Chapter Eleven.
Chariot Rides.
Sadie Ariste; 18 years old.
District Two Female.
That was absolutely unbelievable.
Sadie tapped her fingers on her hip, trying to distract herself with something. Anything that would kept her from thinking about what was happening behind closed doors, with their mentors and Nikolai. Their attention, and most of their efforts, were all on Nikolai Faustus. Sadie had seen him around, a girl or two following him around, but she had never thought he would be something special. He wasn't even part of the Academy, and the end of the day, all of District Two's attention was on him.
Nikolai Faustus, the suprise volunteer. No one ever thought that a blacksmith's son would ever be so interesting, or even have the guts to volunteer for the Hunger Games. That was why Karter and Brutus hadn't left Nikolai's side since the two of the them walked into the train. Questions about this, questions about that. But Sadie could see behind the whole deal. Nikolai was just a little boy, trying to prove that he was worth something. Trying to prove that he was more than a blacksmith's son.
In a way, Sadie respected that. Those were the people like her, the ones that actually took the matter into their hands, and didn't sit around to wait for someone to do it for them. Like her whore of a mother, for exemple. All she had to do was to open her legs, and men would give her everything that she ever wanted. While Sadie, she had to work hard. Do whatever it took to get where, and she did, and never once did Sadie care about the consequences.
This was her life. This was what she choose to do it, and to hell with anyone that thought Sadie Ariste would just be another death in the Hunger Games. Gone, forgotten forever. Yeah, right. Not if she had any say in the matter. So, in a way, she could respect Nikolai, if he was really here to prove something. But she couldn't. Not here, not now, where trusting anyone was as good as jumping out of her pedestal before the Games even began.
It would get her killed. Trust would get her killed, and Sadie refused to die like that, stabbed in the back by someone she needed to call an ally. Not like that. She would die, yes, but sixty or seventy years from then, back home, in Victor's village.
Around her, tributes kept to themselves, and either talked quietly to their district partners or mentors. She had been watching the Ones, surronded by the famous De'Montfort siblings, and a bunch of stylists and their escort.
They were always born on the right side of the world. The idiots from District One, so arrogant that it made Sadie's blood boil, always got what they wanted. Hell, they shouldn't even be considered a proper Career District and still, they had more Victors than District Two ever did. Not to mention that they always got the best chariot costumes. Aidan and Alexa, Sadie had learned her fellow Career's names back in the train, were covered in gold robes and with so much glitter that Sadie's eyes were starting to hurt just by looking at them.
Unlike Sadie's district, who had gotten an idiot for a stylist, and ended up dressing both of them as rocks. Rocks, she had said, to represent how the two of you are the best that District Two has to offer. When Sadie had told her that she would rather go naked than to go dressed as a fucking rock, the woman had the guts to talk back to her.
We can't have you go naked out there, representing District Two while all the others have wonderful costumes. Sadie was almost completely sure that if she went naked, rather than dressing as a rock, the men in the Capitol would be lining up to sponsor her. Who knew, maybe even the women in the Capitol had some weird tastes, and would like to sponsor an eighteen year old girl from District Two.
A smirk found its way to Sadie's first, and she started to feel less annoyed. The thought made her feel much better, made her go back to her number one spot in there. All of the teenagers around her, even her fellow Careers, they meant nothing. Sadie was the best, and no one could stop her once they got into the Games. By then, she would prove them that they should have placed their bets on her, and not Nikolai. Sadie was the future Career leader. The future Victor.
"A pretty girl like you shouldn't be all alone." Sadie turned towards the direction of voice, looking directly at Jasko Quinn, who was leaning on her own chariot. Sadie looked him up and down, and couldn't help but want to vomit. Four always used the same idea. Whenever they got a tribute that resembled Finnick Odair in any way, they sent the boy to the parade almost naked, hoping for another Victor.
