Grey lies on the cold table in shorts and a tank top, the light from the ceiling lights shining directly into his eyes. It's been a few minutes since his prep team left, but he hasn't found the urge to readjust. Maybe his joints have frozen in place. Or maybe he doesn't want to see what the Capitol has done to him.
He always knew it was futile. Ever since his name was read on that stage two, three days ago, he became Capitol property. Hell, even from birth he was nothing more to the Capitol than a future producer of coal.
So when the door opens and someone else enters, he just stays where he is. He has no desire to dress for more of the Capitol's show. He knows it's useless, he's going to end up on that chariot if they have to drag him there.
But at least he can enjoy the light fixture a little longer.
"Hi, Grey. I'm Iovita," the stylist says, ignoring him in preference for the wardrobe of clothes on the other side of the room.
He sits up to finally face her. He knows she's been styling Twelve's tributes for the last few years, but her outfits have never made an impression on him. Or he's never been one to invest himself in the pre-game festivities of the Hunger Games. It was likely more so the latter.
"What do you have for me?" Grey asks with so much disdain that Iovita can't help but smile.
"Low expectations already? Tsk tsk, it's hard to win you Twelves over," she unzips a large garment bag, yet blocks Grey's view from the outfit. He still tries to peek, and all he can make out is black.
"Coal?" he asks with disappointment. Not that expectations were high to begin with, but with all the pushback from his own mentor and district partner, he was hoping for the smallest piece of rope to pull himself up with.
He wasn't asking for much, he thought. It wasn't a habit of his.
"Not quite," Iovita says, turning to face Grey with a smile.
Within the hour, Iovita brings Grey to the chariots that will show him off to the world. A little more than a quarter of the other tributes have also arrived. Noticeably, Kalara is not there.
"She'll be out soon. Just make yourself comfortable," Iovita instructs. Grey nods, unsure how he's supposed to be comfortable around the faces of those he's going to have to murder in two weeks' time. But Iovita is the first person to give him any sort of serviceable instruction. So he'll try to oblige.
He pushes the transparent grey veil above his face. Hooking it in the tips of the black crown, there are chains that hang down from the crown and the outfit. He adjusts the black blouse that rests underneath the black leather jacket. Iovita tried to explain the idea behind the outfit to him, but he was not sure he fully understood.
"Coal is black, but black doesn't have to be boring," she said with a smirk as she helped him with the complex attachments and chains.
"But what are we supposed to be?" He had asked. Looking at it all in a full-length mirror, he just looked like a weird prince, covered in black attire.
"You'll see when the makeup is finished," she had said.
Yet the makeup is on his face, and he's still not sure he gets it. The skin around his mouth is painted with white, almost to form teeth. Iovita dressed his eyes heavily with black eyeshadow.
"When the Capitol sees a pair of tributes from Twelve, they think they're dead before they even get into the arena. I want to make them confront that. To make them see that their perceptions of you damage you both. That despite the odds, you're a fighter."
Grey is a lot of things. But a fighter is definitely one of them.
A few minutes pass and more tributes wander out to their chariots. Grey observes a few. The small kids from Three are dressed in blue jumpsuits with shimmering wires embedded throughout the costume, continuing up to form a halo above their heads. It doesn't help the fact they still look young and terrified.
The eight Careers huddle around the District Two horses. He can't tell if they're sizing each other up or actually creating effective plans. He does notice a few things that support what he learned on the train. The pair from Two despise each other and make a point to put as much distance between themselves as possible.
The two from Four hold hands, refusing to leave each other's side. And the two from One, particularly the girl, look like she's calculating everything. Every move, every word. Making sure her precious pack doesn't fall apart before the fun really starts.
"Look at you," the familiar voice of his district partner pulls his eyes away from the show the Careers were trying not to put on. Kalara is dressed very similarly to himself, but the shape of her crown varies ever so slightly. Her makeup is the same, her black blouse is the same, all the way to the black leather boots they stand in.
"Might as well be looking in a mirror," he says to her as if she were insulting him. She just shrugs.
"At least it's unique," she says. Then she takes a moment to look around the room, at the rest of the pairs. By this point, all but a handful of tributes have finished getting styled. The tributes who typically look amazing, the popular districts, look just as amazing.
