The 50th HG Fanfiction (not through Haymitch!)
Sept 25, 2010 19:11:42 GMT -5
Post by peanutpie on Sept 25, 2010 19:11:42 GMT -5
Meet Alaqua treewater, one of the district Seven femal tributes:
The day was silent, I looked around, astonished at the silence my family is in. Mother and Father, sleeping silently. My older brother, Darren and younger sister, Gretchen sleeping without fuss. The unnerving noise was actually the silence. Usually there was noise, comforting noise. Feet sliding on shoes, axes being polished, coffee being poured, sometimes even the sound of a butterfly could be sensed through the cabin. This was unusual… then I remembered. Reaping day. I shuddered, looking around. The room was medium sized, and had four beds. Three were small, and were covered by only a threadbare quilt and mashed down pillow. The other had slightly newer pillows, and a larger quilt. A small table held a mirror, newly polished, and a book, worn with age. In a corner sat a box with clothes in it. The thin curtains were drawn, and let the sunlight come in. Just then, my mother woke up screaming.
“Juniper, are you OK?” My father asked, his eyes crinkled unhappily. It seemed my Mother did this every reaping day since Darren turned twelve. She screamed so hard, tears poured down her face. Except for this time, she could barely breathe, and sweat drenched the bed.
“Its… just a dream.” She tried to calm herself down, and she put her face into her pillow, sobbing. “Just… a dream.” I could make out that. Her hair was tossed on the bed, its caramel color differing against the cream and red quilt. Darren looked around, got up and looked at me and Gretchen.
“Come on. Lets go and pick up some breakfast.” Darren sighed and put his pants on, then his boots. I followed in motion, except for I slid on the jacket I had received for my birthday on top. Gretchen went to the front room, sat down and started to read. Of course she wouldn’t want to see the streets today, she was a bit soft sometimes.
The moment I stepped out of the cabin, I immediately saw it. The car that belonged to Jaci Myrett, the woman who annoyed me to death. “Keep on walking,” Darren said, face down. Jaci would probably recognize us if she saw us. My youngest brother, Arvid, had died because of her slip in hand. Arvid Treewater. I remembered her smile as she reached in, her smugness when she read the name out loud. I had cried so hard, that I might as well been my mother this morning. We rounded the corner, and came to one of the side streets.
District seven had one main street down the middle, and streets cutting through it every twenty or so feet. At the top and bottom were three curved streets, residential ones. The richer were at the south, and the poorer at the north. The town square was in the middle, a circular area with shops, town hall and a large tree stage, that was where the reapings were held each year.
The street before it had a bakery that was a favorite of my family’s. You gave it the grain rations that you had, and with that, you got five loaves of bread per person per month. With my family, that was twenty five loaves a month. They had a little card that they stamped per loaf. Sometimes, on days like today, they would give you a muffin, or cookie. Luxuries made of sugar, and butter.
I opened the bakery door, where at the counter sat the usual person, Cardigan. She took the card, and handed Darren a bag with our usual order for a morning: half a loaf of tessere bread. She added a small package on top, then handed us our card back. “Have a nice day,” She said, looking at me. Of course, she knew me. I was the girl who cried when her brother was pulled into the games. “Wait,” she said, before we exited. She pulled out the capitol accent. “May the odds… be EVER in your favor.” Ever is right. This year, the fiftieth edition of the hunger games, they were requiring twice the amount of tributes to come. A chill ran down my spine and I felt disturbed. I shook off the feeling at once and opened the door, and stepped out, the bell tinkling behind us.
The next stop was the butcher, maybe for some deer. We walked down the streets, dangling the bread. “What do you think is in the package?” I asked, envisioning the treat that could be in there.
“I don’t know. Its probably a muffin.” Darren responded, even though a hint of curiosity went over his face. “lets open it to see.” So we looked at it, and slowly ripped it open.
It was in the shape of a muffin, but had a pile of something colored on top. Then I remembered. “It’s a cupcake.” I say, looking at it.
“Wow.” Darren stared at the sugar filled sweet. He closed the package, and we thought, continuing to walk.
“Gretchen will love it.” I say, my mouth watering.
“I bet she will.” The butcher was the next corner, so I turned and saw the storefront. Darren kneed the door open and we looked at the selection. There was bacon. I don’t remember the last time I had bacon, so I looked at him.
“Should we get it?” I asked.
