02
Koi "Lucky" Flores, 16, District 4
"Are we going by the usual rules?"
Cas shrugged, dimples clear as day on his cheeks despite the light of the moon and the embers of the campfire the only thing they could see with. Normally kids didn't get to go camping out by the fisheries the night before a reaping, but Cas got special permission from the Academy and the mayor to take a small group with him. Last minute training, they called it.
"One round," Cas decided. "Biggest fish wins. We'll eat them, of course, and the winner can split their fish with the loser if they feel generous."
"Well, with Lucky around, it could be any of us who wins," Lapis joked. He tested his bow, then began tying the thin rope he'd brought with him around one of the arrows. This was how they competed: Fishing, though without rods and more with a bow and arrow from afar. Fire the arrow into the water, reel it back out by the rope you tied to it, and if you were skilled enough you managed to shoot the arrow hard enough to catch the fish you spotted after it breached the surface.
Luck was a big factor in a lot of their lives in District 4. And Lucky Flores, as he'd been known for the past ten years, was a well of luck everyone liked to visit whenever they could.
"Just share some with me when I lose," Lucky laughed. He never did win the games they played, never caught the biggest fish, but he liked to think his penchant for catching the smaller fish from so far away, even at night, was a feat of luck in itself. He couldn't say he'd ever starve to death with small boons like that. "Last thing we need is the volunteer overeating and sleeping in tomorrow."
"You're so funny." Cas rolled his eyes.
The least talented of the archers, and the youngest among them, Beckett held up his hand and a torch for the others to see with. He would referee, like always, and when he announced they could start, the four boys at the edge of the short, but still distant cliff nocked their arrows and took aim.
Lapis fired first, and as soon as he did Cas followed suit. Lucky and Fisk always lagged behind, took their time, and they glanced at each other for a moment before Fisk fired his arrow. For all the boasting Lapis and Cas did, joking about who would get Lucky's blessing, Fisk had a knack for knowing when it was his turn with the good fortune. Beckett measured the two salmons that Lapis and Cas had pulled from the waters, double checking and writing the results on the inside of his forearm.
"Christ, this one's heavy," Fisk exaggerated. He made a visible effort to pull his salmon out of the water, and when it landed on the ground by the campfire for Beckett to measure, Beckett was quick to make a note that told everyone what Fisk already knew.
"It's pregnant," Beckett announced. "Rules dictate he gets extra points on top of the length."
Cas and Lapis both groaned. They didn't even bother to ask Lucky how small his salmon was, and he didn't bother having it measured by Beckett to see how horrifically he lost. He liked playing this game more than winning it, especially since it really did count as extra training for Lucky. When he started out he was terrible, and his hand-eye coordination was atrocious; but using this as practice on top of the Academy classes had worked miracles for him.
"Who wants caviar?" Fisk announced. He'd already scooped the eggs from the salmon he'd caught, having dumped them in a small wooden bowl he'd brought along with him. Now he was more focused on scaling the fish and properly gutting it. "Get it while it's moist."
"Don't Capitolites pay an arm and a leg for this stuff?" Beckett inched closer, picked up a small cluster of eggs so carefully—like he was scared of breaking them. "Are they really that good?"
"Why don't you try and find out?"
The encouragement was all the answer Beckett needed. He dropped the eggs back into the bowl, scrunched up his face, and moved away from Fisk. Compared to the others, Lucky was already done preparing his salmon and was mounting it to a stick, roasting it in front of the fire with a satisfied—if sheepish—smile on his face. This was how it always was, him being the first to do anything because of how small his boons were. Sometimes it felt nice to be the first to taste their catches and boast about it to the others as they waited for the fire to cook the meat.
This wasn't something he thought they'd be able to do right before a reaping, but Cas had a way with words sometimes. Being the volunteer this year was also a big benefit—all Cas had to do was say it was for the sake of the Games, especially a Games coming off of a Quell, and the Academy just let him do it.
