And now for the return of the painful memories…
"That was mysterious?" Gorath teases, raising an eyebrow.
"Hey! I'm a Gladiator, not an Actress!" I sniff haughtily.
"I'm aware of that; just make sure the sponsors are too." Gorath says all traces of frivolity gone from his voice.
"I have sponsors?" I ask hopefully.
"You got a few when I gave my personal endorsement; a flood when your score appeared two nights ago, and I'll be expecting another sleepless night of accepting sponsors tonight after your performance." He confirms, giving me a rare smile. The smile makes his face seem warmer somehow, but it doesn't last long.
I smile back, a genuine one this time, and in a rare moment of affection, I feel an overwhelming urge to give Gorath a hug. Like Angus, I'm not sure whether to follow through with it or not; unlike Angus, Gorath doesn't make the decision for me. Instead I just waver on my feet for a moment as my body tries to decide what to do, before sticking out my hand. Gorath takes my dainty hand into his giant one, giving it a gentle shake. It feels awkward. I want to hug him, but I know that even the handshake is borderline too-friendly for him.
"Alright, enough mushy stuff." Gorath says, backing away, "A princess needs her beauty sleep. Order as much food as you can eat, then get some sleep, you're going to need the energy tomorrow."
"Sir! Yes! Sir!" I say, straightening up and giving him a mocking salute. He just rolls his eyes and walks off. I consider it progress that he didn't growl. I know I would have if some little pipsqueak had back-talked me like that.
I do as Gorath ordered. I order as much food as I think I can choke down. It's all hot, and not too unhealthy; stuff that will give me energy. I do order something called a turtle cheese cake and some fried chicken and potatoes, but that's it for the junk food. I only finish about half of everything plus a large slice of the cheesecake before I start to feel bloated.
I strip down, planning to try to sleep even though I'm far too awake for that. I'm detangling myself from the mink dress when I realize that I need to wash off all the makeup. At first, I just plan to scrub it off over the sink, but once I enter the bathroom I decide to take a full shower. Might as well. It's not like I'm going to have time, or heck, even enough water to bathe in the arena. I remind myself. I make the shower as scalding as possible and go through countless shampoos and bodywashes. My time in the capitol has made me cleaner than I've ever been in my entire life, but I'm mostly just killing time. That's not the only thing you'll be killing in a few days. I can't help but think.
Suddenly the water is too hot, the steam is suffocating, and the shampoo piled on my head weighs a hundred pounds. I wash out the shampoo, frantically trying to claw my way out of the shower. The dryers are too loud and instead of being embraced by air, I feel that the Capitol has violated me. That I have nothing left to hide; nothing that's truly mine.
I don't bother to wrap myself in a towel (who's going to see me anyway?)before running into my bedroom. Like the emotional train wreck I've become, I fling myself on the bed and curl into the fetal position, waiting for the tears to come. They don't. I must have waited for over an hour, but no tears, just a yawning hole in the pit of my stomach. Fear? Sorrow? Anger? I try to guess the name of the black emotion that's filling the hole, but I can't.
"You? Afraid?" Someone asks. I look up, terrified that someone saw me curled up on my bed naked.
"Naked is a matter of opinion. Skin is just what we see. It's what's inside the skin that matters." The voice says. I still can't see anyone, though I think I recognize the voice. I look around frantically, trying to pinpoint the voice. It seems to be coming out of thin air. I've never believed in ghosts, but then, I never believed I'd be thrown into the Hunger Games.
"I didn't think I'd have to go either. I thought the worst that could happen was dad dying." The voice says. It's Jonathon. The moment I realize this, I notice a deep shadow in the corner near the closet. The shadow seems to move, condense into a familiar shape. A shape I've only dreamed of seeing for the past two years. He steps into the light filtered in through the window. He might as well have stepped into a golden spotlight, the way his entire body becomes visible.
"Jonathon-!" I choke, tears springing to my eyes.
"Don't cry Di." Jonathon murmurs softly. He walks over to the bed and crouches down so that his face is level with mine.
