Chapter Two
We make our way to the center of town, holding hands so tight, I can feel my pulse in them. I take a breath and focus on the scenery in front of me. The sun beats down on us, my scalp already feeling like it's on fire. I'm used to the heat, but today seems to be a scorcher. Or maybe I just notice more right now because I'm focusing on anything except what just happened ten minutes ago. Or what's going to happen in twenty minutes.
"What will I do if I don't get reaped?" I ask Kai, my eyes meeting his stoic face when he falls silent. There truly seems to be no purpose for me here, especially since Kai will be gone. I would have to secure employment to fill my days, and eventually dive into the realm of dating. It's not that there aren't attractive guys around, I just can't imagine being with anyone else but Kai.
"You'll navigate your way through it. You'll discover something you love doing, you'll find love, and spend time with your mother," he remarks. As he mentions falling in love, a wave of nausea hits me. I touch my necklace; at least, I'll have a tangible reminder of him. Something concrete that attests this wasn't a figment of my imagination.
"How can you even say that?" I ask in a hushed tone. He remains silent. My frustration intensifies with him, but the impending threat the Reaping casts over us, prevents me from expressing what I truly want to say. Perhaps, once the Reaping is over, and we're home safe, I'll get it off my chest.
As we pass by the restaurants and the food stalls at the entrance to the town square, the navy blue buildings with white shutters proudly display bright banners and posters announcing the 70th annual Hunger Games. The atmosphere is already alive with people feasting, drinking and sharing laughter. I spot a family of five clinking their glasses together on the outside patio of a cafe. Two of the three children look old enough to participate in the Games. The oldest boy, a familiar face from school; his name evades my memory for now. His short blonde hair is impeccably styled, and his dress clothes are ironed crisply. Briefly, his blue eyes rest on my green ones before he takes a sip of his juice. His sister who is a couple years younger than him smiles radiantly at him, looking as if she's seated next to a god. The youngest boy pushes food around his plate discontentedly. He's likely not happy about the fact there's a possibility he may never see his siblings again. Our school system, with time, indoctrinates us into believing the Games hold some sort of honor and courage. He's still very young, so he still has time.
Deeply inhaling the salty air, I close my eyes, absorbing the rhythmic crash of the waves against the cliffs. The possible departure to the Capitol would make me miss home, though Kai's recent revelation has left little tying me here. While my mother remains, our interactions are sparse. The entirety of my childhood has been dedicated to training for these Games. The uncertainty of what lies before me when I'm ineligible next year, speaks loud volumes. Traditionally, the men grow up to be fishermen, while the women embrace the role of homemaker, as well as fashioning fishing nets and fish hooks and selling them. Without a husband or the desire for children, my potential future seems to narrow down to the solitary pursuit of fishing.
Navigating towards the roped off section where we register for the Reaping, we approach the designated areas for different age groups. Heading to where the eighteen year olds are grouped, Kai gently places his hands on both sides of my face, and kisses me firmly.
"No matter what…my whole heart," he declares, and we walk hand in hand to our spots in the crowd. I glance back at everyone in my school grade engaged in enthusiastic chatter.
"It's finally here!" Susan George cheers, flipping her light brown curls over her shoulder upon spotting me. She quickly turns away. She's one of the popular girls in school, I never associated with her, since she used to bully me in grade school. I write it off as jealousy, but I don't wholeheartedly think that's the case. I mostly kept to myself in school, with Kai being the only one I socialized with. The only other person I gave my attention to is Clymene, and she's sixty-five.
I glance at the rest of the faces of the girls beside me; all appear ecstatic except one. A smaller girl with red hair frowns at the ground silently, emitting nervous energy. I don't recall seeing her in school; she might be one of the quieter ones who show up, put in as much effort as they can, nothing less, nothing more.
"Hi, I'm Amara," I say to her. Immediately, her green eyes rest on me, and she looks unsure that I am even talking to her.
"I'm Annie." She says quietly. We are herded in front of the stage, which is decorated extravagantly in deep blues and accenting golds. Camera crews are perched all over the place at various heights on surrounding buildings. Anything to get the perfect angles for television.