The One pair's ball gown and suit shimmer so elegantly under the light they're bound to attract everyone's eyes in the stadium. The Twos are in slick armor, weapons rest on their chariots that, for their sake, Grey hopes aren't real. And the Fours clothes look like they were made of literal water.
"Is…there a fish swimming in her dress?" Kalara asks. Grey glances at the Four girl and, just as Kalara suggested, he does see something moving in the "water" of the dress.
"The Capitol is weird," Grey mutters to himself. He hadn't intended for Kalara to hear it, or respond, but she gives him a laugh. Something that sounds almost genuine.
An announcement instructs them to take their positions on their chariots, and whatever bonding moment the two from Twelve might've had gets ripped away.
"Yeah. Come on." She pulls herself onto the chariots and Grey follows her lead. The rest of the tributes disperse to their own chariots, and in less than a minute the horses are taking their positions.
Breathe. You can do this. While District One pulls out and the crowd starts to roar, Grey takes the moment in the dark to himself. Knowing this is one of his last moments alone, truly alone, he selfishly takes the moment to himself. To get out of the role he played in District Twelve.
I'm a long way from Twelve. And I need to prove myself. Starting now. His eyes flutter open as District Four is introduced to the world.
"Yes," Kalara says.
"What?" Grey asks, not hearing her over the roaring of the crowd.
"Yes. We can start over. My name is Kalara," she says as she holds out her hand. Grey takes it after a moment's hesitation.
"Grey Thornton," he says. It's only a few words, the two words that mean more to him than any other pair of words. Yet they've never felt like his own words. It's always felt like a pair of words that he's been borrowing.
Five. Six. Seven. One by one, the chariots leave the darkness and enter the bright lights of the Capitol. They become the celebrations the Capitol citizens can latch onto.
Eight. Nine. Ten. Grey's mind is racing with everything and nothing at all. He doesn't latch onto anything in particular. He simply cannot focus.
Eleven. And suddenly it's Grey Thornton and Kalara Volkan's time to enter the spotlight. Of course, Kalara has known what it's like, to some extent. But to Grey, this is just the beginning.
The beginning of the end, if he isn't smart about it.
The lights are blinding, and the noise is deafening. But soon, Grey adjusts to the sensations around him.
With his eyes open, he sees himself on the large screens that line up around the crowd. The black leather that most of his outfit is made of gleans so perfectly under the Capitol lights.
The veil is present, but perfectly enhances the makeup on the face underneath. He's pale but alive. He's dark but strong.
He's unstoppable.
Somehow, Kalara and Grey both know not to wave. Kalara's presence as the heir of a Victor alone elicits applause, and the dramatic outfits only help.
The chariot does its loop around the stadium, and by the time they all reconvene underneath the presidential balcony, Grey's ears are ringing from the noise. With the various stimulants fighting for his attention, he refrains from complicated thoughts. Instead, his mind only lands on one thought.
Let the Games begin.
Zara is the first Volkan to arrive at the breakfast table. Grey has already started on his breakfast by the time she gets there. He's used to less than five hours of sleep. Hell, anything more is a luxury. A luxury his family couldn't afford.
And he can't afford it now. Not when the start of training is only an hour away. He wants to get Zara's advice, figure out a game plan, and a backup game plan. The reapings introduced him to his competition, and the chariots instilled the fight in all twenty-four of them. Now they have to capitalize on that hype and convince the Gamemakers and the sponsors why they're worth more than the rest. All while learning how to survive weather and poison and mutts and hunger and thirst-
It's a lot. Grey needs guidance.
He's relieved when she enters without her granddaughter. He wants this advice to be tailored to him. Kalara already has more advantages than Grey could ever hope to gain in the week leading up to the Games. He needs all the help he can get.
But he doesn't know how to start the conversation. So he settles with a "Good morning."
Zara glances at him and gives a polite nod.
"So. Uhh. What's the plan?" he asks. Zara makes a plate of food for herself and doesn't answer until she takes a seat at the dining table.
"Learn as much as you can. Make allies. Let me know who you've allied with. And don't hurt yourself," she says. Then, without wasting a single second, she starts eating like Grey's not even there.
He tries to think of more questions. Of something to make her give him just a moment of her attention. But nothing comes. So he drinks his water and eats some fruit and doesn't say anything as Kalara walks in.
Breakfast is just as silent. And once they finish eating, they both head to the elevator that will take them to where training will be held for the next three days.
