Chapter Text
By the time I wake the next day, Noric and Marrot are already gone. I realize my night with Lucia robbed me of saying goodbye to them. My stomach clenches at the thought of never seeing either of them again.
We eat a quick breakfast and then Barry arrives. He ushers us down and into a long car. It’s not like the others, which had the seats facing each other, so half of us rode backwards. This has three rows of seats, all facing the same direction.
Nuts and Volts and a Capitol man I’m assuming is District Three’s escort are already inside. I guess we travel in groups. The car pulls away and I take a look at the carnage from the party last night. Cups and streamers line the streets. Disgusting.
We end up driving a long way. Hours. I don’t speak. But Mags makes polite conversation with Wiress, Beetee and Kent get into some sort of debate, and Three’s escort and Barry don’t stop talking the entire time.
Finally, the buildings start getting smaller and smaller. Soon they disappear entirely, and we drive through flatland.
The car stops in the middle of nowhere. Control Center. It looks like a bunker. Barry informs me that it was a control center in the war, and now it’s used for the Games. So… it is a bunker. At least this is fitting, a war room used for the reminder of the war.
Us Victors will be staying here for the rest of the Games. We’ll only return to the Tribute Center if our District has a Victor. If not, we’ll hang out and watch the recap in the bunker, and then we’ll head home from here.
“They fly Caesar in and out,” Garrick explains. “For interviews. And occasionally they’ll pull half of us away to attend some party. And Mentors will have a lot of video calls with sponsors. But in here, it’s just Victors and Escorts. Escorts get the top floor, they aren’t allowed in the computer room, and they don’t usually bother us. They’re just present when we talk to sponsors, I suppose to keep us polite.”
Again, I’m sold. We walk inside and the others lead me to a door with the number four painted on it.
In the room, there’s a nice area with a couch and a table. There’s also one of those microphones to order food that I never use. There are roughly ten doors lining the walls. We each get our own room.
Both One and Two have more than ten Victors. I ask if they have to double up.
“They’re split into two separate areas,” says Walsh.
Makes sense. I’ve got nothing to unpack, but I look around my room anyway. It’s very simple. Concrete walls, no windows, a closet filled with clothing my size, a mirror, a desk, and a bed. I like it. At least, I prefer it to being pampered and given five-star treatment. At least in here, it looks like the prison it feels like.
The Games start at ten, and it’s nine. I follow the others into the computer room. Which I soon learn is accurately named.
There are three rows of long, sleek computers with glossy touch screens. I wonder what they’re for, before Jeffer and Mags immediately sit down behind two in the first row and click them on like pros.
“We’ll show you how to work them another time,” says Jeffer. “It’s not so hard. You see how much money you have here, and this is what you can buy and how much it costs. When you click through it all and launch button appears and that sends the parachute.”
I nod along but I missed it all.
The front wall of the room is covered with a giant screen. Upon closer inspection, I discover there’s one big screen and twenty-four smaller screens.
“Big one shows what everyone is seeing—” I guess.
“—and the little ones each follow one tribute,” says Walsh. “You’ve got it. The little ones don’t have sound, but you can click on one from a computer and get sound through a head piece.”
“What happens when Jeffer or Mags need to sleep?” I say.
“There are some assistants here who will wake you if something exciting happens” says Walsh. “Usually mentors sleep when their tribute sleeps. But for us, one of us usually stays up to watch. Just to make sure. Only mentors can send parachutes, but we keep them informed.”
The mentors are all settling in behind their computers. The rest of us head towards the back, where there are a few couches set up, to watch the Games.
“Is this the only place to watch?” I ask.
“There’s a rec-room, of sorts,” says Kent, “if you want a less intense atmosphere. But unless you’re talking to someone and don’t want to annoy people, we just chill in here.”
We wait. I remember where I was last year and I become very tense. I curl up into myself and start biting my nails.
I notice Haymitch Abernathy lights up one computer, then slides over and lights up the other. Suddenly, I feel bad for him. Is there no one to help him with this?
Finally, the screens turn on.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” says Claudius Templesmith, “let the Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games begin.”
Some graphics happen on screen and then we see the Cornucopia and all the tributes around it. And before I can even think to look for Noric I’m struck in the face by the setting.
It’s covered in snow. There are plenty of pine trees around, and a huge mountain. But every inch of it is covered in a thick layer of snow. At least five inches. Are they insane?
The tributes all wear thick hats and gloves and coats. Which is something, at least. But now I’m nervous about the gloves. Can Noric throw a knife with gloves on? And I doubt those coats will save them from frostbite. Everyone needs a tent and a sleeping bag. They will die the first night without one.
I find Noric’s screen. He’s glaring at the snow like it offends him. Others are having similar reactions. The girl from Eleven is staring at it in awe. I realize she’s probably never seen snow before. A few of the kids from southern Districts probably are in similar boats. I feel bad for them. They don’t stand a chance now.
Claudius Templesmith is commenting on the unusual climate, and I want to pull him through the screen and tell him to shut up.
“Yep,” says Chaff. “I’ve had this nightmare.”
He takes a flask out from somewhere and takes a long pull from it.
“And now, so will I,” mutters Kent, stealing the flask from him.
I can’t help but agree with them. Something I had taken for granted in my own games were the nice warm nights. Half of these kids will freeze to death. And I have a feeling there are no places to fish in those mountains. If this was my arena, I would have died.
I barely have time to find the screen with Marrot’s face, she looks like she’s close to tears, when the gong sounds and everyone starts running.
The snow makes it tricky. I wrack my brain, conjuring up a map of Panem. Who would have snow? Based on where the snow stops falling in Four, I’d say Districts One, Two, Three, Seven, Five, and Twelve have snow regularly. Probably half of District Ten gets snow… or maybe they get snow roughly half as often? But Eight, Eleven, Six, and Nine all have never seen or dealt with snow before. And it shows.
Many of the kids start waddling towards the Cornucopia. Only a few can manage a full out run. Both kids from Twelve are the first to reach the goods. They each grab and pack, a tent, and a weapon and then they’re gone. Into the woods or towards the mountain.
Twelve isn’t the most northern District… I’m confused how they can traverse the high snow so well.
Chaff reaches forwards and pokes Haymitch.
