Chapter Fourteen: There is only one time frame between life and death, and that is a purgatory of it's own (Training Day One)
"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living." - Jonathan Safran Foer.
Jimmy Marsh, District Four Tribute, he/him.
Fourth Floor, HG 87 Tower, Central Capitol.
7:00 am, 24th June, HG 87
Hali and I head silently to the elevator. She keeps bending her fingers, constantly adjusting her 's unbecoming of a typical trainee, but she's not a regular Pack member. We reach the elevator. Finally, we're away from the prying eyes of our mentors.
"It's only just begun, y'know." Wow, that sounded more cryptic than it was meant to. "You're gonna want a better game plan than just do the tired bloodbath ditch. There won't be much I can do if they figure you out and decide to get you before you can run."
"The games don't begin, until we're in the arena. I thought you would've known that." She beholds me with cold disbelief. "I'm sorry that I'm not okay with being thrown into a death match. That's not why I was in the academy, and yet I still get bitten on the ass. Playing nice with a bunch of bloodthirsty kids isn't my idea of an amazing time… no offence. Maybe a little offence."
I put both hands up to appease her. It won't do anything against the glare she sends my way.
"Hey, at no time did I say that you have to play nice. I assure you that there are very few people, even the victors, who ever started out as fearless. You think I'm not at least a little scared? I can afford to be a little more blasé. Not because I don't care, but people like me are just more used to dealing with these sorts of people." I shrug. "The sheep back at the Academy? They'll deify you if you know the right things to say. You can use those skills to get ahead, and you're set for life. These people might act like they're the best of the best, but underneath the façade? Nope."
"You volunteered, so what makes you any different?" She snarks.
"I was about to go into that." I roll my eyes. "Chasing fame. It traps those who want the promise of acceptance. They don't want to survive. They only want to win. I don't need fame or their money. I just don't want to go through my life not knowing if I picked the right option. The Games is the only constant in this world."
"You had everything. Why would anyone throw that away?" She lashes out, and I bite back.
"I didn't cast it away, because I'm winning this crown." Don't think so hard about it. "There is nothing greater in this world than knowing you were right to take a risk. I'm in too deep and I'm not adverse to being desperate. I'm returning home for the people who love me. They want me to be happy. As long as I don't know what could have been- I'll never be content. The games are the lifeblood of this country, the trainers requested me. Why would they do that if they didn't beleive in me? Why would I say no when I know myself? They're here because they're delusional and assume it's what they really want. They find glory in death and pride where I find discovery. These people are clueless about life outside of killing. Surviving to kill instead of killing to survive. That's why they'll lose against those with priorities. You have the advantage there, because you have your head in the right place. But until we get to the arena, you'll have to appease them. You've gotta play the game, or they'll eat you alive, and that's a promise."
"Maybe…" She bites the inside of her cheek. "I'm not the most social person."
"I figured. Here's the deal: know that only I've got your back here. Follow my lead, and you'll get through. You don't trust anything that breathes-"
"That's untrue."
"Hyperbole." I roll my eyes. "You can stand up for yourself, so all you need to focus on is blinding them to you being Reaped. We've got to hope one of them isn't a knife specialist. That way, they can't outshine you. I fight with a staff, rather than a knife or a trident, so you have no worries there. I've always hated them. Kept work and training separate."
"Fine, but I'm only listening to you because I have no other options."
"There we go! It's a start, but you'll need to be a bit more enthusiastic in front of others. Fake it until you make it, because it won't ever be genuine. I'm here to win, but I'm not horrible enough to sabotage you. That's not my style. I can't say the same for anyone else but I'm sure we'll find out soon."
The elevator stops smoothly to end that conversation, and we walk out as the trainer begins his spiel.
"Hello tributes. My name is Prometheus Cronin. I'll be your Head Trainer, as I have been for a fair few years now. If you want advice, need medical help, have a request? It all goes through me. Now. I'd love to let you go immediately but I must set out the ground rules. Physical fighting among yourselves is illegal. You already knew that, but given some of the actions of past trainees and indeed… yourselves, I thought it best that we refresh that disclaimer. The penalties are unpleasant. Two strikes, and I have all the right to ban you from this room for the duration of your stay here. Leave your drama for the arena. There are both trainers and avoxes here for you to vent your frustrations on. Matches against me are there for those of you who have the confidence to challenge me. The non-lethal part of that goes without saying... but I doubt any of you could ever make it so far as to kill me in combat, quite the opposite."
He takes one good, long look around the room, focusing on each of us.
"Regardless, I have too much self-discipline than to do any of you harm. There is a wide range of weapons, courses, and stations here, which are all for your convenience. I advise that you remain vigilant and selective. What you work on here may not be useful in the arena and vice versa. You may notice Gamemakers observing you as you train, but I assure you that what occurs within this room will have no bearing on your Training Score. They deliberate this by taking account of your actions in your Private Session alone. They may wish to scope out your abilities and get inspired. Onto the topic of alliances: all of the parties involved should discuss the idea in detail. This includes your mentors, and the agreement must be unanimous. They must submit this information before you enter the arena. Mentors have the ability to veto any official alliances. We discourage unofficial alliances for your sake, as sponsor gifts will be more difficult to coordinate. I believe that is all. Off you go, and enjoy your time. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."
Everyone else scatters as we trainees convene, excluding one of the other boys, who heads straight for the weapons but remains in earshot. I suppose he's not much of a talker. Lee trails close behind me. She's looking more confident but is still partially hidden by my shadow. How sad it is being short. Personally, I've never had that issue. At least she's not the only one under scrutiny; the chick from One is glaring at everyone. Has been since the parade.
"Names?" One demands rather than asks. Fantastic. I'm sure she's willing to make friends. Who am I kidding? She'd probably set me alight as I slept and roast meat on my corpse. Most of them would. Maybe I should be prepared for it.
"I'll go first." Her District Partner steps into the discussion. His family drama was the focal point of his Reaping, so it'll be nice to get a formal introduction beyond that. He's more smooth and polite than her. "My birth name is Paladin Whitefang. I'm changing it to 'Paxton Greyfang' once the paperwork is processed. I am eighteen, and my preferred weapon is the sword. Do what you will with that information."
"I hope you two get along then." I grin as I point over at Two. He's already dicing up some dummies with a sword of his own.
"Indeed." He lets out a chuckle. I think I like him. He's way less hardcore than the girl, but what do I know? "Please excuse Regina. She doesn't do well with… the untrained, shall we say." He sends a glance at Lee.
"I've been in training for years." She yawns and pops her joints with an impressive air of carelessness. "It was bad luck; District Four doesn't designate many Volunteers anymore, but I was meant to be here in 89. This just means I can win sooner." It's a bald-faced lie, and I know she hates this place. It's an impressive falsehood, and the others don't pick up on it.
"I'll accept that, but only if you can prove your worth. Whether or not I let you stay depends on what value you can bring to the team." Regina scoffs, quickly turning on Two's girl. She's doubtful, which would be annoying, but she probably views everyone as mud under her shoes. "What about you, princess? Talk your way out of a fight?"
Looking affronted and bringing her hand to hold it delicately to her heart, I can tell that Two is passive through and through. She won't last long without placation.
"I volunteered for a reason, and I'm rather upset you would accuse me of being useless. I want to win and bring pride to myself. We're all here for the same reason, aren't we?"
Regina looks ready to kick her to the curb, but Paxton pulls her aside.
"We should let her stay for appearance's sake. She's a legacy, so she can't be completely helpless. We'll find a use for her." Talking like she's not even here. Are we just surrounded by rich kids? Jeez.
"Fine." She spits the word as if it burns her and swipes an axe from a nearby station, waving it around with the subtlety of a berserker. "You're on thin ice. I'll tell you that now. You make one wrong move, and sck-" She jerks the axe down towards her neck and stops a hair's breadth from marking herself. "You'll be gone for good."
She's hardcore, stubborn, and definitely has a vendetta. She wanted to have the spotlight as a legacy tribute, but now she has two people in the way. And she's lucky I don't really give a damn about their petty little statuses and disputes because if I was any other tribute, I would be capitalising the absolute fuck out of it. Lucky for them, they've got me.
"My name is Aurelia-"
"Moving on." Regina snarls her out of the conversation. Our self-appointed dictator points my way, and I keep my cool. Lee's putting on a similar front of composure and casually picking dirt from her nails with a butterfly knife. All the heat is on me. "Give me your names, ages, and intentions. It's unnecessary, but knowing your level of weapon skill would be good too."
I move to speak, but Lee butts in before I can; she wants to get this all over with. It's good to match assertiveness with equal intensity.
"You all can call me Lee, if you want. My name is Hali Bourne, I'm fifteen, and I specialise in using knives and darts. Don't call me 'Hayley' because I will cut you. That shit got old when I was five." I'm afraid she's gone too far with the threats, but Paxton laughs as he pats her on the shoulder.
"You've got some spunk, kid. Who needs birth names?"
"I'll say. Jimmy Marsh." I reach out for a round of handshakes. Two's is dainty, Paxton's businesslike and Regina's lucky I'm not the combative type because if she keeps trying to crunch my bones, I might snap her wrist. "Don't call me James or Jim or anything else. You'll get decked. I don't get angry often, so it's a rare spectacle. You should pay to see it." It doesn't make as much of an impact as Lee's introduction, but it draws attention towards me. "I'm eighteen. I do a bit of everything, but I tend to shine with a staff, so I call dibs."
Regina snorts. She should have stayed in District One if she wanted to deal with pushovers.