Three days to prepare myself against kids who have been preparing for years. Seems fair, Grey can't help but think to himself.
He ignores the eyes that fall on him and Kalara, if not mostly Kalara, and takes a spot around the circle.
The head trainer introduces themselves and goes through some basic instructions that Grey just barely registers. No fighting other tributes. Compulsory training from nine to four each day with an hour break for lunch, but the gym is open from seven in the morning to seven in the evening. Private sessions will start at noon on the third day and last until six. She starts naming off the stations, but Grey's attention pulls him elsewhere.
He glances around the room of tributes and immediately finds what was setting him off. Where most of the tributes have their eyes on the trainer, taking in her every word, there was one whose eyes were locked on Grey.
The boy from Nine. The one that caught Grey's attention at the reaping.
Grey's eyes meet his and instead of pulling away, the boy just smiles. And when the trainer dismisses them to train, the boy continues to glance in Grey's direction.
What was that? Grey's mind struggles to latch on to an explanation. He loses the boy, whose name he remembers as Devin, as the tributes flock to various stations. Kalara heads off towards archery, leaving Grey to his own accords.
All of the Careers have taken over most of the weapons training, but Grey makes a mental note to return to them later. In the meantime, he starts with some of the survival stations. He gets lost in the edible plants' station with the little kids from Three before pulling away to the shelter building. He's joined by the boy from Seven, the one who flipped everyone off at the reapings. He's just as angry as he was when he was reaped. Grey quickly notes to avoid him for the rest of training.
He glances at the weapon station again and sees that some of the Careers have cleared out. He takes the chance to get ahold of a weapon. He picks up a medium-sized sword and finds a free trainer to spar with.
The sword is heavy, and he doesn't feel secure on his feet. But after an hour, he learns enough of the basics to keep a good grip. The trainer is kind, despite Grey's clear lack of previous training, and doesn't fight too aggressively.
"Not bad," he hears Kalara say beside him. She's traded her bow out for some throwing knives, sweat covering her face.
"Thanks," Grey replies. With the break in training, he notices Career eyes landing on her, particularly from One.
He didn't watch her train, was she that impressive? Had Zara spent any time training her while she was growing up, in preparation for this happening? How much of an advantage does she truly have over him?
Grey needs to get rid of these thoughts. He puts the sword back, and heads to lunch.
He's the first one there, so he has his pick of tables. He picks one in the back, facing the entrance to watch those who file in after him.
As they start coming in, he can already see the beginnings of the alliances' form. The pair from Eleven have clearly allied, as the boy gleefully announces. The small kids from Three and the boy from Six sit together. Kalara walks in and sits next to the girl from Ten, the one who volunteered for an unknown reason.
Good. He still doesn't know what to do with her. Let her be someone else's problem.
Sitting alone, Grey is able to get lost in his thoughts. He feels decent about the survival skills he learned, but he should head back there tomorrow to make sure it stuck. The sword fighting left him more fatigued than he'd like, but he severely needs weapons training. Maybe small knives or range weapons would be good for him to try out this afternoon-
A movement in front of him catches his attention. A familiar face and a smile get comfortable before Grey can stop the stranger from joining him.
No, not a stranger. Grey recognizes the face immediately. Devin Calloway from District Nine.
"Hi," he says softly. Grey must give him a strange look, but Devin doesn't react.
"Hi," Grey manages to reply.
"I see you haven't allied with your district partner," Devin says, glancing at Kalara
"Good observation," Grey says, trying to gauge what Devin is trying to infer.
But the boy just goes back to eating, and Grey has no choice but to do the same.
"Well. My alliance is open. Consider it for me?" he asks.
"You don't know anything about me," Grey shoots back.
"Think I'd surprise you," Devin says before taking another bite. The boys are quiet for some time, and Grey catches Kalara looking back over at him.
He doesn't know what's worse. Allying with Kalara Volkan, or not. Her presence could bring him favors. But he will never stand out. He will be her support, whether he wants to be or not. And while that's not unusual for him, this is not the time to be a secondary player.
No, Grey Thornton needs to stand out. But he's never leaned on anyone for support, ever. He's supported himself and the people around him. And in a game of life or death, he cannot afford to support anyone but himself.