"You'll learn soon enough that I'm much more than a pretty face, Four." She turned away from him, looking back into the District One chariot, and realized that it was now empty, save for the mentors and escort, chatting next to it. Right. This was supposed to be the time where the Career aliance met each other, and managed to create some kind of agreement for the short time that they would be in the Games. And once again, her district partner wasn't in here.
But, if he wasn't in here, t-that could only mean one thing...
"This is Aidan and Alexa," He said, pointing in turn. "I'm Jasko Quinn and this is my district partner, Tiena." The smaller girl next to him gave Sadie a small nod, but she didn't seem too interested about any of this. Bored, exactly like Sadie.
"So, we're all good? The usual alliance?" The taller boy from One asked, glancing from Sadie to Jasko, when he noticed that Nikolai wasn't where he was supposed to be. "Your district partner, Sadie? Any idea if he's joining us?"
Do I look like I give a fuck? Because I surely do not.
"I don't know, and I don't really care," She replied, hoping that the chariots would start soon, when an idea came to mind. This didn't have to be completely boring... Sadie had to stop herself from smirking. "I don't know much about him, to be completely honest with all of you. He wasn't supposed to volunteer, and never really trained in the Academy, so none of us know what to expect from him."
Alexa raised an eyebrow. "So he didn't train? But still volunteered, from what I remember." Sadie nodded. Maybe, if that girl kept asking the right questions, Sadie could ruin her district partner's place in the alliance.
Yes, yes, she could see it now. With the right words and using a few tricks that she had learned back home, Sadie could get rid of Nikolai. He would just be another rat. Another one that she could take care of in the bloodbath and then, the crown for the District Two Victor would be hers, and hers alone.
"No, he didn't. None of us know what to expect from him, not even our mentors. Maybe we shouldn't let him in?" All of the others were glancing back at her, but only some of them looked completely assured that Nikolai shouldn't be in the alliance. She couldn't rest, not until he was out of the alliance. It was when step closer to home, one step closer to taking back her life.
"Maybe we shouldn't." Before she could reply, Jasko got in the middle, a small smirk on his face. "Ladies, ladies, let's not make any decision before we see what the boy can do, alright?"
"Who died and made you the leader?" Sadie asked, doing her best to remain calm. She hated assholes like him, who got everything they wanted, just because they had the luck of being born with a pretty face. Sadie did to, but she didn't relay on her looks to get everything done in her life. They were simply a weapon, something that she could use when everything else failed.
Some people were not so easy to manipulate. Some required other tricks, things that Sadie wouldn't tell anyone else if she hoped to keep her reputation. "I'm not the leader, Sadie. That will be decided tomorrow, when we're all together in training and we have seen what each of us can do. Right now, I'm just someone making the fair decision."
His eyes met hers and right there, Sadie knew that the alliance wouldn't last very long in the Games. She wouldn't be able to stand Jasko for a long time, and there would come a time, where her rapier would find its way to his throat and the Career alliance would be over. But not now. later, much later. "Right now, we focus on the chariot ride. We're better than them, so remember to show it." Jasko turned to leave, Tiena at his side but at the least moment, he turned back to Sadie.
"Oh and.. nice outfit, Sadie. It suits your personality."
"I'm pretty sure you'll like it even more after I break your face." Jasko threw his head back, and started to laugh. Sadie turned back into her chariot, ignoring all of the others. This was her time, and no one else's.
Tyson Moretta; 18 years old.
District Twelve Male.
In a place like the Capitol, Tyson never thought that he would actually be suprised.
He would come prepared to face it all; from the tributes, to training, to the arena. Like always, it was not like Tyson had any say in the matter. His family depended on him, and if he wanted to see them again, he had to face the other tributes. He had to face the fact that everyone else around him would die but him, and that was the best option. That's what Tyson wanted to believe in, since he arrived in the Capitol.
That was what his family and friends needed him to believe in, if he was ever making it back home. Tyson knew that they didn't really need him, the people of District Twelve just needed someone to look up, and Tyson happened to be the one that they decided to choose as their leader. They never asked him what he wanted, or if he was alright with it.
