Chapter 14: The Drawing Board
The Capitol. I'm alive. I'm actually back.
My stomach twists in a mixture of relief and apprehension. Now that I know where I am, the sterile room and the fast healing injuries make a lot more sense. The hovercraft must have come to pick me up after the fight with Karn... I shake my head, trying to clear it of the thought. I can't think about that, at least not now.
The man's smile doesn't abate at my lack of response. "It's nice to see that you're awake. I was afraid I was going to have to do it myself," he says, the grin never leaving his face. "We are on a tight schedule, as I'm sure you understand. The Games must go on," he pronounces in his high, grating Capitol accent. "Oh, and I'm sorry for the restraints." He points to the strap around my waist. "It's just a precaution."
My insides clench again, but I stamp down my nervousness. "How long have I been here?" I croak out.
The action tickles my throat. It feels scratchy, and my mouth feels like cotton. I'm suddenly desperate for water to soothe the raw ache. I'm about to ask for some, but the man walks out of the room without answering my first question or giving me time to speak further. I'd call after him if I thought I'd be of any use, but I know it won't. Someone will have to come get me eventually. The Games aren't over, and they'll be wanting their tribute.
A minute or two passes with me staring at the bright lights above me, my gaze only breaking when I hear shuffling. I turn my gaze back to the door to see that the man has returned, this time carrying a tray.
"Sorry about that. I thought you might be hungry," he says while walking towards me.
He places the tray on the bed beside me and undoes the bindings around my arms. I take the cup of water and down it eagerly. The cold liquid brings me instant relief as it fills my mouth and soothes my throat. I don't touch the rest of the food.
"To answer your question, you've been back in the Capitol for just shy of two days. You arrived late Monday afternoon, and it's just before noon on Wednesday."
No wonder my throat feels so scratchy. I haven't been using it the past two days. Images of Karn wrapping his hands around my neck fill my mind, and I instinctively reach a hand up to feel the skin. It feels tender, but only just barely.
"You've managed to heal quite nicely," he says, jerking his head towards the area I'm currently inspecting. "You had some quite horrendous bruising there, but you can barely see it now," he tells me with a bright grin that's almost as white as the lights in the room, as if that's supposed to make me feel better.
"You also hit your head quite hard near the end there, but I assure you, there's no lasting damage. Your arm caused a bit more trouble. The muttation did some real damage to the tissue. But it was really quite a show. We were all so surprised when you managed to kill it⎯-surprised in a good way, of course," he gushes as he undoes the restraint around my waist. I don't bother replying. I'm distracted enough by the simmering in my blood, and the effort it's taking to not yell at him. "Well anyway, your mentors will be on their way soon."
He begins walking out of the room, but stops and turns back to me before he's out the door. "I suggest you eat something," he tells me, nodding at the tray. "You're going to need all the strength you can get before the next round."
He's out the door with that, leaving me alone in the impossibly clean room. I can't keep the scowl off my face now that he's gone. I don't even want to think about the second arena. I can barely wrap my head around the fact that I managed to make it out of the first one. The only thing I want to do right now is talk to Haymitch and get some answers about what happened after my fight with Karn. I know that I must have passed out, but I can't piece everything about the fight together. The only clear picture I have is of Karn lunging for me. The man must have been right about how hard I hit my head, because everything else is a blur, and I can't be sure of what happened and what my mind is making up. The man's comment about the bruising on my neck tells me that Karn did really try to drown me, but did I actually kill him?
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The sense of betrayal I feel is unlike anything I've ever experienced. My face flushes when I think about how stupid I was to think that Karn wouldn't go after me, even after I saw the crazed look in his eye. I never understood how the Careers could turn on each other so easily, how they could target people from their own districts⎯-even when it was near the end of the Games and they were close to winning. The whole idea always disgusted me. But I spent half the training week comparing Karn to the Careers. I was foolish to not see it coming, but I never expected that district loyalty could mean so little to someone from District Twelve, to someone who should understand just how sick these Games are. My teeth grind together and my muscles tighten. I want nothing more than to hit something, but I can't move from this bed with the IVs still in my arm. It only makes me angrier. If Barden hadn't been killed, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have asked Karn to be in an alliance, and he wouldn't have tried to kill me. If Haymitch had sent me some damn medicine, everything would be different. I purse my lips, my hand tapping my leg in impatience. I need to talk to Haymitch.
The smell of something savory fills my nostrils, and I look down at the tray of food I had forgotten about. I begrudgingly admit that the man in the lab coat is right. Even if I don't want to think about the Games, I should eat. Ignoring them isn't going to make them go away.
Sighing, I pull the plate onto my lap and begin eating it with more aggression than necessary. It's good: lamb with some type of gravy and vegetables. The menial task helps me to calm down a little, the anger raging inside me turning to a low simmer. I eat slowly, trying to enjoy the food as much as I can. It's starting to feel heavy in my stomach. It's hearty, and I can barely get through half of the small portion before I feel like I've eaten too much.