"I'll think about it," Grey says. He needs more time to assess...everything. To see what Kalara is doing. To get a better grasp of his competition, and his options for an alliance. To get Zara's opinion, if she's willing to spare some for him.
"You'll know where to find me," Devin says as he finishes the last of his meal. He leaves Grey alone at the table, leaving him with more questions than answers.
The rest of the training wasn't anything special for Grey. He got his hands on a crossbow and immediately felt a sense of comfort holding one again. Yet the comfort was nearly shattered when he actually had to hit a series of moving targets. By the end of the training, he was feeling more confident, but there was no chance that anyone thought he had prior training on the device.
As he swaps stations, he catches a glimpse of Devin at the sword fighting station. He's not sure what he expected from a boy from an outer district, but it's obvious to Grey that Devin doesn't have much history using a weapon.
Something they have in common.
He wraps up the day by running the obstacle course, focusing on stamina and endurance over speed. He spent time watching how other tributes were so focused on finishing fast, that they failed on the basics.
Where to put their feet. When to leap versus crawl. Grey's time wasn't the lowest so far, but he completed it first try. The trainer praised him before he left for the day.
When he returns to the twelfth floor, Zara is already waiting for her tributes. Grey is used to her indifference to his presence, and since Kalara hasn't come up yet, he doesn't expect much from his mentor.
But she surprises him.
"How was training?" she asks. Grey is taken aback by the question. Not the question itself, that should be standard post-training. But it was the fact she was asking him when Kalara was nowhere to be found.
"It was alright," he says. "I learned a lot, I think."
"Good. Any exceptional talents I should know about?" she asks.
Grey just shrugs. "Sorry to disappoint."
"Well, that's to be expected," she says with a sigh. For just a moment, Grey has to wonder what her expectations for him really are.
*I did-" Grey almost tells her about Devin, but the elevator opening cuts him off. Out walks Kalara, and Zara's tone completely shifts.
"Hey, there you are. How was training?" Zara asks. The same question she asked Grey. But everything about it reminds Gery who the real priority is.
And it pisses him off.
He leaves the main room for the preference of the solidarity of his bedroom. He locks the door behind him for good measure, but neither of them comes and gets him.
So he orders a meal for himself that's delivered through a flap in the wall. He even treats himself to a nice chocolate dessert. A small pastry filled with melted chocolate on the inside.
Yes, this is better than whatever they're eating out there. By the time he finishes his meal, he takes the time to get in the shower and devise a plan for the morning. Now that he knows what to expect, he needs to be smart about how he spends his time.
And he has an alliance to consider.
He turns off the shower and hears a light knock on his door. He waits for a voice, or another knock to follow, but nothing comes. So he ignores it, gets dressed and gets into bed, and mentally prepares for another day.
Day two is harder than the previous one. All his muscles are sore, which makes any attempt at weapon training more painful than it should be. Although he does find himself able to hit things better with the crossbow, which reassures him.
He allows his muscles to rest and moves to knot tying, thinking it wouldn't be physically exerting as well as valuable for the arena. He's right about one of those.
After about an hour, his fingers are red and starting to crack. He sets the rope down and straightens out his back. He didn't realize how badly he was slouching.
"That happened to me yesterday," an excited voice says to his left. Grey looks down at the small boy from Eleven, who looks up at him with a wide smile. He holds up his hands, and sure enough, they're slightly paler than the rest of his skin.
"How do you make it go away?" Grey asks, not sure what to make of the strange boy.
"Cold water! It makes it feel so much better. And I think the doctors will give you medicine if it's really bad. They told me they would, but I didn't want any, because I don't think mine are that bad, and I-Keeval! Come meet my friend!"
Grey struggles to keep up with the boy. He watches as he waves over the girl from Eleven and she gives Grey a half-hearted apology look. Grey just smiles as the girl walks over to join the duo.
"This is Keeval Keeva, this is, uh, what's your name?" the boy asks
"Grey Thornton," Grey says.
"This is Grey. Grey, this is Keeva, and I'm Ettan," Ettan says, holding his hand out to shake Greys.
"Better not," Grey says, holding his palms up to remind Ettan of the damage to his palms. Ettan looks embarrassed.
"Keeva," the girl says with a bit more of a serious tone. Grey assumes they're allies, based on the way Ettan called her over. He wonders how the little guy convinced her to be his ally.