“You got snow races or something?”
“No one ever shovels our streets,” says Haymitch. “Especially the poorer sections. Kids walk through higher snow than that to get to school each day.”
Huh, go figure. Noric is the next to reach the supplies. Followed closely by Howe from Two. Noric grabs a bow and arrows, and slings an ax to his side as well. Then he turns to face the other tributes.
The ones that aren’t used to snow get picked off immediately. Noric notches two arrows and both kids from Eleven fall, one arrow lodged in the boy’s neck, the other in the girl’s eye. I’m mortified, but also a bit impressed. Suddenly Noric stops. He sees something.
I’ve been so focused on his screen, I haven’t been looking at anyone else. I try to scan the other screens, but its so chaotic, I can’t tell what’s giving him pause.
Suddenly, he grabs a knife from the stack, slings his bow over his shoulder, and is running towards something. On his way there, he picks up a backpack.
What is he doing? It’s a nice pack, I can tell there’s a small tent attached and probably a good sleeping bag in it, but he’s not supposed to pick up any supplies right now.
He throws the knife, and that’s when I see his opponent.
The boy from Five falls, dead, on top of Marrot, who was lying in the snow in front of him. Clearly, she had been pushed to the ground. Noric reaches her. He throws the bag into her arms, hauls her to her feet, and shoves her towards the woods.
She does not need more instruction. She’s gone like a shot. Noric takes out his bow and returns to the fight.
My heart suddenly swells with respect and warmth towards Noric. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got it where it counts. He’s not so different from Mandy, really. Sure, he can’t save her. But it’s a small salute to District Four, to Marrot’s family. It’s nice.
As always, the bloodbath lasts several hours. The snow makes it worse in several ways. For one, more people die, because everyone’s moving so slowly. For another, I learn that blood really shows on snow. The whole place is stained red. Red with the blood of children.
Finally, the bloodbath ends. All five Careers are still standing. We get canon blasts, and a close up of every fallen tribute, plus, on the big screen, a replay of their death.
There are eleven deaths.
The girl from Three goes first, the boy from Five, the girl from Six, the girl from Seven, both from Eight, both from Nine, the girl from Ten, both from Eleven.
In the corner or our large screen, a tally appears with the remaining tributes. After we replay everyone’s death, we get a flash of each survivor and how they’re fairing.
Both tributes from One and Two are gathering at the Cornucopia with Noric. The little boy from three has a small backpack on and is running through the forest. Marrot has the backpack Noric gave her, but she’s stopped running. She’s found a nice little cave and is currently pitching her tent. Then Noric, with the careers.
The girl from Five comes on screen next, and it’s not as pleasant.
She has a deep wound in her stomach, and no backpack. We get a roll-back of what happened. The girl from Two cut her open and she fled the Cornucopia empty handed. She’ll die tonight. From blood loss and the cold. In this arena, there’s nothing to be done. Even with sponsors, it would be too much to send. But she did very poorly at interviews, so I doubt she has any.
Then we get the boy from Six. He’s looking through his backpack with a concerned look. Templesmith stays on him for a moment. Eventually, we realize why he looks so distressed.
What he thought was a whole backpack was really just a tent and a sleeping back. No water, no food, no nothing. He’s also got a nice weapon, a long sword, but what will that do? He needs food. I can’t see him lasting long either.
The boy from Seven is climbing a huge pine tree, a backpack strapped to his back. The boy from Ten is still on the move, putting distance between himself and the Cornucopia.
The girl from Twelve appears to be taking a short breather, searching through her pack and cataloging her supplies. The boy from Twelve is the only one who chose to scale the mountain. He’s a good climber, and he’s still going. Not a bad strategy.
So that’s eleven dead with the girl from Five on the way tonight and the boy from Six dead in a few days, when he starves to death.
That’s thirteen tributes out of the running. This could end up being a very short Games.
And now we move on to our friend Claudius Templesmith who’s sitting with a bunch of other Capitol announcers.
“A large number of deaths this year,” says one woman. “And a few more that look out of the running already.”
“Yes, why do we think that is?” says Claudius.
“The snow,” says the other woman. “It did the opposite of what the rain did last year. Instead of making things chaotic, it made people easier to catch.”
Claudius raises a hand in protest, “But that would only be true if the attackers were not hindered by it as well. Let’s go to Caesar.”
The camera cuts to Caesar, who’s standing next to Seneca Crane.
I haven’t seen Crane yet this visit, which is good, because he’s made it clear he doesn’t like me much. Caesar introduces him as a senior Gamemaker.
“Mr. Crane, can you shed a little insight into the large number of deaths at the bloodbath?”
“Happily, Caesar. There are plenty of factors, and you are right about the snow. On one hand, you’ll notice by a breakdown of the kills per tribute, that there’s already an outlier.”
A pop-up appears next to the men and I’m shocked to see Noric has six kills already. More than all the other tributes combined.
“Now, this discrepancy is due to the fact that our male District Four tribute, Noric Grimly, was using a distance weapon. He didn’t have to traverse the snow, but just stood still, and knocked off targets that were moving slower than they would normally.”
Shots of Noric killing the tributes from Eleven, Ten, and the girl from Seven are shown on screen. They don’t show him killing the boy from Five, probably because he helped Marrot, and they don’t like collaboration in the Hunger Games.
“However, that’s not the only reason. This arena requires supplies if you’re to have any chance of winning. Which means every Tribute rolled the dice at the Cornucopia. Usually, we have at least two or three that bolt without engaging at all. That meant more people in the bloodbath, and more deaths.”
These are good points I hadn’t thought of. But the way he’s saying it annoys me. He’s so superior. Maybe I’m just projecting because I know he doesn’t like me.
They say a few more words and then cut back to Templesmith. Finally, they show the Career Pack.
“I think we should just stay here,” says Howe. “It’s gross right now, but if there’s more snowfall we’ll want something like the Cornucopia over our heads.”
“He’s right,” says Noric. “Are we hunting at night or during the day?”
“I’m going back and forth,” says Suave. “in this climate people will have to light fires at night. Easier to find them. But on the other hand, it might be too cold to go walking around. We might need a fire and sleeping bag ourselves.”
“Well, let’s go out tonight and see how we do,” says Copper.