"None of you have any respect for your family names, and it's disgraceful. You should have more honour for the people who sent you here."
"That's the point," Paxton interjects. "Or did you not get the bit I have going on? My family name is disgusting, and I intend to tell the world about it. It's a shame you didn't pick up on it. I thought you were smarter than that, because I had faith in Spinel and Lux for choosing you."
"Whatever, Greyfang. Everyone at the Academy knew your folks weren't worth shit. You used to be just like them. My choosing was unanimous. What about the brick wall over there?" Regina gestures towards the boy from Two. He turns and tilts his head before returning to training. I watch him for a while and notice that he has a precise method of fighting. It's almost surgical, which isn't something I'd expect from a melee fighter. The longsword is too clunky and rigid for my tastes, but his skill is undoubtedly impressive. Then again, he's big enough for the weapon to look normal in his hands.
"You mean the silent swordsman over there?" I shrug. "Flavian Layton. Caught some information off the reaping tapes. Definitely trained, I mean, just look at him. I'm almost jealous. Could throw any of us around any day, can't complain about having him on side. His surname seems really familiar, but not like Three's does. Speaking of, we're probably gonna have to decide what to about him."
There's never been a Victor with the surname 'Layton', as far as I know. It might just be a coincidence. Like how District One's Victor and District Five's boy share a surname
"I… I'm not too sure about Three but… I do know about Flavian!" Aurelia's soft voice interrupts the lull in the conversation, which prompts a curious look from Paladin and an eye-roll from Regina.
"It speaks! What a shock; we might find a use for you yet." Naturally, Regina continues to heckle as we slowly migrate towards the weapons hold. I check the natural weight and balance of the staff before trying anything too crazy. If I can't trust my tools, then it'll be my ability that shines. "Out with it, Two."
"I've always paid attention to the Academy rosters back home, even after they wouldn't let me come back. Flavian was good, but he got overshadowed by his brother because he was last year's volunteer. Herschel never made it out, and I think Walker's cousin killed him, so that's why he's here now… for revenge… because he never planned to volunteer before that. Lucky him, looking who's over there." She gestures towards local celebrity Hal Walker, focused on the plant station.
Huh. Something nags at the back of my brain, just on the tip of my tongue. It's gone before I can voice it. Something about it doesn't sit.
"So he's got a sob story. Big deal. It shouldn't interfere with his performance." Regina gives way with an indignant huff. I'm surprised she chose to volunteer. She'd be a perfect fit for the trainers back home. Pushy, impatient, and ruthlessly efficient. The trainer track only has about a 1% death rate, at least in Four. "I have an idea. I'll be back for lunch, so don't let any of the peasants touch my axes."
"We wouldn't dream of it, 'Gina!" It's best to build that familiarity while I can. I see Paxton suppressing a smile as she storms away. Seeing as they're from the same place, I guess he must be used to dealing with her temper 's gonna take a while to get settled and figure everyone out, but once I do, I think Lee and I will fit right in.
Hal Walker, District Three Tribute, he/him
Plant Identification Station, Training Centre, HG 87 Tower, Central Capitol
Angela slips away from the station without a word. She's peculiar, although I guess the same could be said for me. She's probably bored of watching me do all the tests. It wouldn't surprise me; that's all she's been doing. Resignedly lurking. She's not wrong, either. Here, her death is inevitable. Not everyone is prepared for a situation like this. My brothers are favouring me. It's what they were meant to do in the first place. If they had, we wouldn't be here.
No attention to those who are not even willing to try because it'll only let you down. For once… Edison was right. You are the priority. In the end, she'll keep the others off your back, but that's the only use she is to your victory. There's no hope for those who will not help themselves. Use your head, precious. The poor girl is deader weight than Ford ever was.
I feel someone's eyes on me from behind, but I don't care enough to get off the test. No wonder Angela scurried away. She'd act like a spooked rodent before facing an unfamiliar tribute.
"Didn't your father ever tell you it's rude to stare? Mine did, so back off."
There's a rough 'hmph' as they walk around to face me. I keep my eyes on the screen.
"So, you're the local celebrity that everyone's been gushing over? You don't seem so special to me. My prep team'll be disappointed, Kaia thought you'd be taller."
They only know you from your brothers and your cousin. That's what we don't need. Tick-tock, you better hope you make a good impression. Show them exactly what they're against… why the Walker name is infamous.
"You could say that I've been to the Capitol more often than most, but I'm not usually on this side of the roster." I glance up, only to meet the cold stare of the One girl. Why hello, Alameda. What could she possibly want? "Neither are you, I'm sure. One hell of a coincidence, isn't it?"
"Damn right," She huffs. "I've got a proposition for you. You can either take it or stay out of my way because I don't do halfsies. A trade of skills."
I submit my results as she finishes speaking, and a perfect 100% flashes across the screen. Such are the advantages of a family of STEM enthusiasts and one budding botanist. My eyes follow hers towards the career girl from Two. She's struggling to wield a dagger. Bijou. Hertz has a horror story about the time her big sister broke his nose after he'd drunkenly started rambling about her games.
"You want to break the status quo with a tribute swap? I'm not sure your mentor would approve, and Hertz has told me your brother's a bit of a traditional, stuck-up bastard. I don't think he'd approve of me. But what do I know?" I shrug, making sure to keep my tone light.
"Your brother's right about mine, but I don't care. There are three of us here. You should know that volunteering didn't do either of you any good, because it'll be me who wins. Even so, it's better I work with you than her. You can at least act competent, which is much better than dealing with shit-for-brains over there."
"You see me as an asset?" Isn't that interesting? This early? She must be losing her mind. "Regina, I'm flattered, but you can get to the point now."
"I want you on our team." She expects it. Was this a typical year… I think any Three kid would jump at the chance. Would turn their backs on where they came from for another chance to survive. Fool themselves into thinking they'd be kept around. It has worked… occasionally… but luck, rather than mercy, always led to an outlier outlasting their pack. Even Ed knows that without that sudden plague onset, he would've been fucked.
She's just like the people back home. Don't you remember how they treated you and Cora? You were seen as some demented guinea pig. You were a celebrity, sure, but you had no respect or autonomy. Not in the eyes of those who watched you weep and celebrated every time your family was torn apart, sin by sin. It's the same deal here. The only difference is that the snakes' scales have changed with the seasons. She wants to overshadow you. That's what One does. The bark to Two's bite. Striking a deal with the devil will benefit everyone besides you. That isn't what you want, Hal. Is it?
I need an advantage, but the risk of working with her won't be worth any reward.
"You want me on your team? That's a shame, because so does everybody else. It's only a matter of time before someone bites the bullet and makes me a better offer. Look, Alameda. I know you're confident, and I can respect that in a gal. I'm going to have to disappoint you. I don't take kindly to being used as a means to an end, so I have to refuse."
"I don't think you do. Think about it. You and Two are very different." I've never been able to stand meatheads talking down to me. "You're a lot more pragmatic, for one thing. What's more important is that you have far better odds than she does. I'm not stupid either, Three. She's just another spoiled wannabe. Dime a fucking dozen. But… I can help you. We've both played the media game. We've both chosen this new path, we're doing it for no one but ourselves, and we're chasing the same crown. Later on, we'll have to fight, so why not work together now. Admit it, we're some of the strongest contenders, and I want some good competition. You might even be more used to this than me."
She's playing with you because she's seen the tapes. Your forced composure during family interviews. There's no evidence of the tears you drowned your pillows in, but she knows they existed. Deep down, they all do. It'll be great for a while. Everything will be perfect, and you'll play them like cheap guitars. She thinks you're here for the glory. You'll be on top of the world; then they'll all fuck you over. Just like they did on that lonely winter's heartbreak.
It's never been what I wanted. No one wants to be betrayed. Fool me once that's fine. Fool me twice, and we're both to blame. The next time my heart breaks is when it stops ticking for good.
"I'm definitely more used to it." I try to bite back the condescension, but I can't help it. Fight fire with fire and all. " We are not the same just because we have brothers with sticks up their asses. You have more to prove to the country than I ever will. Panem knows what I've seen and what I've experienced. Your talk of odds is full of shit, and we both know it. The audience knows that Walkers defy the odds; we do not fall, we do not fail. Especially…"
Twist the knife. Alameda wants to cut you open and laugh, prove to the world that you bleed just as easily as anyone else. Watch her blow up and expose what she really is.
"When we're faced against District One. I mean, if you really want to talk about odds, let's do the math. I'm quite good at it. Of your… lets be nice with the sample size… current team of Victors: One went mad with the guilt of betraying his District Partner, one started the trend of breaking packs apart, your brother was a pussy who hid behind the pack and contributed nothing until he had to, and… well. We all know what happened with The Poisoner. For all I know, you're pulling the same long con, like trainers, like tribute. But… you forget. Of my family against your District… hmmm. Hertz took them out through poison and fire, Ed only got the girl but evisceration looked like a nasty way to go, and Kelvin? You remember that. We all remember that. The boy, Damien. Coasting all the way to the finale, only to be killed by my noodle-armed, anxious, 'pathetic', 40-1 cousin. Just like your brother's other tributes: a waste. So what, pray tell, does that say about you? What makes you any different? And especially, what about all this makes you think I'll just lay down and die on your sword?"
I take a deep breath as her face contorts, flashing a grin. She knows I'm goading her. She knows that I know. Ed and I used to do the same thing. Push all the wrong buttons. Patronise.