I don't have to find anything else to occupy myself with when I finish, because there's a sharp rap on the door, and then it swings open, revealing my perpetually disheveled mentor.
He stands in the doorway for a moment before sending me a sardonic smile. "Welcome back, kid. It's nice of you to finally join us."
I say nothing in response, the anger and embarrassment I feel over the situation with Karn flaring up inside me once more.
He raises his eyebrow at my lack of response and says, "Well, it's nice to see you too."
I'm in no mood for fake pleasantries or sarcastic remarks. "Why?" I ask. I try to keep my face neutral, but I can feel the heat burning in my cheeks.
"Why what?" he asks, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.
Anger surges through me, my heart beating faster in my chest. The beeping machine grows louder. "Were you too busy to pay attention during the arena? Or did you just not care?"
Both eyebrows shoot up at that. "And what exactly was I so uncaring about?"
I let out a bitter laugh and shake my head. "After that mutt attacked us. You had to know that the Gamemakers did something to the claws. You could have done something, Haymitch," I seethe. "Sent medicine, a first aid kit, even a damn band-aid. But no, you just sat back and did nothing. Barden would still be alive if we hadn't gone to the Cornucopia."
"It wasn't my idea to go to the Cornucopia, kid. That was decided between you three," he replies, his mouth pulling into a thin line. I can hear the increase in his breathing and see the heat rising to his cheeks.
"It didn't ever have to be a decision! Not if we had medicine! You left me with no choice unless I wanted to die!"
Haymitch's face is carefully blank, but he's fuming just like me. Even the part of me that knows how unfair I'm being doesn't seem to care. Fair or unfair, I'm furious. I feel a sense of satisfaction at his increasing ire. Good, now he understands how I feel.
"Alright, kid, I thought you were smarter than this, but apparently I was wrong. I'm only going to explain this once, so listen closely," he says slowly, his gaze unwavering. "My job as a mentor for District Twelve is to help tributes from District Twelve. That means controlling the gifts so that you have the best chance of staying alive. He wasn't my tribute to look after. My job is to mentor you: to make sure that you make it out of the arena, not him, not any other tributes."
"And letting us go to the Cornucopia was the way to do that? How would that⎯-"
"Just say what your real problem is, kid. We have other things we need to get to," he bites out.
Everything he says is muted beneath the buzzing in my ears. "My problem? My problem is that none of this needed to happen!" I splutter. "Barden didn't have to die! We could have both made it out, Zeppina wouldn't have left, and nothing with Karn would have happened. We could have… we could have been partners in the second arena, or⎯"
"You were never going to be partnered with him-⎯with either of them. Being in an alliance assured that. You know how these Games work. They don't want to see friends working together. They want to see them kill each other."
He's says the words so quietly that I barely hear them. There's a charged silence in the room. I don't know how to respond to that. Haymitch sighs. His cheeks are still tinged with red, but his expression becomes somber. "I'm not your enemy here, Briar."
It's like all the air is pulled from my lungs and sucked from the room. My head falls back onto the bed, and I suddenly feel exhausted. I know that Haymitch is right, that nothing would have worked out like I just said it would. But it's like my mind can't accept that fact that I'm so powerless in all of this. I want to believe that it's Haymitch's fault, because then I could do something about it. I could find some way to make it right. But the feeling of helplessness creeps up anyway, and the truth is that I'm just looking for someone to take my frustration out on.
The beeping machine grows quieter as Haymitch's words sink in. I know that he is not my enemy. In the end, everything comes back to the Capitol.
That's what the Games are to them⎯a way to show us that we're powerless. No matter what we do, they're always going to win. I have to stop being so sensitive if I want to prove them wrong. There is no use in thinking of what-ifs and pretending that things could be different.
I suck in a breath and try to ease the tension in my muscles. My face is no longer set in a scowl as I look at my mentor. I don't know what to say. I want to apologize for blaming this on him even when I know that it's not his fault, but the words won't come. I bite my lip as I try to think of anything to say, but Haymitch waves a hand, effectively cutting off any thoughts I might have had.
"Don't worry about it, kid," he says.
I'm struck with more guilt at his apparent understanding. I don't know why, but it's too easy for me to forget that he's been through all of this before.
"Now that that's dealt with, let's move on to something else. If you're really serious about winning this, we need to start preparing you for the second arena."
I cut in before he can continue. "Wait… I just need to know for sure." He stares at me expectantly when the sentence drops. "Karn," I add, glancing down at my shoulder and then back to my mentor. "Is he dead?"
"Yes," he tells me. I search his face, but there is nothing there. It's carefully devoid of any emotion.
