A/N: Eh, I don't really like this chapter. I was tempted to rewrite it but I'm too lazy for that. I have more ideas for the next one and I'll get to writing that as soon as I can sort through all this post-hurricane chaos. Isaac hit my area pretty hard. Thanks again to all my loyal reviewers!
It is a rainy summer night and I am five years old. A round of booming thunder slightly shakes the frame of the wooden house, causing me to pull the covers up over my face in fear. I lower them in a second, though, because just this morning, I insisted that people stop calling me a little girl. The only way they will realize I need to be taken seriously is if I act brave.
My little cousin, Kai, is sleeping at the foot of the bed, clutching a toy. He's just three; a baby in my eyes. I step out of bed and fold the covers back until they cover him. Then I grab my favorite baby doll and start shifting through the closet to find something to use as a blanket. One of my mother's gowns catches my eye. I stand on tip-toe and reach my tiny arms up until I pull it from the hanger. Instead of wrapping it around my doll, I try it on and giggle when I see it leaves a long train of fabric behind me. I'm sure my parents will think it's funny, too. I go to show them.
As I approach the door, I hear the sound of the television on in the living area. Sure enough, they are all there watching something. My parents and uncle have their eyes trained on the screen. The only reason my aunt doesn't is because she is cooing something to her newborn daughter, Marilla.
"Momma, look what I'm wearing!" I announce proudly.
Her reaction isn't what I was expecting. "Oh! Mags, baby, go back to bed!" she says in alarm.
I frown because she didn't even comment on the fact that I'm wearing her clothes. "What are you watchin' on T.V.?" I ask, since they all seem to be concerned about it.
"It's just for us grown-ups to watch. You're too little, sweetie. Go on back to bed," she replies.
"I'm not too little!" I exclaim, turning my attention to the screen. It's dark, and I can just make out three shadowy figures running among trees. Two are chasing the other. It must be some game of tag.
The camera zooms in on the face of the girl who is being chased. Her eyes are wide and she is panting heavily. The shadows behind her are getting closer, closer, closer…
My father's hands close around my eyes at that second, but he can't block the piercing scream that fills the living room. I'm not sure what happened. What I do know is that girl is in pain, and that is enough to make me start crying as my dad hoists me onto his shoulder. Baby Marilla starts crying at the noise as well. Soon, the four adults are in a panic trying to get us under control.
"Daddy, is that girl okay?" I ask as he carries me back to the bed.
"She is now," he reassures me.
"But why did they want to hurt her?" I ask.
My father's eyes look pained. "There's no need to worry about it. That world is a place far away from here," he tells me.
That makes me feel a little better. Still, as he turns out the lights and I am left to sleep, I can't stop thinking about it. My brain has just made the connection that what was on television was the "Game" that everyone was crying over a few weeks ago in Town Square. That didn't look like a game to me.
My eyes flutter open, and I am left staring at not the wooden ceiling of my childhood home, but the pristine walls of the Capitol. It's strange that my subconscious greeted me with a forgotten memory instead of a nightmare. That's okay though, because I have enough of the nightmares when I'm awake. At least now I remember where those words that are no longer true came from. It's funny how something that was once a world away now controls my life.
Over breakfast, I'm paranoid that Isidora or Cyana will bring up what happened last night. That's something I'm not willing to talk about right now.
If Isidora has any recollection of last night, she doesn't show it. Cyana, on the other hand, keeps throwing me worried glances, but she doesn't say anything for a while. After we've finished our beignets and syrupy pancakes, she finally speaks up.
"Hey, Mags, can we talk?" she asks shyly.
"Yeah, we need to touch base again on training strategy," I say. We walk to her bedroom and sit on the bed. "Tell me about the other tributes. I'll see if I can help you decide on alliances," I begin.
"Um, before that, I wanted to ask if you're okay. What were you upset about last night?" she says.
"I'm fine. I just learned I'm not great at getting sponsors," I say, wincing at the memory. Then I realize that isn't the best thing to say to a tribute. "Oh, but don't worry. You'll have sponsors. I'll make sure you do," I add.