"Now you wait just a minu-"
"I'm not finished. Didn't your parents ever teach you to hold your tongue?" I raise an eyebrow. I'm older, stronger, and smarter. She should've waited a year. "We're pests. We've been a threat since Hertz killed the Mockingjay's hatchling. Do you know who I see in you? I see my Edison. He was obsessed with glory. Ignored those who knew better so he could go in for the kill. He joined, and fooled, that year's pack without a care. You'd do the same with no shame. You aren't special. How can I trust that you aren't just the same snivelling little seven year old? It's the version of you that the audience still remembers. It's still on the tapes from your brother's Games. I need more than an assurance when we're here for very different reasons."
Her eyes flare open, and she backs me against the testing podium. The axe is held dangerously close to my throat. I fight to keep my face neutral. I'm not looking to get hurt. Not physically. She won't do anything. Probably. It's a fine line.
Would you look at that? We hit the nail on the head. How volatile, furious, and vindictive. Blind emotions mean nothing against logic, so it'd be an easy fight. Shall we break her arm? We could leave her gasping for breath on the floor.
I won't do anything that drastic. This isn't the time or place, and there's been more than enough controversy surrounding these Games.
You're considering it. Don't you want to let loose and prove yourself before it begins? You aren't to be fucked with. Ford knows it, and your family knows. It's time the other tributes learn.
I do want to make her suffer, but this isn't about what I want. I zone back in as she hisses at me.
"How dare you?"
"I say things as I see them. I need proof of your stability, or how can I trust any of you? You're here to prove something to everyone else, as if you're a broken doll, just praying to be noticed. You're a Career. A weapon, but you're just like your brother before you; people see you as nothing but your parents' blunt instrument. The legacy of a failed trainee left raging when beaten in a Reaping. Until you can prove them wrong… get out of my face."
She gives a snarl, pressing forward. She pays no heed to the growing shouts of the trainers to back off. The eyes on us. Good. Let them watch. Let them wonder. Let the Pack falter. Let them shatter.
"Stand down immediately! This behaviour will not be tolerated!"
"You won't live to regret this Walker. Should've been thankful I even gave you the time of day." She ignores them and continues to threaten me. "Don't fucking push me, because I could kill you right now. Quick and painful."
"But you won't." Don't smirk.
"But I won't, and that's not for your benefit. I want you to tell me something. If you think you're so far above me." She grits her teeth as the nails of her other hand press into the testing machine. "You think that you're so fucking special, even though all you did was copy the exact shit your brother pulled. The other Walker boy, volunteering. How original. So why are you even here?"
Why am I here?
It's for you, Hal. All of this is done for you. To show what happens when you're pushed because that's when you stop being nice. You can't go soft on me now because you have a job to do, remember? You want to be remembered, and we want to be adored. It takes a bit of shoving and pushing, sure. That's nothing to bring your family back together. It makes sure that Cora doesn't lose any of you. You don't want to upset Cora...
I lean forward as the skin of my neck comes against the blade. The weapon pushes just far enough to hurt. It's not enough to break the skin. The weapon's been dulled, but I can feel the chill of the metal, the edge I'm dancing on. Enough to make a point. My voice drops to a whisper as I smile.
"I'm here to win the Hunger Games. If you try a stunt like this again because you're pissed you aren't special, then you'll be the one on the shitlist. Dropped by your pack and your team to the filth, stuck with the likes of the rebels and copycats. You don't scare me. No matter how much you're used to being at the top. In the end, you're on the way to becoming another corpse, and if you try to fight me in the arena, I'll rip your face off."
There's no better time than the present. You could finally knock someone down a peg. But… it would betray the point of being here. Let her stew in it. Ones should be good at mind games, after all.
A flash of shock passes over her face before it contorts back into anger, and I'm saved by the bell for lunch. She retreats and drops the weapon as the trainers start towards us.
"You're on thin ice, Walker. Don't cross me again."
"I could say the same. Go push around someone who actually fears you." I wave sarcastically, and her face twists in disgust. She storms off as Prometheus comes towards me.
"What was the issue there?" He taps his foot on the ground, but there's no sound. I keep my head bowed, only glancing back at his face to indicate I'm listening.
"There was no issue, sir. Just a slight disagreement. I promise that it won't happen again."
He raises an eyebrow and casts an appraising eye about me. I'm not even shaking. I've spent years sparring with Hertz and Edison, so I know better than to panic when my life isn't on the line. I've never been the best liar, but what will they do, arrest us? Despite either of our threats, neither of us would dare kill before the games. Far too much time has passed for that to be an option anymore.
"It better not, and the same will be told to her. You handled that… fairly well, although I daresay it was you who got yourself into that situation. Don't go actively looking for fights as it will not do you any favours."
"I understand, sir."
"Good, keep up your training. I expect big things from you, young man." He pats me on the shoulder, smiling in the eyes. "It'd be a shame to see you die early."
He wanders off to find Regina and reprimand her. She stands with her hands clenched, mouth shut like she's fusing her jaw, giving only curt nods.
I follow the crowd slowly, beginning to take note of the other tributes, especially those lagging behind and sitting alone. There's clearly an allegiance between the pair of Sevens and camaraderie between the Tens... but I can't attest to anyone's prowess so soon after I was rudely interrupted. So I take a plate, retreat to a corner table and watch. It's not like finding my partner will be much help in strategising. I'm not even sure where she is. She might be melting into the shadows as she attempted to during the parade. That's a bit difficult when we were 'struck by lightning.' Yes,I'm still upset about that. Or she's escaped back up to the third floor to hang around with my cousin… he always was the most popular of us. Wonder why.
Maybe, in her mind, it's better to face the arguments of my brothers than to face her future killers.
If she doesn't just jump into the mines.
Okay, that was mean, but if you mope about and refuse to learn, there's no point in being here. You can't fix hopelessness. You only harm yourself by carrying dead weight.
Latanier Alma, District Eleven Tribute, he/him
Cafeteria, Ground Floor, HG 87 Tower
I duck around most of the crowd and scowl as I grab a tray. Its deliciousness is filled with evil. I'm alone, but I'm not avoiding anyone per se. Obviously, I'm not going to talk to the Careers. All the other tributes seemed to have heard what happened to me through the grapevine, so they're avoiding me.
Some people are just watching everyone like creeps. I'm pretty sure one of the volunteers has been stalking his District Partner. Why? Not a clue. I'm also one of the creepy people who's just watching everyone else, but that's because I have literally nothing to do otherwise. Sue me.
The Career Alliance is at full strength in numbers but seems pretty pathetic in other terms. Cracks are already showing, and they're bickering over something. Everyone else looks uncomfortable watching them. No one's seemed to start any anti-Career thing, but it's early, and some District Pairs seem tight-knit. The Twelves are just being gross. I'd offer to start building up some opposition, but everyone's been treating me like some plague. It's like I'm already dead and still the only one who has yet to figure it out.
So I stare at my plate for a while, knowing I must eat to keep myself sharp, but I'll hate every morsel. This tower and food were ripped from the backs of District Citizens. It makes me sick, and what's worse is what's so grotesquely provided would probably taste good on the way back up.
A tray clatters on the table, and a hand waves in my face. The boy I see has a cheeky grin on his face. Great. First, everyone avoids me, and now some asshole wants to start on me. Somehow, my hatred for this place has increased.
"Hi there, rough and tumble. Is this seat taken?" I wasn't expecting that. Eight on his sleeve, I've barely seen him.
"No. What do you want?" Whatever it is, I don't have time for it.
The Eight boy gets comfy, and I can still see the foundation in his fringe. I've probably still got some on me since I barely even got time to shower. Something about privileges being reserved for tributes, not troublemakers.
"I was just seeing if I could get some information from you, that's all. Like the story behind that wound, because no one else will tell me about it. Believe me, I've been bugging them all." He pouts, reaching to point towards the bandages wrapped around my head. Blood is seeping through them again; the damn gash keeps opening at the most inopportune moments. "I'm Harlyn, by the way, Harlyn Jute. Hailing from the best District: number eight. My friends call me Harley. What about you?"
I roll my eyes and fight back a scowl. I'm not an asshole, but I'm not willing to take this crap from someone pretending to be so clueless.
"Don't act stupid. Talk to your district partner, Eight, if you want someone to spew bullshit at. Everyone's mentors and teams were briefed on what I did, so kindly fuck off." I wave him away and roll my eyes when he stays put. Take a hint. "Bye-bye."
"Nah. I think I'll stay here and bug you a little more. I really don't know, and no one's talking about it. I wasn't there when everyone else got the briefing, although Lysanne did tell me I missed it. I was just a tiny bit occupied at the time."
"Huh? What do you mean- how were you busy?" I have the intimidation advantage. If he won't just tell me, then I'll have to threaten it out of him. Harlyn's tall for his age, but he still has the posture and build of a bent twig. "C'mon and spit it out. The only person who should've been left out was me."
"That's not how my story went. I was on the train. We were going through all the procedures and I was cursing Snow, as you do. I got bored and the window was open so I went to get some air. Then I was on this gorgeous beach at a lake? I think. We don't have those in Eight. Honestly, it's a crime how little we're taught about inter-district geography."
"…What?" This boy talks at a mile a minute.
"I was on this beach, right? Then I feel this prick of pain in my back, and it feels like a wasp sting. It's really sharp and it gets really sore. Did y'know wasps' stingers can slide out because they aren't barbed like bee stingers? Which is why bees die when they sting unless they can get the venom sacs out while wasps come right back to fuck with you. I thought I'd been found by some really mean tracker jacker. I expected to be stung again, but there's just this really cold fluid that goes into my back. It was gross and really invasive. I think I should sue."