But then he remembers the look she gave him when he was reaped, and he understands why she agreed. Plus, there was something about Ettan that was... endearing. He made it easy to forget all but one of them would be dead in the coming weeks.
"Well, it was nice to meet you both. I better go take care of this," Grey says. He starts to walk to the bathroom to cool off his palms when Ettan interrupts.
"Would-would you want to ally with us? If that's okay with you," he says to Keeva. Grey notices how she looks at Grey like she's sizing him up.
He's used to it from his days with Zara and Kalaro. At least Keeva looks at him with some form of respect.
"I.. will let you know. I received an ally offer yesterday. From the Nine boy," Grey explains, trying to weigh the choices in his mind. Is a hyperactive fifteen-year-old really his best shot to victory?
No, but he wouldn't want to end up on the other side of a fight against Keeva.
"He can join us too!" Ettan exclaims, ecstatic at the idea of another ally.
Grey is about to shut down the idea, but when he goes to speak, he cannot come up with a valid reason to say no. The larger the group, the better the protection, at least at first.
"I will consider it," Grey responds, genuinely meaning that. His response leaves Ettan with a smile as Grey walks towards the bathroom to wash his hands. He passes Kalara on the way and doesn't bother to pay her any mind.
The rest of the day goes by quickly for Grey as he continues to practice survival skills, learning how to minimize smoke from a fire with different techniques and materials and various water-purifying methods. Between his newfound skills and his potential allies, he feels better about his chances than he has since his name was called.
He feels so good that he doesn't waste time talking to his mentor when he returns to his floor for the evening.
(Forgetting that it's her job to check on him, of course.)
With another successful day complete, Grey finds his sleep to be more restful than it has been in years.
Grey wakes up earlier than he anticipated. He takes his time getting ready, having food delivered directly to his room to continue avoiding his district partner and mentor.
Part of him feels guilty for avoiding them. He wonders what kind of knowledge he's missing out on, and what kind of observations Kalara has made about the rest of the tributes that would be valuable to him.
But then the other part of him remembers what little he did get out of either of them and how it made him feel. Time and time again Zara made it clear who and what her priority was, and she never feigned it to be Grey.
So screw them. He's stronger under his own volition anyway.
His muscles feel better after yesterday's intense soreness, so he hopes to get in the last of weapon training before they're all pulled into private sessions. If Grey's honest, he hasn't thought much about what he's going to show the Gamemakers. But he knows it's a good chance to show sponsors he has talent. And maybe his score can pull him away from Kalara.
After he eats and gets dressed, he heads straight for the elevator. He's relieved that when he heads into the training room, most of the weapons stations are sparsely populated. So he takes advantage and heads straight to the spears, one of the few weapons he hasn't tried yet.
The spear is heavy, but his aim isn't the worst. He throws a few, then returns to a crossbow for last-minute practice. The fact that this is the last time he'll be able to train at a station before the arena hasn't quite settled in yet.
No, his top priority today is settling into his alliance.
Luckily for him, Devin joins him at the crossbows.
"Do you have an answer for me, Twelve?" he asks nonchalantly.
"I have a proposal, of sorts," Grey responds, looking at the boy.
"Wow, how intriguing," the boy says.
"The pair from Eleven invited us to their alliance," Grey says. He expects some resistance, confusion, or anger from the boy. But he doesn't provide any of that.
"And did you agree?" he asks.
"No. I told them you invited me into an alliance. Then they said we could both join," Grey explains.
"I guess it's a deal then," Devin says, holding out his hand to solidify it. Grey takes his hand and shakes.
When Ettan and Keeva show up for training, Grey and Devin group up with them and Grey lets them know their decision. Ettan jumps around with excitement, and Keeva gives the boys a half-hearted smile.
And Grey's confidence going into the arena has risen tenfold.
The morning session comes and goes, and before long the twenty-four of them are being called for their private sessions. Although Grey doesn't have a solid strategy, he has a few hours to contemplate.
With all of them sitting around the same room, Grey can see who has allied with who. His alliance sits near him, and the Careers all sit together. Grey notices the boy from Seven has joined up with the Careers.
Some of the younger kids sit near each other, but what stands out to Grey is Kalara, who sits alone.
There's no way she doesn't have an alliance, Grey thinks to himself. He remembers seeing her socializing throughout training. He assumed she would have anyone she wanted.