"It's going to be okay, you know," I reassure her, smiling. The corners of her lips lift slightly. I think she appreciates me saying that, but we both know it may not be okay. Kai squeezes my hand as Mayor Sanderly strolls onto the stage.
Mayor Sanderly settles down in one of the blue and gold embroidered chairs. A tall, bald man with muscles on top of his muscles, he represents the epitome of what District 4 is expected to resemble. Clean, healthy, and disciplined. It's quite rare for anyone in District 4 to be overweight or unhealthy, with the community as a whole embracing an active lifestyle. Following him, his wife emerges—a tall woman with long blonde hair and tanned skin. She is dressed in a short number with diamonds embedded in the fabric, reflecting the golden afternoon sun.
Next, our district escort, Althea Fiddleman makes her grand entrance. Hailing from the Capitol, she has adopted their wildly eccentric style of fashion. Clad in a silver ensemble that stops above her knee in artful swirls of fabric, almost like she's draped in a glittery cloud. Her face is plastered in bright makeup, making it almost impossible to decipher her natural features. I wouldn't even be able to imagine what her actual features look like without all the makeup. Her hair is cropped short and dyed a dark blue, adding to her distinctive Capitol flair.
Next, our Victors grace the stage. Mags Flanagan, the initial Victor from District 4, strides calmly into view. She is an older woman, with wild curly gray hair, and a soft face with gentle features. She hasn't actively mentored the tributes for a couple years, the task of traveling back and forth from the Capitol becoming a burden. This brings us to Finnick Odair, the Victor of the 65th Hunger Games at the age of fourteen. Mags and Finnick share a special bond, she's like a mother to him, especially considering his parents tragic demise. The circumstances surrounding his parent's death seemed suspicious to me. Allegedly, his house burned down right after he won the Games, but before he made it home to District 4. The fire claimed the lives of everyone in the house, transpiring in the dead of night without any witnesses. It was in the quiet of the night an entire family was wiped from the earth and no one saw or heard a thing. Mags assumed guardianship of him soon after.
When the bell tolls within the tower, our Mayor rises and proceeds to the gleaming podium. He begins his address by giving a concise history of Panem, and the rebellion, detailing how the Hunger Games emerged as a means for the Capitol to assert its dominance and quash any notions of another rebellion. They punished the districts by forcing us to send our tributes off to fight to the death until a lone Victor remained. I usually tune this out because we hear it every year as well as in school.
I feel someone nudging me. Glancing over, I see my mother standing next to me. Resembling me but older, her brown hair is pulled into a bun with braids framing the sides of her head. The stark white Peacekeeper uniform she dons glints in the sunlight.
"You look beautiful," she whispers to me, her gaze fixed on the stage. I roll my eyes. She's my mother; of course, she has to say that.
"Thank you," I whisper back. Her lips set in a firm line. We've never really been close; our conversations always drift off into an awkward silence until one of us walks away. I've been extremely grateful Kai has been around to coax more out of her, with his interest in combat, and her wealth of knowledge on that subject.
Mayor Sanderly introduces Althea, who practically bounces up to the stage with positivity. My mother folds her arms across her chest, refusing to let the anxiety she must be feeling present itself outwardly. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as I wait for Althea to select the piece of paper from the two crystal bowls on either side of the podium. My name should be in there fourteen times. Ideally, it would have only been seven but here, it's customary to choose to enter your name in more times for a higher chance of getting picked. Althea picks up a white slip of paper and walks back to the podium and opens the slip, flattening the creases.
"Annie Cresta!" Althea cheers. People start clapping and applauding. I look next to me at the redhead who's name is Annie. Annie has gone white as a ghost. Her small frame appears to be shaking in the slightest, like a scared baby bird. She swallows hard, and then makes her way past me. Two Peacekeepers follow on either side of her to make sure she doesn't run. Not that it is even likely in this district. When Annie makes it to the stage, Althea asks for any volunteers. At first no one says anything. This could be my way out. I could win this, and maybe Kai wouldn't go to the Academy. Maybe he would be so overjoyed that I succeeded at virtually the hardest thing anyone can ever do in this country, and he'd be content being the spouse of a Victor. If I stay here, I lose him anyways, but if I volunteer, I may have a chance at keeping him. This is all wishful thinking, and I know that, but I feel deep in my heart that I have a chance of winning. All the years training for this moment, it would be a shame to let all that go to waste. Besides, Annie looks as if the wind blows too hard she would be swept away. I don't envision her becoming Victor by her own means. Maybe if everyone was killed out first, or they succumbed to dehydration or starvation. I would be saving her life, after all.