With any luck, they’ll run into the girl from Five and put her out of her misery.
I notice half the computer screens throughout the room have gone black. Wiress has already moved to one of the couches, and Seeder is getting up as well. They must power off at their Tribute’s canon. Very… dark.
Jeffer is waving me over. He pulls Wiress’s chair over towards his screen and shows me how everything works.
“So this number right here is the amount of money we already have,” says Jeffer. “and here are a list of potential sponsors who want to speak with me.”
“How do we have money if you haven’t spoken to sponsors yet?”
“Sometimes people just send in some money, sometimes they want to negotiate a little first. Anyway, we’ve got a lot of people who want to talk. More than usual at this point in the Games. In fact, I think only you had more in my experience. Probably because Seneca Crane just threw Noric a shout-out and people are interested. I’ll probably spend the rest of the day today talking to sponsors. Want to come?"
"Sure,” I say.
I don’t want to talk to Capitol people, but I can’t sit this one out. I have to help, for Emma’s sake.
When we get up to leave, I notice there’s a screen on the far wall I hadn’t noticed before. It has the names and faces of every kid still in the Games:
District One (female): Suave Enright – 18
District One (male): Copper Oken – 18
District Two (female): Willow Fillmore – 18
District Two (male): Howe Jennet – 18
District Three (male): Duke Andrews – 12
District Four (female): Marrot Lychester –17
District Four (male): Noric Grimly – 18
District Five (female): Jee Balker – 17
District Six (male): Titus Cariban – 17
District Seven (male): Pine Keef – 18
District Ten (male): Howl Oken – 17
District Twelve (female): Terra Greenway – 15
District Twelve (male): Kurt Hallio – 18
I know all of this is to help mentors figure out how best to help, but it feels very grotesque. Crossing off each kid as they die.
Although… it is grotesque. It’s the Hunger Games. There’s no avoiding that.
I spend the rest of the day with Jeffer and Barry. We sit at a nice table and talk to a computer screen which, throughout the day, shows the faces of various wealthy Capitol citizens who need persuading.
Jeffer’s very good at the negotiations. Noric having six kills already helps a lot. By the time the day is over, we’ve got a nice pile of money to send to Noric.
That night, I assume we’re going back to the District Four dorm area, but Jeffer leads me through a few corridors to what I’m assuming is the rec-room. It has a television in the corner, playing the Hunger Games, and a few couches. And there’s six or seven long tables strewn about.
Most of the Victors are already seated, with plates of food in front of them. I order something from the kitchens (which are… somewhere) and once I have my plate I squeeze in next to Mags.
“Anything exciting happen while I was gone?” Jeffer asks, sliding in a few seats over.
“Pine dropped his pack thirty feet down a tree and gave me a heart attack,” says Blight. “Otherwise not really.”
“The girl from Five has already collapsed,” says Seeder. “I give her another hour before she lets go.”
“I’m worried about Titus,” says Cella. “I thought he was doing pretty well, but all he’s got is a tent and a sleeping back. He’s gonna get hungry soon.”
“He’ll die of thirst first,” says Chaff.
We all look at him for a moment.
“What?” he says.
“Well,” says Haymitch, reaching for his wine glass, “snow is made of this stuff called ice, and when you melt it, it turns into water.”
“Oh! Wait, stop, I forgot.”
“People don’t usually die of hunger in the Hunger Games,” says Seeder. “Ironically. Thirst gets them first. And even then, they’re usually so desperate they’ll roll the dice on some sort of berry or plant life. They either find out it’s safe to eat or die of poison. But in this arena? No plant life to try it with.”
“How long does it even take?” says Cella. “Starving?”
“Depends,” says Haymitch. “He has a week of three square meals a day under his belt going in. With plenty of water, he could theoretically last weeks. More likely around ten days. Although he’ll stop being able to function before he actually dies.”
“That’s such a slow death… I’ve got basically nothing to send him, too. Only thing I can afford right now is water, and he’s got plenty of that.”
This conversation is making me lose my appetite. Can I really eat all this while Titus starves? I try not to think about it, but I can’t help it.
I also don’t want to think about how Haymitch knows so much about starvation. Do people really drop dead of hunger in Twelve? When there’s so much food here it could feed the entire country ten times over?
The conversation eventually moves on, and I don’t engage. Though, ironically, today was one of the best days I’ve had in the Capitol, in the sense that nothing bad happened to me personally. But eleven, almost twelve dead kids. Noric and Marrot in a frozen arena… I still feel horrible.
We watch a bit more of the Games after dinner. The Careers head out hunting, leaving Copper behind to guard, because they’ll guard on rotation. But we can already tell, by the map the Gamemakers sometimes show us, that they will not find anyone tonight. They’re going in the wrong direction.
That night, when I go into my room, I take out a pen and paper from the desk and make myself a list.
- The five careers are doing fine. They’re staying at the Cornucopia. Hunting at night.
- There’s the twelve-year-old boy from Three named Duke. He’s in the forest. He’s got a backpack, but no weapon, that I could tell.
- Marrot is at the base of the mountain, in a small cave. Last I saw, she made no attempt to camouflage her tent, but she has some time. She also has no weapon.
- The girl from five, Jee, is about to die in the woods.
- The boy from Six, Titus, is in the woods with a good weapon, but has no food.
- The boy from seven, Pine, has a large pack and a good weapon, and is sticking to the trees in the woods.
- The boy from Ten, Howl, eventually stopped at a small frozen river in the woods. He’s got a large backpack and a long knife.
- The girl from Twelve, Terra, was camouflaging a tent in the woods and starting a fire, which feels dangerous. But she’s got supplies and a weapon.
- The boy from Twelve is alone on the mountain. He was still going up when I went to bed.
They all seem very spread apart, and besides the Careers, no one seems to have a strategy besides run and hide. Half the tributes are dead already, I want to say this Games will be done quickly. But is that true? It could be a long and slow Games full of long and slow deaths from the elements.
I’m not looking forward to it.
…
Five days into the Games and, besides the girl from Five, no one new has died. There have been a few interesting developments.
The boy from Twelve only stopped when he reached the very top of the mountain. He then preceded to pitch his tent and hasn’t been seen outside of it since. I have to admire him. He’s practically giving the cameras the middle finger. Hiding from other tributes is fine. Hiding from the cameras? Not so much.