Maybe her arrogance won, and people saw through her. The thought makes Grey feel a little bit better about his own chances.
One by one, the tributes file into the private gym, and the chatter begins to die down. By the time Devin is up, the room is practically silent.
"Good luck!" Ettan says to his new ally. Devin pats the boy on the back and disappears through the double doors.
Soon enough, Ettan and Keeva have left, and Grey is left alone with Kalara. He doesn't pay her any mind, not until she speaks.
"Are you allied with them? Eleven, and that boy," she asks. Grey just nods. He contemplates asking her the same question, but he can't find it in him to care.
Besides, soon enough it's his name being called. He walks into the small gym, finds himself a decent-sized crossbow, and gets to his demonstration.
He starts off simple, with a few stationary targets hanging from the ceiling. Then, he runs the obstacle course, keeping the crossbow on his back to hit a few more targets mid-course. His accuracy isn't great, and he's just starting to think he bit off more than he could chew.
So he finishes the course and tries to salvage his remaining time to show that he can survive. He manages to build a somewhat decent shelter and fire before they dismiss him.
Has he really used all of his time? Has he shown himself to be a worthy competitor in these Games? The score reveal is that evening, but that doesn't make Grey feel any better about the entire situation.
So he smiles and leaves, with the feeling of inadequacy lingering behind him.
After his disappointing performance in the private sessions, Grey retreats to his bedroom to contemplate his strategy over the next two days. He's seen enough interviews to know what strategies typically work, and which don't. Grey doesn't know what strategy would be his best chance.
Especially if he doesn't get the score he wants.
What score does he want? He was hoping to settle with a seven. Something better than the average. Something to make him stand out.
He would have to score higher than Kalara to stand out. He knows this. Yet he doesn't know if that would be possible, even if his sessions did go well. It frustrates him to no end that nothing he will do will separate him from his district partner.
And the one person who could help him, who could guide him, is too focused on Kalara to give him a second of her time.
He needs a distraction. He picks up his journal to continue his father's story. But any words that would enhance the story don't come to him.
He wants to take the journal and throw it across the room. He wants to scream. He wants to run back to Twelve. Run as far away from this desolate place as he can. But he can't do any of that.
Grey Thornton has never had any autonomy over his life. What makes him think it would start now?
The hours pass slowly, yet Grey doesn't feel prepared for the score reveal when the time does come. Whatever impression he's made will be made or broken in the next hour, and he doesn't feel prepared for the consequences yet.
Especially when Kalara feels so confident about the whole thing.
He sits on the couch adjacent to where she and Zara sit, his eyes fixated on the television. The television only airs commentary about the upcoming Games, and to Grey's surprise, any note about him has been somewhat positive. They praise his strength, his unwillingness to give up.
(If he can forget his screentime is a tenth of Kalara's, he can feel good about it.)
Soon enough, they start revealing the scores. As expected, all the Careers earn eights and higher. The volunteer from Six scores a seven, and the boy from Seven also scores a seven.
Devin's score is average, at a six. Better than his district partner's four.
The Ten girl scores higher than Grey expected with an eight. The highest of any non-Career district.
Fitting, considering she volunteered.
"Good thing she's your ally," Grey mutters.
"She's not my ally," Kalara responds. Grey turns to look at her, but her attention is still focused on the scores in front of them.
Who the hell are you allied with, then? Grey wants to ask.
But before he gets the chance, Ettan and Keeva's scores appear. The young boy scores a four, while Keeva scores a six.
Grey watches as their faces are replaced with his own. He finds himself fixated on the words that come out of the announcer's mouth…
"Grey Thornton, with a six. Kalara Volkan, with a seven."
"Good job," Zara says to her granddaughter. Grey thinks she says something to him, but he's not listening. And it doesn't take him long to get up and walk out without saying a single thing.
A six. It's not even a bad score. But Grey can't get over how low he's perceived within the Capitol. It doesn't matter what he does or what he says or who he's seen with. He will always be perceived as the poor boy from the Seam. The boy that never stood a chance against the heavily trained Careers.
Shit, he doesn't even stand up against his own fucking district partner. They gave her a better score just to show him that.
What a joke this whole thing is. And Grey still has to go out on stage in two days and convince the audience he's worth something when they've so unanimously decided he isn't.