"Okay so. Beach, tranquiliser, got it." I hold a hand up. Give me patience. If you give me strength, I'll kill someone. "How is this relevant?"
"I may have gone just a little way beyond the train lines. Really, they should get better security, so that's not my fault. I get 'tranqued', or however you put it, and then I fall asleep. I woke up a few hours later, but I'm not on the train anymore. At least I don't think I was, since my prep team just appeared out of thin air. I nearly fell out of my chariot-"
"That was you? I thought someone got drunk."
"I wish. No, but one time my sister did get drunk on orange juice. It had way more sugar content than we could handle, plus she's a lightweight anyway. You should have been there. I've never laughed so hard."
"Back to the story, Harlyn."
"Fine. Where was I? Oh. I went through sleeping, the parade, and Snow's speech. I nearly fell back asleep during that since it was so boring. Then we got up here, and I found out they're keeping me in my team quarters, mostly just my room. Just for a bit. By 'a bit': They mean they're only letting me out for training and events. So after all that I went and I took my shower but only got like five minutes for 'safety reasons' and then just conked out. Best sleep of my life, by the way, must've been like fourteen hours."
"So, you're under house arrest?"
"It's more like room arrest; I can't even eat alone with my team in the lounge. Gotta have a PK. Flight risk and all that. They must not trust Hattie or Cali to keep up with me if I run. I mean, they're right, but it's still annoying. People can visit me, but I can't go anywhere without an escort of peacekeepers."
"I'm still not seeing how this makes you so fascinated with me."
He turns around and shows me a gash on his back. It's faded, but the surrounding marks indicate a baton shattered on impact. Is he another fighter? My respect for him just went up. He turns back around with a shit-eating grin on his face.
"If that's the penalty for trying to escape, then I'm wondering what you did to get that nasty injury. I found out you acted up during the Reapings, but that's nothing terrible. Previous tributes have killed Peacekeepers and not been treated like that." He vaults over the table to sit next to me and crosses his arms, scooting as close as he can without touching. "What did you do?"
So much for having no one on my side. Eat shit, Triticale. This might be the start of something if I keep him interested.
"I knocked out a Peacekeeper at the Reapings." I lean forward and move the bandages to show the gash. It stings, but it's worth it. He's the first to have shown me any decency and to show he has the same ideals as me. "I tried it again while we were on the train."
"No way." His eyes blow wide in shock and fascination. "That's sick! In both uses of the word. Does this make us twins?"
He's so excited and a potential ally, so who am I to say no?
"I guess it does." We both laugh and while I'm not smiling, I'm close. Maybe this place hasn't doomed me yet if there's still a chance to get ahead.
We settle into a comfortable silence. I notice the Careers shooting us evils. I send them a rueful smile, Harlyn blowing them all an exaggerated, Capitol-worthy air kiss. The girl from Two gives us a hesitant wave, but the pair from Four both put her arm down. What was that about? I guess the mind games are starting early. I roll my eyes. It's best not to worry about them unless they're actively antagonising me. Which they will. We're prime targets. And how quickly just me turns to we. I always knew there were more of us than there were of them.
"Lunch is almost over. What do you say we head back to the centre?" I lower my voice to a whisper. "We could beat the absolute shitout of some Capitol trainers. Wouldn't even get in trouble if we don't go too far."
He stands up with a hiss of joy and starts bouncing on his heels.
"Hell yeah!" He's rebellious and sparky. I have to find a way to figure out where the hell his mind goes. We can leverage our talents. "I wanna see exactly what you did to those PKs."
"Latanier?" We're about to leave, but Mira calls me, almost materialising behind us. "I'm… not interrupting anything, am I? Latanier, I need to talk to you. Please."
"Nah. Just… getting to know each other." Has something happened? She's been taking our mentors' advice, avoiding me. She's not… she's not cruel about it, which feels almost worse. Doing as she's told… trying to keep up with the team… but I can't help hating how she looks at me as if she's desperate to help. "Go on… talk."
"What are you doing? Um… Tilly wanted an update." It's a lame excuse. She's never lied a day in her life. Mira and Tilly are similar, in a way…sweet to a fault, but it's a mentor's job to help me… and all mine can seem to do is keep warning me not to get myself hurt again. "She's… worried about you."
"Well…" I may at least pretend I believe her. " I'm making friends because they said not to. They also said you weren't supposed to associate with me, so what are you doing?"
She shakes her head and side-eyes Harley, who grins smugly.
"Don't stop on my account. I need to check in with my 'behavioural team' anyway. Duty calls." He saunters off, which leaves Mira and me in awkward silence. We wait for people to stop staring, and she turns to me.
"I know what Emmer and Tilly told me, but I worry about you! You're already in trouble. He's a criminal, 'Tanier!" Were it not for me being a tribute… I would be. Assaulting a Peacekeeper, both degrees. They don't formally charge tributes… why would they need to? An arena is punishment enough. Snow knows what worse hell would await you if you survived… but at least as a Victor… It's better than dying. "They sent around his record. You don't know if you can trust him. I don't want to judge him before I know him, but we have to be sensible. It's not safe."
"'It's not safe.' Says the pot to the kettle." I take a deep breath. Try not to get angry. "Mira, you seem nice. That's why they actually want you to live. It's… it's a choice I don't envy them making. I wasn't safe anyway, so I'm maximising my chances. You're in no spot to be criticising my actions. I get that you have a family back home, that you're so used to caring for your old man that you just can't turn that instinct off." It's a low blow, but I have to get through somehow. I'd seen her pushing his wheelchair in the Square… extrapolated from there.
"..." She deflates. "I can't believe you'd just put yourself at risk like that. If the Gamemakers find out about this, they'll kill you both. You… we aren't winning here."
"My point is: butt out. You're doing this at a detriment for yourself and disobeying the people that have your best interests in heart. Quit while you're ahead, okay? It's not worth it for either of us. I have a reason to go home too, Mira. I have to look after myself. As much as you might want to play the hero, you can't. Not for me. Let me make my own bad decisions."
"What if he betrays you? Or hurts you, or even…" she purposely trails off, as if talking of death is a social taboo. I wish I could afford to be as scared. Push it down. Compartmentalise.
"Or what, he kills me? In the Hunger Games? What a plot twist that would be. They told you not to trust anyone, and that's good advice for you. But you're worried about Eight going against me? I'm pretty sure the only person less physically capable than him might be the kid from Seven. Even he would have the element of surprise, if he went batshit feral, that is. Besides, I've gotta test the waters, and what better way is there than to train with him?"
"Latanier…" She sighs, frowning deeply. "Just… be careful. Don't make it any harder for yourself than it needs to be. I'll… I'll see you later, alright?"
I nod, watching her return to an empty table, picking at her food. She's right to worry. I'm in danger as it is… but nothing will change that, and if I want to have the best odds, I need a friend on my side.
Harlyn returns from talking to his Peacekeepers and pulls me up by the arm. If there's anything I can trust, it's that I die fighting, and I seem to have found a kindred spirit in that. I won't go quietly. They can do anything but silence me. We've been quiet enough for long enough.
It's about time we started making some threats of our own.
Azmia Plammen, District Seven Tribute, she/her
1:00 pm, 24th June, HG 87
We clear our plates in silence, too busy eating to talk, watching the Careers barge past everyone to get back to the Training Centre sooner. As if they need it like the rest of us do. It's showboating, that's what it is. Having weapons flying here, there and everywhere, all to show that they're better than us, that, at any moment, they'd turn them on us if only they were allowed. Because that's what the Games are: an excuse for violence.
It's sick, looking to hurt the weak and helpless. For what? An ego boost? Pathetic.
I've been keeping Oliver away from them as much as I possibly can, but they'll make their way around to us, I know it. They're the biggest bullies on the playground, and all they want to do is show it. As soon as the pair from District Two start looking our way, I encourage Ollie to get started on the agility course, telling him I'll be at the shelter station, hoping they'll be more interested in me than in him. They don't scare me. Much. Okay, I'm hoping they won't be interested in either of us, but my life's been little but dashed hopes. No change. They're shadowing me, not him.
I shouldn't be putting my neck on the line for this kid… but they can't hurt me yet. That has to count for something. Even though Three had a close shave, he's still standing. And I'm not stupid enough to piss off a career. Why would you watch a family member… hell… why would anyone watch the Games and think to sign up… I can't understand it. I don't want to.
"Heya Seven~" The girl pipes up, leaning against her District Partner, who pushes her away without ceremony.
I don't give them the dignity of a response. They lost the privilege of being treated like people when they volunteered to kill kids for funsies. Just stay quiet. They'll get bored. They're like all bullies. They like to play with their food, looking for a reaction, so if you don't respond the first time they try to hurt you, they'll leave you alone. Most of the time.
"Oh come on… we don't bite… at least I don't…" She keeps trying to coax me to react, but I have more important things to focus on. Namely the materials at the station. Without shelter, you have no cover, no heat or shade, and no safety, regardless of how temporary that safety may be. You have no base of operations, nowhere to stash your supplies, nowhere to hide. I bet that's why Careers are always set. The Cornucopia is perfect.
"I can't promise the same from my… acquaintance… but… we're not here to hurt you, Seven, we just wanna say hi." Yeah, and my parents were secretly Capitol billionaires.
"Tch. We?" Her partner only pipes up to contradict her. "This was your idea."
