For anyone who's been starved of Treech and/or Lamina content
Treech only felt numbness when his name was called. It was fitting, seeing as numb was the only thing he ever felt. He was not alone in that sense. District Seven itself was numb following the war.
Tuning out the whisper and chatter around him, he took a deep breath and started his journey up to the stage. He moved towards the Mayor, towards the crying girl tribute who had only just been dumped onto the stage moments earlier. He made himself known to the Peacekeepers by moving through the crowd of other sixteen-year-old boys, who solemnly parted the way for him. Two uniformed men met him at the end of his row and immediately latched onto him as if he was going to bolt.
He ignored the sound of a woman sobbing that could only be his mother. He kept his head down as he was dragged past the twelve-year-old boys' section to avoid seeing his brother's shocked face. The Peacekeepers shoved him towards the stage steps, sending him sprawling forward and knocking his father's hat off of his head. Treech let out a shout of protest but the soldiers ignored him, instead yanking him to his feet and pushing him to stand next to the Mayor.
It was his fellow tribute, who had finally stopped crying, that retrieved his hat for him. She plucked the hat up off the ground, gently dusted it off, and passed it to him behind the Mayor's back. He snatched it out of her hand and quickly placed it on his head, causing her brow to crumple and tears to spring to her eyes once again.
He frowned slightly at her tears before finally giving her a small nod as he muttered out a thank you.
"What sportsmanship," Mayor Sprig said with a tight-lipped smile as he watched the exchange. "May it serve you well in the games." He chuckled to himself, looking to the crowd expectantly for a similar reception. But they, too, were numb and only stared back silently.
"District Seven is the second to last stop on the Western train heading to the Capitol," the Head Peacekeeper said as his soldiers marched Treech and the girl into District Seven's modest train station. The girl fought viciously to shake off the Peacekeepers in charge of her but they only held on tighter. "The train starts at Ten, goes to Two, then Five, then Four, then here, and finally One. You'll meet up with the Eastern districts' tributes and be transported to the Capitol from there." He guided them past the ticketing and mail counters and wove through the back area until finally, they were standing in front of a cramped jail cell. "For now, you'll be staying here." He pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket and quickly worked to unlock the cell. The keys jangled against the metal bars as he pulled the door open.
"Really?" Treech couldn't stop himself from sputtering out as he eyed the small cell. It was no bigger than his shoebox of a bedroom and, unlike his room, it was barren except for two uncomfortable-looking benches that faced each other and one puny window. A metal bedpan sat shining in one corner and he nearly gagged. "We're not criminals."
"So you're telling me you wouldn't run away?" The Head Peacekeeper droned in a monotone voice, raising one eyebrow. He then nodded at Treech's fellow tribute, who was squirming in the grasp of the unamused soldiers. "And what about her? We won't take any chances." He nodded to the Treech's guards, who dutifully tossed him forward and into the cell. Treech grunted as he made contact with the dusty cemented floor. The girl came tumbling in after him, hitting the ground with a yelp of pain. He heard her elbow connect with the cell bench and winced.
"Shouldn't be more than three days," the Head Peacekeeper said cheerfully as he locked them in.
"We'll be back to feed you," one of the Peacekeepers who was in charge of Treech chuckled. "Eventually."
Treech quietly seethed as he watched the snickering soldiers leave the room. Eventually, he heard the station door slam shut, indicating that he and the girl were alone.
Treech watched as she picked herself off of the ground and sat down hard on the bench positioned under the cell window. She reverted into her smallest form, legs curled up to her chest and thin arms wrapped around her knees. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she bowed her head. He sighed and followed her lead, dragging himself to his feet and sitting down on the other uncomfortable bench across from her.
"They should have at least let us say goodbye," he muttered, staring stonily out the window. He wondered how Aase, his brother, was doing with the news of his death sentence. His mother would likely have to pull him out of school a year early and send him to work now that Treech was off to fight to his death. His frown deepened at that realization and his stomach dropped. The girl only let out a choked sob in response.
He took the time to study his fellow tribute. She was lithe and willowy with brown hair, borderline copper-tinted, that fell over her shoulders in soft waves. She wore a dark floral vest over a faded magenta checkered shirt. Her pants were long, baggy, and far too big for her. They hung low on her hips and covered her boots as they pooled on the ground.
Her eyes, the first thing that he had noticed about her, were just as wide and soulful as they were at the Reaping. And just like at the Reaping, they were filled with tears. It irked him. "Stop crying," he muttered under his breath, already growing impatient with her.
She heard him and her head lifted slightly. "I'm sorry," she moaned, wiping furiously at her eyes. "My brother always said I was too sensitive for my own good."
"No kidding," Treech whispered to himself as he took note of her puffy eyes. It was probably his last time in District Seven and he was spending it with a girl who was in the process of drowning herself to death with tears.
As he leaned back against the cell bars, he contemplated his future, or lack thereof. He would die in the Hunger Games and his mother and brother would lose one of their main sources of income. Treech's job cutting wood in the vast forests of Seven put food on the table and his mother's job constructing furniture just barely paid their taxes. No Treech, no food. Aase loved school too much to be put to work.
He took his hat off of his head and set it in his lap. It had belonged to his father, a victim of the very war that produced the Hunger Games. That and a mahogany-handled axe were passed down to Treech upon his death. Treech's fingers twitched for the axe, which he knew was sitting on his dresser at home. Maybe it would go to Aase upon his death.
"I've never seen you on the forestry team before," Treech finally commented after what felt like hours of silence between him and the girl.
She looked up, as if surprised that he was addressing her. "I go to school." She spoke slowly, her fingers playing with the collar of her shirt. "Went to school," she corrected herself.
Treech's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Really?" It surprised him, for few children past the age of thirteen stayed in school in District Seven. He himself started collecting tree shavings for a measly wage at the age of eleven. Eventually, he moved up to sawing boards before finally finding himself a proper lumber job along with most of the other teenagers and adults in Seven.
"I wouldn't cut down the trees," the girl admitted, staring off into space.
"What?"
"My brother tried to send me off to work in the forests but I wouldn't cut down the trees." She suddenly let out a small, humorless chuckle. "I used to think that trees had souls. I still do, to some extent. I couldn't get myself to cut down another living being so he gave up and let me stay in school."
Treech nodded politely, trying not to wince at her words. She had a few screws loose, that was evident enough. Something about what she said struck a memory in him, though. Aase, ten at the time, had run home from school one day shouting about an older girl who got into a fight at school over a tree on the schoolhouse property. The girl, according to his brother, picked a fight with a pair of nasty boys who had brought their axes to school and tried their hand at cutting a thin birch tree down. He remembered the way Aase's eyes had shown with admiration as he told Treech about how the girl had shielded the tree with her body and refused to move until the boys finally gave up. At the time he had brushed it off as his younger brother having a crush, but the girl's act of defiance had really seemed to stick with Aase.
"Is your name Lamina?" He finally asked, searching his memory for the name that Aase had told him. The girl gave him her first smile of the day and nodded. "I'm Treech."
"I know," she said with a nod, causing his brow to furrow slightly with guilt over not knowing hers. "Were you named after the poet?"
Once again, Lamina had managed to surprise him. Taijo Treech was a poet whom his mother had loved to read during her school days. After his father had died, they were forced to sell many of their belongings in order to put food on the table. But somehow, through every purge of their belongings, his mother had always managed to keep her Taijo Treech books. "I was, actually."
"Two vines entwined, though different they seem. Borne of the same seed, they varied in scheme. One climbed to the sun, looking for spoils. The other grew slower, content with the soil," Lamina quoted, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"No need to rub your education in my face," he joked. And for the first time that day, they each let out a genuine laugh.
