicken and stare at the screen, intently, hoping everything would just fast forward a little.
"Orion Higgins of District One… with a nine," Caeser announces with his usual grin.
Not bad for a guy who won't stop flirting with Marlene.
"Topaz-" Joseph snorts at the name. "- Mary with a seven."
The digit '2' revolves on screen before the male tribute, Lance, pops up with a seven as well. My jaw drops. "Only?" I question. "That guy was a fucking bulldozer." And plus the fact that the lowest a Career should receive is an eight.
Joseph shrugs. "Maybe he showed off all his skills during training and didn't save anything for the private session."
Marlene's nails dig into my arm painfully hard as Dee Allen's score of ten appears on screen. "Relax," I tell her, as we watch the pair from District Three receive five's.
A headshot of Thomas appears with a five. Joseph squeezes his shoulder, comfortingly. "Not bad, kid," he says, and Thomas nods glumly.
I recognise Marlene's blue eyes and jet black hair within an instant. "Marlene Summers of District Four, with an eight!"
"Fuck!"
The all too familiar fire in Marlene is back and she stands up abruptly, knocking her chair back in the process. "A bloody eight?"
"They have a new head Gamemaker this year," Joseph quips, calm and collected. "From what I've seen, you should've gotten at least a nine. I'm sure they've either just changed things this year to spice it up, or they're scoring the tributes in comparison to each other."
"I'm going to die," she moans, hiding her face with her hands and flees to her bedroom.
After a few moments, I decide that I'll keep an eye out on the scores before checking up on her. With only two nights left in the Capital, not many tributes are in the mood to be within the presence of one who annoys them greatly. Corbin receives a seven, much like Lance and Topaz, and the rest of the scores are ranged from three's to six's. Okay, so maybe from the scores, it seems like the field is weak, but the public don't know what they think it'll be.
Carrying a bowl of my trademark sugar cubes, I open the door of Marlene's temporary room to find her in the middle of her bed, looking dead. "You're not going to die," I blurt out, not knowing what else to say.
"Sure," she replies. "Tell that to Dee."
"Please, I don't even want to go within a distance ten yards from her."
"Why? You scared?" she taunts with a smirk.
"Yeah, in your dreams, Summers."
"Ew, why would you be in my dreams?"
"I'm in every woman's dreams, Marlene. Soon, I'll be in yours too. It's just a matter of time."
"Mm-hmm."
She falls asleep. I'm not entirely sure how someone can just fall asleep so quickly and randomly, but I end up tucking her in bed with the blankets up to her chin and allow her to cherish a night's rest, because she needs it.
The next day is absolute chaos. Caecilius and Calindia screech at Marlene and Thomas to get their postures right, and their moods only worsen when Marlene continues to disobey them, for her own pleasure. "Just do it," Joseph whines, like he's the one suffering. Though, I wouldn't doubt for a second that he is. I can barely stand the screams of the two Capitalian siblings. It's horrendous. When our tributes finally get everything right, it seems as if the weight on their shoulders have been lifted off. Their shoulders quite literally sink back down as they sigh in relief.
"Smart?" I question Marlene and then shake my head, before she gets the chance to reply. "No, no. How about cunning? Maybe."
"How about hurry up because you only have an hour left, and do mysterious?" Joseph offers, as he coaches Thomas through a fake interview.
Throwing my hands up in the air dramatically, I reply, "But everyone does mysterious!"
"They don't pull it off well. Summers could."
I turn to Marlene. "We're doing mysterious."
And mysterious, she is. After a full-blown debate with Caecilius, I manage to persuade him to provide Marlene an appropriate and appealing outfit to wear. I guess I was a little unfair, since I'd threatened to have Snow fire him if he didn't comply to my orders. Caecilius had paled drastically and nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir," he'd said.
It's no surprise to me, nor the Capital - or maybe it is to the Capital, considering how dense they are - when District One uses the flirtatious and charismatic angle, while District Two use the whole ruthless, killing machine pair. It's been overused in the past few years, and obviously, the Delgado's, Enobaria and Drakula believe the opposite.
The same amount of applause to everyone else goes for Marlene. The dress she wears is tight around her bust, then flows out elegantly from the waist down, accentuating her curves perfectly. If anything, I'd recognise her as the queen of ice. The blue tone of it brings out her eyes greatly, and Caeser manages to compliment her more than just a few times during the interview. Her posture resembles one of a regal queen, with her back straight and her shoulders back, and the addition of her black hair being slicked back into a high ponytail (she'd refused to leave her hair down).
Whenever Caesar asks her a question concerning family, home and boys, she stays quiet. One time, she even pretends to zip her lips with a mischievous smile, before tossing an imaginary key over her shoulder. For a moment, I swear that the smile on my face can't grow any bigger. This girl's got mad acting skills.
That night, we sit in her room discussing tactics. "I know you regret volunteering and I know that you don't have the will to fight anymore, but Marlene," I say, "You have to. You have your parents, friends and other family. Do it for them, okay? Yes, you might've been closest to Maxwell, but he'd want you to fight. You're all the way here already-"
"So, don't turn back. Got it."
"You're going to run for the Cornucopia. You've got long legs and you're a good runner. You'll probably get there before most others, and grab the closest weapon. Don't you fucking dare search for a goddamned sword, because I swear if you do, I'll kill you myself," I threaten her. "I've watched people rummage for their desired weapons and get beheaded from behind."
"I'm not stupid, Odair."
"I think everyone knows for a fact that the Career pack won't last long this year, so choose at least two people and stick on their good side, so when the fight between the Careers start, they have your back… Actually screw that. You're running as fast as you can and as far away as you can. If you do the former, I'll kill you myself as well," I add on.
"Gee, thanks."
"Sorry," I apologise, stretching my arms and yawning. "I'm not really good at this but I assume you've got the jist of what to do, right?"
"Yeah," she replies. "I'll just go with the flow. Do what my instincts say-"
"Not when your instincts tell you to go fucking psycho and engage into fistfights with women the size of Panem."
Marlene scowls at me. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
"Well, you were stupid enough to do that in training."
"Whatever."
She stays silent, picking at her nails and I sigh. "Look, I'm sorry," I say. "Like I said, I'm not really good at this. Just try come back, okay? We've had heaps of rough patches, but I believe in you."
"Thanks, Odair." Marlene looks up at me and smiles a genuine smile. "And if I do come back, I have one condition."
"What is it?"
And the next sentence, she speaks so smugly. "You have to tell Annie how you feel about her."
I almost fall off the bed. "What? First Oliver, and now you? I don't like her! I don't even know how I feel about her, to be honest."
"Then, think about it," she says, laying down on her bed and pulling the covers over her body. "While I'm in the Games, you think about it, and when I come back, you tell her."
"You said 'when I come back,'" I pointed out with a lazy grin.
"No, I didn't," she replies, rolling her eyes. "I said if. Get it right, Odair."
A/N: Sorry for the fast pace of the chapter! I didn't really want to drag it out into two boring chapters so I squished it into one. Any guesses on what the arena will be like? :)