She thinks about that for a second, but she still looks concerned. "What do you have to do to get sponsors? There must be something bad about it for them to make you cry."
I shake my head. "You have enough to worry about. I'll be okay. It just could've ended really badly last night. All that matters is that it didn't."
I take a minute to consider just how badly it could have ended. I see two possible roads it might have gone down. Obviously, I could have been raped, but that's actually the lesser horror of the two. I would have been the only one affected by that, and I would have gotten a ton of sponsor money, not that that makes it okay. What would have been even worse is if word that I attacked a Capitol citizen got back to the President. Who knows what kinds of accidents might have affected my innocent family. Really, I'm lucky things worked out the way they did.
"Are you sure?" Cyana asks.
"Positive," I reassure her. "Now tell me, what are the tributes like?"
We talk about that for a while, and I gather that there are two alliances forming. One is comprised mainly of volunteers and the other is more of an underdog team. She tells me the boy from Twelve, Nasser, is being recruited by the careers, but he seems like he's better friends with the boy from Nine, who is leading the underdogs. The closest Cyana has come to making friends with is a girl from Eight, who also seems to be in the underdog alliance. The names spin around in my head and it gets a little difficult to keep up since I don't know any of these kids. I make Cyana promise to keep me posted day by day so I can help her more.
When we get around to discussing weapons, Cyana tells me she's been working with the bow and arrow.
"Archery? Are you sure?" I ask. Bows are a more uncommon weapon in the Games, so there's no guarantee they will be available.
"If it comes down to it and I have to kill, I would rather it be from a distance," Cyana says.
"Oh. That makes sense," I say, but I'm still not convinced. "Are you good at it?"
She shrugs. "I guess I'm getting better. I can at least hit the target now."
"Okay. Just make sure to work with other weapons as a back-up. Oh, and talk to the girl from Eight some more. See what you can find out about her alliance." I glance at the clock. "It's time for you to go. We'll talk later," I say, patting her shoulder before I get up.
I volunteer to drop off Mike and Cy at training today. When I get back, Alec is on the sofa. "Hey," I say, leaning over the back of the couch.
"Hey. Do you want to try getting sponsors again?" he asks.
I stiffen, but agree. We both get cleaned up and ready to go down to the Sponsorship Hall. When we are in the elevator, he casually says, "So Isidora told me you went down there last night."
Great. "Yeah, I did."
"You know you could have just waited for me, right? What happened, anyway?"
I look down at the red carpet. "It doesn't matter now," I say.
"So you're really not going to tell me." His voice is level and cool, but I can tell by his tone that he's annoyed. "I thought we weren't keeping secrets."
"It's not that I don't trust you or think you wouldn't understand. What I'm saying is it's over and I would rather just forget-" I am cut off by the elevator stopping for an escort to enter. We ride the rest of the way in an awkward silence. As soon as we exit and the escort walks away, Alec suggests we go outside.
"Alec, if we're just going to argue, I don't want to," I say stubbornly.
"Then I guess you're okay with splitting up now and meeting back here in two hours?" he asks.
"No, I'd rather us go together," I say instinctively because I'm too scared to deal with these people on my own.
"I know you're scared to go alone for a reason, Mags. Why don't we just talk about it? It's not like I'm going to tell anyone."
I guess I am being a little ridiculous. If there's anyone I can talk about this with, it's Alec.
"Fine, I'll tell you. It's just that, looking back, it's embarrassing that I didn't see it coming," I admit.
"Let's go outside," Alec says again. He guides us through the crowd of people and we exit through a tall glass door. Once outside, I have to shield my eyes from the bright light.
For all the time I've spent in the Capitol, I've never really gotten the chance to sit back and enjoy my surroundings. I'm so used to being herded back and forth between rooms and parties. Out here on the street, I realize for the first time that I'm not confined to the training center like the tributes. If I wanted to, I could walk off into the distance right now and not come back. Sure, I wouldn't last long and they'd probably declare a national emergency for a missing victor, but even just knowing I have the option makes me feel a tiny bit less restrained.