"Hey, the Ones said to make ourselves useful, so we're gonna! And we can't do that if we don't talk to people. So, Seven, what's your name?" She's unphased by my lack of response. "I'm Aurelia Bijou, District Two. It's lovely to meet you… I know this must all be… quite scary for you…"
What in Sevens Green Forests is this? Did District politics take a U-turn while I wasn't watching? At least the boy is the regular deal: the strong, silent type they show in the interviews. Kills someone, and his face doesn't so much as twitch. What's this girl's deal? Is it a trap? Lure me into a false sense of security? Good PK, bad PK routine? What gives?
"And this is Flavian Layton. Also District Two, heh. We just thought we'd hang around here, maybe pick up some skills, and see if you could help us? You look like you know what you're doing." She gives a soft, breathy giggle, and it grates on my nerves. It's the voice some of the older Community Home girls used to pull on their boyfriends during arguments. "After all, you guys are lumber, right? Got way more experience in the forests than we boring mountain dwellers, right? Who knows, you might even know your way round an axe better than Regina."
I've never wanted to be somewhere less. I'd rather be the District Eleven girl getting the tail end of District One girl's intimidation tactics. Has the whole world gone mad? All I wanted was to sharpen some survival skills. I'd prefer they talk about how satisfying it'll be for the guy to disembowel me with the sword he's lugging around. Or how she'll name each of my bones as she breaks them. She's not even armed. I'd almost be more relaxed if she was. This place already makes little enough sense.
"..." He's looking at me blankly, jaw tense. I'm almost hoping they'll start fighting to break the ice. "You know why we're actually here, Seven. Stay out of my way."
He sounds bored, and isn't that just another punch to the gut. No emotion in it. I'm not even worth the ferocity their district is famous for. Just a bug in the dirt. Plucked out from under a log, poked and prodded… only to be squashed underfoot when misfortune comes around.
"Hey now… Flav, that's not nice. You're scaring her." She's gentle; I despise it. Melissa used to do it sometimes when the Home had made a profit. Promise better beds, more safety, and visits from fosters. Dangle the carrot.
"She should be scared." He hisses under his breath. There's the stick. The threat of never seeing my brother again. "Not that you'd know anything about that."
As they bicker, I make my escape, hoping they'll be too wrapped up with each other to pay me any more notice. What the fuck was that? I admit it, that's probably the best way it could have gone, but still…
Whatever. I need this time. And it can't hurt to fight fire with fire, at least a little bit. No one has ever won the Hunger Games without picking a weapon and getting their hands dirty.
Where to start? Axes? Cliché, a pain in the ass to wield… and the One girl is lurking. No thanks. Maybe later. Hand to hand? I wish. I need something… more innovative. Easy to carry, easy to conceal. In an ideal world, that would probably be a gun. Weirder weapons have gone in. Why watch one kind of death when you can watch… How many people have died here? No. No more. There's no gun in here. Even the Capitol isn't that arrogant.
Lacking that… I cast a glance towards a station in the corner, cast in shadow. Looks like… darts, maybe? That could be an idea. I know enough about plants… but who knows what kind of weird nature they'll have in the arena.
If I want to lay low…
I eye up the trap station. It would be the same as watching the hunters catching a squirrel or a rabbit, right? Just on a larger scale. A more deadly scale. Enough rope to hang themselves… and… they seem to work more often than not. It's quick, painless… a perfect crime. I wouldn't even have to be around. Wouldn't necessarily have to know it was me. Wouldn't need to think about it. So if… if I can figure out the logistics… a way to average height, manner of death… it'd just be the hangman's noose. It couldn't be my fault if someone just… stepped into the wrong trap. What other choice do I have?
It's… a last resort. The more I do, the more I show, the more I say, the more danger I'll be in. Until then… kowtow to my 'betters'. Hmph. I've more than enough experience with that.
And… safety in numbers, right? The more people I can surround myself with, theoretically, the safer I'll be. The more time I'll have to plan, to find ways out. There's only one problem. If I want materials for a trap, whether alone or with someone else… I'll need supplies. Cornucopia supplies… and I don't know if I could make it there. I'd need someone quick, small, and agile, like...
NO. Another day. Ideas for another day.
I duck under the table as the District One boy stalks past. I've had quite enough of dealing with that lot.
When he's gone… I check that the coast is clear. Miraculously, it is, and I make my way back over to Olly at the agility course. The sugar looks like it's finally gotten to him. He'll crash any minute… but for now… he seems to be doing alright. No one's really paying him any attention.
And… why would they?
He's so fucking dead… and there isn't a damn thing I can do about that… but he doesn't need to know that. Not from my mouth. At some point… he'll figure it out. He's smart. Somewhere deep down, he has to know. He has to. I… I can admit I'm too selfish to hurt myself by telling him.
A trainer's tap on my shoulder takes me out of my thoughts.
"Oh.." I shake my head, moving aside from the entrance to the course. "No… I'm waiting on my District Partner. Sorry…"
Lay low, lay low, don't make them angry. Do not give her a reason to hit you, to scare you out on the street. Stay alive. Stay alive. Keep him safe. Keep Ezra safe.
"... Azmi? Look out!"
Oliver barrels into me, still running off his adrenaline from the course.
"God, Ollie, be careful. You can't…" I take a deep breath. "You can't just run into people. You never know how they're going to react. Not…"
The One boy is giving the Sixes a talking to where the girl has been wincing at every other word.
"Not everyone will be understanding in the arena… it's… it's too dangerous not to watch yourself. Okay?"
He gives me a sheepish nod, grabbing my hand.
"Do you wanna go up with me? I can show you the way through!"
This kid…
"Of course! I'm sure you'll know all the little tricks to it. Maybe you can teach me?"
"Sure thing!"
The pit in my stomach hasn't gone away… but the least I can do is use my time wisely… because we're running out of it… and that scares me about as much as the Games do.
Lysanne Shantung, District Eight Tribute, she/her
Training Centre, Ground Floor, HG 87 Tower
3:00 pm, 24th June, HG 87
I'm used to living in the shadows. It was my and my siblings' job to wait at the window of our home and watch for Peacekeepers and spies when we were too young to join the proceedings. It was done to hide who we were and to keep us safe. Eight is full of informants.
The proceedings must be a culture shock for everyone, but I will not succumb to fear so soon. There is nothing wrong with feeling such things, but I have an ethereal defence. I know She is with me.
I wish to find allies in my cause, but I know I cannot reveal our lunar background. Not only because such information would require immense trust. We are all heavily monitored here. Endangering the Sanctum would be lethal, even if by accident. We can no longer hunt for our Goddess, so instead, we hide in the comfort that she provides. If I were to breach the shadows and let in the artificial light... I would never forgive myself.
Malice is not my nature. I could never thrive in such an environment.
I am surrounded by predators.
I have never paid the Games much heed. They are tragic events within a nation I owe no allegiance to. Perhaps I should not have turned a blind eye to the evils it encourages. Trained tributes are a single example of this country's twisted laws. They make themselves intimidating and active threats. They are unaware or uncaring of the dangers that they have put themselves in. They dominate this ecosystem, but I know that they will turn even nastier when engaged within the arena. It is their nature.
Where there are predators, there must be prey, or nature collapses in on itself. The youngest skitter like rabbits and flock towards the shadows to hide, only to be chased out and slaughtered by an unknown fear. They are not as comforted by the shade as I am.
Some of us have claws, and some have wings. Some fight, some flee, and some freeze. They bargain with others.
Harlyn and his new friend have taken to battling each trainer in order. They are already trapped within the mindset of the Hunger Games. They are willing to rip with teeth and nails to take down each enemy. My District Partner uses his environment to his every advantage. He swipes and feints, throwing up the training mats as makeshift shields. He bewilders before he strikes. Eleven is less methodical. His blows are quick, precise, and powerful. Their strategies are impressive but ultimately borne out of deepseated fear. They are already caged by this competition and have no qualms against fighting unfairly. If the situation becomes stressful, both would kill. I cannot blame them for this.
Tributes drift towards obstacle courses, the climbing wall, the swimming pool, and aptitude tests. They drown themselves in knowledge and refine the strategies that they already know. The girl from Five zips from place to place. She is seeking solace in a crowded room and darting away from her District Partner, who attempts to partake in fruitless conversation. The tiny boy from Seven almost flies across a course of ropes and drops, energy in abundance. They hope that their determination is more than their opponent's. After all, the nature of humankind is to let the enemy tire out. Our species' strength is to endure.
Some do nothing at all. The girl from District Three has disappeared to her floor; I saw her heading towards the elevator earlier. Despite his bravado, the boy from Twelve stands around aimlessly, allowing his lover to drag him about the place. Others use the shadows to hide and observe. They do not come here for solace and comfort. All they find here is opportunity. The boy from Six watches his partner like a hawk.
I cannot stop any of them from running towards their fates. All in this room are determined to live. They all want one more day under the sun. What is unjust but factual: twenty-three of us will die. It will be the blessed who do not suffer as their life's thread is cut. I pray that I will be among them if my life is chosen as a forfeit.
I have not given up. I have faith in our Moon Goddess. However, I know that my survival requires my own effort as well. I will discuss what I have learned with Ms. Weaver and evaluate my options. Many of the best fighters are brutish and ruthless. The best survivors would not likely sacrifice one of their own for me. I have been banned from allying with my own District Partner. I have been praying for him.
My options are few, but I pray that She will guide me towards the correct one.
I will have to bargain, but I will not be the only one. The formation of the Career Pack took compromise and arguments. They still haven't decided on a leader. They drift apart and regroup to their whims. These killers are united only in their worship of the Games. They are idolaters, and they know not what comes from needless bloodshed. I pity them. I hope they can learn from their wrongs.