I swallow shakily, a myriad of feelings churning inside of me. So I really did kill him. Some sick part of me is relieved, glad that he's dead. He tried to kill me. Nearly succeeded, I remind myself, my hand reaching up to touch my throat. But I killed him. He's my first real kill in the arena, unless I'm technically responsible for the death of the crazed girl from Five. I don't let myself feel any sadness over his death, at least not for now. He was clearly losing it. Whether it was because of the Games or his own twisted mind doesn't matter. He went after me first. I only did it because I had to. Still, I know that if I think about it for too long, the remorse and guilt of taking a life will set in, so I try to push him from my thoughts. Right now I need to worry about what's coming, not what's happened.
"Who's left?" I ask.
Haymitch shakes his head slightly. "Hold on, we'll get there. First we need to-⎯"
Whatever he was about to say is cut off by the door swinging open, revealing a smiling, pink mass. Effie.
She practically skips into the room. "Oh, Briar, dear. How are you feeling?" she asks, a look of concern replacing the bright grin when she gets a good look at me. It looks out of place on her made-up face. She doesn't give me time to answer, but I know that the sentiment is real because I'm pretty sure I can spot tears in her eyes. I didn't think I looked that bad.
"I'm sure you're just thrilled to be back in the Capitol. Just look at how far you've made it!" I think she's trying to comfort me. She runs over to give me a hug, but I'm helpless to return it thanks to the IVs. She pouts, huffing out a breath and turning to my mentor. "Haymitch, why is she still strapped to this bed? We need to get her up so that we can help her prepare for tonight."
My stomach drops and my eyebrows pull together as I glance between Haymitch and Effie. "What's going on tonight?"
"Why, the drawing, of course," Effie exclaims. I guess that explains why the doctor said he'd have to wake me up. "You'll be finding out who your partner is." She turns to Haymitch, a look of exasperation covering her features. "Have you not informed her of any of this? How do you expect her to be at her best, if she's not even aware of what's going on?"
Haymitch rolls his eyes and mockingly grumbles, "My apologies." He doesn't point out that he was about to explain it to me before she came bursting into the room.
"Well I guess I shall explain tonight's events to her then." Effie harrumphs and turns to me, pulling a grin into place. "All of the remaining tributes will be brought out on stage with Caesar, and you'll watch a recap of the Games. Following that, you will be placed into pairs, and Caesar will do a brief interview with each. Cinna will help you get ready, as always," she says with a pat on my arm.
I cringe instinctively, my body still expecting any contact on the once injured area to be painful. I remain tense even though I feel no pain. Apprehension builds in me thanks to her words. Even here in the Capitol, the Games do not rest, which means that I don't either. Whomever I get put with tonight could mean the difference between living and dying. How well we sell ourselves as a team will either make or break us in the arena.
God, the second arena. I'll be back there in just a couple days. How many exactly until I have to start fighting for my life again?
"What happens after that?" I ask, anxiety prickling at every nerve ending in my body. I want to get out of this stupid bed.
"You'll have tomorrow to train with your partner," Haymitch answers. "But you just get the one day. You go back into the arena on Friday."
My new resolve to survive at any cost doesn't lessen the terror that seizes my chest. Two days. A day and a half really. That's all I have before people start hunting me down again. I have to go through everything again, and this time, I'll have even less of a chance of making it out alive. I almost wish that we never had to return to the Capitol, that we stayed in the arena this whole time, because I don't know how I'm going to rein in the strength to go through all of this a second time.
I blow out a breath and ask, "Can someone get me out of this bed so that we can get this over with?"
My prep team is already waiting for us by the time the elevator doors open to the penthouse in the Training Center. They all rush over to me, singing their praises about how well I did in the arena. I want to remind them that I almost died three times, and that nothing is over yet, but I know that mentioning my imminent trip to the second arena and my possible death will dampen the mood, so I don't say anything. Instead, I stand quietly while they scuttle around me, picking at my body and muttering comments about the work Cinna will have to do.
My designer is nowhere to be seen, and neither are Katniss or Peeta. I look around for them, but aside from Haymitch, Effie, and my team, the room is empty. My stomach sinks at their absence. My need to have them here comes as a surprise to me even though it probably shouldn't. I underestimated just how much their support means to me. My lips tug down slightly, and I turn to my mentor.
"Where's everyone else?"
Haymitch turns to me from his spot at the bar. "Doing some press for their upcoming wedding," he grunts before taking a drink.
I feel slightly relieved at that. They haven't deserted me. They're being put on display just as much as the rest of us. I wonder how much of that they've been doing since coming back to the Capitol. I'd be amazed if they even had time to watch the Games⎯-even as mentors. I'm sure the people are beside themselves with having the so-called 'lethal lovers' back and on display for their prying eyes. I roll my eyes and clench my fist tightly at the idea. Only they could find such excitement in a wedding while they watch children getting slaughtered for their entertainment.
I let out a yelp, my thoughts effectively cut off by Garric pinching at my side. I snap my head towards him, and he sends me a brief apology before muttering to Clio about how skinny I am. I frown slightly at that. I was only in the arena for ten days. I couldn't have lost that much weight.
"We've got a lot of work to do and not much time to do it," Petronia sighs out dramatically.
