Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.
Note: Just a friendly reminder to vote in the "favorite tributes" poll if you haven't yet. A new poll will be up with the next chapter.
Train Rides
What We Do With Them
Euphoria Fonseca, 18
District Five
"Care to share some of that information?"
Euphoria looked up from her notebook to see Leven watching her intently. "Information?"
"You were taking notes all through the reapings. Anything useful you want to share?"
Euphoria glanced down at her notebook, then briefly at Camden, which she hoped would look like asking her mentor whether it was a good idea to share information with her district partner. Camden gave a shrug that Leven would probably interpret as 'Why not? You're working together anyway,' but which Euphoria knew was closer to 'Just make something up and roll with it.' Euphoria shrugged in return. "I think District Four looks interesting."
Leven raised an eyebrow. Clearly that wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "What do you mean by interesting? They seemed pretty average to me. Below average, if we're being honest."
Euphoria's mind raced. They had seemed quite normal, but… "Doesn't that strike you as a bit odd? After what Imalia did in Thirteen, Four should have been teeming with volunteers this year. That's probably what the Capitol expected. It's certainly what I expected. Instead, we get these two. Doesn't that pique your interest a little?"
Leven shook his head. "You think they're acting?"
"Acher ran away from the Peacekeepers. No one's done that in Four for years."
"How do you know that?"
Euphoria shrugged. "I remember."
"You remembered from the reapings from the last few years?"
"I've got a good memory."
Leven snorted. "It's not like all of the tributes from Four recently have been Careers. Two years after Imalia won – you remember that?"
Euphoria nodded. She did. But she was surprised Leven did too. "That was the first year they weren't all Careers. Even though they had to send extra tributes, the Careers were still eager to volunteer – the first couple years, at least. But the first girl who volunteered that year … everyone was afraid of her, even the other trainees."
"Especially the other trainees," Leven agreed. "None of the other girls wanted to volunteer, and the little girl who was reaped was bawling her eyes out the whole time."
Camden nodded. "And do you remember what happened to her?"
"Which one?" Euphoria asked.
Camden shrugged. "Either."
Leven frowned. "They both died in the bloodbath, I think."
Camden nodded. "Safe guess. It was a pretty big bloodbath that year."
Euphoria couldn't hide a shudder. That was an understatement, she knew. The 44th Games had gone down in the history books for two things: the largest bloodbath and the shortest Games. The number of districts sending extra tributes had contributed to the former, but the bigger factor had been Adalyn's decision to smash the beehives that encircled the cornucopia, releasing swarms of bees, wasps, and even tracker jackers. The bloodbath had been even more frenzied than usual, and twenty five tributes were dead before it was over. She'd only been seven years old, and remembered being horrified, but couldn't remember exactly what had happened to either of the girls from Four. "I don't remember who killed them," she admitted.
Camden nodded. "Not surprising. There was a lot going on. Leven?" When he shook his head, she turned to Oliver. "How about you?"
"Adalyn killed the younger girl," Oliver answered. "The older one, the Career, was killed by her own district partners. They turned on her in the bloodbath, decided she was too big of a threat. A reputation like hers can go a long way towards intimidating the other tributes, but it can also be a danger if the rest of the pack decides you're not worth the risk of keeping around."
"Didn't work out too well for them, though," Leven pointed out. "There wasn't much of a pack left by the time the bloodbath was over."
"You're right," Camden agreed. "Three Careers survived the bloodbath, and Adalyn wasn't even part of the pack."
Euphoria cocked her head. "Why not?"
"Because she realized what the girl from Four didn't. Or perhaps she was simply in a better position to realize it. After what happened to their training center during the 42nd Games, Careers from Four were desperate to prove they still deserved to be part of the pack, without really questioning whether it was actually the best move for them. Adalyn realized she wasn't a good fit for the pack, so she didn't even bother trying to join."