"Go on, Sadie, go make some friends! Don't let me slow you down. I have to get this knot down on my own if I ever want to use it."
The two girls from Nine speak in hushed tones, evaluating and chatting about anything and everything.
"Ollie, slow down! I can't run that fast." The pair from Seven are laughing like schoolchildren. The girl is breathless and trying fruitlessly to keep up on an obstacle course.
"Can you believe the audacity? It's like they think they're better than us." The lovebirds of District Twelve are on their own. The girl, Cassandra, tears him away from the Tens. They have already been refused attention, let alone an alliance. They will not likely find solace elsewhere. Love is a threat in the Hunger Games, and they will soon be eliminated. If they are not careful, then they will not be the only ones sacrificed.
Perhaps I could help them before I die. Our Lady allows killing for self-defence, as our lives should not be used as forfeit… but I will accept whatever path is ahead. My Lady will protect me, and if she chooses to shield me by bringing me away from this plane… then I shall go. My family loves me. My Lady is with me. My life has been full of wonder, and my struggles have not been insurmountable. Others were only blessed with half of what I received. To live is a gift. But all energy, all life is borrowed… and one day, it must be returned to whence it came.
I do not pity myself. I will remain strong and courageous in the face of adversity and violence. I will fight for myself and for anyone who will fight for me, but I will not be cruel. It does not matter what the sadistic audience wishes to see because I refuse to become a monster. I will not bow, not to them, not even to the President.
Not now and not ever.
I am a daughter, a devotee, a sister, and a friend. I am of the moonlight and the vast void of space. My soul ascends to the stars. We are all made of stardust, and I can only pray that I do not return before my time.
It's with a twinkle in my eye as I overlook the Fives from my perch and listen intently to their argument.
Lilac McDormand, District Five Tribute, she/her
I don't think I've ever met someone as weird as Colten Lux. Everyone knows the story of his parents' rebel-aligning work and the tragic accident that led to the redesign of every tower block in the District. He's the weird kid with the twitches, stitches and a hundred-yard stare. He's gone through more withdrawal symptoms than a Morphling addict when his prescription runs out.
Pa always said there was something sketchy about him. It was something he couldn't quite place.
"It's in the eyes, Lilac. You can always tell when someone's off their head. You see it all the time. Morphlings. Thieves. Even on screen you can tell."
"Didn't he lose his brother? Is that why he's a little weird?"
"That was a long time ago. You'd think he'd have gotten over it, if it went like they said it did. Should've been too young to even remember. The Lux's have always been shifty. You could never know whether to trust them or not. You know during the quell, that Victor from Three? They used to work with him. Makes you wonder… You have to stay away from people like that. Good intentions or not, they'll get you into trouble. You'll live a better life for it."
I don't have a choice but to stick around him because he keeps bugging me.
"Why don't you want to make allies? It raises our chances of gathering supplies and going against stronger opponents."
"It also makes a knife in my back more likely. No offence, Lux, but I don't need your help. I don't want any allies. I don't want to depend on someone I met five days before a deathmatch. That's foolish. Now, I've got nothin' against ya. Go get some allies for yourself, because I don't need them."
He gives a belligerent scoff and finally walks away. He gives me the creeps. We've been at this knife station for half an hour, and he never touched a thing. He watches people and writes. He won't let anyone see the notes and refuses to discuss strategy with Aron and Therma. It's like he's an empty husk who wants to win for no reason.
He won't tell anyone why he volunteered. He won't tell me why I heard his door slam in the Goodbye Rooms. He won't tell me why he's obsessed with getting allies.
I won't tell him that he scares me. He acts so cold. That's not someone I can trust in my life. Even back in District Five, he was shifty. Hardly ever said a word. The school told everyone that the meds kept him sedated. Like he was some animal, but Pa claimed that his parents were paying off doctors to give him an 'excuse' for how he acts.
I hate to think of anyone like that, but I can't trust that he isn't a threat to me. I need to get that book. Therma doesn't expect me to trust him, but the least I can do is try to understand. I can figure out what to do. His hanging around me is going to put me off. I don't understand his motivations, so the better thing would be to pawn him off on someone else. Unfortunately, I can't do that yet because only idiots and the desperate would ally up so soon. That's 'Boons against Betrayal 101'.
I could hang around the boys currently going at the trainers. They have synergy, and complimentary fighting styles, and they're underdogs. The only problem is joining up right now would be a death sentence. I don't like the Capitol any more than my brother, but to throw in my lot with them would be dangerous. It would be an outright act of rebellion. The kind of thing Edgar would do if he was here.
I am not getting myself killed just to have some decent conversation.
It might be a little early to judge, but I might have to go this alone. I can't see how anyone would see me as mutually beneficial, and I don't want to get betrayed. Besides, I'm used to solitude, so it should be fine.
Right?
I'm… as weird a paradox as it is… safe here, for now.
No one can get me. The girl from Four tried to threaten me earlier, but it didn't really work. Her heart didn't seem in it. A knife in a Career's hand is scary, but she doesn't have the same crazed bloodlust you see on the screen. All her District Partner did was laugh. He wouldn't even acknowledge me. Makes me wonder… no.
If I think too far into it, it could be my life. I… Edgar would kill me for this, but I can't afford to think of them as people. How could anyone ever win if they did? Flukes don't happen like that. I need weapons, plans and targets to even stand a chance.
What other hope do I have?
Survive. And… if that doesn't happen… then what does it matter to me? Until then… I have to put everything into this. I don't deserve to be here. I could think up a hundred reasons why it shouldn't be me and a thousand reasons why the others should be here. They're dangerous, not to mention shifty. It's kill or be killed. There are trained killers here, and no amount of weirdness changes that.
They've had years to learn how to kill kids like me. I only have a few days. Better make the most of it.
Sure… it's not enough time to build proper muscle, learn about a sword or spontaneously develop pinpoint accuracy… but I can stick with what I know. And I know solitude, and I'm used to hiding and running and all those little tricks to being alone and keeping other people off your trail. Of course, that's a lot easier in Five's concrete jungle… but I've no choice but to adapt.
Adapt and kill. Kill… by adapting? Maybe there will be something I can use to my advantage. After all… climbing a tree can hardly be harder than scaling the face of a dam or a factory. Taking advantage of blind spots is just another way of hiding. And killing… well, all our meat had a life once, didn't it?
I don't really like looking to the future. Not the way Edgar does, with images of bloody revolution and serenity. This isn't the place for that. But if I can make it through this… I think I'd be the youngest Victor on record. It's a bloody title, for sure… but wouldn't that be something.
Something more than death. More than surrender. More than just running and hiding and whispering. A platform… power.
But what if they know about Edgar's past? His arrests? They have to. They know everything. That's how they caught him in the first place. They wouldn't punish me for his… oh, who am I kidding? They would. They already have. Even if it wasn't rigged… they'll be watching. Why wouldn't they?
And if they're already watching, they probably already want me dead. They don't want some wiry redhead. They want a Career or some fan favourite. They always do. Kids like me… they're Bloodbaths. Not quick enough, not strong enough. Trap deaths. Too tired to watch our steps. Mutt deaths, easy prey, easy pickings, conveniently located while the Careers hunker down in the Cornucopia. Poisoned, burned, dehydrated. Wrong place, wrong time. Audience boredom is a perfect excuse when we never had a chance in the first place.
They don't even have to do it. The Careers will. The lunatic volunteers will. The ones who are just as desperate to survive as me will.
My family will get me back… but not how they wanted. And it's selfish to want that for everyone else's families… but I can't help it. Better them than me. Better them than me. Better them than me.
Better they die than Shirley have to come to my funeral, knowing I'm the reason my best friend is crying. I prefer to go home bruised but alive than Edgar be thrown to the wolves because what he's predicted has come to pass: the Capitol ripped the family apart. Roman and Shiv should never have to watch me die. My parents will not bury me before my time.
Worse. Worse, it's so much worse if I make it. Dying is… just the end. I won't have to care when I'm dead, but I'm… I've never been more scared. I'm not special. The audience doesn't want to see me all terrified. It's been done a million times before, but I don't know how to hold it in. I want to go home, and I don't want to die, but I can see myself dead in the coffin already, and-
"... Lilac." Something… someone snaps in front of my face. My vision goes back into focus as I slide down a wall. "Hey. Listen. You're fine. Don't let them see you like that."
Lux leans back against the wall, hiding me from view, writing as if he hadn't said anything. His face is still, even when he looks back at me. I stretch my legs out, resting my head in my hand. I don't have time to panic. I don't have time to curl up and let someone like Lux get to me when I'm vulnerable.
"What?" I try to keep the shakes out of my voice, but I can't lie to myself. "I'm.. I'm good."
"Homesick?" He says it like it's a courtesy question. As if he already knows the answer.
Yes. Always. I don't want to have this conversation, but I don't know if my legs can hold me up.
"No." He doesn't need to know. "What are you writing?"
His jaw twitches, but otherwise, his face is still stone cold. Like he's holding something back.
"Notes." He huffs air through his nose. "Strengths. Weaknesses. Counters. General strategy."
"Like what?" I can't help the curiosity. "Maybe I can help."
He stares at me for a good ten seconds before finally nodding. He flips through the notepad carefully.
"The Ones are flinchers." He says it like he's imparted some great wisdom onto me. He's full of shit. Lux rolls his eyes and physically moves my head to look at the pair. "Except with each other. Boy always keeps his back to a wall. Girl keeps wincing whenever she botches a throw. Like she's expecting to be hit. The other Careers don't do that. Not even the one who didn't volunteer. Could be nothing."
