On the train

Luckily for me, Haymitch doesn't stand up again. On the other hand, I'm now confronted with Effie, who is glaring at me from her seat.

"What does that mean Ceiran?"

"What?" I ask unwittingly.

"You know exactly what I mean young man! You say your surname is Abernathy. But Haymitch obviously doesn't know you. So, who are you?"

I try my luck. "There can't be more than one Abernathy family in Twelve?"

She looks taken aback for a second but then she squints her eyes even more so than before. "Nice try, but during supper, you seemed to know him – your relative Haymitch – remember?"

Now I don't know what to say.

"Just tell her the truth," groans Katniss. Effie raises an eyebrow, expectingly.

I let out a deep sigh and sink further into the pillows on the couch. "I don't remember my last name. In fact, I don't remember anything but my first name – Ceiran. Katniss found me unconscious a few weeks ago and her family took care of me. I must've overheard Haymitch's last name during the reaping speech and when you asked for my name, that was the only thing that came to mind," my eyes are fixed on hers as I state it all as calmly and truthfully as possible.

Effie's eyes had turned wide, and she looked straight up aghast. "How did nobody in the District notice!? Did nobody check for your name?"

"Some did, yeah, but in Twelve people are mostly concerned with having enough food in their bellies to survive the week. The fate of some stray kid doesn't bother them much," is my candid answer.

"And the Peacekeepers?"

I just shrug.

Effie lets out an eerie sound. It takes me a second to notice that she's crying.

"What's wrong?" I ask her bedazzled.

"Do you have any idea in what kind of trouble you could get us? This can't be covered up. This is a scandal!" she's yelling at me. "They will never promote me after this," Now she's almost sobbing.

Katniss who has been mostly quiet on her end of the couch suddenly stands up to face Effie. "Your scandal is our least concern!" she hisses. "We're sent to an arena to die anyway, remember? They will hardly take him out of the games, just to execute him. Why bother?" I'm not quite sure, but did her voice crack at the end of her statement? Before I can say anything, Katniss storms out of the room and leaves the three of us – Effie, me, and a snoring Haymitch – to our own devices.

Neither of us says anything though. After a while, Effie calls for two attendants to drag Haymitch back to his room.

Eventually, she gets up and looks down at me. "We'll discuss this tomorrow," Then she's gone, and I'm left with my thoughts. What have I gotten myself into? A new thought arises. One that hasn't even scratched the surface of my mind thus far and sends a shiver of terror down my spine.

If the Capitol knows, what will happen to Mrs. Everdeen and Prim?

I just stated it myself. They nursed me back to health instead of reporting me to the authorities. I don't know much about the laws of Panem, but I'm positive this breaks at least half a dozen of them. Harboring a stranger, lying to officials – and if they ever find out that Katniss discovered me in the woods… Oh no.

Tears well up in my eyes and I let them flow. I'm killing the people that had saved me. If word comes out and it will, they're as good as dead. I bury my face in my hands. I'm a fool. No, I'm a complete idiot. How, just how could someone be that ignorant? I know that my volunteering was rash, but I had not even slightly considered how destructive it actually was.

But then… there's still hope left. If Katniss wins, she will be allowed to come back home. And then they certainly couldn't kill off her family. Right? At least I think so. That just wouldn't suit the picture of a victor coming home, showered in fame, love, and money. I'm fairly confident, that if Katniss wins, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen will just be alright. Besides, if Katniss is going to use her bow, they will know anyway. There's no place to use bows in Twelve. Putting two and two together makes it obvious, that Katniss had gone hunting in the woods. Okay. I relax. I feel better now.

I heave myself off the couch and make for my room. Before I can enter it, the door to Katniss' room opens and she steps outside. She looks stunned for a second when she sees me. Clearing her throat, she says: "I anyway wanted to come see you. Listen…" she starts fidgeting with her fingers. "I… I wanted to tell you that…" she pauses again.