We sit down on a wrought-iron bench. "It's nice out here," I say as I pull on a strand of my hair that is blowing in the wind. The sunlight hits it in a way that it shines golden, making it look much lighter than it really is.
"Yeah, it is. And we don't have to worry about anyone listening out here," Alec says.
Now is as good a time as ever to start. "Well, last night when I was looking for someone to approach, I saw an older man and I had a gut feeling that he would be a good choice. Now I realize I would have been better off working with the women, but, I don't know, I just wasn't thinking. Anyway, I started telling him about Cyana and realized he was a pervert. I should have just left then."
Alec's mouth pulls into a tight line, and I'm sure he knows where this is headed. "Go on," he says.
"He was really manipulative," I begin. "He kept flashing his money and made me feel guilty about not doing all I can to help my tributes. I finally agreed to one drink…He ended up kissing me and forcefully pulling me to the door. I scratched his arm until it bled to make him let go."
I pause to take a breath and gauge Alec's reaction. Anger, shock, and concern flash over his face. Mostly anger. Before he can say anything, I continue the story. "Wait, I'm not done. He said he would tell everyone about what I did. Then I got worried it would get back to the president so I made up some story to convince him I didn't mean to attack him. I thought it was pretty bad but he bought it. So everything's okay and I just want to forget how wrong it could have gone." My voice is a little shaky by the end, so I take a few deep breaths to calm myself.
"Mags…" Alec stands up, apparently too upset to sit. "I should have gone with you. You shouldn't have to deal with any of this! If I ever see that man…"
"No, it's over. I'm fine," I interrupt him. "And it isn't your fault that it happened. I'm the one who was naïve enough to approach him."
"You can't give people around here the benefit of the doubt. They'll take advantage of anyone who does. It makes you an easy target," Alec sighs.
"Yeah, I learned my lesson," I reply. Then I look at the sidewalk and frown. "The worst part was that I tried to fight back. It's too risky to do something so reckless. It worked out okay, but it would've been safer to just let him do whatever he wanted to me."
"Don't say that! It's not okay. I'll just handle the sponsors if it makes you feel better."
I shake my head. "I'm not going to make you do all the work. We'll work better as a team," I say as I reach out and grab his hand, intertwining my fingers with his. "I'll keep the freaky women in check and you'll chase away the old creeps, right?" I give him a small smile.
My last sentence seems to improve his mood a little. "Right," he says finally. That relieves me, but there's one more thing I need to ask. "Alec…have you ever, um, been in a situation where you had to…where they forced you to sleep with them?"
He seems reluctant to answer. "All I'm really required to do is be in the promos and keep people excited about the Games. That usually involves flirting with women to keep them happy but I don't have to go any further than that. Some people are really persistent though, and I'm not exactly allowed to upset them by denying them. You already figured out how much trouble it can cause when they start throwing around threats. Usually I can talk my way out of it, but, yeah, it's happened a few times." I can tell by the way he says the words that he's ashamed.
"I'm really sorry." I wish there was something better I could say or something I could do to help, but I can't think of anything.
"Not your fault," he says.
"Doesn't matter. I'm still sorry," I tell him. "It's a good thing they don't make you do that all the time," I add as an afterthought.
"Yeah, it sounds like something they would do. I'm not going to be the one to give them that idea. Anyway, try to avoid those situations. A lot of the men here are really dangerous."
"Okay," I agree, though I'm not convinced I won't be put in that position eventually. I'm not trying to sound sexist, but I know that just being a woman, and a young one at that, puts me at a higher risk of something happening.
"I'll try to stay away from them because I've never…I mean, for my first time, I wouldn't want…" I trail off out of embarrassment because I was raised to be modest about things like this.
My parents have always advocated saving yourself until marriage. Now I can't help but feel like I'm standing under a ticking time bomb. Eventually, I'll have to approach sponsors on my own, including men. If I ever get in a situation where I can't get out of it, do I really want to give up that experience to the Capitol? I might as well just not wait any longer. I want my first time to be special. I want to feel loved, not used.