Lucky eyed the eggs, head tilted as he waited for his fish to cook. He'd never really tried it before, but he supposed it couldn't hurt to say he had later in life. You never knew the Capitol's delicacies until they were in your hands the night before the Games. "I'll try some," he told Fisk. When Fisk gave him a confused eyebrow quirk, Lucky pointed to the bowl. "The eggs. I wanna try some."
Cas didn't take long to jump in. "Hey, you don't have to," he said, no longer in a joking mood. "Capitolites just have a thing for weird food. Fisk was just giving Beck a hard time."
"I really was," Fisk agreed.
"I know. I still wanna try it." Lucky crawled over to where Fisk was sitting, picking up the bowl for himself. "Only way I'll know if I don't try any tonight is if I wait maybe three weeks for Cas to come home. And that's if Cas eats it in the Capitol."
"If I remember the taste, more like," Cas muttered. Lapis was done with his fish, propped it up against the fire, and joined Lucky in surveying the bowl. He was curious about the taste too, it seemed.
Lucky picked up a small amount, barely enough to cover the pad of his index finger, and popped it into his mouth. At the same time, Lapis did the same and immediately noted, "Salty. Like oyster."
"It's pretty ordinary," Lucky muttered. He was almost disappointed. He'd have understood if the Capitol liked foul-tasted food, it was even expected of them. But he was almost hoping for something with a little more taste to it. "Nothing to write home about. Don't worry about tasting it, Cas."
The sympathetic statement seemed to make Cas uneasy. Lucky looked at him, head tilted innocently as he did so, but Cas just pursed his lips as he stopped preparing his salmon. Even Fisk, who'd been so smug earlier, was a bit concerned by how quiet Cas was being. It just… wasn't him. On a bad day he'd complain about missing out, and on a good day he'd call Lucky his lucky charm for helping him avoid something bad. And surely disappointing food counted as bad for Cas, right?
Lucky lowered the bowl, brows furrowed, and he asked, "Cas?"
Cas abandoned his fish and crawled over to their side of the fire. He took a generous heaping of the fish eggs, shoved them in his mouth, and scrunched up his face as he chewed quickly.
"There," he croaked as soon as he was done. Cas was sweating, a tell-tale sign of him holding back his more childish reactions. "Now I can say I've tried it."
"But…" Beckett cleared his throat. "The Capitol has it. And probably better quality."
Lapis and Lucky nodded in agreement. It would've been very easy for Cas to eat it and, maybe, announce to all of District Four what he thought of caviar during his interview. Lucky would've heard the verdict loud and clear then.
Fisk stopped preparing his salmon entirely. He twirled the knife in his hand as he pursed his lips. "You've been weird about the Capitol all day, man," he noted. "Before you got picked you were all hot air about how you'd destroy the competition. You would've told Lucky you'd buy him a whole whatever-unit-you-make-up of caviar when you got back."
He wasn't wrong. Cas was a very confident guy. Sometimes Lucky wished he was more like him. Confidence suited people naturally, and Cas was one of those people. Lucky admired Cas for it.
"You're not getting cold feet, are you?" Lapis asked.
"And if I am?"
The boys stared at Cas in silence. None of them dared to say anything. It wasn't like they were shocked—well, sure, it was surprising to hear Cas say he was getting cold feet—but more like they wanted to hear why.
The fire cracked and spat embers. Cas casually leaned over and moved both Lucky and Lapis' salmon away so they wouldn't burn. "I was the twelfth choice to volunteer," Cas told them. Lucky raised his brows. Then… he'd been lucky to be picked, right? "It was all little things that brought the Academy to pick me. Sabotage among higher picks. Fifth choice came out of the closet, but she wasn't as good as the first choice to send to still qualify under the female tribute title. The kid supposed to go before me was… God, he's only thirteen. No one wants to risk it when we only got lucky with Finnick. He's better off being saved for a later Games."
"Don't tell me you feel inadequate." Fisk leaned forward and pointed the tip of the knife at Cas. "You survived compared to the others. You weren't, like, a worst case scenario choice. It just goes to show that, when push came to shove, you were still available to take up the mantle instead of them."