The boy from Seven has barely touched the ground since the Games begun. I also must admire his strategy. The Careers have passed under him twice.
Beyond that, both the boy from Seven and the girl from Twelve have started eating wood from pine trees. I had no idea pine was edible. But according to an ‘expert’ from the Capitol, all parts of the pine tree are edible, and aren’t that bad of a diet.
The boy from Six, Titus, however, does not know this fun fact. Which is depressing, to know there is food all around him yet watch him starve.
He returned to the Cornucopia, perhaps hoping for some scraps left behind. But Willow from Two scared him off. She almost killed him, but he’s fast, and even managed to get a shot off at her before booking it. This act of bravery awarded him just enough sponsors for a hearty loaf of bread with nuts and greens in it. He rationed it as well as he could, but he’s back to starving now.
The boy from Three is having a terrible time of it. He’s almost out of food, and the cold seems to be affecting him more than the others. He’s not great at lighting fires, either. So he just sits in his sleeping bag shivering and shaking. I’ve gotten into the habit of not watching his screen. It breaks my heart.
Marrot, yet again, seems to have no strategy at all. At one point she does manage to light a fire at dusk, to hide the smoke, which at least seems to cheer her up. I wonder what’s left in her backpack…
But the person doing best, besides the Careers, is District Ten’s Howl, who is the only one in the arena to hunt the wildlife for food. He’s strung up a few traps I remember from my days training for the Games and has caught several rabbits. He skins and cooks them like he’s an expert. And being from the livestock District, I suppose he is.
As for the Careers, such a disappointing first week has made them all anxious. They’ve started snapping at each other and fighting. To the point where, if this happened last year, I’d have booked it by now, weather be damned.
I’m nervous that, because of the lack of action, they will break the alliance early and turn on one another. When Noric stands guard, sitting on the top of the Cornucopia with a bow and spear, I almost want him to pick them all off as they walk away. Keep the supplies for himself. He could easily take any of the remaining tributes without them. But he doesn’t, because he can’t think like that. There are rules, and one rule is you don’t break the alliance until there’s barely anyone left.
While all this has kept my interest, the Capitol audience are bored out of their minds. Which, unfortunately, means I am pulled out of the Control Center on numerous occasions to attend a party here or an interview there.
Every time I’m expected to go into the Capitol I receive an invitation telling me when to be ready and where I’m going. It comes in a golden envelope, slipped under my door in the morning.
On day six of the Games, I wake to yet another envelope. I sigh, and open it.
To Finnick Odair;
You are invited to attend Mrs. Ravinstill’s dinner and ball tonight. Please be dressed and on the launch pad by 5:30pm.
Happy Hunger Games.
I don’t like these letters.
The one good thing is that I’m seeing Cinna a lot. And he seems happy to have his work out on display. I still don’t know what’s up with Cinna. I spent a few days being hesitant around him, especially after the Games started and I remembered how terrible to Capitol was. But then, I figured… There must be some people in the Capitol who realize how horrible this situation is, right? Sure, I don’t meet them much, but they must exist. If, for no other reason, than a huge group of people could never fully agree on one political stance.
And the only way to meet one of these more progressive people would be through something like stylists. Cinna has a natural talent, so he gets away with being a bit more… human… around us Victors.
I asked around with some of the other Victors, and Cashmere told me her stylist for the Games acted in a very similar way. Tigress, Cinna’s mentor. So, it makes sense.
I eat breakfast with Garrick, Walsh, and Kent. Mags and Jeffer are still in the control room. They’ll go to bed when we get there to take over for them. When I get to the table I hold up the envelope to show them.
“Yikes,” says Kent. “That’s the third one in four days. Where are you going?”
“Mrs. Ravinstill’s dinner and ball,” I read.
“Ravinstill,” says Walsh, thoughtfully. “That was the name of the president before Snow. He crowned me Victor. He’s dead now, obviously, but I guess he had a lot of family.”
“Sounds important,” I say. “Did you get one?” I ask Garrick.
Walsh and Kent have not been invited anywhere since we arrived at the bunker. But Garrick has been called away as much as I have. So far, I haven’t had to go out without him.
“Sorry, kiddo,” he says, shaking his head.
Fantastic.
We get to the control room and relieve Mags and Jeffer. No deaths last night, although Titus from Six and Duke from Three both look to be on their way out. Titus is at least still moving around, eating leaves and throwing rocks at critters hoping to kill something. Duke is now simply curled up, unmoving, in his sleeping bag.
I sit in Mag’s old seat and lean forward, looking around Beetee, and hold up the envelope for Cashmere.
“Did you get one of these?” I ask.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an identical golden envelope. “Nice of Mrs. Ravinstill to think of me,” she said.
Cashmere and I have developed a very pleasant relationship. I’m not her biggest fan, and she’s clearly not mine, but we are always pulled into the same parties or pictures, being the last two Victors. We force ourselves to get along, if for no other reason than always having someone to talk to.
“Gloss?” I ask.
She shakes her head, frowning. “He didn’t get invited.”
This is odd. Very odd, actually. I’ve never seen the siblings split up before. The Capitol considers them a package deal.
“Just the two of us, perhaps?” I say.
Beetee, still in-between us, pretending not to listen, now glances at the envelope.
“Wiress got one too,” he says.
“Wiress?” asks Garrick, now leaning in too. “But not Gloss? Weird guest list…”
The envelopes are not usually a huge topic of conversation, considering we all hate getting them. Usually, you just ask around to see who else is going and leave it at that, but in the front row of screens, Districts One, Two, Three, Four, and Five are all very interested. In the group, only Cashmere, Wiress, Enobaria, Preen and I have been invited. Cashmere, Enobaria, and I are not that surprising. We are all fan favorites, all new Victors. Preen is a bit stranger, but she is only a few years older than Garrick and good looking. She gets invited here and there. The real head scratcher is Wiress. Who is never invited anywhere due to her arena sickness and, in the few instances she does go somewhere, is never invited without Beetee.
We manage to talk about this until lunch. By that time, Mags and Jeffer are back, and we are filling them in. Once we get to the rec room, Enobaria has seemingly had enough.
“Alright,” she snaps.