"It'll be a challenge, but we can do it," Garric agrees. He looks over to me and sends me a bright grin that looks incredibly awkward on his fish-like face. "You'll look beautiful. Don't you worry for a second."
I'm not concerned. In fact, I don't care much about how I look, but I keep my mouth shut and let them drag me away to what had been my room two weeks ago. The process is the same as it had been before the parade and the first interview. I thought that I would enjoy the simple things more after being in the arena, that I could put up with something so non-threatening. It turns out that I have even less patience for this than before. Now I really know how meaningless it is. This time I can barely restrain myself from snapping at them every time they pull at my hair or say something offensive, even if well intentioned. They have no idea what it's like in there. It must be nice to be so naïve.
They pull me in front of the mirror when they're finished to show me the final product. My nails are reshaped and painted black, and my hair is straightened, half of it pulled back and streaked with gold. My makeup takes my breath away. I barely recognize myself. The only word I can use to describe how I look is "formidable." I still have the same bird-like features they created earlier, but the design is not simple anymore. I look fierce, angry, almost⎯-like I'm ready to take down anyone who gets in my way. I think it's fitting.
I tell them thank you with as much sincerity as I can. They've made me look strong, and if I'm going to have to go out there again, that's exactly what I need to be.
"You look incredible."
I pivot on the spot, a small smile tugging at my lips when my eyes fall on Cinna. He walks over to me and places both hands on my shoulders, inspecting my face.
He taps my chin and offers me a soft smile of his own. "Truly," he says. "You look like the fighter that you are."
"Thank you," I breathe out, my heart giving a sharp tug at his words. I know that Cinna wouldn't say them if he didn't mean it.
"Now you just need the right dress to match," he says as he walks over to the bed where the garment has been laid out.
He unzips the bag and tells me to turn around so that I don't see the dress before it's on. I do as instructed, raising my arms so that my team can pull it over my head. I glance down at his newest creation. I already know that it's going to be amazing.
I'm not wrong. The dress is stunning. It's shorter than all the others I've worn, falling a few inches above my knees. The fabric that touches my skin is soft, and it clings to my frame when Cinna zippers it. It's heavy but not uncomfortable. Nothing about it looks soft though. The outside of the dress is layered in gold plates that gleam like metal. They overlap each other, giving the impression of feathers. The skirt flares out slightly at the bottom, the layering making it appear jagged and sharp. A similar technique is used around my shoulders. The dress is still reminiscent of the canary theme, but I know that my image has changed. I'm not just meant to be a girl in a pretty dress. I'm a warrior dressed in her armor, showing the Capitol people that I'm not going down without a fight.
I turn to my designer, a grin splitting my face. "It's perfect."
He smiles in return and gives a small laugh at my compliment. "I had a feeling you'd like it," he says, grabbing my hand and helping me into my shoes.
I frown at the size of the heel, knowing that I'm going to be spending a large portion of my time trying to stay on my feet. But I can't complain. Cinna's done more for me than I could ever ask of him.
My designer grabs my arm and leads me out the room. I distantly hear the sound of chatter as we walk. The conversation is loud, and there are certainly more people than just Haymitch and Effie. We round the corner, my eyes landing on Katniss and Peeta. Relief surges through me at the sight of them.
Everyone is dressed up for tonight, and I watch for a few moments as they animatedly discuss something with Haymitch, but my silent appraisal is cut off by Effie's squeal.
"You look marvelous! Simply stunning," she says, walking towards me.
She draws the attention of everyone else in the room, all of their eyes turning toward me.
"Welcome back, Briar," Peeta says, breaking away from the group and coming over to hug me. "You look great."
I mumble a quick thank you and return the hug before pulling back. Katniss stands off to the side, but she sends me a small nod in acknowledgement. Both her and Haymitch's cheeks are tinged with red, their shoulders hunched. They're practically radiating tension. I frown and look at Peeta. He doesn't look angry like they do. He looks more tired than anything. I realize that whatever conversation I had interrupted had not been a pleasant one. I wonder if it has anything to do with the press they were doing for the wedding. I wrinkle my nose at the thought of putting my relationship on display for the entire country. That'd probably put me in a bad mood too.
"Now, there are some things we need to go over before we head down," Effie says, effectively breaking the tension in the room. "Now, it's just like the first interview, with the exception of a few minor changes. You're going to stand in order of your district and they will call you all out onto the stage," she tells me. "Caesar will announce the remaining tributes, you'll have the recap, and then they will announce the pairings. When Caesar calls your name, you will join your partner for a brief interview. The way you act is of the utmost importance. You want to make sure that you compliment your partner in the best way possible."
I frown at that. I don't know how I'm supposed to play a certain angle. The sponsors already know what everyone's like, there's no use in pretending anymore.
"That means you have to at least pretend to be okay with it," Haymitch adds. "No over the top reactions. No glaring, no big smile," —thank God— "just play it cool. Let them think you're confident in your alliance."