A teenage boy from the Seam, who did his best to help their family in everything he could, was supposed to lead the people of District Twelve. He was supposed to be there for him, and in the end, they looked up to him. Whatever he did, they followed. That's why he considered his reaction in the reaping, and then in the goodbyes. He wanted to cry, he wanted to kick someone and curse his life for being so unfair, but he didn't. Because his family and friends were looking up to him, and if he fell apart, so would they.
Tyson was no leader, but he couldn't do that one thing. He could do his very best to make it back home, but it was all because of them. They were his motivation, his strenght and while he was alive, he wouldn't allow his family to fall apart. They would remain together, just like the real family they were. And if Tyson had to kill everyone in there, then so be it.
Family was family, and even if they didn't understand each other sometimes, blood was thicker than water. Family was worth fighting for, no matter what he had to sacrifice. His father's handshake, his mother's trust on him, his brother's smile, it was all that would keep him going, when things got bad. When he started to doubt himself, he had to think of them. This wasn't District Twelve anymore, where he couldn't hide his insecurities behind a mask and hope people would leave him alone.
This was the Capitol, and if he was going to let his insecurities get to him, then he was good as dead. And most of all, his family was good as gone too. They needed him, like his brother had reminded him in the goodbyes, or they would have no one else to look up too. They would fall apart, each to their own way, and the Moretta family would be no more.
Tyson couldn't let that happen.
Maybe, just maybe, the Games could make him someone better than who he currently was. They could make him the leader that he was supposed to be and then, he could return home with his head held high. He would finally be the boy, no not the boy, he would finally be the man that they needed him to be. He would no longer by Tyson Moretta, the teenager from the Seam. He would be Tyson Moretta, the Victor.
But first, he needed to get throught the Games. One step at a time, Tyson reminded himself. Right now, he needed to get throught the Chariot Rides and give the Capitol a reason to love him; to cheer for him, and root for him. He needed that this week that they spent in the Capitol wouldn't matter much. Fine, they could pick up some skills that would help them survive, but it wouldn't truly matter in the end.
The Careers would always have the advantage, no matter how the rest of them tried. But in the end, when they were all killing each other in whatever hell the Gamemakers had planned for them, the Capitol would cheer for those that got a kill. For those that enjoyed it, or at least, for those that pretended to enjoy it.
He would do it. Not all for himself, because his life wasn't worth that much. He was just a boy from the Seam, doing his best to stay alive in the world of Panem. But why did he deserve to live more than the others did? He didn't. All twenty-four of them deserved to live, because they were still teenagers, and didn't ask to be here. Even the Careers, who trained and actually enjoyed it, didn't deserved to die.
Tyson didn't hate the Careers, he couldn't, because it was not their fault, in the end. He envied them, because if he was trained like they were, it would made it so much easier. But I'm not. And if I want to win, I need to play as dirty as they will.
"Tributes, report back to your chariots. The tribute parade is about to begin."
For the first time since the reaping, his district partner turned to him. "D-do you think they'll like us?" Amaryllis Carmelia, the 16 year old merchant girl, was a suprise to Tyson since her name had been called. Amaryllis was considered District Twelve "royalty", if such thing existed. The girl had a lot of friends, and basically, helped everyone she could in the district. Gave them money, food, clothes, everything that Tyson could name. She was basically a saint, if there was someone that didn't desserve being in here, it was her.
But at the reaping, she broke. She kicked and she punched and in that moment, she broke. Tyson guessed that after so many years of pretending, all the strings inside of her broke. And now, she was only working on the will to live. Still, there was something in her eyes, a hint of sadness, that made Tyson think again. No, he didn't want anyone else depending on him.