"I volunteer!" I yell. The clapping stops. Kai's smile is wiped from his face, and his fingers tighten so hard around mine, I think he's going to break them. The words just shot from my mouth without me even thinking about it.
"What did you just do?" My mother whispers painfully. I walk forward but Kai's iron grip stops me. I'm thoroughly surprised at his reaction to say the least. I expected him to be cheering and clapping along with everyone else. One Peacekeeper approaches us, staring at my mother who is showing no emotion.
"Let's bring her up, Hale." The Peacekeeper addresses my mother. I look at her and can see this is a test, and she is well aware. Will she give in to the Capitol's demands and relinquish her only child to a grim fate, or does her loyalty truly lie elsewhere, as they suspect? Any doubts evaporate when she grasps my arm and starts leading me towards the stage. My fingers slip through Kai's, and his eyes dart to the ground, unable to watch the scene before him.
When I'm on stage, Annie and I pass each other, her eyes as wide as mine probably are. Mags and Finnick are clapping, but neither of them are smiling.
"Oh, my! What a delight!" Althea exclaims into the microphone. "What is your name, dear?" she inquires, tilting the microphone to my mouth.
"Amara Hale." I say, ensuring my voice doesn't waver. I am on camera, and my opponents will be scrutinizing everything about me from this moment forward. If I am to survive, I cannot be an easy target. I shift into survival mode, a welcome product of my training.
"Well, Amara, what a brave and heroic individual you are. District 4 is lucky to have you!" Althea says, before announcing the commencement of the selection for the male tribute. I look at my mother, and she refuses to look in my direction, her face a perfect mask.
Althea retrieves a slip from the bowl, and walks back to the podium. She opens the paper in agonizing slowness. Perhaps I'm just impatient to see who I am up against. I mentally sift through a file, trying to remember all the males I've fought in the combatives room. There are only a small handful of them that don't trigger anxiety at the thought of facing them in combat.
"Wesley Greyson," Althea's high pitched voice rings out, echoing against the stone buildings circling us. My head snaps to her. Impossible. While Wesley is not a close friend by any means, I do know him. He's one of the guys in school who was always there when we'd have parties or gatherings. He stayed in the background, never being the center of attention. I recall he spent most of his time surfing, and gathering herbs for his father's medical clinic. Despite being supplied with medicine from the Capitol that treats any ailment quickly and effectively, his father preferred natural remedies first. I remember an incident at Clymene's house where I sliced my finger while we were cutting potatoes. She promptly took me to see Dr. Greyson. I recollect that he was very friendly and inviting. He stitched up my finger, and even gave me a lollipop. It was evident that he was good down to his core. I guess you should be, if you're in the business of saving lives. Now it seems I may have to repay him by doing the unthinkable: ending his son's life, unless someone does it for me.
The boys shift positions until Wesley emerges from the crowd, towering over everyone else. His thick black hair is gelled back, to keep it out of his icy blue eyes. His square jaw is set firm, as he confidently strides onto stage—a colossal figure, thick and muscular. Wesley is certainly not one of the males that I feel assured in my ability to defeat in the arena. I find Kai's eyes in the crowd, and within their depths, I see a profound realization that I do not have the odds in my favor.
"And do we have any volunteers?" Althea trills, but the area remains silent. Mayor Sanderly then takes his place, fulfilling the obligatory reading of the Treaty of Treason— a stark reminder of our vulnerability in the shadow of the power of the Capitol. It serves as a warning that any deviation from the path the government has carved out for us, will lead us to suffer the same fate as District 13, which was reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble.
When he is finished speaking, he congratulates us and motions for us to shake hands. Wesley's piercing eyes bore into mine, and in them I see recognition. Though our interactions have been minimal, our paths have crossed enough times. We shake hands, and I muster as much strength to grip his hand firmly. In return, he squeezes mine back, a silent acknowledgement of the challenge that lies ahead.