I glance sideways at Alec then quickly look away. I can already feel the warmth rushing to my cheeks and I am so thankful in this moment that my thoughts are private. Wait, what am I doing? My tribute is going into the arena in three days, and I'm worrying about sex, of all things. I really need to get my priorities in order.
All of these things fly through my mind so fast that I forget Alec is still waiting for me to finish my last statement. "Never mind, let's go get sponsors. Mike and Cyana will be out of training before we even start at this rate," I say quickly.
We make decent progress with the sponsors. It isn't exactly what I would call a pleasant experience, but, compared to last night, it's fine. We finish at almost the exact time training ends. The tributes have just gotten back when we walk in. Within a few minutes, Isidora and Alec leave again to go run their respective errands and I am left with Michael and Cyana.
I grab a box of sugar cubes and plop a few into my mouth before making my way over to the sofa. "Do you two know what you're doing for the private sessions?" I ask. Getting distracted earlier today made me feel like I need to step up my mentoring game.
"Yeah, I'm going to do weight-lighting and use a few weapons. I've had it planned out for the past three years," Michael answers.
"That's good," I say in response. "What about you, Cy?"
"Do you think it's better for me to use weapons or just do survival skills?' Cyana asks.
Mike answers before I can. "Weapons, of course! They aren't going to care about anything else."
"Weapons will probably get you a higher score, but only if you use them well," I clarify. "Do whatever you're best at. Just make it memorable; you don't want to bore them."
"Yeah, but if she doesn't use any weapons, how will the gamemakers know to put it in the Cornucopia?" Mike asks.
"I don't want you going near the Cornucopia," I tell Cyana. "I'll try to send you a weapon early on, before things get expensive. If you really want a bow, you could always make one in the arena, too."
"I guess I can make one out of rope and a stick?" Her voice rises at the end and makes it a question.
I wish I had access to sticks and vines right now to help her create a make-shift bow. I'll just have to work with what I have. "Follow me. We'll be back in a minute, Mike," I say, gesturing for Cyana to come down the hallway.
We walk into my room and I open the closet. "Resourcefulness 101: Use whatever is available," I tell her, pulling out some wire hangers. I snap them in half and twist them together until they somewhat resemble the arch of a bow. "Let's say these are sticks. They aren't going to bend like this, but you'll want to find one strong, yet flexible enough to curve."
"Okay. Next we should use rope, unless I don't have any in the arena. I guess a vine would work," Cyana notes.
"Right. I actually do have some rope in here. Let's use something else, though. Any ideas?"
Her eyes scan around the room a few times. Then she reaches up and pulls her thick hair out of it's ponytail. It takes a minute to stretch it out enough, but we are able to fit it over the frame we have created. Cyana reinforces it with some knots she has learned in training.
"Okay, for the arrows, we're just going to use pencils. In the arena, you could sharpen slabs of wood with a knife. It's not too difficult. I'm not going to tear any wood off the furniture right now for Isidora's sake."
Cyana laughs. "She would kill us. She'll probably be mad that we destroyed the hangers."
I wave my hand dismissively. "Nah, she'll be upset with me for like two minutes. I can live with that. C'mon, let's test go test out the bow," I say, ready to return to the living room. I stop after a step and turn back to my tribute. "Oh, did you find out anything more about alliances? It's probably better we talk without Mike around since you aren't working together."
"I think I'm in with the boys from Nine and Twelve and both tributes from Eight," she announces proudly. "I trust them. We've all decided to only kill if we have to, until the numbers get lower. Then we'll have to split up. I trust Tailor the most. That's the girl from Eight. She reminds me of Lea."
"I'm glad you found an alliance. Just remember you can never be too careful. What I did last year was make sure I always made myself useful. As long as you're needed, you're safe," I say.
I really am glad that Cy won't be on her own. I would just feel more comfortable if she were in a group of two or three instead of five. There's no doubt that Michael's alliance will hunt them down first, and that's what really has me worried.
Mike is still sitting on the sofa when we return. He looks at us quizzically when he sees the hanger-rubber band bow. "How is that going to help anything?" he asks.