In here, he had a chance to be someone else. People didn't knew him, and they didn't look up to him as a leader. He had a chance of being all he ever wanted to be, and that was just being Tyson, the boy from District Twelve. But that girl was from home, and because of that, she was already a friend. What kind of person would he be if he promised to fight for his people, and let that girl die alone?
He couldn't. He wouldn't. "Of course they will. I mean, how could they not like Amaryllis Carmelia?" She almost gasped, and tyson had to grab her by the wrist to keep her from falling from the chariot.
"You know me?" She asked. People from the Seam and the Merchant side rarely got together, and when they did, it only created confusion. Some fell in love, and left the Merchants to marry someone from the Seam. Some destroyed each other. Either way, both sides didn't work together, unless it was a special time. Like the Hunger Games, for exemple.
Tyson laughed. "Of course I do. How could I not remember a girl as beautiful as you, and one that also happens to be the Amaryllis Carmelia?" It was like a new Amaryllis replaced the old one, for a second. She put on a bright smile, and Tyson could see why she was considered to be so beautiful. The coal that their stylists had dripped over them gave her a new look. Made her even more beautiful, Tyson noticed.
"Now, put on a smile. Let's show them that District Twelve should never be overlooked." And suddenly, District One moved foward and it was starting, with all of the others quickly following. Amaryllis almost tripped on her dress and fell down, but Tyson grabbed her.
"Careful. This things are tricky. " He laughed and soon, she followed. There, it was happening again. He had laughed and Amaryllis quickly did the same, following his lead. It was already too late, Tyson realized. This girl already depended on him and no matter what, she always would.
"I'll catch you if you catch me, though." She replied, but Tyson knew it was so much more than a joke. It was a proposal for an alliance, for sticking together until the end. Or at least, until they could.
"Consider that a promise, princess," Tyson pointed to the balcony to their left, where their mentor said that he would be. "Let's show Haymitch that we can be much better than he expects us to be." Tyson started waving around, blowing kisses right and left, doing anything that he could to make them like him. Amaryllis did the same thing, and minutes later, she flashed him a smile. A thank you smile. Thank you for reminding me of who I truly am.
Maybe, they could help each other, and she could help Tyson figure out who he truly was.
Preston Hewitt; 17 years old.
District Six Male.
"I would do her," Preston said, pointing at the girl from District Four as she passed by. "And him." He continued, pointing at the boy. "In fact, Ithink I would do all of the Careers. They're so hot, I mean, look at their bodies. If only my stupid stylist would have allowed us to go naked out here..." He winked at Ryella, from where he was standing. They were leaning casually against their chariot, waiting for their mentors to arrive, so they could all go back to the District Six floor.
"I'm sure you are not very bad to look at either, Ryella." The girl sighed, but Preston knew that she was more than done with me. He didn't care a single bit, though. This was Preston being Preston, and he would change for no one. This was him, and to hell with anyone that didn't like it. He couldn't change, not in here. If he lost his old-self, if he lost the real Preston Hewitt, then everything else would be lost.
He would be lost. And in a place like The Hunger Games, Preston couldn't let that happen. "Thank you, Preston." Ryella replied. "I'm sure you're not that bad, either." He winked, and leaned in closer to her. "Well, if you want to prove that theory right, I'm all yours after midnight."
She leaned away from him and stood on her toes for a second, looking behind Preston. Probably to see if their mentors would come, and they would finally be able to leave. Well, Ryella would finally be able to leave. Preston didn't have this much fun in years, and if it were up to him, he would stay here forever. He had no interested in training, or the Games, for that matter. This was suposed to be the fun part, his stylist had said, while she fixed his hair.
This was the part where the Capitol was supposed to decide who they liked; who was dangerous, and who they should cheer for. Preston knew that he had made a good first impression, the cheers and roses he had received had told him that, but it was always good to be better. To try to be better than the others, even the Careers.