Is she trying to apologize? I can't help but notice how adorable she looks when she's embarrassed. Suddenly her expression changes. Her eyes, a few seconds ago, friendly in nature, grow cold and hostile. "I don't want you near me in the arena. Understand? Just grab some supplies at the cornucopia and make a run for it, far away from me. And don't you dare search for me!" she snaps and dashes back into her room. The automatic doors close behind her rather elegantly.

For a few moments, I'm too stunned to speak. I can feel my head sinking to a new low. Entering my room, I dare one quick look at her door, but it remains shut.

The next morning, my gloomy mood hasn't improved at all. I sit at the table, eating a boiled egg as if it were made of sand and rubbish. Haymitch sits across from me, Katniss next to him and Effie has taken a seat at my side. Katniss doesn't look up from her plate, except when she's aiming to add some more food from the tray to it. Haymitch gives me odd looks here and there, but he must still be battered from his drinking sessions yesterday, for he groans occasionally. Effie looks even more stiff than usual and appears to be waiting for Haymitch to say something.

After what feels like the longest most distasteful breakfast I've ever had – despite the luxurious food I had just eaten – Effie clears her throat and Haymitch snaps out of it. He groans again. "I see we have some warming up to do. Right now, I'd prefer the graveyard as a company over you guys,"

I don't respond and neither does Katniss. "Effie told me that you don't have a last name,"

He's waiting for an answer. I nod. "Correct,"

"And then you just called my name instead?" I can't tell if he's mad, bored or just confused, or all the above.

"Correct," I say again.

"And you couldn't come up with anything else that wouldn't have gotten us into this mess?"

I feel my eyebrow twitch involuntarily. Now he's just asking me questions to make me wrong. "Correct,"

"Correct, correct, is that all you can say?" He bellows. He's angry now.

I test my luck. "Correct,"

Haymitch gives me a fake smile for a split second before he hauls himself out of his chair and grabs me by my collar. He's surprisingly strong. "Is this a joke to you kid? Is that why you volunteered? Do you have any idea how much trouble you're getting us into?"

I don't answer right away. Most of my attention is on the collar of my shirt, which is still the same shirt I wore yesterday during the reaping. What would Katniss say or do if I managed to get it torn after less than a day?

"No," I say eventually. Haymitch grunts. "We got a real one-liner here, huh? Well good for me! Tell you what, you do your own thing. I won't interfere. I won't do anything! Good luck in the arena," with that, he lets go of me and makes his way toward the end of the wagon. But before he can exit the wagon, a knife embeds itself in the wooden wall a few inches from his head. He halts abruptly and I look to my right, where Katniss is standing defiantly, having thrown the knife with an awe-inspiring accuracy.

Effie yells in shock: "That's mahogany!"

"You're supposed to help us," Katniss says in a sharp tone and crosses her arms.

Haymitch slowly turns around. "Not bad sweetheart," he yanks the knife out and comes back to our table. "Any other talents I should be aware of?"

Before Katniss can say anything, the words come shooting out of my mouth. "She can hunt with a bow like nobody else in Twelve," I flinch immediately afterward and shoot a look at Katniss who's glaring at me – once again. But I don't care. If a mentor is her best chance at staying alive in the arena, I will do anything I can to make sure Haymitch knows of her worth.

"Is that so?" Haymitch asks.

"I'm pretty decent," Katniss says.

I gawk at her. "Decent? C'mon, every rabbit and squirrel you bring back home is shot precisely through the eye-," Katniss' glare interrupts me.

If looks could kill, she would've been tried for murder already. Except for once we're in the arena, she would get away with it.

"And you?" Haymitch turns to me.

I simply shake my head.

I feel his eyes roaming over me, analyzing, seeking any hidden skills I might have. "I don't believe you," he says bluntly.

"It's the truth. I'm not of much use. Ask Katniss," There's more bitterness in my voice than I anticipated. Katniss doesn't answer.