He's essentially telling me to seem like I don't care, like it doesn't matter to me who my partner is because I know that I can do this, that I'll win. I nod. I can do indifferent.
"And remember what I told you about sitting up straight and not sighing," Effie adds. Those two will be a little more difficult.
Haymitch rolls his eyes. "It's not just about you now. You've got to make an impression as a team. You've got to make the sponsors believe that you and whoever your partner is can win."
Cinna smiles and takes my arm again before saying, "I think she's got it. We should start heading down now."
Everyone agrees and we get in the elevator. I can feel the tension in the air as the car descends, taking me to my next step in the Games. It feels strange to be by myself now, to not have any of the other tributes with me. I didn't notice it before, but having other kids from my district helped me feel a little calmer. In a way, I guess all of this was easier knowing that they were going through the same thing I was. But they're dead now, and if I don't put all of my energy into making myself look as capable as possible, I will be too.
The thought makes it impossible to listen to Effie's ramblings, no matter how hard I try. I can't focus with the way my stomach is twisting itself into knots. I don't like this rule change. In the next few hours, my chances of winning are either going to skyrocket or plummet into nothing. I don't want an alliance that I haven't chosen of my own volition, and I certainly don't want to rely on someone or have someone else rely on me in the arena. It complicates things. Sure, having a partner generally increases your chances of survival, but I have a feeling that it won't be the case under these circumstances. We're all being forced to work with people we don't like and that we certainly don't trust. It's a disaster waiting to happen. There are so many different things that could go wrong, and any hope I have of going home could be over in a second.
The doors slide open with a ding. My entrance backstage is nothing like it had been during the first interview. Nerves had been the controlling factor then, all the tributes and their teams too busy trying to prepare as much as they could before the interviews. But there isn't much of that to do now, so when I step out of the elevator all eyes turn to me, everyone eager to see who the newest arrival is. I feel small under their scrutiny, but I try my best not to show it. I keep my face neutral and step out of the elevator. I recognize a few faces here or there, but I don't let myself focus on them, not even when I briefly catch Zeppina's eye. I keep my gaze trained on my team as I walk to my place in line and when they give me their final good luck before disappearing to their seats. Even if I wanted to see who my competition is, it's impossible because I can't see clearly from my spot in the back of the line.
I distantly hear the sound of someone counting down. My stomach feels like it's tearing itself apart. I have no idea what to expect when I get out there. I have no doubt that the audience will be as enthusiastic as ever or that Caesar will crack some cheesy joke, but aside from that, nothing is a given. I'm dreading watching the recap. I don't want to watch children die. I just want to get this over with. But more than that, I'm nervous about finding out whom my partner is going to be. Even if they're randomly selected, chances are I'll end up with a Career, considering they make up half of the remaining tributes. Maybe that's for the best, though. I can't let myself be bothered by them if I plan on winning. Even if I don't like them, I can at least admit that they're the most capable tributes. They don't win almost every year based on luck. Being partnered with one of them is my best chance at making it out alive.
The countdown ends and music begins to blare throughout the City Circle. I turn my eyes to a screen to the left of me, following the gazes of the other people in the room. I resist the urge to wipe my sweaty hands on my dress when Caesar waltzes on stage with his too bright smile and equally bright suit.
"Welcome! Welcome, everyone!" Caesar says with a dramatic wave of his hands and an outrageous laugh. "What an exciting night we have ahead of us. I bet you're all just as excited as I am. Am I right?" he asks the audience. The cheer they give in response is so loud that it practically shakes the stage. "I for one, can't believe just how crazy these Games have been so far. The Quarter Quell is certainly living up to expectations. I'm sure none of you can wait to see what happens next. So why don't we get started by welcoming our remaining tributes!" The crowd cheers wildly.
This is an important moment for all of us. With the amount of tributes in the arena, I hadn't been able to keep track of who was still alive, but now is the time for all of us to see whom our remaining competition is. I'll have to pay close attention.
I can barely hear the sound of the name being called, but I immediately recognize Mace as he saunters on stage. I was really hoping the second to last cannon had belonged to him. I feel sick as I watch Tilver follow him on stage. I really hope I'm not partnered with either of them. The girls from One, Ivory and Topaz, take the stage to the sound of more cheering. I tense when Caesar calls Cato to the stage. He struts with confidence, and I surprisingly find myself a little jealous of how uncaring he is. This would be a lot easier if I were like him. The girls from his district have no problem emulating him as they walk out looking just as dauntless.
My eyes narrow when the next name is called and Fuse walks out. He doesn't look nearly as intimidating as the tributes from One and Two, but I still don't like him. A girl from Three follows, looking entirely terrified, and after that comes a boy from Four and Nerissa, who look the complete opposite of the girl who had come before them. Nerissa's smirk makes my stomach twist, but I force myself to listen to the remaining announcements instead of thinking about how she wants to kill me. I don't recognize the girl from Five or the boy from Six that follow, but I watch the screen unblinkingly when Zeppina takes the stage. She looks just as cunning as ever. I wonder if she's guessed what happened in the arena between Karn and I.