No fucking way. Lux looks at me with just the barest hint of what could be a smile. The Ones link up with the Twos, and the minute they come up behind him, the boy manoeuvres himself to face them, leaning on the girl's shoulder to save face.
"Could be everything." He sounds slightly smug. Prick. For someone who chose to be here, I haven't seen him so much as throw a punch at a training dummy. But if I can pick his brain… spread the knowledge. He's not as stupid as his current strategy would have someone think.
"What's the point if you can't bring it in with you... unless you've got a photographic memory..."
"Eidetic is the one for reading.." He corrects casually. "You're right, it's against the rules. But I have my ways. This isn't my token." He pulls out a tiny toy car from his other pocket. "This is. It's my brother's. I wonder what he's thinking right now."
I stay quiet. Everyone knows the tragedy of Bismuth Lux... but no one's sure which whispers are true and which ones are false.
"Even when we were little he understood people more than I did... I've always resolved to learn as much about people as he does. He'd look at someone in here and tell me what to do... what they were like..."
Why the hell is he talking about his brother in the present tense... unless... no way. If Colten genuinely believes he's alive... no wonder he's so off. I mean... I'd be fucked up if I lost any of my siblings so young too.
"And what about me?" It's worth a shot. This will determine his place. It could make or break our working relationship. "What would he say about me if he was here with you?"
He has this way of looking down at people. Even when they're taller. Even our mentors. Aron must be about six foot eight, Therma only slightly under that and yet… Lux found a way. And he's doing it now.
"Your big brother taught you how to throw a punch, but you've never had to put it into practice. You prefer to stay out of it all..." He glances down at me, voice guarded. "That's why you don't trust me, you think I'm getting too far involved. I mean, who could blame you?"
"Can't trust someone who 'doesn't have a motive' Lux." I freeze a little. If we have to have this conversation now, then I guess I don't have much choice.
"Who said I didn't have a motive, Lily?" There's nothing behind the question. Clinical. Emotionless.
"You haven't given our mentors anything to go off of. Excuse me for jumping on the obvious train of thought. Nothing you do makes sense."
I'm almost praying for another career to come around and peck at us, to see what I'm seeing, to verify my suspicions so I don't feel so exposed.
"Nothing can ever make sense when you're not in someone else's head. Death is a part of life, Lily. Everyone has to go one day. And what kind of life is District Five anyway? Is any of this?" He shrugs, blowing air through his nose. "Wouldn't you choose death too?"
With that, he saunters off, pencil behind his ear and notebook in his pocket. Leaving me with more questions than answers... and far more worries.
I have got to get my hands on that book.
Jet Elster, District Twelve Tribute, he/him
5:00 pm, 24th June, HG 87
Ever since I took it on stage… I don't think I've let go of Cassie's hand. I give it a squeeze to make sure she's still there. It feels like as soon as I look away, she'll be gone… I couldn't deal with that.
We wait outside the boxing ring, where two boys are sparring. Cassie said they were troublemakers after we watched the tape, and it'd be good to get in with them. I hate putting someone else in the equation… but I have to trust her judgement. She's never led me astray… and knows more about how people work than I do. Cassie was always more popular than I was.
"They're watching us again…" She's nervous. I can feel it. She juts her head up towards a balcony, where some of the Gamemakers are sitting. She's right.
"We have to keep a low profile, Jet… you heard what Haymitch said, we can't just go around like this."
One of them, a brunette man with vivid blue eyes, raises his eyebrows when he catches me staring and returns the favour. It's a battle of wills, and he grins when I blink but continues to stare. In the end, I give up. Cassie glances between us and clears her throat with a look I can't quite decipher.
She pulls her hand from mine.
"As long as it keeps us safe." I relent.
We return to the silence, which keeps getting interrupted by the sheer noise of the room. Grunts of pain and concentration, arguing by the door, footsteps, swears. It's all a little too much, but the silence between Cassie and me feels worse. We've barely spoken since we got here.
It's easy to see why… she's… I'm… we're petrified. But little by little, I've noticed her shying away from me more and more. I wish she could tell me what was wrong like she used to. If she needed money, I could give that to her. When she was experiencing phantom pains in her hand, I'd help her through it. And this… I want to help her… but I can't do that if she won't tell me what's wrong.
"Oh, uh… sorry, were we hogging the station?" The Eleven boy isn't much taller than me but still seems to tower over us. "You can have it now, we're done here."
Eight gives us a wave.
"Oh, no." Cassie shakes her head. "We were actually here to talk to you two."
The two boys exchange a glance.
"Yeah. We… would like to propose a partnership." I follow up, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. I can still feel the Gamemaker's eyes on me. "Given that we're all… we have a lot in common, you know?"
Being watched, being monitored. The same could be said for any tribute, anyone in this building. The cameras are everywhere, and they aren't subtle.
"Mhm… like what?" Eight's expression is impassive. I've never been the best at reading people.
"Well… you know…" I struggle to articulate it.
The handcuffs, the security escorts. The way the Head Trainer has been lurking at this station, ready to step in at a moment's notice. The way everyone knows why.
Our mentor lets out a hacking cough as he chokes on his drink. It's not the first time tonight.
"Well, wouldn't you know? You two aren't the only ones about to land yourselves on the Hunger Games shitlist."
Haymitch's tone is flat, his cruelty from earlier having been toned down after he and Effie spoke to Cassie alone. She must have gotten him to see things a little more clearly.
When the boy from Eleven punches the first Peacekeeper to try to force him onstage, he laughs as Effie winces. The TV's been on non-stop since we boarded this train.
"Only difference here… you got nothing left to lose when you're Reaped. When you volunteer… you don't get so much sympathy. Not unless you deserve that sympathy. Now, an escape attempt after being Reaped can be explained away. Kids fourteen, he's scared. Same here. Punch a Peacekeeper? A little harder to spin but there's a self-defence argument. Volunteering always comes off as a little more… how should I say it… malicious. Purposeful. Any old adjective under the sun, you get my point." He shakes his head at me, knocking back another drink from his bottle. It's opaque, as for plausible deniability, but it's whiskey. I know the smell. My father tried that trick enough times at school conferences for me to tell the difference.
"What he's trying to say…" Effie intervenes. She must have clocked me by the look on my face. "Is that…well, my dears… image is everything. It's… been a little difficult to garner support for Twelve in recent years." Since them. Since everything. "Nothing I cannot overcome of course but… we all have our roles to play and while we cannot make you do anything you do not wish to… we are here to advise and persuade both you and your sponsors to take actions that will help you the most."
"Said that way nicer than what I was 'trying to say', but the general idea works. Stop fighting it. Both of you know that there isn't a happy way for this to end, but if you keep making it so damn hard on yourselves then there's nothing else we can do. We can either help you try to fix it as far as we can, or you can go your own way and I can wipe my hands of this. You're lucky, Elster… because I know for a damn fact that the Capitol doesn't offer second chances. Their situations are salvageable, sure… but if they screw up, those boys will have nothing. And the same applies to you. I don't have to help you… Snow knows some of these kids won't get any help."
It seems Cassie's been trying to negotiate while I was zoned out. Eight is looking at me curiously. What is it with these people and the staring? Learn some manners.
"So, we feel an alliance would benefit us all. We bring in the sponsor money, and the status. You two bring the muscle and brain we'll need to stay ahead of the Careers. Together, we'll have numbers, as long as we can build up more support. Like… Five and Six, the volunteers, it wouldn't hurt to ask." She nods her head once, firmly. "But we'll give you some time to decide."
I'm about to walk off, following her lead, but Eleven gestures us back.
"That won't be necessary," Eight looks at the other as he speaks, a slight smile on his face. "We've already got a decision."
"No." Eleven will barely even look at us, disinterested. "You only make us worse targets than we already are. Besides…" He glances up at the balcony, aware of the prying ears. "You're not one of us. I can see it on you. You're scared of us, and I won't build an alliance based on fear. I'm not one of them."
I follow his glare towards the archery station, where the Careers have gathered, watching someone.
"I'm not scared of you-" Cassie bristles but is cut off.
"Not you. Him. The one who's been shaking like a leaf since you started talking. The one who chose this, as if he were part of something bigger. As if this was something noble when," He lunges forward to grab my wrist, turning my palm upward. "He's never done a day's hard work in his life. Face it, Twelve. If you saw me in the street, you'd be scared, just like you're scared now. You don't care about hardship until it affects you. That's why you volunteered the way you did. This isn't your fight, you just pretend it is… that's why you copied those who came before you."
He spits on the floor as he lets go of my wrist, turning on his heel to leave. By now, the sun has begun to lower slightly, and I raise a hand on reflex to shield my eyes from the haze as I watch him storm off.
"What…" I can't find the words to describe how I feel, to hide that I was scared when he grabbed me. It's too easy to picture us in a fight in the arena, a fight I'm nervous I'll lose. "What just…"
"Don't mind him…" Eight remains, talking to Cassie like I'm not even here. "Hey, if you ever need anything, come find me. I personally was gonna vote yes on you staying, but a 'no' outweighs a 'yes' and if it ain't unanimous it ain't happening. Don't worry… he knows you're more like us than like them."
He gestures to her missing finger.
"Harlyn, come on." Eleven yells from across the room, impatient but not angry.
"I hope I get to hear your story one day." He shakes Cassie's hand and gives me a mock salute. "Catch you later, lovebirds."
