Dancing through a dream
Underneath the stars
Laughing till the morning comes
Everyone that leaves has a heavy heart
Oooh, won-derland I love
Smithsonian "Smith" Caldera
District 12, He/Him, 18
(1 month Prior the Reaping)
...
"You're thinking of your husband..." I watch her eyes widen. "He passed away last spring, yes?" She nods quickly, her rounded glasses almost slipping off of her frail face.
"How?" She whispers, hands shaking where they rest on the table that sits between us. "How could you possibly know this?" I stop the smile that threatens to flash across my pale face, something that used to be very difficult for me but has become natural with practice.
"As I told you, Anne, I am gifted." I say, gently taking her bony hands into my own. She shakes her head in disbelief and I offer her a sympathetic smile, the best way to get people to believe me is to not be too pushy - to let them convince themselves it's real all on their own. "As for the future, you will see him - John, is it? - again. After this life, there will be time for the both of you." A tear slips from her grey eye and down her sunken cheekbones but a small smile slowly appears on her face.
"Thank you, Smith. Thank you." She murmurs, giving my hands a quick squeeze before pulling out of my grip. She then reaches into the purse she has rested on the floor and pulls out some cash from her wallet, a lot of it. Charlotte was right, she is the type to leave a little tip. Especially with all that money left from her dead husband, is it truly taking when it'll hardly leave a dent in her wallet? She hands over the money and I wish her farewell, allowing a smile to creep along my face as she leaves through the tent door.
It only takes a few minutes before Cassidy and Charlotte rush inside, their eyes wide with curiosity. "It worked?" Cassidy hisses. As son of The Mayor, he hardly needs the money, I have no idea why he helps me with these scams but I assume it's something to do with the thrill. For me? I suppose it has to do with exercising the brain, I've never taken much interest in running the mines that my parents operate, but this, this is something I'm good at. This is something that I can do.
"Of course it worked." I smirk and Cassidy shouts in celebration while Charlotte gives me a high five. It's nice to know that all of our work has paid off, the two of them have been following Mrs. Dale for two weeks now in order to find out everything we needed to know for this scam to work. I'm the brains, of course, telling them what to do and who to go after but they do a decent enough job at reporting back to me. I give them a split of the money, not as much as I receive but enough that they feel they've done a job well done.
Suddenly, we hear a commotion outside of the tent and soon footsteps are approaching. "Smithsonian Caldera, get out of that goddamn tent before I come in!" A gruff voice yells. Charlotte and Cassidy look at me in panic.
"Want me to get my dad?" Charlotte whispers, her father being The Head Peacekeeper, and I shake my head. I have a feeling I know why this man has come and I'd rather deal with it myself than get mixed up with the law again. I slowly make my way out of then tent and into the bright, summer sun.
"Hello, nice day out, isn't it?" I say nonchalantly, staring into the eyes of the man. He's only slightly taller than me but quite a bit wider with huge arms at his sides. He reminds me a little of the trolls my Mother used to read to me about as a kid, I snicker at the thought which only makes him angrier.
"You're Smithsonian, the one who scammed my son?" He asks, looking me up and down with fury blazing in his eyes.
"Smith, actually. As for the other question, all I can offer you is a simple maybe." I state and with that he's charging at me, arms flying forward. I step to the side and stick my foot out before he reaches me, causing him to trip to the floor. He scrambles back to his feet and I laugh menacingly, this time I will be the one to charge. I speed forward, landing a kick right in his gut and causing him to stumble back. He's out of breath and confused so I storm ahead and punch him in the jaw, he falls to the floor yet again. I've had my fun, now I need to finish this up before people begin to notice what's going on. I kick him a few more times, his clothes quickly becoming bloody.
Once I'm done, I look up at Cassidy and Charlotte who have come out to watch. They both wear neutral expressions, used to this kind of violence and knowing that it's necessary in order to keep our business going. "Take his wallet and drag him into some alleyway." I order, they both nod their heads.
I spit on him square in the face before turning on my heel and heading back inside my tent.
Marya Linder
District 12, She/Her, 17
(Reaping Day)
...
