Chapter Thirteen - "Cautious Celebration"
I'm in the expansive shower-tub bathroom, opting to utilize the tub rather than the standing shower because Fletcher, Amir and Wyatt threw a hissy fit when they saw me the way I was - all drenched in blood. Even though I've soaked once already, there's still a pinkish tint to the water. Lazily, I raise my hands up in front of me, lathering them once I realize there's blood caked under my fingernails. The attack that December day is still fresh in mind, but so is my stabbing of that woman with the daggers, or that man's head exploding with blood as my spear skewers him alongside their screams for mercy and vengeance alike.
"How'd ya feel, Paulus? Killin' your first?" I say aloud, craning my head to the left.
Sitting on the toilet lid, Paulus snorts, offering a crooked smirk as he fumbles with his tunic pocket. He takes out a cigarette, lights it up and takes a drag all smooth-like.
"It was great. Fucker tried to jump me, though." He rolls his eyes. "Put up quite the fight but that's what I enjoyed - the fight. May the best man win - literally. Pop was right. If you tap into your aggression, utilize that confidence...you can never lose."
The cigarette still in his mouth, he sneers at me as if he already knows the answer. "How d'you feel?"
I recline back against the tub's built in headrest. The screams and pleas of those rebels are clear and present, like being next to holovision set. Soon, it'll be the other tributes' blood on my hands and their pleas for mercy.
"It felt good, yea..." I answer, wobbling my head. "But..."
Paulus takes another drag. "But what?"
"Wasn't good enough," I mutter. "It needs to be them."
"And it will be them, soon." Paulus replies with a surly nod and grin. "You're gonna kill it out there, Zen. Just a few more days and then revenge'll be yours."
I imagine lobbing a spear into Matixs' head, watching it explode as he drops to the ground like a crumpled doll.
"Yea...not long now," I drawl.
There's a gentle, but audible, rapping on the door.
"Zenobia?! Are you okay in there?" says a muffled Fletcher. "It's been a bit since we left you!"
"I hope you didn't soak your hair for too long!" chimes Amir. "It'll take forever to put back together again!"
Back to reality. I roll my neck, massaging my temples as I spring into action - unplugging the drain.
"I'm comin'!" I say, making my way toward the weird stand-in dryer.
Not long now.
"Thank you Marceline, for that wonderful preshow." Caesar purrs. "And now, we'll begin with the tribute scores. From what I heard from those lucky enough to spectate the event, these tributes are so good that they would utterly annihilate every single tribute that came before them - even the victors, they say!...Let's see if that's indeed the case-"
Nestled at my feet, Mars and Juniper rise onto their feet and scamper toward the elevator as it hisses open. Peeling my eyes from the holovision, I watch as their master saunters in, crouching down and engaging them in baby talk before they race back here to the living room. I can't help but frown. I expected Viondra to be the first one to greet me after my session but instead it was the Trio that kept me company for the past few hours.
"Where have you been-?" I inquire.
"You were just about to miss Zen's triumph-!" tuts Fletcher.
"The scores are about to be announced girl!" Wyatt adds.
Viondra places her trademark holder into her mouth and fastens in a cigarette. "I had an urgent matter to attend to."
"More 'urgent' than this historic moment?!" Amir exclaims, rapidly tapping the empty space beside him. Viondra grins, to herself more than anyone else as she sits down.
"Both are equally important, I would say." She turns to me, a pleased expression on her face. "Welcome to stardom, Rivendell. You'll be a household name, like President Snow himself."
Somewhat flustered, I can't help but grin back. Things have changed since I barged my way onto the stage. I have a steady alliance, I'm no longer solely committed to a solo run through the arena, but I still retain the belief that my getting out of that place isn't boilerplate. But with the way things are going, I might eke out a win.
"The scores haven't even been revealed yet..." I say, shaking my head while scoffing. "I haven't even said a word to Caesar-"
Viondra shushes me, pointing her ivory cigarette holder toward the holovision where District 1's seal flashes across the screen. As the Trio squeal with glee, Fletcher squeezes my hand, causing me to gasp. He's about to relax his grip but I entertain him, allowing him to be happy for me as he maintains his hold on my hand. I too wonder about who got what. What does slaying captive rebel soldiers garner in the eyes of Antonius Rose and his Gamemakers?
Spinel's smug grin is accompanied by a ten. I'm still baffled as to what her story is. Viondra has done extensive detective work. She didn't attend Edenthew Academy, so what could she be skilled in? Smashing heads in with a spiked bat seems to be her thing, as is general fitness from what I recall. She's too much of a wildcard to figure out properly and something tells me I'll regret it if I dig too deeply (like fighting her in the arena). For all I know, she could be the next Johanna Mason.
"Don't trust her as far as you can throw her." Viondra says. With a snort, I nod. Don't have to say that again.
Syndra scores a six. That's above average. Not bad for a Capitol girl whose spent the majority of her life watching the Games from the comfort of her home. Viondra and I exchange glances, only for the older girl to shrug dismissively. As long as she survives the bloodbath and somehow lives long enough to regroup with me, I can work with it. Syndra's not the only One with an average score. It's odd seeing District 1 score anything sub nine but on the other hand, where District 1 is lacking this year, the other districts make up by having active combatants who will surely score high.