Despite his growling stomach, Treech managed to sleep through the first night. It was a restless sleep, filled with nightmares about a starving Aase, but a sleep nonetheless. He awoke to the sound of voices filling the station. Through sleepy eyes, he took note of the time from the clock on the wall. Eight o'clock. The station employees were coming in for their shifts. They were no longer alone.
"Hello?" He called out loudly, jumping to his feet. In the process, he woke Lamina from her slumber. She rubbed her eyes and stared blearily up at him as he shook the cell bars. Sunlight streamed in through the small window above them. "Hello?"
The voices suddenly went silent before soft whispers broke out. He leaned through the bars as much as he could, craning his neck to see the source of the noise. Suddenly Lamina was at his side, also peering curiously through the bars. They both watched silently as an old woman shuffled through the doorway, followed by a younger woman in an apron and a man with a satchel. They stared sadly at the pair in the jail cell as they approached.
"Hello," Treech repeated, unsure of what to do now that he finally had their attention. Their sorrowful expressions were making him uncomfortable.
"You were the pair picked at the Reaping," the old woman finally said after a few moments of silence. Her bottom lip wobbled slightly. "Oh, my dears."
"I'm so sorry," the young woman burst out. She looked as if she was going to say more but instead turned away to weep into her apron.
"Rotten luck you were chosen, kids," the man, whom Treech finally recognized as his neighborhood's resident mailman, sniffed quietly.
"We didn't get to say goodbye to our families," Treech supplied lamely, ignoring their sorrowful condolences. Beside him, Lamina suddenly became interested with the dirty cell floor.
"That's for a reason, dear," the woman sighed, wringing her hands. "They don't want to give you any chance of escape."
"Nobody is supposed to see or talk to you until you're on that train heading to the Capitol," the man added.
"Can you bring them to us?" Treech asked urgently, his chest going numb. "Please, I need to see my brother. My mother."
The younger woman, who had finally managed to compose herself, shook her head wildly. "We can't. There'd be terrible consequences for all of us, including your families. They'd kill us all."
"The Peacekeepers keep a watchful eye over this place," the mailman warned them. "We're a government building, it will be crawling with them within the hour."
"Please," Treech practically begged, frustrated tears threatening to fall. He quickly swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "I can't leave them without saying goodbye. Without saying sorry for leaving them al-"
"What's with all the ruckus?" A booming voice suddenly called out, causing both of the women to flinch. "Head Peacekeeper Lynch needs those Capitol telegrams." The three station employees leaped away from the cage as one of the Peacekeepers from the day before strutted in. His dark gun glinted in the early morning sun and Lamina let out a soft gasp from beside Treech.
"We were just leaving," the younger woman stuttered, grabbing the older one by the crook of her arm.
"Met the new meat, now, have you?" The Peacekeeper asked with a small chuckle, ignoring her words as he smirked at the teenagers through the bars. "Aren't they something?"
"I've got to run these to the Mayor," the postman said quickly, patting his mailbag with a shaking hand. "I'm sure Yasen and Ilana have plenty of duties to get to as well." Not looking back at Treech or Lamina, he attempted to herd the women back to the front desk. They were cut off by the soldier's gun blocking their path.
Don't forget, discretion is necessary in this situation," the Peacekeeper said tautly, giving them a firm warning glance.
"Of course," Yasen, the older woman, said with a taut smile. "I'll track down those telegrams for you."
"Speedily, please." The guard let his gun drop as he snapped his fingers at her. The trio left quickly, shooting apologetic glances at the tributes as they disappeared through the doorway. He turned back to Lamina and Treech with a wicked smile. "Hello, kiddos. Sleep well knowing this is one of your last nights in Seven? I'd kill to get out of this hellhole of a district. Even if death were the only other option."
"You never know, maybe we'll win this whole thing," Treech sneered back at him.
"We? There's certainly no 'we' when it comes to the Hunger Games. Only one of you would make it out." His eyes fixated on Lamina, whose grip on the cell bars immediately tightened. "And my money sure isn't on her."
"Is there a reason you're here?" Treech asked sourly, glaring unamused at the man. "Come to bring us food finally?"
"Maybe if you ask nicely," the Peacekeeper sneered back. He reached through the bars to thumb Lamina's chin. "Maybe for a smile, sweetheart." Lamina's stunned expression turned to rage as she gnashed her teeth at his finger, causing the Peacekeeper to recoil with a yelp. His teasing smirk immediately twisted into a scowl as he backed away from the cage. "Crazy bitch. Enjoy dying of starvation before you even make it to the Capitol." And with that, the Peacekeeper turned on the heel of his boot and quickly marched out of the jailing area.
"Are you alright?" Treech finally managed to ask after recovering from his stunned silence. He turned to Lamina, who was breathing heavily. She looked to be fighting tears once again, but managed to nod. Before he could open his mouth to ask her another question, Lamina was already making her way back to her cell bench. She assumed her curled-up position and buried her face in her knees.
Treech stared at her, puzzled. Lamina was apparently brave enough to nearly bite a Peacekeeper's finger off but too weak to keep from crying every five minutes. Scratch that, she wasn't weak. Maybe hypersensitive was a better word for it. Softhearted. She reminded him of Aase in that sense.
After what felt like a lifetime of silence between the two of them, during which Treech chipped several nails trying to carve a design into the metal bench with his fingernails, Yasen peeked her head back through the doorway. Hearing her come in, Treech immediately turned around and leaped to his feet. "You're back!"
"Not for long," she warned in a whisper after shushing him. She quickly crossed over to the cage and shoved two pens and some scraps of paper into Treech's hands. "I'm afraid this is the best we can do. If you write to your family, Quill promises that he'll try to deliver it for you."
Treech's eyes immediately lit up in understanding. He fumbled with the writing materials before slapping them down on the metal bench and getting to work.
"Better hurry," Yasen warned him, looking over her shoulder nervously. "The guard is only out on a smoke break, he won't be long."
"Lamina." Treech beckoned her over and tried to place a pen into her hand.
"No thank you," she hastily declined, cringing away from the materials.
He frowned at her. "Come on, this is the last chance you'll get to say anything to your family. Don't you want to say goodbye?" She only shook her head. He groaned in frustration but quickly turned back to his own blank letter. His hand trembled slightly as everything he wanted to say to his mother and brother swam around in his brain. As he finally put pen to paper, his hand suddenly began to shake harder. So much to say and yet he could barely remember how to write. He suddenly envied sensitive, literate Lamina and all her schooling.
As if reading his mind, Lamina suddenly spoke up. "Would you like me to write it for you?" Her eyes widened when he looked at her sharply. "Not that I think you can't read or write! Just, maybe, I'd be faster?"
"Faster is better," Yasen called out quietly from the doorway.
Pushing down his pride, Treech finally nodded and passed the paper down the bench to her. Unlike before, Lamina immediately seized the paper and pen. She looked at him intently, eyes wide. "Dear Mom and Aase…" Treech began, blushing slightly as he watched Lamina scribble it down. "I'm sorry to say that this might be the last you hear from me…"
Treech grew redder and redder by the minute as he bashfully told Lamina the words he wanted to share with his family members. Never once did Lamina stop writing to question any of his words, only nodding along as she scrawled out his message in beautiful looping letters. "...I will miss you both terribly, please stay strong. Treech." He finally finished, ducking his head in embarrassment as Lamina wrapped up the letter.
"I changed it to Love, Treech. I hope you don't mind," she said with a small smile. "Word choice makes all the difference."
He nodded, still blushing. "Sure, that's great. Thank you." He waved Yasen over, who scurried up to the bars and immediately folded his letter in half. He rattled off his address to the older woman, who nodded and quickly departed with a promise that she would try to find them some food.
