Let's try and hit 100 reviews, okay? Okay!
School starts very shortly, so expect updates to be less frequent with lots of hiatuses. Don't worry, gentle readers: I will finish this story, even if it takes me years. I have it all planned out, mostly. ;)
Fun Fact of the Chapter: August 18th, as well as being my birthday, was Merriweather Lewis's birthday and the anniversary of the ratification of the 19th Amendment, which gave women the right to vote. I know that has nothing to do with the story... yet... but I thought it would be a fun little thing to add.
Edit 8/26/11: Changes made due to careless oversight on part of the author. Tara's Games now have a set number.
…..
Chantelle Jacobsen, District Ten
After the Opening Ceremonies are done with, the people around here mostly let us do whatever we want before dinner. So here I am, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking. Mostly about the Games (what strategy should I use? What strategies have worked for people like me in the past? What should I focus on in training? Should I ally with anyone?), and just a little bit about home (is everyone all right? How are Ma and Da? The twins? Gram? Gramps... what in Panem has happened to him?)
I roll over and sigh. These Capitol beds are too soft, too clean. Even though my family lives (lived?) in relative comfort, this kind of luxury is something new to me. I catch a glimse of some packet of paper on the nightstand beside me, and immediately reach for it. It's something to do, even if it's just reading Capitol propaganda. I can always mock it if it starts getting ridiculous.
But it isn't Capitol propaganda at all. It's a Tribute Information Booklet, with short paragraphs on each of the 24 competitors of this year's Games, along with a headshot that was taken on the train. I flip through it, memorizing and analyzing my competition as any sane person would do. The girl from One is related to a lot of victors, but wasn't trained or a volunteer. The boy from Two looks like the biggest and strongest, although he might have some competition from the boy from Six. Several tributes have tried to look cunning or at least intelligent, but I can see through the ones who are faking. The boy from Three is the son of one of those "Capitol Representatives," but he has a prosthetic leg and is deaf in one ear. The boy from Eight, also rich, has absolutely no facial expression whatsoever.
And then I spot my photo, and skip down to read:
Chantelle Jacobsen (D10G) is 16 years old. She is the granddaughter of a Peacekeeper and lives and works on a farm on the outskirts of the district.
I frown—how do they know so much about my life?—but continue on.
She is the youngest of three siblings, the older two of which are out of the Reaping. Chantelle promises to be a challenger in these Games, as shown by her strong reaction to the Reaping!
I never promised anything of the sort. The Capitol says some variation of that at the end of every single tribute's bio, even the girl from Six. I'm about to throw away the packet in disgust when Anderson's picture catches my eye. I might as well read up on my own district partner.
Anderson Birk (D10B) is 16 years old. His older sister, Tara Birk, participated in the 188th Games and finished fifth. Even though he is completely blind, he has shown himself to be a force to be reckoned with and may, as the underdog, surprise us all with a victory!
Ugh. These people make me sick.
I'm about to try and see if I can get some sleep when a knock sounds at my door. "Can I come in?" my mentor, Gavin, calls from the other side. I mutter a nonchalant, "yeah," and he bursts open the door, Anderson clutching onto his arm. What?
"Chantelle... look, um, this is a little hard to ask... you've got great potential and I think you could go very far in the Games... I sort of, um, need to ask you a favor-"
"He wants to know if you'll ally with me," Anderson cuts in calmly. "More like orders, actually," he adds a few seconds later. Gavin quickly nods.
I can feel my cheeks flush. What right does he have to tell me who I have to ally with? I can ally with anyone I want, or not ally at all! Why should I be tied to this blind boy who's just going to hold me up in the Games? I bite my lip, I can't exactly say that in front of Anderson.
Why is Gavin doing this, anyways? If he were a sensible mentor he would just forget about Anderson and focus on the tribute who might actually come home. That's the way things are supposed to go in the Hunger Games—each one for himself!
After a few minutes, I slowly meet Gavin's eyes and nod. "Okay. I'll do it. Sure thing." But inside, I know that the only reason I'd take on an ally is to stab them in the back.
…..
Briana "Bri" Renay Geers, District Seven
After dinner, they have us watch the recap of the Opening Ceremonies, although I really don't see the point. To get a look at our competition, maybe? But we already have the Tribute Information Booklet, and the commentators aren't going to say anything more than what little was printed in there. I'm not about to disagree on such a minor point, though, so I curl up on the couch and try to observe some things about my fellow contestants.
Che hasn't stopped talking since we've gotten to the Capitol, mostly making nervous jokes and prattling on about projectile weapons or something. I try to ignore him, knowing that this is just his way of coping, but it still puts me a little on edge. As far as I know, Che has never hunted or even picked up a weapon other than at his job. However...
I turn my attention back to the television screen, which is much sharper and more colorful than the one we have at home. The cameras are scanning over the cheering Capitol crowd, air charged with anticipation for the first chariot to roll out. The light from the sky dims—my eye twitches in annoyance; could it be artificial?—and the doors to the Remake center open, letting the golden splendor District One shower the City Circle.
The commentators begin analyzing the tributes, and I sit up. This is where I need to pay attention: the Careers, my biggest threats. They size up the boy first, a wiry 16-year-old whose grin is downright maniacal. Luka Saroque. I memorize his name and his face, cataloging him as a person to run away from really, really fast. Then they move onto the girl, a 14-year-old who was Reaped but apparently comes from a long line victors, named Emily Raine-
The wave of shock hits me almost instantly, and I close my eyes. Raine. Raine. Raine. Why is that name so familiar, besides occasionally hearing it on TV? Emily Raine. Fidella Raine-Thenn. Spark Raine-
Spark Raine.
My mind goes back to the night of my father's murder, that night in the woods with that strange man. "Mr. Geers?" … "Who is this?" … the man coughed. "Raine. Spark Raine." It was barely a whisper, but I know I heard it.
"Briana, are you alright?" Aliena Candlewick asks, and then giggles again. "You're not feeling sick, are you?"
Now that she mentions it, my head hurts a little. I turn to her, opening my eyes once more. "Nah. I'm fine. I just..." I trail off, hoping that no explanation is needed. No one asks.
I barely pay attention to the rest of the tributes, instead turning to the Tribute Information Booklet and looking up everything they have on Emily and Spark Raine. Spark's was a surprise victory during the Games ten years ago; apparently the girl from Seven had been the favorite. The girl from Seven. Spark had snuck up on her with a knife (murder weapon) and overpowered her. He is Emily's uncle and her mentor, and apparently they're very close.
I had promised A.J. that I would win for my father. Could fate have given me a better opportunity? I offer up a quick prayer to Artemis; thankful, and yet asking for protection. After all, I would need all the help I could get if I were to survive to avenge Dad's murder. If I were to kill Emily, and maybe Spark, Raine.
My hands are itching to get on a bow.