Enobaria climbs onto one of the tables, getting everyone’s attention.
“Anyone going to Mrs. Ravinstill’s whatever tonight, please step forward, there’s a debate going on.”
The room chuckls slightly, but people shuffle around and the few of us with invitations are all corralled to one spot.
The tally is me, Cashmere, Enobaria, Preen, Wiress, Anna-Clare from Six who is on morphling, Oak from seven, Ralph who is still having an ongoing affair with Jeffer, Chaff, Haymitch, Cecilia, and Peter from Ten.
“What the fuck is this?” asks Seeder. “I mean, I thought Chaff being invited without us was weird, but—”
“Cashmere without Gloss, Wiress without Beetee,” says Lyme. “I mean, Wiress at all. No offense, Wiress.”
Wiress shrugs.
“And then there’s Anna-Clare,” says Gear. “Sorry Anna, hun, but you haven’t exactly been camera ready this year.”
Anna-Clare also doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, I’m not sure she heard him.
Wiress is staring at the rest of the group.
“One from each,” she mutters.
We look at her. At least she finished the sentence, but what is she talking about? She doesn’t elaborate.
“You’re right, Wiress,” says Beetee.
“Is she?” says Haymitch. “Fantastic. Enlighten us, would you?”
“One from each District,” says Beetee. “And, if I may add on to her thought, the last winner from each District.”
Everyone seems to take a huge sigh of relief. Of course. That must be the answer. It’s some sort of theme. The most recent Victor from each District will be attending the party. How had we failed to notice that?
Still, it doesn’t look like a fun gathering. I like Ralph and Cecilia. I have never really met Peter, Preen, or Anna-Clare, which is unfortunate. Cashmere and I at least get along, but Ralph and Cashmere hate each other for reasons I have yet to uncover. So I can’t not talk to them both. Chaff and Haymitch will be getting drunk, Enobaria scares me, Wiress is… Wiress, and I only ever speak to Oak when Blight was there, since Oak seems like a silent type.
I can’t wait.
We sit around for the rest of the day watching two different kids starve and freeze to death and the others just freeze. Even I can tell, this is the most boring Games in years. The only deaths have been from the bloodbath. And to be honest, in the Capitol’s eyes, the bloodbath is too chaotic to enjoy.
Why haven’t the Gamemakers released a pack of mutts or something? Not that I want them to, but…
At four, I wander back to the District Four dorm area to meet Cinna.
He gets there only fifteen minutes after I do.
“Our old President’s daughter is throwing a party.” says Cinna.
“Apparently. The guest list is a bit weird.”
“How so?”
I tell him as he puts on my makeup. Once I’m done with the very short story, he’s already begun to paint my nails a shade of blue-ish gray.
“Well, add one more weird guest to your list,” says Cinna.
“Who?” I ask.
“Me.”
“You?”
“That’s right.”
“But… how? Why? Are you from an important family and you didn’t tell me?”
Cinna laughs and shakes his head. “No, no. I’m Tigress’s guest.”
“Tigress is going?”
“Yes, all the stylists are, it seems. It’s some sort of salute to the Hunger Games.”
“But it’s the sixty-sixth Games,” I said. “Why not do it last year when it was the sixty-fifth, at least that seems tidier. Or wait until the seventieth?”
“No idea. I guess we’ll all find out.”
Cinna puts me in a grey and blue suit with a faded pink tie. The color reminds me of something, before I realize it’s the same color scheme as my necklace. He’s highlighted it. I can’t help but laugh a little.
“It’s great. Thank you.”
“Well,” says Cinna. “I’ll see you there.”
I nod. It’ll be nice to have Cinna there to talk to. Or perhaps he’ll be busy with Tigress?
Mags told me a few days before that Tigress was the only thing to keep her sane during her Hunger Games. Apparently, Tigress was a young girl in her early twenties who was determined to treat the tributes well and give them their best shot at sponsorships. She even made all of their outfits for the arena, because before Mags’ year, you went into the arena in the same thing you wore to the reaping.
Mags had suggested, off-hand, that the reason Tigress’ kindness had meant so much to her was that everyone else was treating her very poorly. That she was somehow being signaled out, even from the other tributes, but when I asked why that was, she wouldn’t say.
I’m one of the first to arrive on the landing pad. Only Wiress has beaten me there. We wait in silence. Soon, the rest file in. When Haymitch wanders in at the last second, the hovercraft appears to take us to the Capitol.
Ralph pats the seat next to him, and I gladly sit. This is my first Capitol event without any fellow District Four victors. Unless you count my horrible experience with Lucia Phipps, which I would like to not repeat. I begin to get very nervous.
But there will be other Victors. Ralph is a nice guy. And Cinna will be there.
We arrive on the roof of a huge mansion right in the middle of the city, and we are led inside by an avox.
The party is already hopping. The dance hall seems even bigger and grander than the president’s mansion. There are flashing lights that are already giving me a headache, rows and rows of food, a dance floor, and a huge stage with a giant screen, playing the Hunger Games.
Sure, each town in four has a large screen like this to watch the games. But they are not this big. It take up an entire wall. And all it shows are kids shivering slightly, balled up in the snow, getting ready for another long, cold night.
“Well,” says Cecilia, “what fun.”
“What possessed them to make the Hunger Games that large? I mean, it’s not even an interesting year,” said Oak.
A woman with a clipboard comes bouncing up to us.
“The Victors, perfect,” she chirps. “Right up here, come on, we’ve got to get this party started.”
We all cast each other terrified looks and hesitantly follow the women on stage. Ralph, whom I’m now getting the feeling has been instructed by Jeffer to keep an eye on me, positions himself next to me and puts and hand on my shoulder. But the clipboard woman takes us towards the stage and immediately instructs us to get in line by district number.
Ralph scowls, but does as he’s told. I wedge myself between Wiress and Preen and try not to look too uncomfortable.
We’re all lined up and told to wait off stage. We still haven’t been told what’s going on or why we’re here, and the clipboard woman seems in no mood to fill us in. She just gets us all in a line and marches off, talking into a headpiece.
“What the hell…” mutters Enobaria.
We stand awkwardly for a few minutes, and I try smiling kindly at Wiress, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, I turn towards Preen, but before I can start up any type of conversation, the music dies down and someone starts talking on stage.