They had everything, while the people in the Districts had to fight for everything. Preston had heard whispers of rebellion, here and there, but he knew that nothing could truly ever work out. They needed a leader, someone to tell them what was right and wrong, and what they needed to do to take the Capitol down. Preston would join the rebellion, if it ever came down to it. If there was anything that he hatd, it was the Capitol.
They use deaths of innocent children as a sport, and that, Preston would never forgive. He would love nothing more than watching them all die, one by one.
Not to mention that this was a chance for him, a chance to make a better life. Preston had always thought that his life would remain just like it already was, without much of a change. Work, and make sure his siblings got everything they needed to have a long and happy life. Maybe get married, if any woman had enough patience for him, that was.
But now, the Games gave him another chance. If he won, his siblings would never have to worry about anything in their whole life. They would be able to grow up happy, safe, and in their new home in Victor's Village. Preston had realized a few years ago that it was probably the only place in the whole district that wasn't filled with drugs, and people dying every single second. The Victor's Village was like the District's santuary from all of the problems that attacked Panem and if he had a chance to live there, then he surely wouldn't waste it.
"So Ryella," Preston started. "Did anyone catch your eye yet?" He didn't need allies. Well, maybe it would be nice to have someone to watch his back when the time came, but he didn't really need them. He didn't really need to rely on others for success, since he could easily operate on his own if necessary, and was definitely resourceful enough to do that. All of his life, he had be alone. He had gone throught everything that the life on District Six had throwed at him, and had survived.
It made him stronger, and it made him tougher. That's why he didn't need anyone to protect him, because Preston learned to do that himself, since he was eleven years old. He wasn't particular interested in allying with Ryella, but maybe, it would be a good option. He was just interested in knowing if anyone had caught her eye, form an opinion on them, and then go from there.
"Certantly not you." She said.
"Can you be more fucking rude? Here I was, trying to be nice, but apparently it's impossible with you." Ryella had fire, Preston would give that to her. She looked like someone that would be willing to do what needed to be done, but in the end, both of them were. Both of them had a family to come back to, plans, a future that could have been bright if their name had not been called at the reaping. They had a lot in common, but in the end, they were also very different.
"Can you learn to keep your mouth shut, Preston? You are quite annoying." Preston knew she was right, but he couldn't care less. This was who he was, and it wasn't his dear district partner that would finally change him. Preston knew that the Games would change him, there was no escaping from there. He could only fight as he went, and hope to keep a bit of himself. Keep a bit of his soul, or humanity, or whatever that shit was.
He never believed that. If there some God left in the world, there would be no Hunger Games, because teenagers didn't deserve to pay for what people did almost hundred years ago. He had seen so much misery and pain and heartbreak back home, that it honestly didn't matter to him anymore. He was numb to all of it, and that was why he acted the way he did.
It made him feel better, and it made him feel less guilty that he didn't help anyone that got in his way. But he couldn't do it, not there, not in Panem. He had his family to look after, and he also had to look after himself. It was a mask, and after so long, Preston wasn't sure if it wasn't already part of him. "Thank you, Ryella. You have so much charm, too. It blinds my eyes."
Ryella looked like she was about to punch him right in the face, but Preston had always loved that. When they got angry, that was the best part. He would just keep pushing, and pushing, until they would finally break. Ryella, though, she wouldn't be easy to break. Preston liked that. He respected that, more than anything in the world. Suddenly, Ryella turned to him. "You know what, Preston? Let's make a deal."
Preston laughed. "Oh, deals! Yes, let's do that! I love deals. Does it involve any of us taking our clothes off?" Ryella ignored him completely.
"You stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you. Just like that? No more trouble." He ended up agreeing. For now, anyway. His district partner would need him, and then, he would be the one to turn his back on her.
"Will do. Remember that when you need my help in the arena." He winked, and left, meeting his mentor along the way. So far, he had so much fun and it was only starting. For the first time since his name was called, Preston was willing to play the Games. It didn't mean that he would play by the rules, though.
A/N: This was quite fast, but yeah, let me know what you thought! Next up, training!