Haymitch just raises an eyebrow.

"I don't have any memories of what happened more than three weeks ago. I don't even remember my full name," I elaborate. "I thought Effie told you as much,"

"She did. Although it doesn't quite make sense to me," he scoffs. "But hey, it's your life we're talking about. Must've been a pretty shitty one if you decided to forget everything,"

I freeze. Decided, to forget everything? Suddenly ferocious anger begins to swell inside of me. Its intensity is unlike anything I've ever experienced. Before I know what I'm doing, I curl my hand into a fist and swing at Haymitch's face. I hit him, hard. The muffled sound of my fist hitting his jaw is vividly audible. Haymitch falls to the floor in one rapid motion. He groans. Effie emits an appalled scream.

For a moment, I simply stare at my hands. That felt… good. A tug of a smile plays around my lips for a split second, but I'm quick to conceal it. I look upwards and see the aghast grey eyes of Katniss.

"Ceiran! Apologize to your mentor right now!" Effie yells at me, her wig almost falling off her head.

"Not bad… kid," Haymitch's voice from the floor draws my eyes back to him. He is holding onto his jaw with one hand, palpating it carefully. With his other, he's gesturing toward something on the table behind me. Katniss swiftly grabs a few ice cubes from a bowl and hands them over to him.

Carefully pressing them against his already reddening jaw, Haymitch says: "Nice punch kid. It almost got me out of my stupor. Almost," Katniss moves over to help him up. Still groaning, he lifts himself off the ground with her aid. He eyes me warily. Then he darts forward and grabs me again, this time his hand is clenched around my neck. "Never, ever do that again. Understood?" His mouth is awfully close, and his unpleasant breath makes my stomach churn. I give a slight nod. He lets go of me.

"I don't think you're lying about your past. But that punch of yours is almost career material. So don't tell me, you're useless,"

My anger has subsided, and I know that if I want him as an ally, I need to show good behavior. "Sorry for hitting you," I mumble.

Haymitch grunts. It's an approving one. "The both of you stand next to each other right over here," He points. Still holding the ice on his jaw, he circles me and Katniss. His look is a scrutinizing one, but there's also some acknowledgment in it.

"Tell you what. I stay sober enough to mentor you until you enter the arena and you two will do exactly as I'm telling you. If I tell you to team up, you do so. If I tell you to hold hands, you hold hands. If I tell you to kiss, you kiss. Understood?"

We exchange a short glance and then nod in unison. From the corner of my eye, I see a slight blush on Katniss' cheeks.

"Good, let's get started then,"

Once we're all sitting in a wagon with plush sofas and chairs, Haymitch gets down to business. "The first thing we need to consider is your name, Ceiran. The Capitol knows me. They are aware that I don't have any relatives. Also, they are most likely aware of our conversation right now. There are two options we have; The first one consists of you keeping that charade up of being my relative and maybe, just maybe the Capitol decides to play along. After all, a relative of a victor volunteering to save a girl from the arena is quite a story,"

I hold my breath. How did he figure this out? I begin to interject, but he cuts me short. "I'm not blind and I've watched the recaps too. It's obvious, you're doing this for Katniss. At least it is to me after I've talked with you. Other people might think you're volunteering for different reasons, who knows,"

I can't lie. I'm surprised by Haymitch's savvy. There must be quite a bright mind hiding behind that drunken appearance. And then I remember, he's a victor himself. That means he was facing 23 other tributes and won. I wonder if he killed anybody.

"What's the other option?" I ask him.

"The other option is that you come clean during your interview," he answers soberly.

An Interview. Can this situation get any worse? Although I'm not timid as such, I don't feel comfortable speaking in front of what I presume to be the entire nation of Panem.

