Chapter 7

Maybe I should try something more tasteful; less violent.

I see that Rubis has taken up shop at a weapon-making station. He is hunched over a chunk of wood, whittling it into a dagger.

As I approach, he murmurs, "Now I just need an mannequin to test this on…"

He stares intently at me.

I pivot mid-step and arrive at a different station, where scrawny Anita Meat is fashioning a fishing hook from a piece of wire.

"Hey." She says, "Want to join me?"

I stand next to her and begin to make a hook out of a dried pond reed, following printed instructions.

"So how's your training going so far?" Anita inquires.

"It would be going ok, but everyone here seems to have it out for me. I guess they see me as too much of a threat."

"No… That's probably not it…" Anita tries to console me, "If it makes you feel any better, nobody wants to talk to me either."

"Well yeah; your best friend is a toad."

"That's not true. I left Lector in District Eleven. Now my best friend is that rat over there. She's called Burger."

She points at a matted grey rodent nibbling a clod of dust in the corner of the room.

"That ugly thing? It looks like the compacted gunk you empty from a vacuum cleaner."

Burger looks over to us with watery eyes. Then she scuttles off to who-knows-where.

"She heard you." Anita whispers, "And she also wonders how you would know what anything to do with cleaning looks like."

"How are you that much better at communicating with animals than humans?" I snap.

"I did try to make friends. You know that girl, Blue? I thought we could get on because she reminded me of an anime character with her mutant powers and everything-"

"Ew, you watch anime? Wait what was that about mutant powers?"

"She has insanely sensitive hearing. I heard she can sense what someone's going to do before they even move. She's pretty much super-human. She'd make a pretty good ally, wouldn't she?"

I'm incredulous.

Eventually I say, "Sure… but she's blind. Doesn't that make her pretty much useless?"

"I'm visually impaired too." Anita protests.

"My point still stands."

She huffily returns to her crafting.

I prod my completed fishing hook into a pincushion on the table and it folds like a limp piece of grass. Instead of experimenting with a different material, I gaze forlornly at Rubis in the adjacent station.

"You like him, don't you?"

"What? No!" I turn back to Anita, colour rushing to my cheeks.

"Don't worry, everyone can already tell; you don't need to hide it."

"That doesn't help."

"Ok look," says Anita, "Rubis is from my district. I know what he's like. If you want to team up with him, he probably won't say no."

"Are you saying I could ask him to be with me? Hypothetically. I mean, team up with me. Not be with… You know what I mean."

"I do." She sniggers, as though she thinks she knows better than I do.

"Are you sure he won't make me look like an idiot?" I ask.

"I think everyone has already formed their opinions on you. Seriously, go talk to him. He'll be happy you asked."

I decide to go for it.

"Thanks Anita, you've really helped."

"No problem. It's just payment for you insulting me and Burger."

That makes no sense to me, but I've known Anita has a screw loose from the start.

With high hopes and a higher heartrate, I skip over to Rubis.

He doesn't look up as I approach. I sit leisurely on the seat next to him, leaning forward with my chin resting on my hand.

I give him a winning smile and say, "What's up?"

"What are you doing?" He responds.

He raises his head to look at me and my heart nearly stops. I have to consciously stop myself from tumbling into the welcoming abyss of his ocean-grey eyes.

I'm so lost for words that all I can do is repeat his question back to him.

"What are you doing?"

"Er, I'm preparing for the Games. The thing we're supposed to be doing."

"Pahh" I wave him aside with a roll of my eyes, "People of our calibre don't need these silly practice exercises. What if there was something else we were supposed to do? Perhaps fate has something specific in mind for the two of us."

Rubis' gorgeous face melts into an expression of confusion.

"What?" he says.

"What if there's a deeper reason we ended up sitting here together, just the two of us…?"

"There is a reason." My heart leaps, "You came over here acting even weirder than normal, and I can't be bothered to move."

