Butch Torrance, 17
District 9 Citizen
Friend of Annoa Cornflower
I could count on one hand what I was afraid of in this world. I was stronger than the people who wanted to hurt me and I could overcome the fear of anything else. But knocking on the front door of the Cornflower residence made me want to vomit.
I tugged violently at the piercing in my left ear, using the flash of pain to shock some sense into myself. I wanted to give Annoa the small black stud for a token, but she said the Capitol could classify it as a weapon and confiscate it. Instead, I gave her my ring.
It was with that ringless fist that I knocked on the door. A moment later, Annoa's father opened it. His face was worn and tired, but he summoned a smile when he saw me.
"Welcome."
"Thanks," I said as I entered. "For inviting me to watch the interviews with you."
"Of course," Mr. Cornflower replied smoothly. "Annoa thinks very highly of you so we're more than happy to have you join us."
I followed Mr. Cornflower into the sitting room. I'd been here many times, but always with Annoa. I felt cold in her absence. Mrs. Cornflower was sitting in an armchair and smiled at me as I lowered myself onto the sofa. Her cheerful expression was clearly forced and I was sure my returning nod was just as stiff.
Mr. Cornflower left the room and came back with three beers and a sandwich. He set the sandwich on the coffee table in front of me.
"It's roast beef. We had extra and I didn't want to throw it out."
I narrowed my eyes, my inherent skepticism kicking in. Mr. Cornflower was letting me save face. He knew I was too poor to ever afford meat like this. But I was too hungry to turn it down. I knew the Cornflower family didn't see people as a financial status. They saw them as people. But I still took a hit to my pride when I took a bite.
Mrs. Cornflower turned up the volume on the tv as the District 7 girl walked onstage. She was a pretty girl with dark brown eyes and brown hair styled as pigtails. Her dress was pretty too; a puffy maroon gown with intricate lace patterns on the sleeves and hems. All the other accents were golden: gold heels, gold eye makeup, gold bracelets, a gold tiara embedded with red and blue gems.
Her name was Tea, which I thought was odd. But I supposed Capitolites were used to all sorts of crazy names.
She sat across from Caesar and smiled widely. She had cute dimples. The man settled into his chair and beamed back at her.
"It's wonderful to meet you Tea!"
"You too!"
"Tell me, what is the biggest difference between the Capitol and District 7."
"The people are much nicer here," Tea answered immediately. There was some small reaction from the audience, but the broadcast didn't pick up the words.
"I can't imagine why people aren't kind to you?" Caesar said gently. "You're such a lovely girl."
"Thanks, but the truth is, nobody loves me. I don't have parents, my aunt hates me, and the only people I considered family betrayed me. Mayor McGregor rigged the Reapings!" Tea was nearly screaming and the audience was too. Caesar's face blanched under his powdery white makeup but he kept his composure. He put a hand on Tea's shoulder to keep her still.
"I'm very sorry things were so hard at home," Caesar said. "But we are happy to have you here. Right folks?"
The audience roared in agreement but Tea was too far gone. She broke down in tears and sank to the ground, where she proceeded to flop over dramatically and pound the stage with her fists and feet like a toddler.
Caesar knelt beside her. A moment later, two stagehands rushed over and hauled Tea to her feet. Caesar held her hand so it looked like he was helping. But he left the crying girl to the stagehands and went back to his chair.
"Sometimes we all need a good cry," he said. "Our dear Tea will be perfectly fine. But now, let me introduce her district partner: Paul Zingana!"
A skinny kid in a green velvet suit walked out but I was still reeling from Tea's interview.
"What a baby," I said, disgust clear in my voice. Mrs. Cornflower hummed in acknowledgement as I finished off the sandwich. Mr. Cornflower took the plate to the kitchen while his wife and I watched poor Paul stutter through his interview. He volunteered for his disabled friend, which was brave, but the kid was a mess. He wouldn't be a threat to Annoa.
Jersey Madras, the District 8 girl, was also a volunteer, but she looked even more nervous than Paul had. Her dark hair, sparkling with silver glitter, was braided like a crown around her head. Her dress was a soft pink color with a velvet skirt and poofy sleeves. Her skin was dusted with sparkles too, making her shimmer under the bright stage lights.