"I was showing Cyana that she can make do with whatever she can find. It applies to a lot more than just bows. You can make weapons or fishhooks or nets. Anything, really," I answer.
"Where should I shoot?" Cy asks, pencils in hand.
"Aim for that dish," I tell her. Across the room over in the kitchen, one of many glass dishes is sitting on the counter. I don't expect the homemade bow to shoot that far anyway.
"It feels weird compared to the real bows," she says. She pulls back on the band and releases the pencil across the room. It goes much farther than I expected and actually hits the plate. Not in the center, but close enough. The plate falls over and shatters on the ground.
"Whoa," both tributes say. "Let me try that!" Mike exclaims.
"Wait, let's not break anymore dishes!" Despite what I said about Isidora earlier, I actually am a little scared of her reaction. I sweep the glass into a garbage can and dig around the cabinets until I find an identical glass plate. I set it where the other one was.
We take a few more practice shots on less fragile items. It is a little silly, but I think I did get my point across that you don't have to rely on what's at the cornucopia to survive. Cyana is actually better with the bow than I expected. I only tried archery briefly last year, and it took all of ten minutes for me to realize there was no way I was ever going to hit the target. Just because it wasn't right for me doesn't mean it isn't for her.
I give out bits and pieces of advice throughout the night. I make a point to encourage them to revisit edible plants before their private sessions because one of the sponsors this morning kept throwing the word "poison" into strange parts of the conversation. I also remind Mike not to let his guard down too much when it's time to sleep. I've seen too many people get their throats slit in the dark hours of the night. I was almost one of them.
"Where's my mentor, anyway?" Michael questions. "I thought this was supposed to be his job."
"It's not Alec's fault. He's busy with victor's stuff," I explain.
"Why don't you have to leave?" Cyana asks. I haven't even known her for a week, but I can already recognize the look she gets in her big gray eyes when she's trying to understand something.
I can't give her a full answer on that, so I have to settle for something else. "Well I can't leave you two alone," I say.
Mike runs a hand through his spiky blond hair. "It's kind of insulting that we need to be watched, especially when I'm the same age as you."
"I don't know. I guess all tributes are on suicide watch," I comment. I look over to Cyana, who still seems to be pondering over something.
"I'm tired. I think I'll turn in early," she says softly.
"Don't you want dinner?" I ask.
"I'm too full from lunch," she says. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I say. When she's in her room and out of earshot, I turn to Michael. "Look, I know you're free to make whatever decisions you want in these Games, and I'm not going to try to change your mind. All I'm asking is that you don't kill her. That would be the most disrespectful thing you could do to District Four."
"I never said I was going to hurt her!" Mike says defensively.
"I know, I know. That doesn't mean your alliance won't hunt her down. Please, just don't hurt her," I say, my voice changing from strong to pleading.
"I won't," he says, and that promise will have to be enough for me to hold onto.
Still, the thought of Michael and Cyana being on opposing alliances has me worried through the next few days. There's just so many ways it could go wrong. Truthfully, nothing can really go right when it comes to the Hunger Games. I don't know whether I should tell Cyana to align with just the girl from Eight that she trusts so much, or if it's better to have stronger tributes to protect her. It will be hard to get a good grasp of the other tribute's personalities before the interviews.
The next night, I curl up under Alec's arm on the living room sofa as we all watch the scoring results. Both tributes from One and the girl from Two fall in the eight to ten range, with the boy from Two appearing as the weak link with a score of seven. Mike gets a nine and the number six appears under Cy's picture. Most of the other tributes have average scores.
I'm a little surprised when the volunteer from Nine only gets a six. I thought he would have done better, being the leader of an alliance and all. It just goes to show that I don't know what's going on this year. Nasser from Twelve gets a nine. Very briefly, I wonder if Twelve might have it's first victor this year, but I banish the thought a second later.
I have to keep faith in District Four for Cyana and Mike's sake, even if the odds are not in our favor.
Chapter 21 Guest review reply:
dusty714: Thanks again! That means a lot to hear and I'm glad it was believable :)