Cas huffed a laugh. He shook his head and just moved back to the salmon he was preparing, finishing it without so much as another mention of the Games.
None of them mentioned the Games for the rest of the night, actually. But there was still a weight of uneasiness in the air that Lucky couldn't quite shake. He couldn't sleep even when the other three went to their tents. He tossed and turned, constantly peeked through his tent flaps to see if anyone else was awake, and then he'd try to sleep again to no avail. It was almost maddening.
Lucky gave up when he was sure it was past midnight. He wrapped himself up in his jacket and slipped on his shoes, and he made himself comfortable at the edge of the cliff as he watched the stars. They were always so clear from this part of District Four, always so pretty. Never clear enough to see the sheer vastness of it all, but a welcome breath of fresh air compared to the light pollution Four's victors described at times.
Unlike Cas, Lucky had very little talent or skills. Outside of shooting an arrow to fish, and having the eyesight to spot a small fish from afar to boot, he was rather plain. He wasn't fast like Lapis when he swam, nor was he charismatic like Fisk tended to be. He wasn't physically strong, not like the other three, and the most people admired him for was just how much luck he radiated and directed at others. He wasn't superstitious by any means—he didn't believe he was truly a beacon of luck or that he could give luck to others. People just seemed to like putting mystical meanings to things, like why people were so fortunate around Lucky when it was just a case of the odds being in their favour somehow.
Lucky was the one they projected that superstition onto. Plain, talentless Lucky who, frustratingly at times, wondered if anyone even knew his actual name. Not just the nickname they all heaped onto him.
Sometimes he wished he could be Koi for even just a day. He didn't want to be amazing like everyone else; he was resigned to being plain, and if anything if left him a much longer lifespan to be so plain. But even Lucky was starting to forget his own name, it felt, and he was scared one day he'd wake up and never remember again.
Lucky heaved a sigh. He wondered what it would feel like, to just be a star and exist without worries like this. At least when a star died, it left behind a beautiful nebula that people admired. When people died, they left much, much uglier disasters in their wake.
He pondered this fact so much—what kind of nebula he'd make, if it would be called the Lucky Nebula or if it'd look more like the koi fish he was named after—that he didn't even notice Cas had wandered out of his tent. He couldn't even say how long Cas had been sitting next to him for, bags heavy under his eyes as if he couldn't sleep a wink yet. Lucky supposed he did have one advantage over Cas: It was harder for people to tell if he was tired, since he wasn't as pale as Cas and the others. Not that it was much of an advantage.
Cas heaved a sigh not unlike Lucky's. He titled his head back, stared up at the sky, and muttered, "I entered the Academy to learn how to read the stars."
As Cas slowly laid back on the ground, gaze still fixed on the sky, Lucky ran a hand through his hair and reluctantly did the same. He supposed it was easier on his neck to lay back, but he wasn't fond of all the rocks digging into his back.
"They didn't get around to teaching me how to," Cas went on. "I can't even tell you what constellations are what aside from the Big Dipper. I couldn't even guess which was is north with the stars and what time it might be."
Lucky blinked slowly. He pondered speaking. "You can spot more constellations than me at least," he eventually decided on.
It got a laugh out of Cas. A pitiful, weak laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.
"If I come back," Cas said, and Lucky tried not to interrupt when he noticed the tremble in the other boy's voice, "we can study stars. There's—There's more than just the basic ones to look at. At specific times of year, some constellations are clearer than others."
"The Capitol's allowance for victors would help you buy a telescope," Lucky mumbled.
It was difficult to ignore how much Cas came undone beside him. Lucky wasn't sure if he should reach for his hand, say something comforting, anything; all he could do was feel his stomach twist and turn into knots as Cas sniffled and muffled hiccups into his sleeve. He was never feeling inadequacy. He was feeling a whirlwind of emotions that made far, far more sense than inadequacy.