Haymitch must've noticed my shocked expression, for he barks out a laugh. "Yes, there's going to be an interview for every tribute. It's part of the procedure. Ceasar Flickerman – the man who has been doing interviews for the last couple of decades – will undoubtedly ask you about your name. You tell him the truth – that you don't have any memories. And that Abernathy was the first name that came to mind. I'm sure he'll play along,"

Katniss speaks up, her hands clasping her cushion: "But doesn't that jeopardize Prim and Mom?" There's a tinge of fear in her voice.

Haymitch pauses and stares at his wineglass for a few moments. "No, I don't think so. As long as there is a chance of you winning the games, they won't interfere at least for now. Remember, once you use that bow in the arena, the entire world will know that you've been hunting. And as there is no such official thing as hunting in District 12, they will be able to put two and two together. Ceiran doesn't need to mention where you found him. Helping a stranger from your District is not a crime. Therefore, nobody is going to bother to prove that your family committed an offense," Katniss relaxes, and I let out the breath I've been unconsciously holding in.

"Then we will go for option two," I affirm.

Haymitch raises an eyebrow at me. "That was quick. Alright, option two it is. Although we still have a few days until the interviews," He pauses and takes a glance outside the window. I follow suit. My mind has been too occupied with current affairs to pay much attention to the exquisite scenery outside the windows. The flat terrain from before has turned into a mountainous landscape with high snow-capped peaks, glaciers, and forests gracing the mountain slopes. "We will arrive shortly. After that, you both will be sent to your stylists who will get you in shape in a matter of hours. Then follows the parade to the center of the Capitol,"

I didn't know there was a parade. At this point, there might as well be a dinner with the president himself. I scoff. Katniss looks questionably at me, but suddenly the wagon is engulfed by darkness. Only the lamps on the ceilings light the wagon. Outside it's pitch black. Startled I look around for an explanation.

"We're in a tunnel. On the other side of it should be the Capitol," Katniss explains and sends a look at Haymitch. He confirms her assumption with a nod.

"Ah, makes sense," is my awkward response.

Once we leave the tunnel, the Capitol emerges into view. Enclosed by mountains lies the sprawling center of Panem. There are buildings ten times the size of the Justice Building. Hundreds of them! I can see bridges of all sizes and odd shapes and colors of sculptures as far as my sight goes. It's breathtaking. But once again, this feeling of familiarity creeps up my spine. Have I ever seen this place before? Maybe on TV? I push the thoughts out of my mind.

Katniss looks equally stunned and has her hands pressed to the window next to me. "It's breathtaking, isn't it?" I ask her, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"It is," She nods. The morning light reflecting on the glass bathes her face in gold and her usually dark brown hair shines brightly. The look of wonder and amazement on her face tops it off just right and I have to force myself to stop gaping at her. I hear a snort and turn around to find Haymitch rolling his eyes at me. Blushing, I turn back to the window.

After a few moments, the awe fades and I'm remembered that this is the place where they force children to fight to the death in an arena. A place where its residents live in luxury while most of Panem starves to death. Beneath its stunning cover, it's rotten to the core.

As we come closer to what I assume is the center of the city, crowds of people come into view. I wince. Most of them are look-alikes of Effie, though some of them are so disfigured, they don't even look human anymore. All possible colors of hair and skin, from blue to red, to a fake white. I see people cheering with frantic expressions. They all have their heads turned to our train. I realize they're excited for us. An odd feeling arises in me. I ask myself the question, if I were to kill these people, would I feel any remorse?

Katniss has noticed it as well. "They're cheering for us like we're some kind of sensation," she mutters under bated breath.

"Well since yesterday you are exactly that, sensations," says Haymitch. "Two volunteers from District Twelve. The world has never seen this before. No matter what you do from now on, you've already stolen the show this year,"

My mood brightens a bit. If what Haymitch says is true, then Katniss has a real chance to win the games. But seeing the Capitol in front of me, makes this whole situation real, probably for the first time. It hits me harder than I expected. I'm going to die in the arena, so Katniss gets to live. Why? Because I owe it to her and only one tribute can be the winner. Contrary to me, Katniss has her memories. She has people who care for her and whom she needs to care for. I don't have those things. But does that automatically mean that my life has less value than hers?