Euphoria cocked her head. What was Camden saying? That they shouldn't join the pack? That she shouldn't join the pack? The idea of going it alone like Adalyn had was rather unappealing, but Careers had occasionally broken off from the group and formed packs of their own. Maybe that was an option if…
If what? If the others didn't like her? If she didn't like them? But being part of the pack wasn't really about whether you liked the others. It was about whether you could function well as a group. Euphoria glanced down at her notebook. "What made Adalyn realize the pack wasn't a good fit?"
Oliver snorted. "Have you met Adalyn?"
"Not really," Euphoria admitted. "She's never around the academy. I know she runs the Peacekeeper training program in Five, but I was never interested in that, so…"
"Good call," Oliver agreed. "But it's a good fit for her, and Harakuise managed to talk her into giving some of the Peacekeepers a few … pointers that helped with our plan these last few years. But mostly she keeps to herself. Let's just say she's not a people person. She wouldn't have been a good fit for any pack, but at least she was aware of it. That's the thing, really – knowing yourself well enough to know where you fit, what sort of strategy will work for you. And some of that depends on the rest of the pack. Adalyn wouldn't have fit in any group. I don't think either of you will have that problem."
The word was just hanging there, waiting. Someone had to say it. "But…" Euphoria prompted.
Camden leaned forward. "You saw the other reapings. You tell me."
Euphoria glanced back down at her notes. "Some of them made quite an impression."
Leven shrugged. "Sure, but it's the reapings. Everyone is trying to make a good impression."
Not everyone. But she didn't say it out loud. Leven was clearly talking about the Careers. Making a good impression at the reapings was part of being a Career. "And they're probably saying the same thing about us," she agreed.
Camden nodded. "Fair enough. Just pay attention to what kind of impression they're making, and whether it matches the one you'd like to make. Speaking from experience, being the odd one out in a pack can be a bit of a mixed bag. Making a splash can save your life, but it can also be dangerous."
Euphoria shrugged. "It's the Hunger Games. Is there anything that isn't dangerous?"
Oliver chuckled. "No. That's part of the fun. And on that cheery note, I think it's about time for dinner. If you want to get changed first, now's a good time." He turned and headed to the next car, followed quickly by Leven.
Camden leaned back a little in her chair. "So what's really in the notebook?" she asked once the other two were gone.
Euphoria only hesitated a moment before handing it over. Camden glanced over the page, then smiled. "Well, at least he was right about it being notes. Just not the sort he was thinking of. I assume it will eventually have some lyrics?"
Euphoria nodded. "Eventually. The music always comes to me first, though."
"And why didn't you tell Leven?"
"I want it to be a surprise. I want to have it ready for the interviews."
"And you don't think he can keep a secret?"
"I don't think he has any reason to."
Camden cocked her head. "He's your district partner."
"And?"
Camden nodded. "Good. But there's another reason, isn't there."
She handed the notebook back, and Euphoria traced a few of the notes with her fingertips. "I don't want him to think that I'm not taking this seriously."
"And why would he think that?"
"Because this … well, this isn't what most people would be focusing on. They'd want to focus on strategy."
"Entertaining the audience is strategy."
Euphoria nodded. That was true. But this wasn't about entertaining the audience. Not really. Not completely. Oh, she had no doubt they would enjoy the show, but the music … the music was bigger than that.
"Why District Four?" Camden asked.
"What?"
"When Leven asked you about your notes, District Four was the first one to come to your mind. Why? What about them made an impression? Be honest."
"They weren't what I was expecting. The reapings are … they're all about anticipation. Sometimes eagerness, sometimes dread, but always this sense of … of waiting. Those few moments after their names were called, when they both thought someone else might volunteer, that slow realization that no one was going to save them … that made an impression."
Camden nodded. "A good one or a bad one?"
Euphoria shifted uneasily. "That's the thing, isn't it. Because the fact that they weren't Careers … well, that's good for the rest of us – the rest of the pack. Any volunteers from Four this year would have had the audience's attention, and probably their favor, too. After everything Imalia did in Thirteen, how could they not want District Four to win? So it's better for us that they weren't volunteers."
"But…"
"But they're just kids. They don't have a chance. Someone should have volunteered. Someone should have stepped up and taken their place, taken a chance, gambled that the Capitol's attitude towards Four would give them a good chance."