Was Cas mourning himself right now? Was he wondering if people would celebrate his life if he died in the arena? Or was he resigning himself to the possibility that he'd be forgotten, just another name added to the list of failures from the weakest career district? Was he scared? Now that was a stupid question. Of course Cas was scared. Why wouldn't Cas be scared? He said so himself—he was the eleventh choice to send into the arena. There was no skirting around that fact, especially when the Academy spared a thirteen-year-old who was more talented than Cas just for his age alone.
To the Academy, Cas was worth less to them than a potential, second Finnick Odair.
He sucked in a deep breath. He clenched his hands into fists over his chest. Maybe they'd done it without meaning to, or maybe they'd meant to heap so much pressure on Cas like this, but they'd destroyed his self-worth, his confidence, and his will to live so thoroughly with just that one bold statement.
"Hey Cas?" Lucky said, a little louder than his earlier mumbles.
Cas sniffed, and he could hear the boy turn his head to look at him.
"I'll volunteer tomorrow."
He was met with silence. For a moment Lucky wondered if he made the wrong choice, saying such a thing instead of just springing it on the District in the morning; but then he heard Cas turn to his side, legs curled up to his chest, and felt a tug at his sleeve. Lucky lowered one hand from his chest, unclenched his fist, and it took no time at all for Cas' hand to find his own.
"I'm sorry I'm so useless," Cas sobbed.
Lucky shook his head. "You're not useless," he told him. "You mean more to me and the guys than some kid people are trying to make into the next Finnick Odair."
"I don't wanna die, Lucky."
"I don't want you to die, either."
Lucky carefully manoeuvred himself until he was on his side too, and he wrapped an arm awkwardly around Cas in an attempt to hug him. Laying on the ground and hugging was harder than people made it seem.
"I don't want you to die," Cas sobbed some more. Lucky rubbed his back as calmly as he could, but it didn't do much to calm Cas down. "If you die I'll—I'll row out to the arena and kill you."
"Hey, I'd set a record of being the first tribute to die twice," Lucky joked.
Cas sniffed. "Your jokes suck ass."
Lucky snorted a laugh. Yeah, his jokes really did suck. If he had a day job, he wouldn't be in a rush to quit it for a full time comedian gig.
"I'm sure things'll be fine," Lucky went on. He had to keep up the bravado for Cas's sake, if only to make Cas feel better. About not wanting to go, about himself, about sending Lucky in his place. "I'm stupid lucky, remember?"
"You sure are stupid, Lucky," Cas sighed. He reached up and wiped at his eyes, smearing a bit of dirt along his cheeks. "What are you gonna do in there?"
He tried to shrug. He wound up sliding closer to the tents awkwardly. "Pick a god and pray?"
Cas was unamused. In fact, his eyes watered up anew and he sniffed once more. Oh God, oh fuck, backtrack you stupid fool—
"I'm kidding," Lucky laughed softly. He rubbed Cas's back quickly, shook his head to reassure him he had a plan. Whatever that plan would turn out to be once he was in the Capitol. "I'll talk things out with the other volunteer. She might have some uses for me, or at the very least I might bring her some good luck along the way. I may be talentless, but I can do basic things at least."
There was a mumble that came from Cas. When Lucky hummed, asking him to repeat himself, Cas shook his head and sniffed again. The boy began to roll over once more, this time to sit up again and dust himself off; he waited for Lucky to do the same, helped Lucky dust himself off as well, and nodded back to the tents.
"I'll make sure you get as many sponsorships as possible from us," he decided. His eyes were red, starting to puff up, and his nose was runny. Thank goodness the others weren't awake, Lucky thought. Cas would have a fit if he had to be comforted by everyone right before the reaping. "You won't starve or nothing. And don't go trusting everyone right on sight! Even career alliances are cutthroat and dangerous for its members. You never know when some brat from One is gonna stab you in the back and parade around like it was their master plan all along."
Lucky held back a laugh. He nodded eagerly, listening to Cas's every word like it was gospel. This was the closest he was going to get to pre-Games training. It was a crash course more than anything, but anything was better than nothing.
He did want to be Koi one day. Just one day. But for now, even if he didn't think he was some kind of omen of good fortune, he was happy to be Lucky for Cas's sake. He needed to be Lucky for Cas's sake.