And just like that, for the first time since I volunteered, doubt arises. Do I really want to sacrifice myself for Katniss?

Right now, she's looking at the crowds, her face not portraying any emotion. She notices that I stare at her, and her gaze moves over to me. And the second I see those grey eyes; I know the answer. But I don't want to admit it. Thus, I banish the thoughts from my mind.

The train has decelerated, and it looks like we've almost arrived at the train station. Effie had told us to get ready and I had gone back to my room, but I don't have any other belongings other than the ones I am wearing. I make my way through the hallway and notice a commotion outside of the windows. I peer through the curtains and see the masses of people waving and cheering right in my face. Behind me the wagon door slides open, and Effie appears, Haymitch tagging along. After a few knocks at Katniss' door, she also emerges. I turn back toward the audience, which is now going crazy after seeing the both of us.

And then, I remember something. It's like a faint picture – a concept. Suddenly, I know what to do. I wave at them with the widest smile I can conjure.

"What are you doing?" a bewildered Katniss asks me.

I turn to face her. "I'm playing the game,"

Haymitch whistles approvingly.

Once we exit the train, I'm guided to a room. There, a team awaits me and after a few short introductions – they are Apollo, Gaius, and Buena, my prep team – they start working to get me in shape. They're an odd bunch. Apollo has long blonde hair and porcelain white skin, and he talks and behaves as if he's some fragile vase. He has golden tattoo lines reaching from his face to his arms and I suppose they go all the way to his feet. Gaius has green bushy hair that looks like a bowl of foliage on his head. Buena has long violet hair strands and she's from an ethnicity I've never seen in District Twelve. Her eyes are slightly oval, and her skin is of a cream white.

The procedure is utter hell. They start by having me undress in front of them, and humiliation aside, the fact that they all gush at me doesn't make this experience any better.

"Oh, my goodness! Look at you! Are you a career?" Buena exclaims in that Capitol accent.

Why would I be a career? I just eye them perplexed and Apollo scoffs.

"My boy," he says and runs a finger through his long blonde hair. "Did you ever have a look at yourself? I might be named after a god, but this- " He gestures to my body. "You must've been training most of your life to achieve this physique,"

I look at myself in the mirror. And I gasp. I realize that I've never truly looked at myself in the last three weeks. I've seen my face in the mirror at the Everdeens from time to time, but I always skimmed over it. Didn't pay any attention to it. Also, in the recap yesterday. I didn't look!

How come? Isn't it normal that people look at themselves?

And now that I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror, I start shaking. Involuntarily I tilt my head sideways. My eyes begin to hurt, my head – my head aches like hell. My hands tremble, clearly visible to my prep team. A groan almost escapes my lips, but I'm able to suppress it. What the hell is wrong with me?

And just like that, the sensation fades. My heartbeat, priorly agitated, slows down. My hands start to calm. The headache fades. But as quickly as it went away, a gloomy sensation follows. I can't pinpoint it, it's all-encompassing. This whole thing happens so fast and in such a confusing manner that I feel tears welling up. I refuse to cry though. Not in front of these people. Not because of my reflection. Man up Ceiran!

I take a closer look at myself. I can see what they were probably referring to. I'm slim but one can clearly see how toned my muscles are. My shoulders are broad, and my legs are strong. My face is even, with brown-blonde hair about an inch or two long, and hazel eyes. I look… good.

"You look amazing!" squeaks Buena. "First you volunteer and then you look like a chiseled god. They will love you!"

Gaius clears his throat suggestively and Buena quiets down. "We've got work to do guys, let's see how he'll look like, once we're done with him," The other two grin at this.