Grey Thornton hasn't needed approval from anyone else, and he's made it this far in life. He can make it through the next two weeks. And he has to. Because if he doesn't, his father's story will remain unwritten.
Morys Thornton has already died once, Grey refuses to kill him a second time.
Grey leans against the wall of the prep room, too jittery to stay seated any longer. His prep team has come and gone, and he's just waiting for Iovita to bring him his outfit for the interviews.
He spent some time yesterday preparing with Zara, but it didn't take long for both of them to realize that spending unnecessary time together was simply harmful. The longer Grey had to pretend to take Zara's advice, and the longer Zara had to pretend to care about Grey's well-being, was putting a mental strain on both of them. So Grey called it. He could figure out his own interview strategy. It's not like three minutes was a long time anyway.
He has high hopes for his outfit, though. Iovita and her partner had a better outfit for Twelve than he expected, and he would hope they have something similar for the interviews.
At least he doesn't have to match with Kalara.
The door opens and Iovita walks in with a garment bag over one arm. She smiles at Grey, and he takes that as a good sign.
Less than half an hour later, he's happy that he put his trust in Iovita. He's happy there's a single person on his team who's supporting him.
He wears another crown, but this one is fancier than the one from the Chariots. His face and hair are colored with grey powder (Iovita promises it'll come out after he showers). She dabs his hairline and various highlights on his face with gold powder. The gold covers his neck until the top of his black button-down covers the rest of his skin. He wears black slacks and black shoes to compliment the shirt, and really make his face stand out.
"You come from coal dust, but you will shine in the lights," she explains to him. Whatever her reasoning is, he didn't really care. People will be looking at him, and that might just make them remember him. Maybe somewhere in those three minutes, he can convince them to support him in the arena.
One step at a time. When Iovita is done, she leads Grey to the interview waiting area, where only a few others are ready to go. Ettan is one of them, and as soon as he notices his ally's presence, he skips over to him.
Grey has to hand it to Ettan's stylist, they did wonders of making the boy look older and more mature. He wears a pink suit jacket that hangs about four inches below his waist. The shirt underneath is off-white, flowing into the subtle plaid off-white and grey pants.
"You look amazing!" he says to Grey. Grey nods, actually agreeing with the boy.
"Thanks. I like the suit," he says. Ettan smooths out his jacket.
"I do too! I love the color, I told her it was my favorite color, and she adjusted the color to match, and- oh there's Keeva!" The boy runs to his district partner, who looks stunning in her flowing, light pink, and lilac mermaid dress. The sleeves hug the top of her arms, and the sheer fabric wraps around, leading down to the base of the dress which is subtly decorated with flowers of similar colors. She has a woven flower crown wrapping through her curls.
"I want a crown," Ettan says.
"Consider yourself lucky. It's itchy," Keeva says. She looks over at Grey. "Where's Kalara?"
"Why would I know?" he says, a little harsher than he intended. It was an innocent question.
"I just figured-" Keeva starts, but stops herself. Grey notices her face shifting. Like a few realizations hit her at once.
What?
Grey turns around and that's when he realizes Kalara has walked in. Her outfit is similar to his in color, she too wears a crown and her face is powdered with greys and golds. Her dress is various shades of greys, the lightest colors at the top transitioning to black at the bottom, with gold seams sewn throughout. It doesn't have any straps, and it has a slit just below her right knee.
It's definitely gorgeous. And Grey can only imagine how it'll shine under the lights.
"Five minutes until showtime," someone announces. The tributes who are here begin to line up while Grey's mind is swimming through possibilities.
He doesn't have a chance to focus on it. He needs to prepare for these interviews.
Three minutes is both a short amount of time and an eternity when it's not his turn. And considering Grey is the last tribute to be interviewed, he doesn't have high hopes for his patience.
He doesn't focus when District One starts off the interviews, albeit it is a strong start. Two comes and goes, and Grey learns that the boy, Raynor, has hated Aloisa ever since her older sister killed his brother during a Hunger Games two years ago.
That explains the tension.
The interviews drag on and on. At some point, Grey closes his eyes and visualizes his cemetery. His home.
He may be surrounded by people right now, but he's never felt more alone.
His strategy worked, because the next thing he knows Devin is on stage, talking about his life back home. Grey finds himself drawn to Devin's words, and how they flow so nicely. It's just enough of a truth to believe it, with details ever so exaggerated to emphasize pity. Just enough details to be invested, but not enough to be vulnerable.