"Thank you for doing that for me," Treech said shyly once Yasen was out of sight. His heart suddenly lurched with gratitude for the girl. "It was very kind of you."
She gave him a wide smile. "I was happy to. It's very sweet, the things you said to them. It will mean a great deal to them, getting to read your goodbye."
"Then why didn't you write one?" He asked curiously, immediately regretting his question when he watched her face quickly crumple.
"Some families are better than others," she muttered, looking down at the ground with a furrowed brow. "My older brother doesn't care much for me. I'm a liability to him, I don't bring in any money and I cry at the silliest inconveniences. He's probably glad to be rid of me."
"Don't say that," Treech tried to protest but backed down when he saw Lamina's fierce, teary expression. "What about your parents, then?" He backtracked slightly.
"Gone." She shook her head and sniffled. "I never knew my mother, she died when I was born. My father didn't last much longer, taken by the war. I had another older brother, too. He was much kinder to me than Elmore, but he's gone now… "
Treech's eyebrows raised, not surprised but perhaps comforted by the fact that he was sharing his space with someone who had also lost her father to the ruins of war. But before he could articulate this to Lamina, she fled with a choked sob, falling back onto her usual bench. He inexplicably felt troubled when she turned her back to him to cry silently into the wall.
The next day, the station was alive with the sound of cargo trains entering and leaving. Treech had managed to coax Lamina out of her shell again, guilty about the way his questioning had affected her the day prior. He brought her to life by initiating a word game with her, challenging her to write down as many words as she could from a random combination of letters. By the end of it she was rosy-cheeked and lively, smiling up at him sweetly. He smiled back, enjoying the way she lit up.
As the districts' travel privileges were revoked following the war, few passengers seemed to move through the station. Only Peacekeepers and train workers dwelled in the station, or so it sounded from the railway jargon that bounced off the walls. The Peacekeeper that Lamina had tried to bite stuck to his word and refused to bring them any food. Ilana and Yasen must have relayed the tributes' dire conditions to the train workers because, by midday, a sympathetic conductor snuck back to the jail cell to drop off some dried meat and plums for them.
"I can't believe he didn't come back and feed us," Treech commented, referring to the Peacekeeper as he fought to stop the plum's juice from dribbling down his sleeve.
"I'm glad he didn't come back." Lamina gently rolled her uneaten plum around in her hands, her lip turning down at his words. She sat next to him, her old bench abandoned as she curled up on his and faced the window. It was something that he took as a minor victory.
"But we've been hungry for two days," Treech reminded her, nodding down at the piece of fruit in her palm. "Eat."
"I hate the Peacekeepers."
"I could tell from the way you tried to take that one's finger off," he commented dryly.
"I wouldn't accept any sort of help from those monsters." Lamina stared down at the floor and Treech could see that once again, for whatever reason, she was fighting back tears.
But instead of letting that happen, he fought to keep her eyes dry. "So you hate plums, is this what I'm hearing? Now's not really the time to be picky now, is it?"
He was rewarded with a small smile before she bit into her piece of fruit.
On their third day, it rained. Buckets and buckets of rain poured down from the sky, splashing angrily at their cell window. Treech and Lamina sat knee-to-knee on their now-shared cell bench, watching miserably as the rain beat down outside.
"It looks horrible out there," Treech commented, jiggling his foot antsily.
"I'd give anything to be out there and not stuck in here," Lamina replied, gesturing half-heartedly to their bleak atmosphere.
"My company can't be all that bad," Treech teased lightly, giving her a small shove that caused her to smile. "If the Capitol really wanted to kill us all off, they'd put us out there right now. Not even the strongest tribute could survive a District Seven torrential downpour. I wonder what they'll do to the arena this year. Seems like it gets tougher to survive each year."
"I don't have much of a chance of surviving this whole thing anyway," Lamina muttered, scuffing her boots against the floor.
Treech stared at her in surprise. In their many hours locked away in the jail cell, they hadn't once discussed the Games, or their fate. Not really. Hearing Lamina's insecurity about her odds made him frown, but there was some truth to her words. She was tall for her age but her build was wispy. She lacked the muscles that the rest of District Seven kids her age possessed, those that were put to work in the lumberyards. No, Lamina's odds were not favorable. He searched his brain for what to say, something to comfort her with. Finally, his eyes settled on her legs, splayed out in front of her. "Not with that getup, you aren't," Treech finally managed to get out, gesturing to her overly long pant legs.
Lamina looked at him questioningly before realizing he was referring to her outfit. She let out a quiet laugh. "I suppose not. These belonged to Elmore, before he outgrew them. Shame I didn't have an older sister, that would've meant better hand-me-downs."
"May I?" He asked, gesturing to her pant legs. She stared at him questioningly and he sighed. "You'll trip in those the second you get into the arena." Realizing that he was right, she shuffled closer to him on the bench, offering him a leg.
Treech got onto his knees in front of her and took one pantleg in his hand. He ran his hands over the thick fabric, wondering how he was going to cut it. Finally, he pulled the hem taut before using his teeth to tear at the seams. Once the threads came loose, he ripped up the hem and used his teeth a second time to tear at the fabric. He was able to tear around the circumference of her leg before the fabric finally fell to the floor. He did the same on the other side until both pant legs no longer dragged on the ground.
"Might be a little out of fashion," he chuckled as he straightened her pantlegs, "but much more functional."
"I like it," she said softly, admiring his handiwork. "Thank you." She stood up and gave him a twirl for good measure, causing them both to chuckle.
He noticed that her pants were still hanging low on her hips. "Just one more touch." He stood up and unfastened one of his two belts. It usually held his axe and knife but he had left them at home for the Reaping. He gingerly slipped the piece of worn leather through her belt loops and stepped back to allow her to fasten the belt for herself. She hiked the pants up until the belt was wrapped around her waist and the pants barely brushed the ankles of her laced boots.
"Are you sure?" she asked, fingering the belt end gently when she had finished.
He shrugged and nodded, gesturing down to the belt he had kept. "Two is excessive. Plus I don't have an axe to fasten to it anymore."
She picked up the scraps of her pantlegs and tied the pieces together swiftly. Then she approached him cautiously. "May I?" Unsure of what she was doing, he nevertheless nodded.
She came in close and looped the fabric around his neck before gently tying it below his chin. Her hair brushed against his cheek as she worked.
"What's this?" He said when she finally finished and stepped back. He felt at his neck, noting the elegant knot she had managed to procure at his throat.
"My teacher loved Capitol fashion. She said neck scarves were all the rage this year," Lamina said, a small smile playing on her lips. "We're going to the Capitol, after all. We need to have you looking your best."
That same afternoon, the Peacekeepers finally came to collect them. "Train's here," Lynch, the Head Peacekeeper, announced as he banged on the cell bars. Treech woke from his nap with a start, realizing that Lamina had fallen asleep on his shoulder. The two of them stared wide-eyed at each other as the Peacekeepers unlocked the cell and shouldered their way inside to grab the bleary tributes. Lamina fought in their grasp, reaching desperately for Treech, but they dragged her out of the cell, him not far behind. She wasn't ready to leave, he could tell. And neither was he.
They brought them past the mail desk, where the trio of employees that had offered the tributes a sliver of kindness were stationed. As he was being herded past them, Treech noticed the mailman attempting to grab his attention. Still moving, he had to crane his neck to see the man reach into his pocket and quickly pull out a piece of crumpled paper. Before the Peacekeepers rounded the corner, Treech was able to make out the two large words on the page: PLEASE WIN. He couldn't read much, but he instantly knew what the paper read. Written in Aase's sloppy handwriting that he immediately recognized. Bile rose to his throat and he gagged but managed to keep it down.