I get a hot flash that pools in my chest when District 2's seal flashes on screen. Fletcher squeezes my hand so tightly it goes reddish-pink.
Eunice and Jeremiah score a four and six respectively. No surprises there. Getting rid of them will be quick work if no one else gets to them first.
Lucas gets a five, as well as Slate. Same thing there. If the Gamemakers are aware of my story, surely they would place them close to me. I sure hope so.
Eldwyn's scowl is accompanied by a nine. I can't help but think "Squandered potential" and by "Squandered potential" I mean the potential he could've had working with me, not outright winning.
"Stupid girl..." Viondra mutters as Tatiana's even deeper scowl accompanies a one. "If the forcefield wasn't active, she would've garnered herself a nine or even a ten...not like it would've mattered anyhow. She'd be dead."
I quirk a brow at her, whipping my head back at the screen as Lilith scores a zero. I imagine she tried to play the 'upstanding Rebel' card, espousing how 'wrong they are' for doing this. I know she's worth more than a zero, and I look forward to testing her worth once the gong goes off.
Somehow, Fletcher's grip on my hand intensifies as Caesar fumbles with his datapad, raising both his brows as a wicked grin spreads across his glistening face.
"Oh me, oh my..." Caesar purrs, glancing straight at the cameras - toward me, really. "You're really making a name for yourself, aren't you Ms. Spitfire? Zenobia Rivendell with an astonishing score of...twelve."
The Trio's squeals and cheers of joy render me deaf. Wyatt and Amir pull me this way and that. Amir jumps for joy I think he might put a hole through the ground. Mars and Juniper seem happy to just be in the room, barking and wooping along with them. Viondra's lips curl into a grin, exposing her teeth while she takes drag of her cigarette - offering me a wink while doing so.
My mind goes back to Overwhill. Are the guys and the rest of Beta Company holed up in the auditorium, going absolutely mutt at my score? I bet they are. Again, I mentally offer another apology to Forge. I mean, he must know that all semblance of 'blending in' is now out the window.
The tension in my chest slowly begins to dissipate. On one hand I'm baffled, the reactions of the Trio amplifying that feeling of shock. On the other hand, I'm not too surprised at this outcome. What else could they give me? What else can you do to earn a twelve? An eleven for what I did would be an insult.
The Trio and Viondra chat amicably about the text messages they're getting. Their communicuffs chirp out notifications every single second. I pay partial attention to the scores as they continue to roll along. The unease steadily comes back as a pile of sevens and eights flash across the screen. Rief scores a ten and I imagine him all engaged, shoving tributes aside just to get at me as soon as the gong goes off. Daphne scores the same six as Syndra. Not bad for a portly girl like her. Cicero pulls a seven and Maximus pulls an eight.
"You have a solid group." Viondra comments, texting away on her communicuff.
"I guess." I reply, massaging Juniper's head. There are scantly any tributes under the age of seventeen. Even then they too are scoring decently - meaning my twelve can be snuffed out as soon as the gong rings.
Speaking of being 'snuffed out' its District 12's turn. As expected they all score high - tens all around.
Matix gets second place to my twelve, with an eleven flashing next to his impassive pale face. Instinctively, I recline back on the sofa. Again, it's to be expected. On the other hand, he's a threat.
"We'll go over it tomorrow." Viondra says, showing no true sense of unease as she continues to ride the wave of my high score.
The exceptional tribute in comparison to his rebellious partners, Clancy, earns a ten as well. His stats peg him as the biggest tribute in this roster. The little girl - his sister by the name of Emery, appears on the screen with her resting expression.
"And to wrap it all up, we have little Emery Smithson with an impressive nine." Caesar comments with a proud nod of approval. "Perhaps little Emery isn't so innocent after all. I look forward to getting the insights of her and all the other tributes - what a doozy that'll be - in two days time!"
With that, the screen divides into multiple panels where Caesar begins to break down the scores with Marceline and other Hunger Games 'Junkies'. The Trio gives me a round of applause and suggests some dessert to celebrate. I let it sink in. A twelve in training...even in death, I'd be spoken about for years to come. Hopefully I can omit the "even in death" portion. While the Trio coalesces around a dinner menu, I turn to Viondra, watching as she extinguishes her cigarette.
"So now what, now that everyone in the Capitol adores me?" I ask. Judging by the constant notifications going off, and holovision showcasing Capitolites sporting signs showing their support of me, they don't see me as a criminal anymore.
She rises from off of the sofa, sauntering over to me. Placing her chin on top of my head, she latches onto my shoulders with her manicured hands.
"Now, we mold you into the beacon we need you to be."
I recline back into the armchair, watching on as the betting boards fluctuate before my eyes. Naturally, I lead the tables, but despite their rebellious pasts other tributes are also receiving decent odds. It feels good, being on top, making history...but it isn't over until it's over.
Coming Up Next...
"Something." Viondra corrects.
My eyes narrow as I raise my hands confusingly and shrug. "S'what I said...somethin'."
"That's what I said." She corrects again, her accent somehow becoming harsher. "That's what I said, something."
Confused, I shake my head. "Not sure I follow."
She reclines back in her chair, sipping her cup of fruit juice all while studying me with those icy eyes.
"You have the fighting skill, but the verbal skill - well..." she wobbles her head back and forth, a "meh" escaping her lips.