“Welcome everyone!” says a peppy sounding woman.
I can’t see her from this angle, but her voice gives me a good enough picture. Overly sweet, overly fake, high-pitched and excitable. People clap for her, so she must be important.
“As you all know,” she says, “This year marks the fifty-year anniversary for my grandfather’s retirement from presidency.”
Oooooh. Okay. So this woman is celebrating a milestone for her father. It seems a bit weird to me that she’s celebrating her father’s retirement. Why not the day he got into office.
Although… now that I think on it, didn’t President Ravinstill get placed in office during the rebellion? I’m fairly confident the President the war started under killed himself around the time the rebels made it to the Capitol. And this guy took over. Possibly. I can’t quite remember the history behind it.
“I’m hosting this party in his honor,” the woman says, “as well as to honor our most special guest, President Snow, who took the office after my father became ill.”
There’s a loud bit of clapping for Snow. Is he here? Now? The only parties I have been to with the president was right after I was crowned, and when I was here on the Victory Tour. I didn’t realize this party was to that standard.
“I wanted this night to be special,” says the woman, Mrs. Ravinstill, “a tribute to him, and to the Games he started.”
My mood sours. In my head, Snow was the one who started the Hunger Games. After all, he and the Games are so connected in my mind. But, I guess not. I suppose it makes sense. It would be too easy to blame the entire problem on one man. Snow simply adopted the Games from someone else, perfected them, made them worse.
“So lets have a little game of our own tonight!” she says happily.
The woman starts explaining the fun-filled night ahead of all the people in the audience. Replays of past games, the best hits from all the stylists, and some sort of competition that she’s vague about.
I can sense all the victors in line with me are getting uneasy. I can relate. This is not what we were prepared for. A whole night of reliving every Hunger Games, celebrating their founder… I want nothing more than to flee back to the Control Center and curl up in my room.
“Now, let’s get this little contest up and rolling! So you all have time to vote before tonight.”
The girl with the clipboard is back, and we’re being ushered on stage.
The crowd cheers for us as we’re walked on stage and instructed to stand in a line. And though I’ve done this before, as a Tribute and a Victor, I can’t help feel uncomfortable now. On stage with Caesar or another host, it feels like a normal interview. But here, it feels like we’re all being auctioned off. I try to blink away the bright lights, but all I can see is a sea of well-dressed Capitol people.
“I’ve brought in some lovely representatives from each District!” says the woman.
Now I get a good look at her. She’s very pink, but honestly looks more normal than I thought she would. Her pink hair looks like it could be real, just dyed. And it’s up in a tight bun. She wears a sparkly pink and white suit. Not normal, but she could be worse. It kind of reminds me of the Phipps. Normal, but also not. Colorful, but for people of the Capitol, reserved. I realize this is how President Snow looks too…
The audience gives us another round of applause.
“On your devices at each table is a voting sheet. Each of these Districts have been entertaining us in the games for sixty-six years now. I think it’s about time we pick a fan favorite!”
I feel my face and neck burn. Ah, a competition, sure. She brought one victor from each district and will now parade us around and make the crowd pick who they like best. Which District they like best. As if the Districts are just crowds of people whom are selected for the Games and not whole communities of people with lives and loved ones and traditions.
“Now don’t vote yet! We’ve got a whole evening planned!”
There is a slideshow going on behind us, featuring past Games. I try not to look. Mrs. Ravinstill walks up the line asking us questions here and there about our Districts and how we’ve faired in past games. She asks me something twice, and I try my best to answer. But I can’t stop my voice from shaking.
She asks Haymitch something but he just scowls at her, so she moves on. Wiress seems so freaked by the lights and the noise and the Games going on behind her that when Mrs. Ravinstill asks her about District Three she just starts talking about the periodic table.
When Mrs. Ravinstill walks away, making fun of her, I take Wiress’s hand, trying to make her stop talking. But she keeps muttering about the periodic table, even without the microphone.
Finally, we’re let off the stage. I can tell all of us are either close to tears, or so angry that we’re stopping ourselves from throwing things. I just feel very ashamed. Just like with the Phipps, I feel like I’m being auctioned off.
At least we’re not on camera. At least they’re only showing the Games. This won’t air in the Districts. My family will not see me like this.
I end up at a table with Ralph, Cecelia, and Wiress. Cecelia is rubbing Wiress’s back, trying to calm her down. But Wiress is still muttering about elements on the periodic table, and how if you mix them they’ll explode. She seems almost urgently telling us. Like it’s some life-saving advice.
“This is a nightmare,” says Ralph, taking a long swig of Champagne. “I never expected something like this.”
“Forget the humiliation,” says Cecelia, “but we might have to talk on stage, and we were given no warning.”
“I think we should try to stay together,” says Ralph. “All of us. Let’s go out and find the others.”
I’m nodding along with Ralph, already looking around for the other victors. This is not something I am strong enough to face alone. But the Capitol clearly has other ideas. We have only gathered Enobaria and Cashmere before the Capitol crowd swarms us.
I have never been mugged, or attacked by a herd of wild dogs, but I think I have a pretty good idea of what that would feel like now. We’re physically pulled apart, to the point where I have an instinct to reach out and grab at Ralph or Cashmere. As if trying to protect them. Or trying to escape with them. But I manage not to do so, it would just cause a scene.
A woman who informs me her name is Clemonestra wraps a terrifyingly strong arm around me and leads me towards what she calls the “District Four crowd”. I am placed down on a booth and immediately someone squeezes in on my left and right, completely pinning me down.
A man with blue hair hands me a glass of champagne and leans across the table so close I can smell his breath.
“So Finnick!” he says. “We’re thinking up ways to get District Four a win in this little contest. We’re allowed to make the show ourselves, and we want it to pop.”
He pops the “p” in pop and I jump, like he fired a gun at me.
“I… make the shows?” I say, trying not to shiver.
“Well, sure, the slideshow. You know, clips of past games where District Four did really well. Obviously your games will be highlighted the most. You, being, well, you. But also Mandy Tarlek, because she was so impressive.”
Anger spikes in me when he mentions Mandy. Mandy is dead! The killed her, they don’t get to use her strength and talents in some sort of contest.
“Mandy didn’t win,” I say.