"Good evening Jersey," Caesar said. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you. I like my dress." Jersey's voice was barely audible as she folded her hands in her lap.
"As do we," Caesar continued. "Now, what made you decide to volunteer? We don't often see volunteers from District 8."
The girl stiffened. She pressed her lips together tightly, like she was trying to keep the answer locked inside. Her gaze flicked nervously across the audience, but she eventually found her voice.
"It's confusing," she murmured. "I'll tell you about it if—when I'm back."
She's clever, I thought begrudgingly. The Capitol didn't care about the life of a frightened girl from a small district, but they did care about her story. She had to make herself interesting, and she did.
"We'll be looking forward to it!" Caesar's sentiment was clearly shared by the audience members, who were calling out for hints or saying they'd sponsor her in exchange for hearing the story first. But Jersey looked as terrified as ever.
"You and your district partner made quite a splash during the parade," Caesar commented to take control of the interview again. "What were your thoughts on the outfit?"
"It was very comfortable," Jersey whispered. "It was like wearing a big blanket."
"I've heard togas are very comfortable," Caesar added. "Unfortunately we only have time for one more question, so I have to ask: what is your plan for the Games?"
Jersey had been squeezing her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white and her voice shook when she answered. "I will stay safe, no matter what."
Kyle Rush was the day to Jersey's night. He was dressed in all black except for a classy forest green blazer and wingtip shoes and he was smiling so brightly he almost outshone Caesar's suit. The two men engaged in a vigorous handshake, which Caesar pulled back from with a grimace.
"Sorry," Kyle laughed. "Sometimes I forget my own strength; especially when I'm excited."
"I'm excited too, of course, but I think you might have me beat," Caesar replied.
"Don't feel bad," the boy replied. "I can beat anyone when it comes to strength. I'm the buffest guy in District 8."
With that, he shrugged off his coat and flexed. His bulging biceps tore through the flimsy black fabric of his shirt and he feigned surprise.
"Oops!"
The audience whooped and whistled as he ripped the rest of the shirt off, revealing the silky black tank top he wore underneath. Caesar clapped admiringly as well. "I certainly wouldn't want to meet you in the arena!" he exclaimed.
"Did you know they're allowing guns this year?" Kyle prompted. Caesar's eyes widened and the audience gasped.
"Are they?"
"Oh, yeah. Once they saw these," he said, flexing again, "they had to change the rules."
There was more laughter from both Caesar and the crowd, but I rolled my eyes. He thought he was cool, but Kyle was a showboat. All fluff, no force. The Capitol loved it though. Disgusting.
"Tell us, how are you going to use your guns in the arena?"
"I'm allied with three hot babes who bring just as much to the table as I do," Kyle said smugly. "We're a powerhouse. You better watch out for us."
He left the stage to whoops, cheers, and thunderous applause. I scoffed to myself. Annoa would beat him easily if they ran across each other.
But the thoughts of Kyle and his arrogance vanished as soon as I saw Annoa. She looked like a goddess in her golden dress; sleeves flowing, shoulders bare, and crown glistening in her hair. Her dark locks were curled, which made me smile a little. I always thought she looked pretty, but with a Capitol stylist behind her, she was breathtaking.
Mrs. Cornflower gasped softly and I grit my teeth. She shouldn't be away from me and her parents, no matter how beautiful the Capitol made her look. She didn't belong there.
Annoa was stiff as she shook Caesar's hand and sat down. But Caesar was as animated as ever. He immediately began to gush about her outfit.
"I'm not supposed to have favorites, but I think your dress might change that," he exclaimed. "You look like a queen!"
"Yes," Annoa agreed, her voice as flat as ever. "I'm named after a goddess."
"Very fitting," Caesar said. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
Annoa nodded, and then there was an awkward moment of silence while Caesar fumbled for another question.
"Your training score was very impressive," he finally said. "Do you feel that it properly represents your skill?"
"The Gamemakers did," she replied. "Their opinion is what matters."
"Very true," Caesar chuckled awkwardly. "They clearly thought you were quite skilled."
"Yes. I've studied many things, both mental and physical, which I demonstrated to them."