"I can't help it!" I cry. He cups my jaw in his hands and wipes the tears away with his thumbs. It's a small gesture, but it gives me the strength to stop crying, to have the dignity I once used as a mask.
"Don't worry. I cried all the time." He murmurs, pulling my head to his chest and wrapping his muscular arms around my small shoulders. My rock is back. "I never really left." Jonathon responds.
"I-I t-tried to m-m-move on b-but…" I stammer.
"Shhhh." He shushes, starting to rock me gently. "I know. I would have been offended if you had forgotten me."
"Why are you here?" I ask. It comes out as a croak due to the lump in my throat so I gulp and ask, "I mean, why now? After all this time?"
"Why can't the Capitol have a rule that no more than one person per family can be reaped?" Jonathon counters, "Sometimes things just happen. Life's unexpected that way." It's the same thing he said when I asked why dad had to die. I can almost smell the manure from the field behind the house where we had talked.
"You said I had to stay strong for you and Ian, but you're dead, and Ian, well, I can't help him now, can I?" I cry, tears leaking out onto his tee shirt.
"You can return and help him!" Jonathon says, echoing Justin's parting words.
"But how!?" I whine, pulling back to look him in the eyes.
"You are the strongest girl I know. You can survive! You must survive! For Ian – and for me." Jonathon says. "Honor my memory. Do what I could not. Win! Return home a Victor, and more importantly, a sister!"
The words have an odd effect on me. The dark emotions that were sloshing around in that pit in my stomach are shrinking; no – not shrinking – consolidating, into a small, hard stone. Resolve, cold, unyielding, resolve. I WILL win! I promise myself, No matter what it takes! And for the first time, I actually believe it.
"Yes you will. Now get some sleep." Jonathon says. I crawl under the covers and he kisses me gently on the forehead, just like he used to when I was younger. The kiss must be magic, because all my emotions slip away and I just have time for one final thought before I fall asleep.
He's happy where he is, so long as his family is safe.
I sit up in alarm. At first I'm disoriented and unsure of what woke me. Then I hear it again, a sharp rap on the door. I find that the comforter, while rumpled, isn't covering me in the slightest. I quickly hop out of bed and run across the room to my closet. I desperately pull on some jeans and a tee shirt at random as the doorknob turns and starts to swing inward. I just manage to snap the jeans shut when a familiar flame-haired pancake face strut in on platform shoes.
"Fahran!" I can't help but sigh.
"Who did you think it was?" He asked testily
"Gorath, wishing me luck, or, god forbid, Verdandi." I admit.
"Well I see you got dressed in a blind panic; and I do mean blind." He says, sniffing at my simple choice in clothing.
"Does it matter? I'm going to have to change anyway!" I growl. Obviously Fahran is not a morning person, but his attitude is starting to piss me off.
"Hovercraft leaves in ten minutes. Eat and meet me by the elevator." Fahran snaps, turning heel and walking out stiffly.
I don't dignify his words with a comment, though I have to stop myself from throwing something at him. Good thing too, since the closest thing in reach is the left over cheesecake. Instead, I walk over to the remainder of my feast and have cold leftovers. I wolf down as many grains and carbohydrates as I can, praying for animals and greens in the arena.
I'm noshing on what's left of a wheel of cheese and a plate of buns when I meet Fahran by the elevator. He just gives me an impatient look and strides inside without a word. I polish off three of the four buns by the time we hit the roof. It's actually really pretty up here. I can smell flowers nearby and there's a tinkling sound that reminds me of bells, but it's the fresh breeze that reminds me of the open pastures of District 10.
True to its name, a hovercraft is hovering in the air just above the roof; beneath which, hangs a ladder. Ahead of me, Belinda and Gorath are waiting. I expected Belinda to hug me and say "I'll be watching out for you!" What I didn't expect was Gorath to hug me. He wrapped his arms around me in a gentle. The tightness in his muscles betrays the fact that this hug is forced.
"Weapons prices are through the roof, I can't waste our sponsorship money on one. Food price is down so that won't be a problem. No changes in medicine price either; still, get what supplies you can." He whispers softly. So softly that only I would be able to hear him.