My shoulders sag. But I can't give up.

He's just testing how far I'm willing to go for him. That's right; he wants what I do, he's just too shy to say it.

I persist, "No, what if fate has put us in the same Hunger Games for a reason? We're from neighbouring districts, we're both handsome, athletic, straight males – we have so much in common."

"I'm not straight."

I nearly fall off my seat.

How could such a paragon of male superiority be… queer?

"Are you sure?" I ask, "After all, it's totally normal for straight guys to have feelings towards other guys once in a while, or on a regular basis actually. It doesn't make us automatically gay."

"That says a lot about you."

"What are you insinuating?! That I'm… I'm… No! I'm offended! I thought you of all people would be above assuming other's sexualities, but I guess not."

Rubis just laughs sardonically.

I can't do this. He's not the person I thought he was – suggesting that I might be one of his kind.

Flipping his glossy, auburn hair out of his face, he returns to his whittling. I watch him work, enraptured by how such strong farmer's hands can work so precisely.

The look of concentration on his face is pure and mesmerising. I could watch him all day.

There's no harm in just sitting here for a little longer…

Time passes as though in a dream, and Rubis eventually looks up from his completed work.

"Please tell me you haven't just been watching me this entire time." He says.

Now I'm trapped. Of course there was nothing wrong with what I was doing, but if I say I was, it'll come across as creepy. I have no choice but to tell him why I came over in the first place.

"It's nothing really; I was just wondering if you were looking for allies or anything… but I see now that you're more of a lone wolf. I'll just-"

"You wanted to team up?"

I pause halfway out of my seat.

"Yes, but it's no trouble if-"

"I'll be your ally."

I blink.

I scrutinise Rubis' face for any sign that he might be having me on.

"W-would you actually…?" I stammer, "Would you really fight for me?"

I feel myself burning up.

"Would you fight for me?" He repeats my question.

"Yes! Yes, of course I would. I would do any-"

"Great, I suppose you have an ally then."

With that, Rubis stands and strides over to the knot-making station. I watch him leave with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

I have an ally. Undoubtedly, the first of many.

We can defend each other, nurse each others' injuries, keep each other warm… Suddenly, the Hunger Games don't feel so dreadful.

After a long, hard day of training, I return to the District Twelve quarters.

Effie is standing in conversation with someone. She is out of drag, so it takes me a few moments to remember that the flamboyant man before me is still Effie.

The other person is yet another Goth. It's like I'm being swarmed by them; like it's contagious. I shiver and force that thought out of my head.

The Goth turns around.

She is noticeably short. She wears a printed T-shirt of some violent-looking band that I've never heard of, with chunky boots and vibrant purple hair.

I catch a glimpse of a dinosaur tattoo on her wrist.

As I approach, their conversation peters out.

Effie rearranges her displeased expression into a polite smile.

"Ah! Midnight. Just the person we're after."

Effie's companion stifles a laugh.

She continues, "This is Anomaly Blüd. She's your new stylist. And if her previous work is anything to go by, she'll do a magnificent job making you look fabulous."

Anomaly squints in my direction, undoubtedly assessing whether I would look more ridiculous in fishnets or leather pants.

Eventually she says, "You're going to be a challenge."

"Doesn't everyone like a challenge?" I say weakly.

"No." she replies.

"I'll leave you two to get to know each other." Effie says. She totters away, as though she thinks she still has eight-inch stilettos.

"So…" Anomaly starts.

I burst out, "You're not going to dress me all Gothic, are you?"

"I wasn't going to, but I can always sort something out if you wa-"

"No! Anything but that! Just a normal, mainstream suit like the one I wore to the Reaping, please."

"Ok ok, I am a professional you know. Trust me, you'll be fine."

"No spikes or black lipstick?"

I'm breathing hard.

"Mm… I can't promise no lipstick."