As much as I want to pay attention, I find myself distracted by the roaring of the crowd. I miss the calling of the tributes after the two Capitol favorites from Seven take the stage. My heart is pounding furiously against my ribs when the girl in front of me is called. I shakily follow her out when I hear my own name. I try to focus on my steps and ignore the sound of the screams coming from the audience. It's impossible to block them out. Their piercing screams fill my ears and the flashing lights of the cameras make me feel disoriented to the point that I almost walk right past my seat. If the tribute in front of me hadn't stopped moving, I definitely would have kept walking. I'm sure the audience would find it hysterical. I wouldn't. The last thing I need is for sponsors or my future partner to think I'm stupid, and therefore a liability. I hate being on camera.
I take a seat as the cheers die down and Caesar begins to speak again.
"Look at this group of tributes. Aren't they just amazing?" he asks. He turns towards us and says, "Congratulations on making it to the second round of the Quarter Quell. You should all feel very proud of your accomplishments." The pitch in the circle increases with that. They all know what's coming next when Caesar turns back towards the audience. "How about we watch some of them now? Let's watch the recap!"
Everything goes dark and silent for a moment, and I start to panic because I can't see anything, but a second later the screen to my right lights up. I want to look away, but I remind myself that everyone is watching this, paying attention to our reactions. I need to look good, and I need to get a better look at my competition. I take a deep breath and try to steady myself. This is going to be a long night.
The recap opens with the reapings, and then it shows glimpses of the parade and the training center. I don't really pay attention until I see us rising on the platforms. I feel strange, almost detached watching this now because I know that it isn't over yet, but that's precisely why I have to pay attention. The camera pans over all of our faces, showing our responses to seeing the arena and beginning the Games. The differences in our expressions are immense⎯-and by our, I mean the Careers and the rest of us. All of them are practically smiling, no trace of fear in their eyes. That's not the case for the other tributes. Most look ready to be sick. I'm no exception. I'm disappointed in how scared I look as I survey the arena. It's no wonder I had so few sponsors. I'll have to act better in the next arena.
My stomach drops and I flinch when the sound of an explosion bursts from the speakers. Just like I had done in the arena, I stare dumbly at the screen for a moment, not quite processing what I just saw. Smoke emerges from the plate, all of us looking over confusedly. Our expressions would be comical if the situation weren't so depressing. It's clear to me now that the tribute⎯-a girl from Seven-⎯stepped off the podium early, intentionally⎯-or at least it looks like she did. My chest tightens at the thought. She did it on purpose, either so afraid or so convinced that she would die that she decided to take her death into her own hands. Anger surges through me when I glance out into the audience. They don't care that it's their fault. It's because of them that this happened-⎯because of their stupid Games. Everything about this place makes me angry.
I'm forced to put my anger on the backburner when the countdown ends and the Games begin. I get my first viewing of the bloodbath as the tributes sprint towards it to get the weapons lined up against it. A camera briefly covers me running towards the lake and narrowly avoiding the knife. I suddenly feel less upset over the crazed girl from Five's death, and incredibly grateful that she lacked any knife skills.
A lot of tributes sprint away from the Cornucopia, but the bloodbath is still brutal. I feel bile rise in my throat as I watch the Careers slaughter their weaker opponents. Thalia is one of the first to go, killed by the dead male tribute from Four. One of the girls from Two kills Collis with a mace to the head, and I fight with myself to stay still even though the anger is pushing me to do something, anything to her. The rage and nausea I feel quickly turns into a tightening in my chest when I see Barden flash on screen. I was right in thinking that his fight with the boy from Two was interesting. Intense is the only way to describe it. They both prove themselves to be strong opponents, but of course, only one makes it out. It's over quicker than I would have thought with Barden stabbing him in the chest and taking off, leaving everyone else to fight it out.
Surprisingly, the bloodbath ends quicker than most years. I hadn't accounted for so many of the tributes fleeing the area. The camera pans over the bodies of the dead children. The smell of blood fills my nostrils even though there's none in sight. I resist the urge to gag. The scent is ingrained deep in my brain now⎯-far deeper than working with dead animals could ever do. I'm disgusted. I don't know how anyone watches this.
The next portion of the recap follows the remaining tributes, giving everyone a brief period on camera for the people to know that we're still alive. They can't focus on that for too long though, because the show is only three hours, and they'll want to focus on the highlights.
Then comes the Careers and their hunting. I try to block out most of it. I already know everything I need to about them. For the most part, I'm successful in my attempt to ignore them, but my eyes are glued to the screen when morning dawns on the arena. Predictably, the camera shifts to Zeppina and I when the girl from Five and the rat-boy from Ten ambush us. The fight looks just as violent and painful as I remember it. I cringe when I watch myself stab the girl in the side, and I'm pretty sure I hear the audience gasp when Barden plunges his sword through the boy.