Camden nodded. "Maybe they should have. And maybe things would have gone their way. But they didn't. The Games aren't about what should happen. It's natural to feel sorry for those kids, but you can't let that distract you from what has to be done."
"I know." And she did. She knew what she was getting into. Whether the tributes from Four were Careers or not, they were her competition now, and they were going to have to die in order for her to make it home. All of them would. All twenty-five other tributes, including Leven. Euphoria closed her notebook and glanced up at Camden. "So who caught your eye?"
Camden cocked her head. "Hmm?"
"If Leven had asked you for your thoughts about the reaping, and you had to choose the first district to come to your head, what would you have said? Who stood out?"
Camden smirked. "Besides the two of you?"
"Yes."
"Thirteen."
Euphoria nodded. "Because they're volunteers?"
Camden shook her head. "No. Because Harakuise was fascinated."
"Is that good or bad?"
Camden shrugged. "Probably."
Euphoria knew better than to ask for anything more than that. Harakuise was practically a legend in District Five, and well-respected at the academy despite the fact that he hadn't been a Career himself. The idea that he was mentoring Thirteen this year – that he was technically working against District Five – was a bit unnerving. Even the idea of it seemed dangerous.
That's part of the fun. That was what Oliver had said. Everything in the Games was dangerous. And Harakuise wasn't the only mentor who knew what he was doing. "I'll keep an eye on them," Euphoria agreed, and she was sure she saw Camden relax a little. Then she flipped open her notebook and, humming a little, jotted down a few more notes, the pencil trembling a little with anticipation.
She wouldn't have to wait much longer.
Ophiuchus Valdemar, 18
District Thirteen
They needed more information.
Ophiuchus poured themself a glass of water and helped themself to some of the food on the table in front of them. There was quite an assortment, but they knew better than to immediately stuff themself with as much food as they could. They'd been to enough parties to know that was an excellent way to be sick in an hour or so. Instead, they took a few bites, then turned to their mentor. "Where should we start?"
Harakuise glanced over at Nicodemus and Karina, shrugged, and finished serving himself some chicken. "What do you think would be the most important?"
Ophiuchus shook their head. "Normally, I'd be more than happy to play games with you, Harakuise. I've been playing them most of my life. But I don't have time for that right now. I have a few days to catch up on fifty-five years of information. You wouldn't have been assigned here if you weren't good at what you do, so what do you think is the most important?"
For a moment, the table went silent, and Ophiuchus wondered if maybe they'd broken some unspoken rule. Karina was watching them, wide-eyed. There was a hint of a smile on Nicodemus' face. Harakuise's expression was as unreadable as it had been since they'd set foot on the train, but as Ophiuchus watched, he broke into a grin, chuckled, and turned to Nicodemus. "Have I mentioned how refreshing it is to be around people who aren't intimidated by me?" Nicodemus opened his mouth to say something, but Harakuise waved a hand dismissively. "You don't count. Nicodemus, where do you think is a good place to start?"
Nicodemus turned to Karina and Ophiuchus. "Let's start with whether you'd like us to coach you together or separately to begin with."
Ophiuchus nodded. "Was that a tactful way of saying that we're starting in very different places, so I shouldn't be offended if Karina wants to skip the beginner course and dive right in?" They flashed a half-smile at their district partner.
"I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but yes," Nicodemus agreed. "Karina?"
Karina thought it over for a moment. "I wouldn't mind going over some basics if it means getting some insight from both of you. Different perspectives can be helpful."
Ophiuchus raised an eyebrow. Interesting. That meant she considered Harakuise's advice valuable – at least as valuable as her own mentor's. Or perhaps she was simply curious about them, and wanted the excuse to linger a little longer. Ophiuchus nodded. "That's fine with me."
Harakuise turned back to Nicodemus. "All right, that one was a freebie, then. Where should we really start?"