"Your chariot awaits," the Head Peacekeeper boomed once they had made it to the station platform. Awaiting them was a rustic-looking cargo train, complete with thick wooden doors and metal deadbolts designed for holding cattle. Not people. And yet the Peacekeepers were guiding them right in its direction.
Treech was still so numb after reading Aase's message that he barely felt the Peacekeeper grab him by the scruff of his neck and lug him up into the cattle cart. Just like at the Reaping and in the jail cell, he hit the ground hard. A yelp and a thud indicated that Lamina had been hoisted in right after him. Before he could even process his surroundings, or the other people in the cart, the door slammed shut followed by the click of several deadbolts.
He had barely managed to pull Lamina to her feet when the train lurched forward, sending them sprawling a second time. It seemed as though the conductor was about as desperate to get out of Seven as Treech was to stay.
Lamina's knee bumped against Treech's as the train chugged along. The second the train had started to move, departing the station, tears had sprung to her eyes. He himself had felt his stomach flip at the notion of leaving District Seven for the first time in his sixteen years of life. His time in Seven chopping trees had not been easy, but he was loved and cherished by his family. Is. Aase's note had lit a fire under him; determination and a newfound purpose surged through his body, combatting the usual numbness. His brother wanted him to win, and so he would. He cast a quick glance at Lamina, wishing that someone could spark that same fire in her.
It was dim in the cattle cart, light seeping only through the cracks in the wooden walls, but he could see that there were eight other tributes in their train cart. The two teenagers from District Ten were draped in tan fabrics. The boy sported a swollen eye that appeared to never open and a permanent scowl on his face. The pair from Five were both dark-haired with sleepy, hooded eyes. He nodded at them and they immediately returned the gesture. The boy from Two was big and burly. Treech immediately took note of him, sizing him up and wondering what chance he had in the arena against the mountain of a tribute. His district partner was smaller and less intimidating but her movements were quick and sharp. The little boy from Four had big, brown, soulful eyes that rivaled only Lamina's. He couldn't have been older than thirteen. His district partner, a sour-faced girl with short red hair and silver piercings, looked the pair from Seven over like they were new meat.
"So what's your story?" She asked boredly, crossing her beefy arms over her chest. "Childhood friends? Strangers? Lovers?" She chuckled at the troubled looks on their faces. "It doesn't matter anyway, does it? You'll have to kill each other one way or another." From beside Treech, Lamina's breath caught in her throat.
"That's rather bleak, don't you think?" Brandy, the girl from Ten, scoffed, saving them from answering Coral's question.
"Got a problem, Ten?" Coral scowled back. Brandy merely rolled her eyes and slouched further down in her seat. "This whole thing is bleak, get over it."
"Don't pay any mind to her," Marcus from Two whispered to Treech and Lamina. "She's been in a rotten mood ever since the train picked her up in Four." He sighed and shrugged. "Rightfully so, I suppose."
"I'm hungry," Coral's district partner whined slightly, clutching at his stomach. He looked to the newcomers expectantly. "I don't suppose you managed to sneak any food onto the train?"
"Shut up, Mizzen," Coral groaned, slapping the boy on the back of his head. He rearranged his hat on his head and drooped low in his seat.
"Can't say our jail cell provided much amenities," Treech reported dryly as Lamina sympathetically shook her head.
Despite their unfavorable circumstances, the train began to have a calming effect on Treech as time passed. As it chugged along, he felt himself being lulled by its soft motions. The lack of light bothered him but he and the other tributes would take turns staring out of the largest crack in the wall boards to peek at the trees.
Although they knew what their fate in the arena would be, the tributes got along for the most part. Some stuck to themselves while others chatted with anyone who would talk to them. Treech had never spoken to someone from outside of Seven, save for the Peacekeepers, and he found himself suddenly intrigued by life in the other districts.
"Shut up, Seven." Coral suddenly spat out late into the evening. Treech looked up from his conversation with Hy and Sol, assuming she had meant him, but instead, she was glaring at a softly crying Lamina. "Seriously, if you don't stop blubbering, I'll make you stop."
Before Treech could open his mouth to yell at Coral, a different tribute came to Lamina's defense. "Leave her alone, Coral," Marcus said in a deep, booming voice. "She's not hurting anyone. We're all coping in our own ways." Coral rolled her eyes but fell silent and turned away. Treech watched as Marcus put a big hand on Lamina's shoulder, which earned him a watery smile in return. He stared intently at that hand, hoping that it wouldn't close around Lamina's thin throat in the arena. That thought startled him so much that he quickly bid the tributes from Five goodbyes before scrambling over to Lamina's side of the train and sitting beside her. She patted his knee in greeting and wiped at her eyes.
"How much longer to the Capitol?" Tanner, the boy from Ten suddenly growled, banging his fist against the cargo cart's walls and startling the rest of the tributes. Aside from Coral, he seemed to have the shortest fuse. He spent his time on the train pacing back and forth and muttering angrily under his breath.
"We still have another district to cover," Sabyn from Two reminded him quietly.
"District One isn't too far from Seven's train station," Lamina, having recovered from her tears, piped up softly. It was the first time she had addressed anyone other than Treech and he watched with bated breath for her reception.
"And how do you know that?" Coral's cruel gaze fixated on her and she shrunk back slightly.
"Lamina's just smart like that," Treech said with an offhanded shrug as he came to her defense.
"Well then just how long til we get there, then?"
"Within the hour, I would suppose," Lamina whispered, twitching nervously under Coral's watchful eye.
"You'd better be right," Coral muttered, throwing herself back in her seat dramatically.
"Ignore her," Treech whispered to the fidgety Lamina. "She's being cruel for no reason." She nodded quietly. And then, much to his surprise, she took his hand and squeezed it.
He squeezed back and didn't let go.
Much to Treech's relief, Lamina's prediction had been right and 45 minutes later the train began to slow before gently pulling into One's station.
The doors slid open and a pair of Peacekeepers were suddenly staring back at them. Treech squinted at the sudden abundance of light streaming through the door. As he looked over the Peacekeepers' heads, he couldn't help but notice the large, arched door of the station that led outside. If he could grab Lamina and launch them over the Peacekeepers' heads and make a run for the door-
"Don't even think about it," Sabyn whispered to him, snapping him out of his stupor. "Marcus tried that back in Five. Didn't get him anywhere, as you can see." Treech ducked his head in embarrassment and nodded.
The Peacekeepers parted only to lift the District One tributes, who were dressed all in white, onto the train. The second that they stepped on the train, Lamina immediately latched onto Treech's arm to whisper in his ear that they looked like they were dressed in sailor suits. He didn't know what that meant but laughed along quietly with her anyway.
Coral, too, made a snarky remark about their get-up but the pair ignored them. They introduced themselves as Facet and Velvereen and silently took a seat across from Marcus. Before Treech could take one last look at his imagined escape route, the Peacekeepers shut them in the cattle cart once more.
They sat on the tracks for fifteen minutes without any movement from the train. "Why aren't we moving?" Hy from Five suddenly asked with a frown. He was answered by a loud metal screeching sound coming from outside. The vibrations under them indicated that the train tracks were moving, rearranging themselves.
"That's the tributes from the East meeting up with your train," the girl from One said dully, absentmindedly playing with her long braid. "I heard a Peacekeeper say they're transferring the cart of East Panem tributes onto this train before heading to the Capitol.
"Now it's a party," Coral chuckled humorlessly.
After another ten minutes, a sharp click indicated that the cart of other tributes had been fastened to their train. After that, the conductor wasted no time in pulling out of One's station and turning his sights on the Capitol.
"We're really off to the Capitol now," Lamina whispered to Treech as the train chugged along. She sounded neither scared nor sad, but rather matter-of-fact.
He only nodded in response.
"I wonder what it will look like," she hummed. "I've read about it in school but our books never had pictures."