"And yet you're only 17. You must be a quick learner."
"I had excellent tutors," Annoa explained. "My parents wanted the best for me. And the topics were very engaging. If you enjoy what you study, you learn much quicker."
She'd struggled at first, but now Annoa was getting more comfortable. She was smiling at Caesar, clearly more engaged than before.
"Who is waiting for you back home?" Caesar asked. "Just your parents?"
"My parents, and my friend Butch."
"Butch? Would he happen to be the fellow who kicked up a bit of a fuss at the Reaping?"
Caesar asked the question hesitantly and I was suddenly worried. Would I be in trouble? Would the Peacekeepers come for me?
"Yes, that was him," Annoa said smoothly. "I'm very important to him, as he is to me. I suppose the shock got the best of him."
Her answer was polite and diplomatic, but it made my heart pound. Annoa rarely expressed her thoughts about me and the sentiment was ringing in my head. I'm important to her. I matter to her.
She surprised me again when she held up her hand to show off the golden ring around her finger.
"He gave me this ring to keep as my token."
"How sweet!" Caesar gasped, along with the audience. "Are you just friends, or is there more to the story?"
"There is more," she confirmed. "But first, I need to win."
I could feel the gaze of Annoa's parents boring into me, but I remained staring at the screen. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried, but I still recognized the heavy, choking feeling that usually came right before the tears did. I had to fight to keep my composure.
My heartbeat filled my ears, drowning out Caesar's parting words, but I managed to calm down. I hated Annoa's district partner, and anger flooded me when I saw him. But the familiarity of the feeling grounded me.
Because he and his family were Hindus, Vikram always acted like he was better than everyone else. He wasn't. He was just rude, snobbish, and spoiled. I didn't want to look at him anymore, so I grabbed my beer and raised the bottle instead.
"To Annoa" I said hoarsely, and her parents toasted her alongside me.
Cici Acker, 14
District 11 Citizen
Sister of Logan Acker
The Acker household was a completely different place without Logan. Mother would come home early to make breakfast for Mackenzie and I before going to bed. Mackenzie would quietly do the dishes and then go back to our room, shutting and locking the door behind them. I could sit on our lumpy sofa and knit, or read, or do the sudoku puzzle one of my friends gave me months ago. I decided when to make dinner and what dinner would be. When I dropped an egg yesterday, I didn't get hit or screamed at for being clumsy.
But the house was always silent. Mother and Mackenzie both spent the days locked in their bedrooms, only coming out whenever I called them to eat or when they had to leave for work. But tonight, with an unspoken understanding, we all gathered by the television with our plates on our laps.
The girl from District 10 was a spitfire right from the start. Her slinky midnight-blue dress barely covered her thighs and the neckline plunged dangerously low, but she wore a white blazer over it and she kicked off her heels as soon as she sat down.
"I don't know how you do it," she said to the audience. "Heels are horrible."
"I've heard that they take some getting used to," Caesar said, attempting to smooth things out before an angry Edam Cabrales could continue ranting. "I never had the balance needed to wear them."
"I never had the need to wear them," Edam snapped. "And hopefully I never will."
"We'll make a note to give you flats next time," Caesar replied with an easy smile.
"Boots. When I win I get boots."
He breezed past the demand, instead asking about Edam's alliance with the girl from 6.
"Addie and I are allied and we have two other strong contenders on our team. We're ready to dominate."
"And who might these other two be?" Caesar prompted. Edam smirked.
"I don't see any need to hide our strength. My alliance also has Kyle and Clementine."
"Oh, definitely a group of contenders," the turquoise-haired man agreed. "You scored an impressive 7 in training and you were also a volunteer. You took your sister's place, right? Why?"
Edam's expression turned stormy but her voice was still strong; still challenging.
"I'm stronger than she is."
Caesar waited a beat to see if Edam would say more, but she didn't elaborate. Instead, he asked about her life back home. But the attempt to lighten the mood failed as Edam answered as fiercely as ever.
"District 10 made me tough. When you live on the streets, you have to be." There was a murmur of pity from the audience, but she waved it off. "Don't be sorry for me. I got stronger, I worked to prove myself, and now I'm not subject to the streets. I rule the streets."