Nicodemus turned to Ophiuchus. "You and Harakuise were both dodging the question of what's most important because you know it's a trick question. There is no one 'most important' thing to know about the Games, aside from what you already know: it's a fight to the death with one survivor. Everything else is a matter of perspective, and what's most important can change at any given time. That having been said, one thing that's easy to forget in the Games is that they don't take place in a vacuum." Harakuise opened his mouth to say something, but Nicodemus cut him off. "No, Harakuise, outer space does not count. You know that's not the kind of vacuum I meant. I meant that once you're in the arena, it's easy to feel isolated, like the Games are the only thing happening, like those other kids in the arena with you are the only people who can affect the outcome. They're not."
"Are you talking about sponsors?" Karina asked.
"Partly."
Karina turned to Ophiuchus. "Sponsors are Capitolites who pay money to send things to their favorite tributes."
Ophiuchus nodded. They'd heard the term mentioned, but the specifics had always been a little vague. "What kinds of things?"
"Usually food and water. Or medicine. Sometimes weapons. Or other things that might be useful – a compass, a map, some rope."
"Is there anything they're not allowed to send?"
Karina turned to Nicodemus. "I'm not sure. Is there?"
Nicodemus nodded. "There are a few guidelines, and the Gamemakers are allowed to exercise their discretion, but the only flat-out ban I'm aware of is that tributes aren't allowed to use the sponsor system to send messages to each other. So you couldn't, for example, ask me to send a message to another tribute telling them your position."
Ophiuchus raised an eyebrow. "That's a rather specific ban. What happened?"
Nicodemus nodded towards Harakuise. "He happened. Mostly, sponsors can send the same sort of things that you might find at the cornucopia at the start of the Games, so sponsors are especially important if you don't get anything from the cornucopia."
"And the cornucopia is…?"
Karina picked up. "At the start of the Games, all the tributes are in a circle around a big … well, it usually looks something like a cornucopia horn, which is why they call it that, but sometimes it'll look a bit different. Anyway, it's in the center, and inside are all sorts of weapons and supplies. Some of the tributes rush in to grab things, and some just run away."
"Because they don't want to end up on the wrong end of one of those weapons."
"Exactly. And the Careers usually get to the weapons pretty quickly. Has anyone told you about Careers?"
"Not much. Only that they're volunteers who have trained for the Games."
Karina nodded. "They usually form a pack at the start of the Games, working together, setting up a base at the cornucopia, and going hunting from there."
Ophiuchus raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because that's where the supplies are, so they have somewhere safe to come back to."
"No, I meant, why do they all work together? If you're one of the strongest tributes in the arena, why would you want all the other dangerous tributes right next to you?"
Karina shrugged. "So you know where they are, I guess."
Ophiuchus shook their head. "But that also means they know where you are."
Nicodemus nodded. "Good point. Harakuise, care to weigh in on that one?"
Ophiuchus turned to their mentor. "Were you a Career?"
Harakuise shook his head. "No, but I've mentored my fair share. District Five is one of the Career districts now, along with One and Two. Sometimes Four. And recently Twelve. And my Games was one of the first to feature a rather large pack, although few of them were anything close to what you would consider a Career these days. There were six of them, and they initially joined together for the sake of protection rather than any interest in hunting down the other tributes. But the idea stuck. One strong tribute alone was a target – sometimes a rather tempting one. A small group of weaker tributes might think it was a good idea to go after a stronger one together. A pack of several stronger tributes meant they were less likely to be attacked. They could set the pace of the Games themselves. That's an appealing position to be in – but also a dangerous one."
Ophiuchus nodded. "You weren't part of that pack, were you."
"No."
"Why not?"
Harakuise chuckled. "Because they would never have considered inviting me. I was a scrawny little fourteen-year-old with barely any weapons experience and zero survival skills."
"And yet here you are."
"Yes. Here I am."
"Interesting."
"It is, isn't it."
Ophiuchus shook their head. "When you said that setting the pace of the Games is a dangerous position to be in, what did you mean?"
Harakuise turned to Karina. "What did I mean?"
Karina hesitated, but only for a moment. "That if you're the group that's supposed to be out hunting other tributes and keeping the Games moving, you're the ones the Gamemakers will target if they don't think you're doing it fast enough."