I fall to my knees. Images flash before my eyes like gunshots. I can already hear the laughter of the crowd. And the worst part is, I don't even know if Rubis likes Goths!

I stare face to face with Anomaly, from my knees.

"Please, I beg you."

"Alright, calm down; I was only joking." She laughs, "Do you think you stand a chance at winning the Games, then?"

I get the impression that Anomaly has already drawn her own conclusion, and is just asking for the sake of conversation.

"Of course." I say, "This is the year Twelve gets to sample a slice of dignity."

"Right…" she says hesitantly. Then she has a thought. "Speaking of home, have you thought about what token you're bringing into the Games with you?"

A token? I completely forgot. Well it's not like I'm sentimental about home anyway. What could I bring as a reminder? An empty liquor bottle?

"I don't need such sentimental things." I say.

"Well, you may as well bring something in with you. It could be the difference between you admitting defeat and having the willpower to carry on. What's something you really care about, that could get you through anything?"

I consider.

An item that could motivate me to press forward… Something I would live for…

My face lights up with an idea and I stride purposefully into my room. Minutes later, I return to Anomaly, who has her eyebrows raised.

I plonk my chosen item onto the table.

I'm adamant that this is the thing I care most about in the world. I would feel infinitely better if I had this with me in the arena. Now I think about it, I can't believe I was considering going in without it!

"What's that for?" Anomaly asks.

"It's what I'll bring with me into the games."

I puff out my chest, smug about my decision-making skills.

"Is it an Xbox?" says Anomaly.

"It's a PS6! They don't even have these in District Twelve! I have to take it with me."

Anomaly stands in shocked silence. A thousand thoughts seem to cross her mind but she's lost for words.

Finally she shakes her head and says, "Okay… So there's a few problems here, even if we forget the fact that you are actually wanting to play videogames in the arena. You won't have anywhere to plug this in, it's heavy and impractical, it's not even from your home district, and it's useless without a screen to connect it to."

My grin falters.

"Hang on. I'll get something else."

I dash away a second time.

In my room, I stare at the 40 inch TV screen mounted on the wall opposite my bed.

Sweating and grunting, I hoist the screen off of the wall. It barely fits in my arms.

Wires spark. There's a wrenching sound and I'm launched backwards onto the carpet. The screen lands on top of me and I pray it hasn't broken.

I impatiently shift the screen off of me and kneel to inspect the damage.

A jagged chunk of plaster clings to the back of the monitor, with naked wires poking out. I breathe a sigh of relief when I flip the screen over and find it is still in good shape.

I heft it under one arm. The other tributes would be intimidated by my ability to carry such a bulky object.

I tow the screen from my bedroom to the dining room, where Anomaly has taken a seat and gazes into the distance, bored.

I wasn't gone that long; I thought she would be more excited to see my genius idea.

She watches me as I plug the ginormous screen into the PS6 on the table. Then I remember something else.

I dash away and return with two controllers, wires trailing behind me. I plug those in too.

"Why two?" Anomaly asks, then adds, "You can only bring one object you know; a PS6, TV screen and two controllers is a bit over the limit."

"Actually, no." I say intelligently, "They're all attached by wires. I am bringing one full gaming set-up."

"No, you are not."

Haymitch has entered the room from his bedroom, wearing a dressing gown with a bottle in each pocket.

"Are you drunk?" I say, "What's wrong with this? It'll be a great way to bond with my allies in the arena."

"Oh, I didn't think of that." Haymitch burps, "Your intelligence is truly leagues above ours."

"Thank you." I say.

Anomaly says, "Learn to read sarcasm, you idiot."

I scowl.

Anomaly says, "My drunk idea to pole-dance in an inflatable dinosaur costume was more sensible."

Haymitch lopes over with a slight wobble in his step.

He says, "As much as it pains me to say, it is my job to mentor the tributes. You don't have to worry Anomaly – nothing you advise Midnight on will lead to his survival."