With that, she stood, picked up her heels, and stalked offstage with her head held high and whoops and hollers following behind her.
Her district partner, a large boy named Robert Trott, wasn't nearly as intimidating or fierce as Edam. He had a grin on his face the whole time and mostly talked about his experiences as a tutor for underprivileged kids and why he wanted to be a teacher because of it. But the audience still seemed to find him endearing.
Clementine Matson was a name I'd heard before, but not one I ever paid much attention to. But after the Reaping, everyone knew of her. Oliver Webb, her ex-boyfriend, was speaking out against her, sharing stories of the cruelty and abuse Clementine put him through. Her father was furiously defending her, even claiming Oliver was the perpetrator, but he had no evidence and no support. As twisted as it was, it seemed like the Hunger Games would benefit District 11 this year.
I couldn't deny that Clementine looked beautiful though. She was like a budding flower in her blush pink mermaid dress and exquisite pearl jewelry. Her smile was gentle and demure, making it hard to believe she'd ever harmed another living being. But I knew looks could be deceiving and that makeup couldn't hide her true nature forever.
"District 11 is having an eventful year, isn't it?" Caesar commented once she was situated. "Your Reaping was… explosive and your training scores were very high. Do you think this is a good sign?"
"Of course," Clementine said breezily. "I can't speak for Logan, but I know I have shown the drive and dedication it takes to be a Victor."
"Oh yes, you've been fierce from the start," Caesar agreed. Clementine laughed in response.
"Reaping Day was a bit messy," she agreed. "I don't often lose my cool like that, but my toxic ex was there. He hurt me deeply, and I couldn't contain myself." I rolled my eyes and almost scoffed, but the sad look on Mackenzie's face silenced it. I bit my lip instead, frustrated, but not willing to hurt my eldest sibling any more than necessary.
"Would it be too painful to share the story?" Caesar asked gently. Clementine shook her head.
"No. I'm stronger than ever without him and victims shouldn't be made to fear speaking out." She straightened her shoulders.
"Oliver Webb stole from me; my belongings, my home, and my heart. He was all alone and he needed a roof over his head, so my father generously let him live with us. But he took advantage of our kindness. He took and sold precious family heirlooms, used our home as collateral, and led me on for years. He broke my father's heart too; he'd begun to see Oliver as a son. I lost so much…" she broke off and pressed a hand to her chest, as if she were about to start sobbing.
"That's terrible," Caesar murmured. "I'm so sorry that happened to you." He gently patted her shoulder as she composed herself and the audience whispered words of sympathy to her.
"Yes. So you can see why I was so angry at the Reaping. But I'm not going to let him win. Once I win the Games, I'll make him pay."
She paused, letting the cheers from the audience fill the room. Caesar nodded along as well, but then asked her what her strategy was for the Games. Clementine considered this for a moment, then flashed a winning smile at the cameras.
"I'm going to fight, and I'm going to rise above everyone else. I won't let anyone stand in my way."
She left the stage to deafening cheers but the room quieted all too soon, because now Caesar was welcoming Logan Acker to join him.
My breathing quickened when I saw him. He wore a beige dress shirt and a pair of deep mauve trousers. It was clear that he ditched his jacket offstage and was currently rolling up his sleeves to expose his forearms.
"Good evening," Caesar said when Logan sat down.
"Hello," he replied evenly.
"Like I said to your district partner, District 11 has caused quite a stir this year. How do you feel about all of this?"
"I never expected to go into the Hunger Games, but I'll do whatever I have to in order to win. I'm not afraid."
"You scored very high," Caesar added. "I'd dare to say you're one of the top contenders. I wouldn't want to meet you in the arena."
"I'll kill anyone who crosses me," Logan agreed. His voice was rough with anger, but he was much more composed than I'd expected. Still, I could see an explosion brewing beneath the surface and I had to remind myself that he was halfway across Panem. He couldn't hurt me.
"I'm a good choice to sponsor too," he continued. "I won't let anything phase me. I don't rely on specialized weapons like the Careers do. I can feed myself too, unlike 5 and 6. My allies are lucky to have me. I'm the right choice for a Victor."