Ophiuchus nodded. "Target how?"
"Mutts, usually. Different kinds of animals that the Gamemakers can control from a distance."
"What kind of animals?"
Karina shrugged. "Depends on the arena."
Of course. "So no way of knowing ahead of time, then."
"No."
"Sounds like there's a lot that you can't really plan for beforehand."
Harakuise nodded. "That's deliberate – and it's quite a trap for tributes like you and me."
"And what kind of tribute is that?"
Harakuise leaned forward. "Planners. Schemers. Manipulators. People who live and die by the information that comes to our ears and the words that come out of our mouths. People who can see all the little buttons and knobs and strings, all those little things that make people tick, and who can work out how to turn and twist and pull them to our advantage." He shook his head. "But you can't plan for everything. Better minds than ours have tried. I killed one of them in cold blood in a swamp because I recognized him for what he was. Intelligence didn't save him – and it wasn't what saved me."
"What did?"
"Ruthlessness. All the clever plans in the world mean nothing if they can be outdone by an opponent who recognizes when to stop talking and just stab you in the gut." There was just the slightest pause, and then, "Did I hit a nerve?"
"No, not at–"
"Did I hit a nerve, Karina?"
Ophiuchus turned to their district partner, who was pale and shaking with … what? Fright? Rage? Shock? Ophiuchus wasn't certain, and only had a moment to process the look she gave them before she stood up and hurried to the next car, clutching her stomach. Nicodemus flashed Harakuise a look and then followed, muttering something unconvincing about eating a lot of Capitol food on an empty stomach.
Ophiuchus nodded. "You meant to drive her away."
Harakuise's expression was blank again. "Lesson number two: There are no accidents."
"She could have been useful."
"No. She could have been dangerous. Because Nicodemus is right; the Games don't take place in a vacuum. It's not just the two of you on this train; it's the four of us. Nicodemus is no fool, and he recognized your game right away. She'll stay away from you now, and that's better for both of you." Harakuise shook his head. "You said you didn't have time to play games. I ended a rather distracting one for you. You're welcome."
Ophiuchus stared for a moment. They hadn't expected this. When the president had announced that their mentors would be two of the Victors, they had expected fighters. Survivors. People who would be able to help them with the technical aspects of the Games. This … this was better than they could have hoped for. Ophiuchus leaned back in their chair as a smile crept over their lips. "Thank you."
"That's the response I was hoping for."
"But not the one you expected?"
"I know better than to try to anticipate someone like you. I hope you'll give me the same credit. But the important thing is, I'm not an opponent you need to outwit, Ophiuchus. I'm working with you. I'm on your side."
Ophiuchus blinked. On their side. Their side had always consisted of themself. Knowing that it was Harakuise's job to help them – and that he clearly took that job quite seriously – was an odd feeling. Finally, Ophiuchus nodded. "Lucky for both of us."
"Yes."
"So where should we really start?"
Hattie Hespeler, 13
District Three
She wished she had more information.
Hattie scraped the last of the ice cream from her bowl, savoring the taste. It was even better than the ice cream back in Three. There was a small bakery in the richer section of the district that sold ice cream, and she'd been there once after Peacekeeper Lynch had rewarded her for a particularly useful tip. She had always been generous with her information, and he had been generous with his rewards. It had been a good arrangement.
Hattie stared at the empty bowl, scraping the bottom absently with her spoon. She had found a niche in Three, a spot that had needed filling, and she had been the perfect fit. If only the Games worked like that. But she didn't know anything about the other tributes. Well, nothing that wouldn't soon be common knowledge, anyway. What Lynch had told her about Elseri was enough to convince her to stay away from him, but was it really going to do her any good aside from that? She could tell the other tributes, of course, but what would that accomplish? The chances that Malchus wouldn't bring his actions up during the interviews were pretty slim, so what was the point in giving them a few days' advance notice?