Our alliance is featured for a while. The whole thing makes me uneasy, because I know that it will draw the attention of my competitors. When we aren't being shown, the footage follows the Careers since the action mainly centers on them. There are a few shots here and there of the other tributes, but those mostly consist of survival techniques, which the Capitol no doubt found boring. The recap basically reveals everything that would have been a secret to the other tributes. We can all see each other's strengths and weaknesses.
The camera flashes to Karn and relief floods me over the fact that he's dead. I stare as he kills the girl from Five and then later a boy from Eight. He's incredibly cruel, drawing out their deaths in the bloodiest way possible.
I find my eyes drifting towards my team whenever something particularly gruesome comes on screen. It's even harder to watch than I imagined it would be, and yet none of it surprises me. It still makes me feel disgusted, but instead of getting upset, I find it fueling my anger. That is, until I hear the familiar sound of hissing reverberate throughout the City Circle. I focus on the floor in front of me when I hear Nox's screams, but I force myself to look up when my voice plays over the speakers. They'll be watching for my reaction.
Everything happens much slower than it had felt at the time. All the feelings of anxiety build up inside me and threaten to bubble over as I watch us run from the beast, despite the fact that I'm in no danger now. The City Circle is quiet except of the sound of our harsh breathing and the noises of the mutt coming from the speakers. All of my competitors are transfixed, having no knowledge of this event. I wince sharply when I watch myself fly through the air and bounce down the hill, the audience cringing right along with me. The next few seconds of footage only make me more tense while I battle with the tree trunk for the sword. Despite the fact that the Capitol citizens have all seen this before, I hear gasps resound when I free the sword and swing it at the mutt.
I look over to my fellow tributes as the screen shows me plunging the weapon into the beast and the fight comes to an end. Some of them are watching with blank expressions, others look mildly interested, and some have their brows furrowed and their lips pressed into a thin line, no doubt surprised by the outcome. A couple of them even throw a few glances my way, no doubt wondering how I'm still alive. I know that I've just been bumped up on the list of threats. I have to look back towards the screen when Cato shoots me a dark look laced with something I can't quite name. Maybe disbelief, or maybe anger. He always looks angry.
I don't pay much attention after that, despite knowing that I probably should. My eyes remain focused on the screen, but I might as well be unable to see it. It's mainly footage of me, my arm infection getting a nice close up. I can feel the eyes of the other tributes on me as the next day plays out: going to the Cornucopia, stealing from the Careers, and, of course, the fight. My skin feels too hot, and it's a struggle to remain still while I watch myself break away from Tilver and run towards Barden. My scream of his name is shrill and desperate⎯-probably even pathetic to some-⎯but I'm not focused on my own reaction. I stare unblinkingly at the face of his killer, the girl holding the knife.
Ivory. My head snaps towards the girl from One, my face contorting into a glare. She glances at me, her own eyes narrowing. I don't care how stupid of a move this is. My blood is boiling as I watch her lips twitch with a light smile. The intensity of my anger surprises me a little. It burns through my veins long after the fight ends and I tear my eyes away from Ivory, my fists continuously clenching and unclenching at my sides. I want to kill her. I want to make her pay for what she did. The only way to beat the Capitol might be to win, but she is at least liable for Barden's death.
I keep my eyes on screen, but everything's a blur of color, my brain barely processing anything I see. Everything in the background fades to a low roar. I can't tune it out completely though, because I know I'm about to become the star of the recap in just a few minutes. I wonder how the audience is going to react to seeing the footage, how my competitors will react. Maybe it'll help me with my partner-⎯if they know that I'm capable of getting the job done, they might be more willing to work together.
I don't have to wait long to find out because before I know it, they're showing Zeppina and I meeting Karn in the woods and forming an alliance. I become more and more restless as the minutes tick by. They only show the important parts after that. Karn killing the boy from Six gets a long shot. I can't help the gasp that slips past my lips as he beats the boy. It's the worst type of overkill, and I can feel my food coming back up.
Thankfully it's over soon and then they show Zeppina leaving, Karn and I heading to the mountain, the twenty-third death. Turns out it was one of Careers, the boy from Four that volunteered. I don't have the opportunity to be even remotely happy about his death because gasps break out across the audience. The sound of Karn slamming into me and the impact I make with the ground is audible, and I wince at the memory of how much it hurt. As much as I don't want to watch, I can't seem to pull my eyes away from my former district partner as we grapple and roll down the hill.
The City Circle falls silent when he ignores my begging and wraps his hands around my throat, submerging me beneath the icy water. I want to curse myself for my blatant display of fear, to tell myself not to show that in the next arena, but I can't bring myself to be ashamed as I watch my body twitch under his large form. I shouldn't be embarrassed about wanting to live or being scared of someone trying to kill me. It's normal. The Games haven't taken all of my humanity yet.