"So you're actually going to do your job and mentor me now?" I ask.

"Sure. And my first piece of advice is for you to put the Xbox back and get something sensible, like a bottle of alcohol. Then at least you'll die on a high."

"It's a PS6." I protest, "And no, I don't have to take your advice."

"Alright," He hiccups and leans against the table for balance. I can tell he's at least concentrating on his speech though, "It's a command. Think of something else."

"No. You don't tell me what to do. You're not my dad."

"Legally, I am."

Haymitch suddenly gags and speeds into another room. Vomiting sounds follow shortly afterwards.

"Drunken dimwit." I mutter.

"He didn't seem that drunk." Says Anomaly.

Right. As if the thought of being my legal guardian was what made him barf.

We fall into an awkward silence, broken only by the sounds of Haymitch cursing as he cleans himself up.

My mind wanders. What tokens will the other tributes bring? Anita might try to bring an animal. Maybe Rubis will bring a hairbrush – it's important to look your best for the cameras.

Images of Rubis swirl around my mind. His chestnut mane billows in the breeze as we stand back to back, hacking at our numerous opponents. Then he jumps astride a white stallion and offers his hand to me. We gallop into the sunset, a sea of bodies in our wake…

There's a nagging thought that won't leave me alone. I can't help wondering if Rubis might have a thing for me. I am a very handsome man, after all.

I hate not knowing. Why did he have to make our allyship so complicated?

Without thinking, I say, "Anomaly, you seem like a gay. Could you give me some insight into how a gay mind works?"

"Right, I'll just initiate my gay telepathy."

"So you are gay?"

"Bi."

"Why is everyone around me queer?"

"You're the one who asked!"

"Right, yes, well… There's this guy-"

"Rubis."

"-and he's agreed to by my- Wait, how do you know?"

"I had a feeling. The stylists do all talk to each other, you know."

"Ok, well anyway, I want to know what he thinks of me. I think… I think he might be hitting on me."

Anomaly lets forth a ruthless laugh.

"What makes you think that?!"

"We've agreed to be allies, and he came out to me, so he's already made the first move."

"That's just not how it works, Midnight."

"What do you mean? I'm right, aren't I? Why is everyone so insistent to disagree with me today?"

"Because we're not stupid?"

My mouth hangs open. Most people insult me – I'm used to it. But never have I met someone so blunt. I could almost believe that this is coming from genuine dislike rather than jealousy or good-natured banter.

I close my mouth and glare at Anomaly.

I angrily swipe my gaming set-up off the dining table and stumble backwards from the weight. A controller swings down on its wire and smacks me in the shin.

"Ow!"

Anomaly just laughs as I struggle back into my bedroom.

I try to slam the door behind me, but with my arms full I have to hook it with my foot. It closes slowly.

I put my PS6 on the floor and flop like a starfish onto the bed. What I need now is someone to rant to.

I need a friend.

But everyone's too scared of me, or below my station entirely.

Even Haymitch – my parent - who's main role is to support me, doesn't care if I live or die in the Games.

It hits me all at once then. Everyone here despises me.

The other tributes, my mentor, escort, stylist, prep-team, even the cleaner and her guineapig!

The only person who seemed to get me was Onyx, then it turned out she was faking.

And she's dead; there's that too.

Everything is so unfair on me.

Everyone is so mean.

So why does everyone around me get along? How can people like Anomaly, Effie, Rubis, Minx, even the Goths, be more popular than me?

Then it dawns on me.

What do they all have in common?

They're all queer.

I assume.

So that's what it takes to be well-liked. I've been thinking all this time that they were jealous of me, but really, it was me who was jealous of them, for being able to live as their authentic selves.

No more shall I pretend.

No longer shall I let the pressures of society weigh me down.

They may not like it, but it's time for me to be my authentic self. To live as I was always meant to. I'll be the most popular in no time, once they see how much I've changed.

It's time…

For me to be gay.