We're ushered into the Justice Building by a small group of Peacekeepers, including my mother. They place Wesley in one room and me in the room directly across from his. This is the part where we say goodbye to our family and friends. I look around the small room, and take it all in. The royal blue curtains are fastened on the windows by golden curtain rods. I take a seat on one of the two plush cream colored couches. The clawfoot end tables and coffee table are a gaudy gold with white hydrangeas in crystal vases.
A knock sounds on the door, while my mother walks in. I notice her gun is not on her hip. Maybe they thought she would hold me hostage. She runs to me, and hugs me tight, crushing me to her. Her body armor hurts my chest, but I don't care. I breathe in her unique scent of sweet floral and citrus, imprinting it into my archive of things I will miss about home.
"What were you thinking?" She whispers, the sobs leeching the strength out of her voice. The state of her emotions contradict the uniform she's wearing.
"I wasn't. I just couldn't stay here. I think I can win this, mom. I'm going to try my hardest," I tell her, wiping tears from her face. Her mascara streaks underneath her eyes, so I pull a tissue from the end table near us. She takes it and dabs under her eyes, trying her best to clean her face considering she must return to duty after this.
"You are going to win. You're a Hale. You are strong and smart. Outsmart them all. Rely on your training and your instincts." My mother tells me firmly, looking into my eyes. She squeezes my shoulders, and the expression on her face is one of pride.
"Mom, thank you. For training me, and always loving me, even though it has been difficult with your position. I will make it back here alive," I reassure her. She nods, and lets go of my shoulders to hold my hands. I know she will be fine with me being gone, but if I die, I think that may just send her over the edge. All those years she could've spent raising me were wasted in service to the people who are currently offering her daughter up on a silver platter to be killed.
"If they have a spear, you get it. You can fish, you have survival training, so you have a better chance than most," She advises me.
"I've never killed anyone," I confess, the thought of having to commit the act of taking an innocent child's life, cripples me. My instincts have served me well in the past, and I'll rely on them again.
"It will stick with you. But when push comes to shove, it's a matter of survival—either you or them. You do what you must, to come home," she tells me, speaking as if from experience. She's never been open about her life as a Peacekeeper, and the question of whether she's ever taken a life lingers in the air. I'm not exactly sure I'd want to know, either. I'd like to keep the memory of my mother as innocent as possible.
A Peacekeeper comes into the room, escorting my mother out. I'm now left alone with no one but my own thoughts for a brief moment, before another knock sounds on the solid wooden door.
Kai stands before me, his eyes swollen with grief. Without hesitation, I rush into his open arms. He envelops me, resting his chin on my head. He takes a deep breath as if trying to etch my scent into his memory. As I inhale, his own intoxicating aroma—reminiscent of the sea on a warm breeze, zesty citrus and underlying wood and earth notes flood my nostrils, swirling together in the most calming and soothing fragrance to ever grace my nose.
"I love you," he tells me, the weight of his words heavy on my heart. I nod my head, unable to trust my voice. The looming separation is thick in the air, and I resist the urge to cry, aware of the watchful cameras that will be waiting for me at the train station. The thought of being perceived as weak in this vulnerable moment gnaws at me—people who don't care for me will be scrutinizing me for any sign of fragility, whether they are other tributes watching or Capitol citizens who want to place their money on the tribute who will secure victory.
"I'll love you until the end of time. Things that held significance before, have lost their importance now," he whispers. His words pique curiosity within me, but I don't ask for clarification, afraid of the pain it will likely induce. Instead, I rise on my tiptoes to reach his lips for a kiss. He winds his hand through my long tresses and his grip tightens on a fistful of hair, pulling me closer. In this moment, words become unnecessary, as our shared emotions speak louder than any conversation could convey.
"I love you too," I say when he pulls back. "Please watch out for my mom. If anything should happen to me, please take care of her for as long as you can before you ship out." I tell him, with a stern expression. He wordlessly nods his head, his finger trailing my features. Tears well in his eyes, and one escapes and sails down his cheekbone. I catch it, and wipe it away gently.