It's clear that Karn had none left though. I feel sick at the sight of the concentration on his face. In a way it's worse than the smirk he constantly wore. He was dead set on killing me. I'm lucky to be alive.
Everything remains covered in a blanket of silence when my hand emerges from the water and the knife is stabbed into his side. My strike is right under his armpit, right into an artery. There's no way he would have lived without immediate medical attention. The thought doesn't stop me from cringing when I plunge the knife into his chest a few moments later. My fingers twitch at my sides. The screen goes black with the sound of the final cannon.
The air is quiet for a few more seconds before Caesar's voice reverberates throughout the Circle.
"Wow!" he exclaims, smiling excitedly as his head whips between the audience and us tributes. "Wasn't that just incredible? There were so many amazing moments in there. And watching them again… Chills."
I remind myself not to roll my eyes on national television. There wasn't anything incredible about that.
"I don't know how we're going to top that in the second arena, but if anyone can do it, I'm sure it's our tributes," he says. "Let's give them a hand!" The audience breaks into raucous cheers at that, and my fists clench tightly at my sides.
"Now, I know that I'm not the only one excited to hear what they have to say about the arena⎯-or should I say arenas-⎯but there's something we need to do first. I'm sure you all know what that is," he says to the audience. "How could anyone forget with this year being the Quarter Quell?"
The crowd resumes their screaming, and my palms begin to sweat again as my stomach twists.
"To remind anyone that may have forgotten, one change for this year's Quarter Quell states that the tributes will be randomly divided into pairs for the second arena in honor of Panem's unity. Then they'll battle it out for the title of Victor."
I almost snort at that. I wonder if anyone else is thinking about how ironic those last two sentences are. I look over the florescent, beaming audience. The people at home might acknowledge it, but it's completely lost on the Capitol citizens.
"I can't stand the suspense anymore," Caesar all but shouts out. "So why don't we get right into it. I'm sure you're all eager to find out as well," he says, turning towards us.
I swallow thickly, and I see some of my competitors shift nervously beside me. I don't want to know, but at the same time, I just want to get it over with. I want this all to end.
"Let's begin!"
The screen lights up once again, all of our faces appearing for everyone to see. I can practically feel the tension in the air when the pictures begin the jumble around, becoming nothing but a blur. We're all silent as we wait. I don't think I'd be capable of speaking even if I wanted to.
The screen becomes blank and then suddenly two faces appear. My stomach drops and the audience goes wild.
"Well look at this first pairing-⎯District One's Topaz and Rowan from District Seven!"
They make their way towards Caesar, taking any confidence I had with them. The audience is enthralled by the pair, as they should be. I don't listen to what they say because it doesn't matter. They're two of the strongest tributes here, both Capitol favorites. They'll be rolling in sponsors. I bite down on my lip. No, I can still do this. It's only one pairing. Separate or together, it doesn't matter. I can still win.
The next pairing to be called is a girl from Two and a girl from Nine. Two doesn't look happy. That seems to be the case from the next two pairings that are called containing Careers-⎯Tilver and the other girl from Three, and the remaining boy from Four and a boy from Ten. They all smile while the audience goes wild and Caesar beams at them, but I can tell that they're anything but happy about being paired with tributes from outlying districts.
My anxiety doesn't lessen any as the faces of the next alliance appear on screen, and they make their way towards Caesar. The people that fill the Circle are beside themselves with excitement, but it only makes me feel worse when I look out at their artificial faces or catch sight of the cameras broadcasting this across Panem. I wonder what Mabel and Mr. Fairbain think of all of this, who they're hoping my partner is. They're going to find out soon enough.
"District Eleven's Keld and District Five's Elysia!" Caesar calls out as their brief interview comes to an end and they walk back to stand in the line of pairings. "I don't know about you folks, but I'm getting more and more excited with every reveal. This next arena is going to be so thrilling. I just know it. Now let's get on to the next pair, shall we?"
I follow the familiar jumble of lines and color, the contents of my stomach steadily making their way higher and higher up my throat. Everything stops for a moment, and I freeze in my seat when the screen stops moving. My stomach plummets.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Ahhhh, a cliffhanger. Sorry. Also, sorry this was late, but I've started school again and we all know how that is... I'm going to keep trying to post on Fridays, but bare with me if they're a day or so late.
LetriceDeChoc: I agree, the books were definitely more effective in showing the arena, mainly because they could give an indepth look at her pysche and what it was like during all the lulls. Does Zeppina like Briar? lol It's a bit more like begrudging respect, though even that might be pushing it.
SylviaHunterOfArtemis: Hmmm, this hunch of yours...
Mely-the-Mockingjay: Eh, you don't really have to feel bad about Karn. He wasn't too great of a guy.
FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff: those are very good words for Karn, I'd say.
WhiteEevee: Sadist? Yes. Dead? Also yes. Funny how people seem to not hear the alarm bells, huh? Always falling down slopes, yes. But what can I say, Briar just rolls like that... that was bad.
Hope you liked it!