Allies? I never would have thought another tribute would partner themselves with Logan. But Mackenzie nodded along, as if they were agreeing with him. I knew my sibling saw something in Logan but I didn't care. Our family was better off without him.
Emily "Em" Hunter, 50
District 12 Citizen
Aunt of Robin Violet Clade
In a house always bursting with liveliness, it was strange to only have the company of creaky pipes, jars of moonshine, and the sickly-sweet scent of overripe tomatoes. I scrubbed my hands more forcefully in a futile attempt to wash away the odor of the vegetables I'd spent the afternoon preparing to can.
The cans were now stacked in old crates, ready to be stored the next day. After tonight, I knew I wouldn't be able to get any more work done. Not when Robin Violet would be on my flickering television screen in just a moment.
My little bird — my niece — was a strong, clever girl. I trusted her to make her own decisions and would support her in them. I was proud of the woman she was; even though I would have to mourn her.
The television flashed and I quickly turned off the tap. Electricity in District 12 was unreliable; I wasn't even sure if I'd have enough to see my niece.
I dried my hands on a threadbare towel, turned up the volume on my rickety television set, and settled into an old chair just as Caesar announced Robin Violet Clade, loud and clear.
My beautiful bird floated across the stage with a bright grin on her face. She was wearing an iridescent purple dress with capped tulle sleeves and a low square-cut neckline that allowed several gorgeous necklaces to sparkle and shine. None of the metals in her jewelry matched and the gemstones were a kaleidoscopic range of colors, but it made her even more breathtaking. Her rusty curls were loose and she swept them all to the side as she sat down with Caesar, showing off all the little purple gems that studded her ear.
"Hello, my dear," Caesar said once she was settled. "You look lovely."
"Thank you!" Robin Violet's smile widened. "I love my jewelry. I make my own back at home but I never could have dreamed of wearing something like this."
"It suits you," Caesar complimented. "And you must be very handy if you make your own jewelry. Do you think that skill will help you in the arena?"
"Oh, absolutely," she answered confidently. "I'm more than just handy. I'm resourceful. And I've been preparing for the Games."
Caesar seemed genuinely surprised by this.
"You have?" he echoed, eyes widening.
"I have," Robin Violet confirmed. "I was going to volunteer when I turned 18, but I was selected a year early."
"Why would you volunteer?" The question was blunt, but Caesar's tone was gentle and curious. My niece continued to smile as she answered.
"I'm the last living member of the Covey. We were traveling storytellers, but we settled in District 12 over eighty years ago. Since then, there's been fewer and fewer of us every generation. Now it's just me. The Covey was formed to keep stories and songs alive; to keep people alive. When I die, there won't be anyone left. I may not be able to win the Hunger Games, but I will try. But win or lose, live or die, I've told my story. Now, I must ask all of you to keep it alive."
I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted salt. In that moment, I swore it to myself; Robin Violet Clade would never die.
Hi! Remember me? It's been a while, which I am SO sorry for. I've been really motivated to write but I developed a new OCD tic that gets in the way of typing. It's really frustrating and this chapter was not easy to finish, but I pushed through. Updates will probably continue to be slow though, unfortunately. But I really hope you enjoyed this chapter despite the wait! Thanks to everyone who is still here and reading; I promise I won't give up on this story even if I need new fingers to do it!
As always, please leave a review if you can. I appreciate them a lot, and reading them makes it a little easier for me to be patient with myself as I manage this stupid tic.
QUESTIONS
1) Which POV was your favorite? Why?
2) Which interview was your favorite? Why?
3) Besides your own tribute, who are you rooting for? Why?
4) What are your bloodbath predictions?
ALLIANCES
The Careers: Vignette, Christopher, Anahira, Blue, Missy, Robin Violet
The Mathematicians: Louise, CT, Robert
Courage & Kindness: Harold, Dahlia
Team Bro: Ivan, Diesel, Logan
Boss Ass Babes: Adera, Kyle, Edam, Clementine
Tea Party: Tea, Paul, Dustin
Loners: Jersey, Annoa, Vikram
Have a nice day, be kind to each other, and never stop reading!
- Fiona