And that was it. That was all she had. All she knew. Well, aside from what everyone else knew, too – aside from what had happened during the reapings. But any information she could gather from that was already available to the other tributes, too. She had no advantage here, and that was … well, it was unfair. It would be one thing if the Games had a level playing field, but with them skewed so strongly in favor of older, stronger, and especially trained tributes, younger outer-district tributes needed some sort of advantage to make them even a little closer to fair. But she had nothing.
"Would you like some more?" Miriam asked kindly.
Hattie looked up, then back down at the perfectly clean bowl in front of her. "Maybe later." The thought itself was a bit overwhelming. She'd been able to occasionally treat herself and her friends back in Three, but those treats had always been rationed. A few chocolates here, a short show there. Now she could just … ask for more. As much as she wanted.
But only for the next few days.
Unless.
Unless she won. If she won, things could be like this for the rest of her life. If she won, she would never have to work in the factory again, never have to rely on eavesdropping and the gratitude of Peacekeepers to make more than the bare minimum. She would never have to work again at all. Every day could be like this.
If she won. If she didn't … well, there was no harm in enjoying this while it lasted. Hattie glanced back up at Miriam and Percival. Think. She needed an advantage. Any sort of advantage she could get. "So how does this work, exactly?" she asked after a moment.
Miriam cocked her head. "How does what work?"
Hattie nodded at Percival. "You two – and Avery. Three of you, two of us." She hadn't seen Avery or Elseri since they'd boarded the train, but Miriam and Percival didn't seem concerned, so they were probably just keeping to themselves. "If Miriam's officially my mentor and Avery is Elseri's, what do you do?"
Percival shrugged. "Officially, nothing."
Hattie raised an eyebrow. "And unofficially?"
Percival glanced at Miriam, who shrugged. "Unofficially, the third person does whatever they can to help," she admitted. "No one's ever seemed to mind much. You see, the year after Avery won, we had to send four tributes, and then for years after that, we were sending three, so all three of us kept going. Once we only had to send two tributes again … well, no one ever told us we couldn't all keep coming, and no one's ever complained."
"Really? They don't think it gives us an advantage?"
Percival chuckled. "If it did, I think there'd probably be some concrete evidence by now, don't you?"
Hattie nodded. "You mean we'd probably have another Victor by now."
"Exactly. Besides, there's nothing stopping the other districts from doing the same thing. It's not like me being here is a secret."
"Are there any others that do?"
Miriam nodded. "District Eight has been sending all three since the 42nd Games. Hasn't seemed to give them an advantage either."
Hattie shook her head. "So why keep doing it?"
"Because it's not really about trying to gain an advantage," Percival admitted. "It's about not wanting to leave one of us alone during the Games. Now, if the Careers started doing the same thing, people might get a bit grumbly about them trying to gain an advantage."
"Probably," Miriam agreed. "But I think there's a good reason they haven't tried – aside from the few years they've had to send extra tributes too."
"Because they already have enough of an advantage?" Hattie muttered.
Percival chuckled. "Maybe, but I've never seen that stop them from trying to squeeze out any advantage they can. No, I figure having two mentors wouldn't be as advantageous as you might think. Otherwise, you'd either see more district partners working together, or see mentors deciding to focus on the tribute who has the better chance and leave the other one to fend for themself."
Hattie winced. "That's pretty harsh."
Percival nodded. "The Games are harsh. But my point was, you don't see that – not often, at least. Because if you had two mentors, one of two things would probably happen. Either they would give you similar advice anyway, or their advice would steer you in two different directions, and you'd end up gravitating towards whichever one suited you best. Not much of an advantage either way." Hattie's disappointment must have shown on her face, because Percival chuckled softly. "Sorry if having two of us isn't quite the edge you were hoping for."
Hattie was about to agree, but something stopped her. Two of us. Technically, there were three mentors for the two of them – her and Elseri – but that wasn't how Percival had worded it. Miriam was technically her only mentor, but Percival was here helping her instead of wherever Elseri was. Did that mean he thought she had the better chance? Maybe. And maybe that wasn't much of a statement, considering what her district partner had done, but it was a small vote of confidence, and it did feel good – at least a little.