I walk with a quickening pace to the large manor in front of me, my hair (still damp from the shower) sticking to my face. There's a basket swinging from my arm filled with a various assortment of food and a carton of milk. Mr and Mrs Winchester often need me to buy groceries from the market for them, they're much too busy to be doing anything like that and it's part of my duties as their governess.
"Mrs. Winchester, so sorry I'm late!" I cry as I let myself in through the front door.
"That's alright, Dear!" She calls from the kitchen and I rush inside, I've never been very good with time and Mrs. Winchester has come to expect my tardiness. The three kids are all sat down at the kitchen table, awaiting their breakfast and chatting away. "I thought I'd get them ready early, seeing as you have The Reaping today." I nod in thanks and get started on breakfast, frying eggs and making toast. "I'll just be in my room, you know where to find me."
Mrs. Winchester isn't exactly a bad mother, she just isn't a very attentive one and never really spends time with her children unless she has to. That's alright with me, though, her lack of care is why I was able to find work here and it's about the best job I could ask for. Alright, the pay could be better, but the children are what I really care about - watching them grow old and learn from me. There's nothing more rewarding than that. "Marya, what's The Reaping?" A little voice squeaks from the table behind me and I turn sharply, a little surprised. Most children are taught about The Reaping from a young age so that it becomes normalised, I suppose I can't be shocked that Mrs. Winchester hasn't.
"Well, Bobby..." I say, collecting my thoughts as the three Winchester children stare curiously at me with their large, innocent eyes. "A long time ago, when I wasn't even born yet, The Districts and The Capitol were at war. You know what war is, yes?" They nod in sync, at least I won't have to explain that. "The Capitol won and they felt that The Districts needed to be given something to stop a war from happening again, something called The Hunger Games."
"That's what Mummy and Daddy watch on TV in the summer!" Trixie shouts and I smile at her, nodding. I don't like to pick favourites but if I had to, it would be Trixie, she reminds me a lot of how I used to be with all my questions and trying to show off how much I knew.
"That's right. Well, every year, two twelve to eighteen-year-olds are selected to play in The Hunger Games from each District." I explain as I begin to fill up their plates with eggs and toast and fill up their glasses with milk. "That selection happens on Reaping Day, today."
"So you might be picked?" Jacob questions, looking concerned.
"I could be, yes, but I hope that I am not because then I can't be with all of you." I smile and they giggle, the concern leaving Jacob's eyes.
"When do you have to go?" Trixie asks between mouthfuls of eggs. I look up at the clock resting above the fridge and curse under my breath.
"Right now, I love you all but I really must be going!" I exclaim, rushing out of the kitchen. "I'm off, Mrs. Winchester. See you tomorrow!" I shout upstairs and don't wait for a response before I'm sprinting outside. I only have about five minutes before The Reaping starts, luckily, The Winchester House is close to The District Centre and it only takes me around three.
"Ought to get here earlier next time." A woman Peacekeeper states and I nod my head, apologising while trying to catch my breath. "Finger, please." I stretch one out and she efficiently pricks it.
Once I've squeezed into the crowd, The Reaping has begun with a woman with long, blonde hair and gothic makeup walking out of The Justice Building. "Hello, District Twelve. As you know, you are yet to receive a Victor and therefore also a Mentor. I, Renny Trinket, shall be acting as your Mentor for this year of The Hunger Games." She's met with silence, which she expects, Renny has been the escort (or mentor) for a few years now.
"Right, then." She doesn't bother with any dramatic pauses like escorts I've seen in the past. "Our male tribute, Smithsonian Caldera." The screen flicks to a handsome boy with a pale complexion and mop of straight brown hair. His lips turn downward into a frown but he walks up to the stage with his head held high, clearly wanting to seem confident.
"And our female tribute, Marya Linder." As soon as she reads out my name, my hands are over my mouth and my eyes are wide with panic. I have never once expected to be reaped, never even thought about it. I have never taken out tesserae, never been an unlucky person. How could this be happening, this must be a mistake?
But it's not a mistake and, while I'm caught up in my head, my legs move for me toward the stage. I take my position next to Smithsonian, feeling as if my legs are going to fall out from under me.
"Our tributes from District Twelve."
A/N: And there we are, the last intro chapter! Thanks to Paradigm of Writing for Smith and AuroraMiri25 for Marya.
- Neb