A few hours and lots of pain later, I find myself staring back at a much more hairless version of myself in the mirror. They waxed most of my body hair and only left some parts such as the head and pubic area somewhat intact, although they plucked quite a lot of my eyebrows. To say that I'm feeling uncomfortable would be an understatement. They had washed and put different lotions on me more than once and the smell of limes emitting my skin makes me a bit queasy.

Finally, they allow me to put on a robe. Then they leave me alone. Although they're capitolites, they're not as bad as I imagined them to be. I mean they look ridiculous and aren't the brightest, but they're not people I consider to be evil.

Sometime later, a dark-skinned woman with blonde hair and sharp nails enters my room. She extends her hand and I shake it.

"Hi, my name is Portia. I'm your stylist. I wish I could say it's nice to meet you, but I doubt that would be appropriate," she says, a benign but pained smile playing around her lips.

"Hi, I'm Ceiran," I introduce myself and immediately feel stupid. "But I guess you already know that,"

Portia's smile widens. "Yes, I do. Ceiran Abernathy, correct?" She says mockingly. Haymitch must've told her.

"Haymitch told you?" I ask, but already know the answer.

"Yes, he did," It's incredible how her smile never leaves her lips. "I'm also privy to your plan for the interview. Quite daring, young man," playfully she pats my shoulder. This sudden gesture of familiarity surprises me. Portia has a Capitol accent, but it's barely recognizable. Opposite to my prep team, she seems to have an astute mind and I find myself quickly warming up to her.

She takes a step back and begins to pace around me. "Please, lower your robe,"

Shrugging mentally, I obey. Her professional attitude helps, and I don't feel uncomfortable doing so.

I can see how her eyes widen a bit but unlike the prep team, she doesn't gush or fawn or exclaim.

"Yep, we can work with that," is her final statement after having encircled me a few times with a contemplating look on her face.

"That's what everybody seems to think, except for me," I say almost sullenly.

She raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Continue," she encourages.

I let my shoulders sag a bit and take a deep breath. "My physical appearance aside, all that I know how to do well, is rooting out weeds and plants. It's all I've been doing the last few weeks. I know it sounds lame, but it's just how it is. Katniss is the natural from the two of us. And also… I didn't volunteer for fame or anything the like. I volunteered to protect Katniss," I lower my gaze to the floor.

Portia's finger lifts my chin and I find her hazel eyes piercing through mine.

"Ceiran, I admit, I don't know you, but Haymitch told me a bit about you. And I do believe you. But you've got to have some faith in yourself. You're not worthless. Even if you had been rooting out plants for the past ten years, I wouldn't care. That doesn't depict your value or your potential," she pauses and lets go of my chin.

"Your reasons for volunteering are yours and yours only. None of us will mingle with that. But if one of you two attracts sponsors, it can benefit both of you. For only Haymitch will be able to direct the gifts to whomever he deems to have a better chance at winning,"

So Haymitch possibly must decide at some point if he's either going to save me or Katniss. I'll have a talk with him about that sometime in the next few days.

"What do you suggest I should do now?"

"Well, first things first. The parade will start in less than three hours. Therefore, let's eat. We still have some time," she gestures to another door. We pass through it, and I'm greeted by a room with a few red plush chairs and sofas that look comfortable. We both take a seat and suddenly a low table between our seats opens and a meal emerges from it's inside. I recognize some of it—rice and chicken and some other things I can't make out.

We take our time eating and once we're done, we chat about some idle things like her job, my past three weeks in Twelve, and how I like the Capitol. Katniss had once told me that the Capitol has the means to listen in on conversations, even talks as far away as in District Twelve. Therefore, I suspect that they're listening to us right now, so I'm very careful in what I'm saying. I'm sure Portia is aware of that for she doesn't push me, once she notices some hesitancy from my side.

At some point, a beeper goes off and she stands up. "Time to get to work," she announces, and a mischievous smile forms on her lips. She beckons me to follow, and I comply, a queasy feeling building up inside me.