He took a moment to think about her question. "I've never had much curiosity in the Capitol," he admitted. It was true, the older lumberjacks he worked with only spoke with spite or fury when talking about Panem's Capitol. "But I'm sure it's very big."
She nodded, looking as though she had more to say. "Do you think there will be trees at the Capitol? Or in the arena?" She asked him finally.
He snapped out of his stupor to look at her. She was gazing thoughtfully off into the void. "I don't know, probably. Why?"
She shrugged. "I've always thought that it would be nice to be surrounded by what I love when I die."
He noticed that she didn't say who.
They made it to the Capitol in less than a day. By then, the train reeked of urine and stale air. The tributes stopped trying to get to know one another and instead sat in miserable silence, staring at one another blankly as the train jostled them gently. Treech's numbness had returned, intensifying the closer they got to the Capitol.
Just like in One, they were greeted by a parade of Peacekeepers, only this time there were about a dozen. Lamina recoiled as the Peacekeepers reached into the train and started yanking out tributes left and right. In an attempt to keep her from that same fate, Treech quickly hopped out of the cart to help her down. He reached for her but was too slow, as one impatient soldier wasted no time in tugging her down. She landed hard on her feet, stumbling slightly.
After making sure she was fine, Treech took in his surroundings. The Capitol's train station was grand with lofted ceilings and beautiful glass windows that allowed large beams of sunlight to seep through the panes. It felt wrong that they had just descended into this fine place from a cattle cart. Further down the train, the Eastern tributes were also being driven out of their cart and shoved down onto the platform. As he looked around, he noticed a tall boy in a red suit attempting to talk to one of the girl tributes from the other cart. Treech stared at their exchange curiously before a shout from behind him brought his attention back to the train.
A Peacekeeper was yelling at someone still inside the cattle cart. He finally climbed in before tossing a flailing Brandy out onto the platform. She hit the ground with a grunt and glared up at the guard.
Another soldier dragged her to her feet and pushed her forward with the butt of his gun. "Let's move it, all of you! Let's go."
Treech and Lamina silently followed his orders, falling into step behind Coral and Mizzen. The Peacekeepers guided them off the train platform and into the back of a cramped truck. One tribute, a blonde boy who was missing part of his arm, tried to make a run for it but two Peacekeepers dragged him back. Treech immediately herded Lamina into one of the last seats available in the car before positioning himself nearby. He latched his hand onto a beam on the truck ceiling to keep himself upright while the car was in motion. To his, and everyone else's, surprise, the Capitol boy dressed all in red hurtled into the truck before the doors closed.
The boy lurched forward when the truck began to move but he caught himself before he fell. He looked up to see the district kids staring back at him, unsmiling.
As the Capitol boy attempted to keep himself from getting killed, Treech observed the new tributes that must have come from the Eastern train. The boy with the incomplete arm was keeping close to a round-faced little girl who had to have been that year's youngest tribute. The pair from Eleven also stuck close to one another, the boy as large and daunting as his counterpart was small and unthreatening. A cough shook her entire body and Treech recoiled instinctively, unwilling to catch whatever illness she had contracted. The boy from Twelve had kind eyes but a muscular build that resembled Marcus's. Treech took note of him in particular, another person standing between him and victory. Then, as he thought about it, wasn't Lamina also a barrier? He looked guiltily in her direction and saw that she was consciously trying to take up as little space as possible in between Tanner and Brandy. Shaking off the thought, Treech focused on the last new tribute, the dark-haired girl in a rainbow-frilled dress who seemed to be defending the Capitol boy from the wrath of the other tributes.
"Besides, he's my mentor," Treech caught her saying. She raised her chin at a glaring Coral as she jabbed a finger in the red-clad boy's direction.
"How come you get a mender?" Coral snapped, clearly puzzled by the girl's retort but unhappy with her tone.
"Mentor," the girl corrected, earning another sneer in return.
"You each get one," the Capitol boy supplied, grabbing Treech's attention. He was wriggling around in the boy who was referred to as Reaper's tight grip.
"You think we're just gonna believe you?" Coral scoffed, jumping to her feet. Mizzen and the other younger children recoiled slightly at her quick move but the Capitol boy kept a straight face. "Why does rainbow girl here get special treatment anyway? Why isn't my mender here?"
The car jostled suddenly, sending Lamina sprawling into the boy from District Ten.
"Watch it," he snapped, shoving her away from him as his working eye glistened with rage.
Treech saw Lamina's eyes immediately fill with tears and he lurched forward. "Don't touch her!" The rest of the tributes stared curiously at him. Tanner looked surprised but held up his hands and stood down.
"Just not inspired, I guess," the girl from Twelve spoke up again, answering Coral's question and redirecting everyone's attention back to her.
A loud beeping sound suddenly filled the air. Treech instantly recognized it as the sound of a truck backing up, just like in Seven when the lumber trucks came to collect their day's work. The rest of the tributes went silent, looking around in confusion. He locked eyes with Lamina right as the doors flew open and the truck tipped back, sending him and the rest of the kids tumbling out.
He instantly threw his arms up over his face as he rolled and bumped around on the descent. Finally, when he had stopped rolling, he found himself laying facedown on what looked to be mulch.
All around him, the rest of the tributes were groaning, just as startled as he was by their exit. As the truck that dumped them in the enclosure pulled away, a second one appeared, dropping off the other round of tributes. Treech picked himself up, ignoring the cries of pain from below as he stepped over the other kids in search of one thing and one thing only.
He quickly fished Lamina out of the pile of flailing limbs, practically lifting her out of the mess of people. "Are you alright?" He asked as he sat her down on a nearby rock, searching her for any cuts or bruises.
She rubbed her head and Treech feared that she might had a head injury."I'm okay, I-" Her eyes suddenly widened and she jumped to her feet. "Are we in an animal cage?"
"What? Like a zoo?" Treech scoffed only to realize that she was right. Wide-eyed, the pair inspected the area. Lamina had gotten her wish, for they were surrounded by a small grove of unfamiliar-looking trees. Scattered across the ground was the mulch that Treech had landed in prior along with the boulders they had tumbled down. Once again, they were surrounded by bars. Only this time, unlike in Seven, people were milling about outside. They gawked at the tributes, peering in curiously while still attempting to keep their distance.
Lamina ducked her head shyly and quickly turned her back to the crowd of people, but Treech couldn't help but stare at the patrons. They were everything that the people back in Seven weren't: affluent, scrubbed clean, wrapped in starchy new fabrics. His hand immediately went to his neck scarf when he noticed that several men were indeed spouting similar items. Treech's lip suddenly curled. He didn't want to be associated in any way with these compliant, passive people living in the carefree Capitol world. But as he reached up to undo the scarf, he caught Lamina's eye over her shoulder and his hand dropped.
Something grabbed her attention and Treech turned to see what it was. To his surprise, it was the Capitol boy and rainbow dress girl. Hand-in-hand, they daintily stepped over the rocks and mulch and approached the cell bars where an obnoxious man with a camera shoved his microphone toward them.
"My name is Coriolanus Snow," Treech heard the boy introduce himself to a pair of shy children, "and this is my tribute, Lucy Gray Baird."
"What do you think that he meant by saying he was that girl's mentor?" Lamina mumbled to Treech, still transfixed by the unlikely pair. The other tributes had recovered from their fall into the cage and were milling about, eyeing the Capitolites warily. The zoo spectators closed in, staring hungrily at the caged teenagers.
"I don't know," Treech replied honestly. "Can't say I like the sound of it, though. Hey, you got your wish, they have trees here."
"I suppose they do," Lamina quipped, studying said trees. Back still turned to the spectators, she sat down on a nearby rock and looked up at the tall, thin trees.