"You have no idea how much you have changed my heart since meeting you. You have the power to bring any man to his knees. You will win. You will get sponsors lining up to shower you with gifts," He encourages me. I am rendered speechless, so I press my ear against his chest and listen to the thumping of his heart. How many times have I done this before? Now it sounds different to me under the circumstances. We stay like this for as long as we can, his arms wrapped around me, his hand resting on my lower back.
Our moment is ruined as a Peacekeeper intrudes, forcibly tearing Kai away. His eyes meet mine one last time before the heavy door seals him away from me. The final image carved in my memory is the defiance in his clenched jaw, the turmoil swirling within his untamed green eyes.
Clutching my necklace tightly between trembling fingers, I turn away, gazing out the window. The wind matching the turbulence within me, whips the palm trees into a frenzied dance. As if sympathizing with the upheaval in my heart, the world outside reflects the tempestuous emotions that now engulf me.
Another knock on the door, and Clymene Gobbins shuffles in, leaning on her walking cane. The elderly woman smiles warmly at me. What a welcome sight she is, after my heart wrenching farewell to Kai.
"Well, now you've done it, girly," Clymene remarks, settling into a seat on the couch. She runs her fingers over soft fabric, staring pensively out the window. I join her, taking a seat beside the comforting presence that Clymene has always been for me. In my childhood, she was the constant for me when my mother was absent. The strong scent of lavender that surrounds her, wraps around me in a familiar embrace.
"Do you know what you told me when you were a little girl?" she asks, her wrinkled crystal blue eyes finding mine. I shake my head. I'm sure I've told her a lot of things.
"You told me you were going to be a warrior princess. You would take my blankets and wrap them around yourself like a sash. Like a Victor," she explains. Her delicate hand rests on mine. I look up at her, she smiles, creasing the lines in her face even more.
"What a nerd." I joke. She swats my hand playfully. Sitting here with Clymene brings to mind the memories she's bestowed me with, the ones my mother couldn't provide. Before me, sits this sweet old woman, the source of my knowledge. I learned everything from Clymene, such as how to cook, how to sew, make fish hooks, and keep a household. Thousands of laughs and cries shared between us, bind us together. I'd argue we are closer than my mother and I are.
"None of that," she scolds me, as a tear cascades down my cheek. She swiftly grabs a tissue from her purse and presses it against my face.
"Tonight I'm making your favorite: Shrimp Mozambique," she tells me, trying to distract me. I would give anything to be sitting at her kitchen table eating a bowl of the zesty garlic shrimp over rice. I pull Clymene to my chest, hugging her lightly.
"Enjoy it for the both of us," I smile weakly, grabbing her hand. As she looks down, I notice the amethyst engagement ring on her finger, a token from her late husband, Elias. He had given it to her after the last Reaping they were both eligible for—the 23rd Hunger Games. They were married a few months later, and settled into a romantic bungalow on the shore near my house. Clymene talks fondly of him once in a while, reminiscing of their shared adventures and the love that had blossomed between them. The amethyst ring, a symbol of their enduring commitment, now glistens in her hand.
"I want you to have this. When you look at it, remember who you are, and where you come from," she tells me, sliding the ring on my right finger. It fits snugly enough where it won't slide off easily.
"I can't take this! Elias gave this to you!" I tell her, starting to slide it off, but she stops me, her hand firm around mine.
"Elias gave me a lot of things, this is just one of the many," she starts. When I stop trying to fight her she continues, "He'd want you to have it." I've never met Elias, but from all the stories she's told me, I know him and I would have gotten along very well.
"You have been the mother I desperately needed and deserved growing up. I will never be able to repay you, but I will do my best in that arena to make you proud." I tell her. She stands and kisses my cheek.
"Give those boys hell," she orders, as the Peacekeepers come into the room to escort her out. I was only given an hour, and my hour is up. When Clymene leaves the room, her peaceful aura goes with her. I carefully examine the ring. A single oval shaped amethyst stone on a silver band, with thin branches holding the gem in place. It sparkles in the light when I move it back and forth.
I take one last look at District 4 as I make my way to the train station. I will remember the burning sun, the swaying palm trees, and the white sand. Every kiss and intimate moment Kai and I shared. Every meal cooked with Clymene, and every conversation with my mother, no matter how brief. I will remember these things for the time being, before I make my way back here. Whether that's a crowned Victor, or in a pine box.