Miriam nodded. "And even if that's not the edge you were looking for, there's something else that might be." She pulled something from her pocket. "One of the Peacekeepers slipped me this on our way to the train." She unfolded the slip of paper and handed it to Hattie.
Hattie stared at the slip for a moment, then turned it over. One side had her name printed on it. The slip that the escort had drawn at the reaping. On the other side was a series of numbers. It took a moment for her to figure out what it was. Not many people in Three had one, but it made sense that a Peacekeeper would. "It's a phone number." Miriam nodded in confirmation, and Hattie grinned. "He gave me his phone number. Is that … allowed?"
Percival shrugged. "I've never heard of a rule against it."
Hattie raised an eyebrow. "No one's ever asked to call someone back home before? Their family? Their friends?"
"Most of their contacts back home wouldn't have a phone," Miriam reasoned.
Hattie shook her head. "Okay, but…" But that wasn't the reason – not the real reason. The Victors had phones, and obviously the Peacekeepers did, too. Between them, they could probably put the tributes in contact with anyone in the district if they wanted to.
But that wasn't what they wanted – and it probably wasn't the tributes would want either, if they were being honest with themselves. It probably hadn't occurred to anyone to even try. Because their mentors wanted them to be able to focus on the Games. Talking to people back in the district would just be a distraction.
Or at least, that was what it would usually be. Most of the people back in the districts wouldn't really be able to offer any kind of help. The tributes wouldn't get any more advice or support out of them than they'd already gotten when they said goodbye. But if Lynch had given her his number, that meant he thought he might have something useful for her – maybe after watching the rest of the reapings. Maybe he knew some of the Peacekeepers in the other districts. Maybe they knew something useful about some of the other tributes.
Maybe…
Hattie turned the slip of paper over again and asked the obvious question. "Can I call him?"
Miriam nodded. "There's a phone in the next car. Follow me."
Hattie followed her into the next car, where a phone lay on a desk. She took a deep breath and dialed. The phone rang. Then rang again. After the third ring, a voice answered. "This is Nash in Three. Whatcha got for me?"
Hattie froze. The voice was unfamiliar, but she was pretty sure she'd heard the name. So Lynch had given her … what? The number for the Peacekeepers' office? "Six, if this is some kind of prank–" the voice on the other end grumbled.
"It's Hattie," she blurted out before she could stop herself.
For a moment, the phone was silent. "So you're the reason there's been so many calls today. Lynch contacted just about everyone he knows in the other districts, I reckon. Now, normally I wouldn't give two shits about which of you district brats die in the Games, but Lynch reckons anything that helps you in there is bad for the other kid, and Fritz was a friend of mine."
Fritz. The Peacekeeper who had died in the riot. Who had been killed by … well, if not by Elseri directly, then at least by people he'd been associated with. Maybe it made sense that the Peacekeepers would take her side. "Lynch said he was a good man."
The voice on the other end chuckled. "You don't need to butter me up, kid. We're already rooting for you back here. Now grab a pen and something to write on, and listen up."
Hattie fumbled around in the desk for a moment before finding a pen and a pad of paper. "I'm listening."
She listened. She wrote. At one point, her eyes grew wide, and a smile formed on her face. Finally, Nash was finished. "I don't know how much of this will be helpful, but I suspect some of it will."
Hattie nodded quickly, then remembered he couldn't see her. "Yes. Yes, it will. Thank you. Thank you so much. And tell Lynch I said thank you."
"Good luck, kid." There was a click, and then a steady tone. Hattie put down the phone. Carefully, her fingers trembling a little, she tore off the piece of paper she'd been writing on, folded it, and tucked it in her pocket.
"Are you all right?" Miriam asked.
Hattie nodded. She was better than all right. She had an edge now. Maybe not the huge advantage that the Careers had, but … well, an edge. Just enough to think that maybe, just maybe, she really had a chance. Hattie took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts, and then smiled at Miriam.
"I think I'll have that second helping of ice cream now."
"Information is incapable of harm in and of itself. Ideas are neither good nor bad, but merely as useful as what we do with them."