"We don't have these back in Seven," Treech commented, joining her on an adjacent boulder. "They look like a mutated sort of pine tree."
"They're cypress, I think," Lamina hummed quietly, eyes still locked on the trees above them. "In old mythology, they represented eternal death."
"So if we follow your theory of trees having souls, what would these Capitol trees' souls be like?"
"Sad," she said with a shrug. "I'm glad they don't exist in Seven, otherwise I would be constantly reminded of their unhappy mythology." She paused. "You're right, they do look like pine trees. I like pines a lot."
"Come look here! This one is talking about trees," a Capitol teenager jeered from outside the cage, pointing gleefully at the two of them. Lamina's brow crumpled and she ducked her head in embarrassment.
Treech sent a glare over his shoulder at the boy. "Pine tree wood makes lousy furniture, you know," he said quickly in an attempt to distract her.
"Does it?" Lamina asked, blinking away dainty tears. Behind her, Coriolanus was being marched out of the zoo cage by a quartet of Peacekeepers.
He nodded quickly. "My mom makes furniture, you know. The best in Seven. She said that it's too hard to carve designs into and not malleable enough to craft smaller pieces. I guess that means pines for you, then."
She gave him a small smile. "I suppose it does."
Their first night in the zoo was cold and dark. For the most part, the zoo visitors had stopped coming after sunset, save for a boy in another red uniform that passed out sandwiches. Perhaps Treech had been imagining it, but the newcomer and Marcus had shared a few intense moments of eye contact before Coriolanus showed up a second time. Their stomachs less empty than before, he and Lamina had curled up near the cluster of rocks they had claimed earlier and fell asleep back-to-back.
The next day passed by slowly. Any sort of camaraderie that existed on the train between the tributes dissipated in the zoo cage. Everybody broke off into their district pairings or else milled about the cage alone, scowling at the gawking zoo spectators. They were growing territorial too, sticking to the spaces they had claimed in their first hours in the cage. Coral and Mizzen lay splayed out on the higher boulders at the back of the cage while Bobbin and Wovey from Eight stuck close together, sharing one small boulder between the two of them. Panlo and Circ got into a fight the previous night over a bale of hay which had to be broken up by Marcus the gentle giant.
Treech and Lamina spent the day talking, moving only with the sun to prevent themselves from getting sunburnt. Much to their relief, the number of zoo visitors was smaller than the previous night and they were able to sit in peace without as many eyes on them. Lucy Gray, the girl from Twelve, continued to converse with the passersby. It puzzled Treech, why she would want to entertain the Capitol folk.
Late into the afternoon, the tributes were loaded onto a truck with minimal explanation. The vehicle transported them to a building with high ceilings where they were each shackled to a table and told to wait for their so-called mentors. Treech twitched in his handcuffs, under the watchful gaze of several Peacekeepers milling about. He looked over to Lamina, who was also fighting in her bonds, frustrated tears pooling up in the corners of her eyes.
As he opened his mouth to comfort her, the doors opened and twenty-four teenagers dressed in those familiar red uniforms marched in. He recoiled in surprise, thoroughly confused by what was happening as he watched them each purposefully approach a tribute and sit down. A petite girl suddenly slid the seat across the table from him and held out her hand to him. "Vipsania Sickle. Pleasure." He stared silently at the outstretched hand, watching triumphantly as it drooped before she retracted it with a scowl.
"Your fifteen minutes starts now," an adult dressed in flowing robes boomed out, addressing the large room of kids. "Please begin." Instantly, the room filled with voices and the sounds of pencils scratching on paper.
"What's your name?" Vipsania tried again, attempting to send him a smile. She tapped a line on the paper, indicating that she needed to write the information down.
"What's it to you?" Treech shot back in annoyance.
Gone was the smile. Her nostrils flared and she clutched her pencil with white knuckles. "I'm your mentor, you big oaf. And if you want any help at all in that arena, you'll answer my questions and cooperate."
His brows knit together in confusion. "What do you mean, help in the arena ?"
Pleased that she had gotten his attention, the girl leaned back and smoothed out the skirt of her uniform. "The Hunger Games are going to be different this year. Each of you has one of us," she gestured to herself, "as a mentor. We're supposed to give you guidance and help you win."
"What's in it for you?" He asked suspiciously.
She shrugged and smiled wickedly. "Oh, plenty. Fame, glory, a generous scholarship. I think it's a win-win situation, don't you? The further you advance, so do I. I promise I'll help you stay alive."
He let her words sink in. She had a reason to keep him alive, to help him win. To get him home to his family. His eyes darted to his right, where Lamina sat, head bowed. "Treech," he finally supplied. "Treech Iben."
Vipsania wrinkled her nose slightly but jotted it down on the paper. "Birthday?"
"December 28th. I'm sixteen."
"Family?"
"A mother and a brother."
"And their names are?"
"Linden and Aase."
They continued on like that, asking concise questions and supplying even shorter answers, until the man from before called an end to their time. Vipsania immediately rose to her feet at his announcement. She swiped the page off the table, gave Treech a nod, and disappeared into the ocean of other red-uniformed Academy students.
The Peacekeepers wasted no time in rounding up the tributes. Treech lost sight of Lamina as they were pushed, prodded, and herded into the same truck as before to be transported back to the zoo.
"How was your mentor?" Treech asked, sidling up to her once they were deposited back into their same zoo cage. He eyed the dried tears on her face with worry. But to his surprise, she laughed.
"Brash and impatient," she hummed, shrugging slightly. "He got very testy when I started crying. Said something along the lines of 'Do you know who my father is?' when I wouldn't answer his questions." She looked down at the ground and giggled again. "What about yours?"
Treech pondered the question. Blonde pigtails and rosy cheeks aside, his mentor had a ferociousness to her that did not go unnoticed. He remembered the way her eyes lit up when he told her how many years he had been using an ax.
"She was beautiful," Lamina commented, filling the silence that he left.
He quickly looked up at her. She stared back expectantly, waiting for him to agree with her. Finally, he gave a halfhearted shrug. "She was like a snake with pigtails."
Lamina's laugh echoed through the zoo cage.
Treech suddenly wondered if Lamina ever wore pigtails as a child. He wondered what she was like back then. He then surprised himself by wondering what she would be like in twenty years, should she make it that long. He wondered if she would. Nay, hoped.
Word must have gotten out about the Hunger Games mentor program, for the next day the zoo was packed with visitors. Several mentors had come along to see their tributes, too. Treech and Lamina's were nowhere to be seen, but they watched as Mizzen's sweet-faced mentor passed him a tomato through the bars. Brandy's sneering girl sat down in front of her with a basket, only the bars of the cage preventing them from having what appeared to be a normal picnic. Coriolanus, the only mentor other than Vipsania whom Treech knew by name, also appeared, face lighting up when he caught sight of Lucy Gray.
Whether it was due to their mentorship meeting the day before or the sheer amount of people that had come to see them, some of the tributes walked around with a newfound sort of purpose. Treech watched as Sheaf from Nine did an impressive back handspring that got her a smattering of applause and a piece of bread. He scoffed, realizing that their only source of food would be from performing.
But when he heard Lamina's stomach growl, he fetched walnut shells off of the ground and marched up to the bars to perform a juggling routine that got him a small apple and a muffin from a trio of shy Capitol children.
He collected his earnings with a quick smile before immediately beelining back to Lamina. He noticed the way her eyes lit up when she spotted the food in his hands but she still attempted to humbly reject his offering. After a few minutes of bickering, she finally ripped off a small chunk of muffin and put it in her mouth, earning a satisfied smile from him.