Gorath pulls back and holds me at arm's length, his eyes showing nothing more than mild concern. "You got that princess?" He asks solemnly.
"I'll do my best, but there're twenty three other kids as well." I say, forcing a lump to appear in my throat. He gives me a half smile. Anyone who overheard us would just think he'd told me to try to win, not give me vital gift information.
I wave goodbye to Gorath and Belinda before grabbing the handles on the ladder. The second my hand touches the rung, an electric current freezes me in place. I'm slowly pulled up into the hovercraft like a fish on a hook. The simile is more apt than I thought because a lady comes over and sticks me with a needle to inject one of those fancy trackers that ranchers at home use on livestock. How appropriate. I think sourly as I'm finally freed of the ladder.
I sit next to Fahran the entire way; both of us ignore each other so I spend the time pondering what Gorath told me. Maybe he was trying to warn me not only would I be responsible for my own weapon, there may not be many weapons available. I'm almost certain that's what he was trying to suggest; the real question is – what does that mean for the bloodbath? Medical supplies is normal. With my amount of sponsors, that translates to "Not a problem." Food is cheaper… hmm…maybe there won't be much food in the arena? It makes sense of course; the Game makers don't want us to starve. I mean, where's the fun in that?
By the time I've analyzed, reanalyzed, and settled on the meaning of Gorath's parting words, the windows have blackened. I glance up in surprise as I realize that my muscles are sore. I check the time and find that hours have passed since I woke up. It must be about ten by now. I think, just as the hovercraft starts to descend. By the time we land, I come to the conclusion that I must have fallen asleep at some point. Oh well, at least I'll be well rested. I stand up and try to stretch and rub some of the stiffness out of my muscles.
I follow Fahran down into the launch area down a long corridor until we reach the door marked District 10 F. "Couldn't even bother with my name." I mutter. Fahran gives me a dirty look. "Look, just because I'm here doesn't mean I have to like it!" I snap. Whatever princess act I may have had is gone as I steel my nerves for the arena. This is gonna be one hell of a fight. I think grimly.
Some guy brings us my outfit. When I ask him for a glass of water, he brings that too. I slip into my outfit, shunning any help Fahran might have been willing to give me. I gulp down the water, then ask Fahran to have someone bring me another. I don't know if it's fear or the fact that I haven't drank anything since my impromptu breakfast hours ago, but my throat and mouth are parched. No use going into the arena already dehydrated.
The pants are a dark grayish-brown, a hideous color if I ever saw one, and made of a tough material similar to denim. The long-sleeved shirt is of similar color. The boots are black leather, and there's a matching black jacket made of some strange material. Over all, an ugly outfit that just might keep me alive.
As I gulp down my second glass, I hear Fahran clear his throat. I glance at him is surprise. "Yes?" I ask, genuinely confused.
"The pant's are thick and the boots are tough, expect rugged terrain. Also, the jacket reflects heat." He says, not looking at me. "I think you might have a shot." He finally adds grudgingly. I know it's the closest I will get to a 'good luck' from him.
"I almost forgot," He said, pulling something out of his pocket. It's a familiar piece of battered black leather; a match to a previous tribute's. Jonathon's other wrist brace. I buckle it around my right forearm, just like he did. I picture him as he was last night and imagine the tightness of the wrist brace as a comforting hug.
It may have been my imagination, but as I buckle it on, I think I hear Jonathon whisper, "I will protect you; always." An echo of the promise he gave when dad died. I'll hold you to that.
Just then, a voice comes over an intercom, warning us to prepare for launch. As the tube walls close down around me on my little metal circle, I can't help but relate this to the Bullpen in Hersh's arena. Only this arena is much bigger, much more dangerous, there are many more fighters participating, and the spectators are all over the country yet invisible to my eyes. Yes; this is definitely much, much worse.
As I'm lifted up into the darkness, I steel myself for the biggest fight of my life, and all I can think as I'm shoved into the light is – "Double tap."
Aaaaaaand… Fooled you! No Arena until next week! (Although I might consider updating early if I get 5 genuine reviews!) Yes, I know, the beginning takes forever! But it's so worth it! ;-p