The Capitol doesn't know it, but the boy is manipulating them. And Grey finds it impressive.
Yet Devin's time comes and goes, and so do both from Ten. Which brings Keeva to the stage.
Keeva presents herself well, at least Grey assumes so. Strong, and hard-working, and despite her average score, she wins the crowd over.
Next is Ettan, who could have easily won the crowd over with his personality. But he fell short.
Oh, kid. Grey shouldn't feel pity. It'll be his time soon enough, and he has to focus on himself. No one else is focusing on him. He has to carry that weight and draw others in.
And he feels confident about it all too. Until Ettan answers the interviewer's last question.
"Have you found yourself a nice ally?" Ettan is asked. He perks up.
"Oh, I have! My district partner, Keeva, oh she's great. And we're with Devin. He's from Nine. And Grey! And Kalara! Really, a great team."
Ettan continues to ramble on about how great his alliance is, but Grey's stopped listening.
Kalara? No. No, there's no chance in hell Grey is sharing a minute of screen time with her.
He tries to get her attention, but she's already being called for her interview. And he has to sit there and watch her get praised for nothing more than being born. He has to watch her lie about the alliance she's not a part of.
And then it's his turn to sit up there and decide, in a second, how the hell he's supposed to play this off.
"Welcome, Grey! How are you?" An easy question. Grey can answer this. No one has ever told the truth on the interview stage.
"I'm well, thank you." Say more. Say more. Be memorable. Grey's brain races faster than his voice can pick up.
The interviewer clears his throat, and Grey's in danger of losing his last chance to make an impression.
"I…have a story to tell. That's all I've ever done, you see. I've told stories. All except my own. I'd like you all to be the first to…witness it. I guess," Grey stumbles through his words, wondering where the hell everyone else seems to get their confidence from.
They get it from their superior Districts. Or their mentors who actually care. They don't pull it out of their ass while on a stage with every single eye on Panem falling on them at once.
"We are certainly looking forward to this story, aren't we?" To the audience's credit, they clap.
Whether the words Grey said did anything to affect their perception of him, he's unsure. He's not even sure what he was hoping to achieve. Not to look like a fool, that's for damn sure. Something as simple as that should have been easy for him.
Grey Thornton should have learned by now that nothing will ever come easy to him.
Grey tries to find Kalara after the interviews, but she's conveniently already left. He checks the main living area of his floor, but nothing. Not even Zara. Only a handful of Avoxes.
He doesn't want to leave with his questions unanswered, but everyone has left him no choice. Questioning Ettan or Devin about it would reveal how much of an afterthought he has been. Kalara's name was called first on the stage back in Twelve, and ever since that moment, Grey has had to deal with the consequences.
So he finds himself heading back to his room with nothing but uncertainty exploding in his mind. And when he hears two voices whispering from Kalara's room, he almost has the sense to ignore them.
But Grey has spent too long ignoring a problem.
So he barges in and takes them both off guard. For the first time since his own name was called, they've paid attention to him of his own volition.
"What the hell?" is all he can muster to ask. Kalara looks embarrassed. Zara is angry.
"You don't have a right to barge in on a private conversation. I have to ask you to leave," Zara says. Grey ignores her request.
"When were you going to tell me you weaseled your way in, huh? Was I just supposed to find out during the bloodbath? When would I have known not to kill you?" Grey hasn't felt this much anger since…well…ever.
"I was going to-" Kalara starts.
"We owe you nothing, Grey," Zara interrupts her granddaughter.
He doesn't know what upsets him more. The fact that Zara confirms what he's always known, or the fact that Kalara is simply going along with it without any free will of her own.
Grey knows how that looks.
"In case you forgot, we all represent our district. And I feel like I'm the only one playing by everyone else's rules. I'm done. Good luck out there," Grey's anger hasn't dissipated in the slightest, yet turning his back on the last two people he would have put his trust in feels…freeing.
He's not sure what they say when he leaves if anything at all.
He doesn't think about them as he returns to his room and secures the door behind him. He doesn't think about his other three allies.
No, Grey Thornton's only thoughts are reserved for himself tonight.
He wishes he spared a few for his father. It's not until morning does he realize his story is left unfinished.