As time passed in the zoo, he learned many things about Lamina. They spent hours upon hours sitting shoulder to shoulder, talking to one another in an attempt to pass the time. He heard about what she had learned in school, all the knowledge that he too would have absorbed had he been her classmate and not out in the forest chopping wood every day. He listened to her talk about how she loved reading in the trees, pines specifically. And, perhaps most important of all, he learned that Lamina feared Peacekeepers above all else, which explained her skittish behavior around the soldiers. She had had another older brother, much kinder than Elmore it seemed, who was found guilty of conspiring with rebels a few years back in Seven. Treech listened with sorrow as she told him how Peacekeepers gunned him and his friends down when they tried to run. She had been watching from her bedroom window as he bled out.
Which was why Treech grabbed her and dragged her to the ground when the Peacekeepers open fired on Brandy, shielding Lamina from the bloodshed to the best of his ability. He held on as tightly as he could.
Vipsania showed up to the zoo the next evening, puffy-eyed and carrying a wrapped package of crackers and cheese. She stood nose-to-nose with the bars and cleared her throat to indicate her presence, grabbing Treech's attention. He looked up from his rock, unwound his arm from around Lamina's shoulders, and approached her hesitantly.
"It's horrible, what that girl did to Arachne," was how she greeted him with a sniff, passing the napkin bundle through the bars. The sidewalk outside of the tributes' cage had been scrubbed clean of Brandy and her mentor's blood, but a dark stain remained on the pavement. Treech eyed it warily.
"She suffered too," he pointed out, shoving the food into his pocket for later. "The Peacekeepers wasted no time in gunning her down. What are you doing here? And how'd you get in? I think they banned zoo visitors after what happened."
"Feeding you," she said, nodding at his bulging pocket. "And those idiots don't know anything, all I had to do was bat my eyes and flash my badge for them to let me in." She looked around quickly and her voice suddenly dropped. "One of my classmates wrote up a proposal petitioning the Gamemakers to allow us mentors to send you food in the arena. I heard through the grapevine that they're implementing it this year."
His eyes widened. "Really? So you mean we won't starve in there?" He had a chance. A chance to get home to his family.
"If you get enough sponsors," Vipsania corrected. She noticed his confusion and elaborated. "The spectators will be able to send donations to their favorite tributes, which means we need to make you advertisible."
"Advertisible," he scoffed with a shake of his head.
"You know what I mean," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Show you're a strong player right off the bat."
"And how do you suggest we do that?"
"Your televised interview is coming up soon. We need to use your timeslot to speak on all your strengths. And maybe mention your allies, too."
"Allies?"
"You need allies," she said, her long nails clicking against the bars. "If you align yourself with the other strongest players, there's no way you won't win the crowd's support. Start thinking about who you want and I can talk with their mentors. Preferably someone who's strong and has utility. Or at least someone that isn't weak." The last part Vipsania said pointedly, staring over Treech's shoulder at someone. He turned around and realized she was looking at Lamina, who had her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. He could tell she was trying not to stare too hard at Treech and his mentor; she blushed and ducked her head when he caught her eye. His heart lurched. He turned back to Vipsania and she gave him a sickly sweet smile. "Just some food for thought. Toodeloo, I'm off to dinner." And with that, she spun on her heel and marched towards the front gates. Treech watched as she passed Coriolanus, who had also managed to woo the guards into letting him enter.
Troubled by his mentor's words, Treech turned around and waded back through the mulch towards Lamina. Some of the other tributes stared hungrily at his pocket but he glared back at them and they slunked away.
"Guess your snake of a mentor does have a heart," Lamina said with a small smile as he unwrapped his gift. "What did she say to you?"
Treech flinched slightly at her question before choosing his words carefully. "I think they're going to let people send us food in the arena." He plucked a piece of cheese and placed it into her palm alongside a stack of crackers. "If the crowd likes us, they'll improve our chances by sending us things."
To his surprise, Lamina let out a scoff that was so unlike her that he stared dumbfounded at her. "Of course they're doing that," she muttered to herself, frowning down at the ground.
"What do you mean?" He asked, shocked by her sudden change in demeanor.
"Don't you see what they're doing?" She looked up at him with fierce eyes that caused him to recoil slightly.
"They're helping us," he said unsurely, his voice wavering.
"They want us to play their game," she spoke in an uncharacteristically harsh tone. "Play the part and put on a show or else get left behind."
"The Hunger Games have always been just that: a game," he reminded her tentatively. "But this time they're actually giving us a shot at winning."
"If you say so," she muttered, her hands closing into fists.
"We should be allies," Treech suddenly burst out, blushing at his own brazenness.
"What?" Lamina's face conveyed nothing short of bafflement.
"Allies. Maybe one of us would have a shot at winning if we paired up in the arena." Treech swallowed the lump in his throat. "We could take out the competition better that way."
"Take out the competition," Lamina echoed quietly.
He put a hand on her arm. "Look around, Lamina. We may coexist with everyone now but the second we get into that arena, we'll all be fighting for the chance to get out. To go home."
Her eyes drifted to Wovey, asleep on Bobbin's shoulder, and then to Dill, coughing up a lung while Reaper softly patted her back. "It doesn't have to be that way," she protested quietly, her bottom lip trembling.
"I think it does," he said in an attempted gentle tone while frustration began to build in his chest.
"I don't want to win," Lamina said after what felt like a century.
"What?" Treech's head snapped up at the same time his stomach dropped.
"I don't want to win," she repeated. "The winner lives with the guilt of what they did in that arena. They go on with life knowing that twenty-three others had to die so that they could live. "
"That's a pretty cynical way to think about it," he scoffed slightly, retracting his hand from her arm. He felt guilty, however, as he thought about his own plan to get home to Aase.
"Well it's true," she fired back defiantly. "Could you do it, Treech? Could you kill the rest of us? Could you kill me?" The last part she said softly. Nervously.
"That's unfair," he protested with a wince. "It's not like that."
Lamina's fist clenched around the food he had given her and he watched as broken cracker crumbs spilled to the ground from between her fingers. "I don't want to win," she repeated a third and final time.
"Then why do you cry every five minutes?" He burst out, the anger in his chest finally spilling over. "Why all the tears if you just want to die?"
Lamina's face burned hot red in front of him. "I cry for the world. For the horrible conditions we've been put in. For the twenty-three people who will die within the week. For the hundreds that have died before us. For the victims of the war. For my broth-" her voice caught in her throat and she blinked heavily at the ground.
"So you don't want to be my ally," he stated flatly after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
She finally looked up at him with those sad eyes. "I don't want an ally, Treech. I want a friend."
And that left him feeling number than ever.
They slept on opposite sides of their boulder that night, shivering from the cold and lack of company. Peacekeepers came to collect them the next morning, only briefly explaining that they would be receiving a tour of the arena courtesy of their mentors.
Instead of sticking by Lamina's side like he usually did, Treech hung back, allowing a Peacekeeper to sweep him up and load him into a different truck than her.
"Trouble in paradise, lumberjack?" Coral practically sang at him from across the cramped vehicle.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped back defensively. She merely shrugged and smirked maliciously before leaning over to whisper something in Tanner's ear. Treech eyed them warily but leaned back to sulk in his seat.
At their destination, the guards roughly unloaded them from the car. Treech may have been imagining it but it seemed as though the Peacekeepers had somehow turned even more malicious ever since the deaths of Brandy and her mentor. As one guard shoved him through the arena door so hard that his shoulder connected with the mental door frame, his theory was confirmed. A familiar yelp echoed from behind him and he looked quickly over his shoulder to see that Lamina had succumbed to the same fate as him. He ducked his head and turned forward again.
As he and the other tributes shuffled past what looked to be several ticketing counters, they suddenly found themselves in a large arena surrounded by rows of seats that climbed up high towards the vast ceiling. Moments later, the red-clad mentors entered the space and were asked to locate their tributes.