“But she was impressive!” says the man. “We won’t win this thing just with the victors!”
“I… do you win something if you win?”
“If we win,” he corrects, winking at me.
“I… sure.”
“Well, I am running the District Four group!”
Everyone around me starts screaming and whooping and instinctively I put my hands over my ears. I’ve never been this jumpy in the Capitol before, but the lights and music is making me nauseous and I feel so… on display. Like I’m a wild animal they’re all looking at in a zoo.
“So, the clip show. Surely we’ll highlight all the Victors. Maybe go in order, start with Mags Flannagan and finish with a huge tribute to Finnick.”
Everyone around me is throwing out suggestions left and right. People keep looking at me for suggestions, but I honestly can barely remember Garrick’s games, and I can’t think of anything even if I wanted to.
They talk about scenes with Mandy and I for a while, and I hug myself slightly.
The man with the blue hair types feverishly on a small computer. And everyone around me is laughing and drinking and shouting out ideas. I’m still lost on what these people are going to gain from this. Or is this what they do for fun? But I couldn’t see why they would be so intense about it. Unless, perhaps, they had some sort of money on it.
But I start to realize these people are just fans of mine. Fans of District Four, for whatever reason. Not, of course, the District Four that I know. The one that really exists with the good people and neighborhoods and boats. But the few kids that get sent to their deaths every year.
It’s strange. I always assumed people just picked the kid they liked. I never realized some freaks may actually hold up actual Districts. Root for the tributes from those Districts regardless. And what about the poorer Districts like Eleven and Twelve? Are Chaff and Haymitch being accosted just like me? By groups just as large?
Finally the lights flicker and something happens. Mrs. Ravinstill marches up on stage and informs us that it’s time for the first round of clips. We’re going in reverse order, so Twelve is up first. My group of freaks pulls me to the front so I can watch.
I catch sight of Cecelia and she immediately lunges towards me and takes my hand. I have a feeling it’s as much for her as it is for me.
“This is a nightmare,” she mutters, squeezing my hand.
She was the boy from Eight’s mentor, and suddenly I have a vivid memory of clutching his hand on that cliffside. It almost makes me want to let go, but instead and grip her tighter. Trying not to lose her to the Capitol like I lost him.
They push Haymitch up on stage. He shoves his hand in his pockets and scowls, shoulders hunched. Mrs. Ravinstill seems determined to do all the interviewing and talking herself. She offers Haymitch a chair and they play the District Twelve video.
It’s pretty depressing. It starts with a list of District Twelve winners and I’m shocked to discover Haymitch is not the only one. There’s a woman named Lucy Gray Baird who won the tenth Hunger Games. So, of course, she wouldn’t be here. She was just lucky enough to avoid the victory tour and the trips to the Capitol.
They show a few clips from the Hunger Games where District 12 tributes get to the final eight. One year, the twenty seventh games, it’s just the District Twelve girl and the guy from One, but he wins. I recognize him as Alfred and shudder a bit.
Finally, they just let themselves show Haymitch. He won the fiftieth games, a Quarter Quell. And they show him running through a colorful forest and fighting off a pack of bloodthirsty birds. They show his interviews where he basically snaps at a younger Caeser Flickerman about how that Games are stupid. No sponsors, no natural skill, but for some reason they refuse to show us how he won. They barely show us anything.
Sure, he’s running around. He’s fighting with this bigger girl. He’s grabbing everything from the cornucopia without competition. But they don’t really show any context. I don’t get how he won, besides assuming he somehow had a winning strategy, probably through outsmarting everyone.
I don’t even see many of the other Tributes, although I know there was twice as many as usual because of the Quarter Quell. Did he have allies? How did the other District Twelve Tributes fair?
Haymitch just scowls and scowls and scowls. They move on from him and show a few other promising Tributes that didn’t end up winning. But even then, it’s mostly kids who just got lucky. Occasionally a capable kid who was unlucky. Then it ends with a shot of the two District Twelve Tributes still alive in this Hunger Games.
People clap awkwardly, but not even the people in the Capitol seem excited. I guess that’s why they started with Twelve instead of ending with Twelve.
Mrs. Ravinstill claps and shoves the microphone in Haymitch’s face.
“So, Haymitch, tell us, your District hasn’t had a lot of luck in the past. Do you have any plans to break that streak.”
Haymitch scowls at her. “No.”
“Oh… well, you’ve got two kids still in the running now. Any high hopes for them?”
“Not really.”
I feel bad for Haymitch. But… no hopes for his tributes? They both look like survivors. And even if he doesn’t have hope… he’s surrounded by wealthy people. Shouldn’t he talk them up a little?
“Okay. Tell me about your own Games. How did you stand out?”
“I didn’t, I just cheated.”
She laughs goodheartedly, but I’m not sure if Haymitch is joking. How does one cheat at the Hunger Games? Beside me, Cecelia, who is only a few years older than Haymitch, stiffens slightly. As though something he said affected her.
“He… cheated?” I ask her quiety.
But she just shakes her head. “We’re not supposed to talk about it.”
Suddenly I am worried for Haymitch. I’m also rather interested in his life. Cheated? How did he cheat?
“I’m sure plenty of victors feel they don’t deserve the crown,” says Mrs. Ravinstill. “I suppose it would feel like cheating. Tell us a bit about District Twelve.”
“There’s coal,” says Haymitch.
“And?”
“And what?” he snaps. “There aren’t that many people in Twelve. Either you work in a shop like a butcher or a bakery or you work in the mines. It’s really just one or the other. Kids go to school, there’s a market, there are peacekeepers, I really don’t know what separates District Twelve from any other district except there’s coal dust everywhere and sometimes people die in a mine explosion. And there isn’t any food.”
Someone needs to pull him off the stage before he gets beaten and imprisoned for this. I glance at Cecelia and she seems to be thinking the same thing.
Chaff is running up on stage, clapping as well as he can with one hand.
“Is it my turn?”
Haymitch scowls at him, but Mrs. Ravinstill smiles and stands.
“Well, give it up for District Twelve!”
There’s some half-hearted clapping. Haymitch stalks off stage.