For a while, we just stood there, stunned.
"Fucking… cowardly bastards." Cassie spits on the floor, but something about it seems half-hearted. "They're just scared of being targets… we'll just have to find someone else. Someone… less stubborn. We won't be safe without numbers to tank the hits. "
Haymitch said we should be scared of being targets. He said not to draw any more attention... or drag allies down with us.
Is… is she hiding something from me? Surely not. She wouldn't hurt me. Cassie must have a plan. She always does. I need to trust her... she's the only one who's ever earned mine.
Saturn Brunn, District Six tribute, he/him
7:00 pm, 24th June, HG 87
I shouldn't be watching her so much. The people here are observant, and Lucilla herself is no fool. I can't help remembering my brother slumped on the table. We never threw out his chair, but no one sits in it.
So excuse me for watching the predator get her comeuppance. She's scared stiff. Good. This is only the start of the absolution in store. She's already started avoiding me. A blessing and a curse. She knows. She must know. What she did, and who I am. We were both lying when we said we didn't know each other. We did, shared by one degree. My father always said it was like I was a carbon copy of Mercury.
I'd seen her around, even before everything. With long, ratty hair and frail limbs, she was just another face in the crowd. A starving Community kid. Big deal. It wasn't until the Reaping that I knew who she was and what she had been capable of all those months back. I had a vague description but never seemed to be able to catch her alone. Anger without a target is just that: a useless emotion. What sent our parents into the Morphling that had basically officiated their marriage. Angry at the world, at everything. But when anger has a target, something tangible, something killable… it's so much easier to get rid of. Mercury would want this. By Snow's bloodied beard, I need this.
I've put in too much work to fail. I'll make everyone understand. Taking out a murderer is only a positive… and whether or not we'd gone into the games, once my brother was dead, this was always ending the same way.
A killer in a body bag, the same way Mercury ended up. I'm sure he wasn't the only one. My contacts said Lucilla's been a dealer for years, so she must have other victims. How easy is it, in a District full of addicts, for a sicko like her to get her thrills? Lace it with one of the other dozens of drugs floating in Six, from the Capitol premium medicine prescribed for Peacekeepers to the homegrown stimulants in the few patches of greenspace by our train tracks. The perfect crime. Untraceable. Six is filled with suppliers, consumers, and vendors. It's our most profitable market. People in her field are a dime a dozen. There's no one in the District untouched.
No one but me. If I lose my life, so be it. I'll suffer with her to make sure everyone knows. My family has already lost one son. What's two, when Mom and Dad know I'll be seeing Mercury again? She's probably shooting up as we speak. I only need one thing from Lucilla. A confession. Broadcast, a warning. Justice… that's what they say the games are for, right? Punishment for past crimes against Panem. And it's a perfect story. I'll kill the girl who killed my brother. Justice is served. My debt to the Capitol is paid… and the way ahead is paved for me, no matter where it leads. Death or glory, win or lose, there's no in-between.
I'm not scared of blood. Not anymore.
"Saturn! You… for… oh god, they're gonna kill me." My brother scoops me up, carting me away as the Peacekeepers come to investigate the smash of glass.
I only wanted to look at the hovercrafts… I didn't mean to cross the visitor line.
"Shhhhhhh…. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be fine. Please don't tell Mom and Dad. Shhhh… you're gonna lead them right to us."
I can feel my leg throbbing. It reminds me of boring school assemblies, the rubbery, fiery pain of pins and needles, magnified. I can't look down. I know I'll faint if I do.
"Shit.. you're losing… no, no, snap out of it. Saturn? Buddy? I'm gonna need you to bite down on this, okay? This is gonna hurt, but I don't have any other choice. Okay?"
He's ripped the sleeve of his shirt off, and I feel it bundled in my mouth. I feel like I'm swimming in something… my mind isn't catching up to my eyes or ears. They haven't stopped ringing. I guess I got too close when it was taking off.
"I need you to stay awake, you're gonna be okay, but I have to get this out."
I must be nodding because he sets his jaw, and I see his hand, wrapped in fabric, yank hard, and my skin pulls with it. It… doesn't hurt?
"There! See, the hard bit's over… just keep breathing, buddy. Slow and steady." He ruffles my hair and something red drips near the corner of my eyes. "It's… it's not as bad as I thought. You're… you're fine."
He breathes a sigh of relief as I feel the noise in my ears slowly quieten. Something is starting to sting.
"You're lucky… what the hell were you doing climbing up there anyway?" He's not scolding. He never is.
"Wanted a closer look…" My tongue is heavy in my mouth. "I didn't… I didn't think the boxes would… didn't realise there were bottles in 'em."
He shakes his head gently, deciding to take off his shirt and put me in it. I'm shivering, I see.
"You can't do that to me, Saturn… you could have gotten hurt so much worse,"
He looks around the alleyway, satisfied there are no Peacekeepers after us. "I know you didn't mean to do any harm… but you have to be careful, buddy. What happens next time you fall, and it's more than boxes and bottles that come down on you?"
I try to apologise, but what comes out of my mouth next isn't words. It splatters against the floor as I lean over, Mercury's hand rubbing my back.
"I don't want you scared, Saturn… I want you safe. I'll always…"
I never got the chance to hear him finish that sentence. As soon as I actually saw the blood for what it was, I must've passed out. I was only like… what… ten at most? When I woke up, I was back at home, in bed. Mom was too high on Morphling to ask questions, and Dad was working a night shift and had already left. Mercury got rid of the glass, patched up the hole in my leg, and watched me like a hawk for the next month. We hid it, and we never told anyone.
It was the only time I wondered why he was taking something so seriously rather than it being the other way around. The lovable asshole always found something to smile about, even if there was no reason to.
I was terrified of blood for a long time after that. Never turned up when there was a fight, always turned my eyes away when there was an execution, and never even went near the casinos or the back alleys. Unless Mercury was there. I could never trust anyone else to look out for me.
There was no blood when I found Mercury. Why would there be? He was an upstanding citizen, even by Six's shitty standards. A trained mechanic. He was highly educated, good with his hands, kind, and clean. Better than our parents could ever hope to be. No one in their right mind would ever have wanted to hurt him.
It wasn't his fault when the accident happened, but he blamed himself nonetheless. Dad managed to sober up enough to get him from the doctor, even though I volunteered. Said I wouldn't be able to bear it. He was right for the first time in my life.
He hid it from me. He could barely walk, couldn't work, couldn't go anywhere. His leg was mangled… the doctor offered to try and get it amputated, but we didn't have the money. He was always dragging around the reminder of his mistake. No wonder he turned to Morphling that night… Maybe whatever cosmic force is out there decided to end his suffering. That doesn't make it right.
I spent the months before this Reaping searching. Learning. Remembering why I hadn't ever trusted anyone else. Dad went clean. Too late. He'd be waiting by the door when I returned, asking what I'd been doing, why I was out all night, why I was never home. Too late.
I started with my class' delinquent kids. The kinds I used to hide from even if they never paid me any mind. Asking questions. Demanding answers. They didn't like that. Thought I was a Peacekeeper psyop. One of them tried to jump me. The neighbourhood bully and his goons. Turns out… noses are easy to break. But they taught me how to fight, if inadvertently. I just let them keep going until one of them slipped up, missed, and let me get an advantage. And yeah… I got my ass kicked that day… but I certainly wasn't in as bad a shape as they were. I could feel Mercury with me, protecting me.
There was blood on me by the end of it. Theirs, mine. I finally understood what it meant to hurt people… then, I wasn't scared anymore. I'm not scared anymore.
She doesn't deserve a second chance, much less deserve forgiveness. Mercury isn't alive to give it, and Lucilla won't be around long enough to beg it from me.
The bell jolts me from my thoughts. Rude. I linger before I leave, following Lucilla in case she tries anything, but a hand on my shoulder stops me.
"Six. Don't move." It's that Head Trainer from earlier. He has the other hand out, placating. "Drop the knife. You won't want me to make you do it."
Drop the… huh. I must have kept it in my hand from when I was practising earlier… but it's red. I haven't… oh. I drop it, nudging it away with the toe of my boot. Cronin doesn't let go of my shoulder.
"Show me your hand, Six." His voice is notably softer once I've cooperated. He narrows his eyes at the spots on the floor. "It's a stupid thing to do, that. These are dulled… but the skin of the hand is easily broken. Especially around the palms. You're lucky we have our medics available twenty-four seven. You can do some serious damage if you're not careful."
He narrows his eyes as I pull my hand away, fidgeting with it.
"This was an accident, wasn't it?"
"...Yessir." I mumble, sheepish. "I must've forgotten I still had it."
"See, boys, nothing to worry about." He speaks past me to the Peacekeepers blocking the doorway. "Now… I'm gonna send you on your way, okay? But don't ever do something like that again, you understand me, Six? The med room is just down the hall and to the left. You can't miss it. You better not miss it. After all… you don't wanna be tied to a drip for the rest of your stay, do you?"
His voice is firm. It almost makes me ashamed about getting his attention like this. It's like a teacher saying they're not mad, just disappointed.
"No… won't happen again. I'll go now."
He finally lets go of my shoulder.
"Goodnight, Six."
"Goodnight."
I turn away and proceed down the hallway. I find it too easy to forget that regardless of my own vendetta... there is no freedom to be found in this gilded cage.
AN: [Clown music plays as I wheel in on a unicycle] Hey. We all know the drill by now. Hope y'all enjoy the chapter and stay safe and hydrated. This story will be finished. It will.