"Did you think about what I said?" Was how Vipsania greeted him as she bounced up to him.
How could he not? "I did."
"Good," she said, satisfied before looking around. "This place is huge."
Treech studied his surroundings. To some extent, she was correct. The arena likely once housed magnificent sporting events that attracted a large audience from far and wide. But as he thought about what was to transpire in that very space in just a few short days, the arena suddenly felt claustrophobic.
Lamina and a tall boy with dark skin suddenly trudged past them and Treech's eyes followed the pair. "You could do better than her." Vipsania had to stand up on her tiptoes to reach his ear.
He tore his gaze away from Lamina and stared down at his mentor in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"Your district partner," Vipsania said slowly. "You could do much better than her in terms of allies. Pup says all she does is cry."
Treech almost asked who Pup was but one look at Lamina and her impatient mentor seemed to answer that question for him. "She's from home," he argued weakly.
"So?" Vipsania practically sneered at him. "Festus and Persephone's tributes seem to have a high chance of coming out on top. Stick with them and you'll go far."
Treech clamped his mouth shut, unhappy with the direction their conversation had gone. She rolled her eyes again but began talking rapidly about interview strategy, which he promptly ignored. His head ached in cognitive dissonance. Eventually, when Vipsania noticed that he had stopped listening, she left him and meandered over to a trio of other mentors.
He noticed that Lamina had also been abandoned by her mentor. She was standing by herself in the middle of the arena, looking uneasy. They suddenly made eye contact.
"Hey, Lumberjack," A voice from behind Treech called out. He broke eye contact and turned to see that a group composed of Coral, Mizzen, and Tanner had formed. An alliance, he suddenly realized, and they seemed to be sizing him up. Coral beckoned him forward.
Vipsania's previous message crept into his memory and so he gave a small nod and approached them, but not before looking over his shoulder and calling out: "Lamina."
Apprehension was clear in her eyes but she still hopped forward dutifully, only to be cut off by Coral. "Just you." Treech paused briefly in confusion when he saw that the District Four girl was shaking her head. "Just you," she repeated, looking at Treech. He had been chosen. Not Lamina.
Lamina's words from the previous night burned fresh in his mind and heart. That paired with Vipsania's wisdom prompted him to ashamedly turn his back to Lamina and join Coral's group. He had to go home, to win. He didn't need to look back to know that Lamina's lip was wobbling, a telltale sign that she was about to cry. And as the other tributes patted his back and quickly began to speak in rapid whispers, the gravity of his decision began to sink in. He had just agreed to an unspoken alliance with the three of them. One that did not include his district partner. His friend.
Coral must have understood his ashamed expression. "It's better this way, Seven. Leave her to her own devices and she'll be dead by the first night. You won't have to kill her that way." She gave him a sharp pat on the back.
That only soured Treech's stomach even more. "She's got some utility," He tried to weakly argue. "She's very smart, maybe she could-"
"Nice try," Coral sneered at him. "Like I said, just you or you're out."
Later, when Coral and Mizzen's mentors had whisked them away to talk strategy, Treech immediately went looking for Lamina. He found her rooted to the exact spot he had left her, stunned in the center of the arena. When she saw him approaching, she quickly spun on her heels to turn her back on him.
"Lamina," he protested frantically, reaching out to grab her by her shoulder. Anxiety bubbled up inside of him.
"Don't talk to me," she rasped out in a choked voice, shaking off his hand.
His heart dropped. "Lamina, please. Let me explain-"
"Why would you do that?" Her teary eyes were so full of pain and devastation that he nearly started crying himself.
He sighed and ran his hands down the sides of his face. "I need to go home, Lamina," he said finally. "My family needs me. They want me to win. And so do I."
Her mouth stayed clamped shut as she refused to answer him. She stared back at him definitely, rivers of tears running down her face.
"Stop crying," he muttered under his breath, frustrated with her tears that never seemed to stop.
"You sound like my brother," she sputtered out in horror, causing him to go pale.
"Lamina, I didn't mea-"
And then the bombs went off.
The two of them were blasted apart as the air suddenly filled with dust and smoke. From all around them, cries echoed through the arena as bomb after bomb went off. Through the thick smoke, Treech watched in horror as Otto from Six and their mentor were thrown into one of the arena's walls. He coughed harder than he ever had, squinting in an attempt to make out the other shapes around him. Lamina was nowhere to be seen. Despite the dust, his eyes widened at that realization. Fighting numbness, Treech staggered to his feet. He tore Lamina's makeshift scarf from his neck and covered his mouth with it as he lurched forward, desperately calling out to her through the thick air.
He stepped over Panlo's squirming mentor, whose uniform had caught on fire, as he shouted his district partner's name. Through the haze, he saw a blob of copper hair and magenta fabric and he rushed towards it. He dodged falling shrapnel and hurtled over chunks of jagged concrete to get to her. He seized Lamina under her arms and hauled her, hacking and sputtering, to her feet. Shellshocked, all she could do was stare terrified at him. He clutched her dirty, tear-stained face in his hands and stared back.
"Let's go!" Marcus yelled as he rushed past the pair, laughing in maniacal glee. "Come on! Now's our chance! We're free!" He tore through the arena and towards the doors, dodging Peacekeepers left and right.
For a split second, Treech wanted to do nothing more than scoop Lamina up and run after Marcus into the vast unknown. Into freedom. But then he watched as Facet and Velvereen got gunned down as they tried to follow Marcus and the dream ended right then and there. Instead, he didn't fight back when the Peacekeepers grabbed at him, tearing him away from Lamina.
"Please talk to me, Lamina," Treech whispered to her the night before the Games. They were back in their zoo cage, starving and counting down the minutes until the Hunger Games began. Most of the tributes were stretched out and sleeping around the cage but Treech was wide awake, gazing up at the starry night sky as guilt ate away at his numb heart.
To his relief, her head popped up from the other side of their boulder. In the dark, she stared back at him with those sad eyes of her. He could tell that she too hadn't been able to sleep. "Hi," she said softly.
"Hi," he echoed back even softer. He was eager to have her attention and yet words were failing him in that moment. "I'll ditch them, Coral and the lot," he said finally. "Say the word and I'll ditch them."
She laughed in disbelief. "I won't do that."
"Quiet!" Someone nearby hissed as they rolled over.
"I won't play the game, I won't kill to up my own chances. And if that kills me, so be it." She sounded wise, war-torn, much older than fifteen.
He said nothing.
"You want to win, I think it's smart what you're doing." She placed her arms on the rock and rested her chin on them.
"But at what cost?" Treech looked down ashamedly. "You're the only person I care about here and I left you all alone."
She looked to the ground. "You don't owe me anything, Treech," she said in a whisper.
"I owe you the world," he immediately protested. "You deserve anything and everything that this world has to give you, Lamina."
"It hasn't given me much," she admitted. "And I think I'm done waiting around for a bite. I meant what I said, I don't want to win. I can't."
"I wish you wanted it," he muttered.
A joyless smile played upon her lips. "I know. But if I did, it might come down to the two of us facing off in the arena. And even if it did, I would have no reason to win. I don't have anything back in Seven, you do."
"So you want to die so that I can live?"
She laughed lightly. "Don't flatter yourself. But I am rooting for you."
"Being your friend was a wonderful experience," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat as he reached over the rock towards her.
She stared into his soul before taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "It was everything."
Lamina died two days later in the arena, killed by Treech's own alliance.
When he saw her cold body fall from the beam, something stirred inside of him. Gone was the numbness that had plagued him for years. As he stared at Lamina, limp and lifeless, he felt a startling concoction of emotions: guilt, anguish, pain, shock, anger, devastation. But most of all heartbreak. Complete and utter heartbreak.
Friends or lovers? You decide. This was such a treat to write, hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!