She sits Chaff down and we start Eleven’s video. It’s a bit more clear, I see how Seeder and Elaina and Chaff won their games. I see Chaff lose a hand, and it’s rather disturbing. The girl from Two and the boy from Four are all that’s left, but they stick together to hunt down Chaff. When they find him, he puts up a good fight, but they eventually disarm him and pin him to the ground. He punches the boy from Four in the face, and as a response, the boy cuts the hand off, taunting him.
Chaff manages to kick him off and kill the boy from four in anger, one handed. Then he lunges at the girl from two, and gets crowned.
I feel terrible. Occasionally tributes get cruel, I know that. They are brainwashed kids told that there are no rules and they are allowed to kill people. Sometimes the wrong kids takes that the wrong way. But the idea that a kid from District Four could be so heartless…
We move through Eleven, Chaff is a bit more agreeable than Haymitch was. Then we get Ten, then Nine with Ralph. Seeing all these people as tributes is hard to take. I just want them to be Victors. To just exist as they are now, with their flaws. I am fine with knowing their traumas, but they obviously don’t want me to see what they had to do to get here.
Cecelia is ripped away from me for her interview. She doesn’t come back to the same spot, so I am alone again, surrounded by Capitol people. Seven, Six, Five, and then finally I am up.
Everyone cheers as I’m shoved on stage. Literally shoved by my crowd of admirers that I trip over my own feet and almost fall. I get steered onto the chair and the movie starts.
I’m shaking in the first twenty seconds. Mags. I’ve only wondered about this a few times. And never in a way where I actually wanted to answer. I’m sure, if I asked, Mags would tell me everything I wanted to know. But… I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want her to have to tell me.
She has huge frizzy hair and an acne-riddled skin and she doesn’t speak. I learn why when she is laughed off the stage at her interview for having a stutter.
So it wasn’t just her stroke, though I’m sure that was part of it. She has always had trouble speaking.
The arena is tiny. So small, there’s almost nowhere to hide. Just some grass, one stream, a few trees and rocks with caves. Only one volunteer, from District Two.
She fights. She guards the only water supply so people will have to challenge her. She gets injured in the leg and the back and the shoulder but she grits her teeth and keeps going. She’s never sent any medicine, while others are given whatever they want. She still wins.
I’m relieved to not feel any ill will towards Mags. In fact, I feel nothing at all. I can barely connect this girl to the Mags I know, and only in the kind ways. Her stutter, he way her nose crinkles when there’s something she dislikes, they way she stomps her foot in anger, because she doesn’t like to speak.
They move on. They give a few highlights to other tributes and then we get Walsh, the first District Four career to win. Then Kent, who’s super obnoxious but the only one in his arena with any brains at all. Jeffer, who’s hair really was crazy back then. And finally Garrick, whose Games I at least remember.
They show a few other tributes here and there. Finally they spend a good twenty minutes on me and Mandy. Everything they can think of gets thrown in. My interview, her training score, her snapping at Merida and Spark, the hippos. I feel like I just got out, and I’m watching a recap with Caesar. Except I had to do that. This woman just had a wild idea to throw a party. I hate her for it.
Finally, it stops, and I can relax. But Mrs. Ravinstill turns to me and shoves a microphone in my face.
“So, Finnick, tell us a little bit about District Four and all those incredible tributes we just saw.”
What do I say? I can’t mention the training center, and I don’t want to give her a smart answer like Haymitch and just tell her there’s a lot of fish.
“Uh…” I say.
But before I can find the words, the screen behind me flashes.
I jump, thinking it’s short circuited and going to explode. But instead there’s a message that just says “urgent update.”
The Games. Noric. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own issues that I have not given one second of thought to Noric. Perhaps either Duke from Three or Titus from Six has finally died of starvation? But that wouldn’t be urgent. They’d just tell us tomorrow. Urgent means someone’s fighting.
I expect the careers, after all, they hunt at night. But I am wrong.
Titus, who has stopped sleeping, probably due to hunger, has stumbled upon the girl from Twelve. Terra, her name is. They’ve both got weapons, but Titus seems much more keen to use it.
I can understand his thinking. Killing someone might mean sponsors, which might mean food. Even if not, her bag might have food in it. But… I doubt it. She was basically just living off tree bark. And why would she keep any of that in her pack?
I don’t want to be on stage. I glance at Mrs. Ravinstill, who is standing up and making oooo noises. I slip off the stage and into the crowd, trying to act like I don’t want to block the view.
I gather with the Victors that are already done with the interviews. They all look uneasy, but Haymitch just scowls, glaring up at the screen. He’s this girl’s mentor, and he can’t do anything for her here. Not that he could help her now anyway. Titus has got a good sixty pounds on her. Or… he did. Before he started starving.
He chases her across the snowy hills and the only thing she really has going for her is that she’s much faster on the snow. He slips and slides after her, but she can’t keep it up for long. I’m actually surprised how viciously Titus is going after her, because I’ve never really taken him for the hunting type. He just wanted food. Though, now that he has a chance at food, I can’t really blame him for not letting it slip through his fingers.
He tackles her to the ground and she screams and screams. She’s my age, she’s small, I feel a sob build up in my throat. I turn my head as Titus kills her. Although that’s mighty hypocritical of me, considering what I’ve done in the past…
The audience applauds him, cheering. Finally, and interesting death. I hug myself, completely revolted. The others seem to have similar reactions.
But there’s more. Even though I just saw him kill a girl, I can’t help feeling terrible for him when he rips through her bag and discovers she has no food.
He throws the bag away, screaming in frustration. I wonder, briefly, where Noric and the other careers are. He’s screaming his head off, hopefully they’ll find him and put him out of his misery.
Titus sits down next to Terra’s body and stares at her. And stares and stares. He’s shaking, though it’s probably from the cold. Why doesn’t he step back and let them take the body?
He takes out his long knife and I wonder what he’s doing. She’s dead, her cannon sounded. Mutilating her body isn’t going to make him feel better. Maybe he’s planning to slit his wrists, but he keeps staring at her corpse. Almost as though…
I gasp. I turn away from the screen, planting my hands over my ears and screwing my eyes tight. He’s not, he can’t be. I don’t want to see it if he is.
Suddenly the audience around me gasps and screams and I know I was right. For the first time, maybe ever, a tribute in the Hunger Games has resorted to cannibalism.