“Lets say were celebrating that I am not in the reaping ball.” He set down the money, and waited for the owner to package the thinly sliced meat. I carried this package, and it was much lighter. The air was tinted with cold, but it didn’t matter. We had a cupcake and bacon. Darren wasn’t going to be in the reaping, Gretchen was only in four times. The chances were slim even I wasn’t going into the games. Some eighteen year old girls had five siblings under the age of twelve to care for, those were the people more likely to get in.
And there were at least two of those. Hopefully, I would think. By the time I was finished counting my blessings, we were home and my parents were eying the bacon. We put it inside the ice chest and had thinly sliced bread to eat for breakfast. The meal was hard to eat, due to the blessings were getting smaller and smaller.
Gretchen has brown hair. Our cat never had to go to a reaping. I once killed a bird.
My thoughts were running dry.
This bread isn’t cardboard. The capitol has people die too.
Finally, I finished my mind list with a fake flourish of my name.
Alaqua Juniper Treewater
I mentally folded up the list and sighed, looking at the remaining bread on my plate. I sipped my water, and let myself eat scarcely. I wouldn’t want to vomit if someone I knew was drawn. Yes, positive thoughts, I didn’t think I was drawn, someone I knew. That kid who had social issues at school, or Ms. Whans granddaughter. I don’t know, someone. By the time I had finished the slice, Gretchen was getting bathed.
We were expected at two o’ clock, and it was twelve. She came out of the washroom dressed in one of my old dresses, the prettiest one that I had. It was green, and her hair was pulled up, and her lips glistened of beeswax and honey.
I followed, scrubbing myself clean, then brushing my hair into a small braided bun and found the only dress that fit me, a blue one that was pretty, if you liked dresses. I put on the prettiest boots I had, and finally looked at myself in the mirror. Light olive skin, green eyes, not beautiful, not ugly. Maybe pretty, maybe not.
We walked out the door, quite truthfully scared senseless.
We padded down the street, walking slowly, and then Gretchen and I were drawn into a crowd of people our age. I was placed in the sixteen year old section, and Gretchen in the fourteens. My parents were whisked to the side, where parents were biting their nails with distress. The day was cold now, and I was sure it was going to rain.
“To match my mood…” I muttered, looking at the people next to me. My best friends, Rose and King were in the front of the section, which I wriggled through to find them. They were twins, but looked nothing alike. Rose had reddish hair and intelligent yellow eyes, and King was dark haired with luminous green eyes. As usual they had arrived half an hour early, ready to “Get it over with.”
Rose was trembling and King tried to put on a stone face, I could tell he was about to break out into tears. One minute. The clocks hand was moving slowly. One minute. Thirty seconds, twenty. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six five four three two… one.
The clock on the tree dinged, and as if clockwork, Jaci, with her purple and black hair styled into a bob walked onto the stage, her black leather jumpsuit and purple cape extremely ugly. She was glittery, and she looked at the victors on the stage. There was Annabelle Isan, who was graying, Jared Harworth, in his mid thirties, Ophelia and Denmark Lentson, who were probably twenty seven and twenty four. The mayor was next to them, and she continued with her speech. “So today we have our annual reaping ceremony.” A smile beyond belief. Were her teeth studded with amethysts…. I shuddered. “Except for today, our reaping ceremony is even more…” She searched for a word. “Fun” She found it. “Than before, since twice the amount of tributes are participating in the games, two girls, two boys for our second quarter quell.” She smiled again. “So before we announce the winners.” God, those amethysts were getting annoying. “We are going to say the usual.”
Well, the “usual” was the anthem of panem, followed by a retelling of the hunger games story. Paneum came from North America, most commonly referred to as Canada and the united states. After a war, Penum was formed, only to have rebels knock down the government. No, no no. That would not do, so the capitol created the games to show one thing: We cant kill you, that would be unhuman. We will have people from other districts to kill your children so we can laugh at you, due to your unsuperiority. Oh, and you have to adknowlege the games as a good time.
The long story ended, and the audio in the background stopped. Jaci then looked over her shoulder and smiled at the audience, who was in complete utter silence. “Now we are going to have a small speech from each of your victors.”
Annabelle was first, the enstranged girl from the seventh hunger games, who had nearly died. “Stay alive.” Wow, what great advice.
Jared just sighed, hollered and walked away. He was relieved not to mentor anyone, that’s for sure. This party guy had been arrested many times, but not killed.
Then there was a silence. The reaping balls were wheeled in, filled with tiny white strips of paper. Each was filled half way, and even the birds fell to deathly silence. Rose was about to cry, so I patted her arm in relief. Jaci even shut up for a few seconds before opening the glass ball, and in her highly stupid accent, calling. “Ladies first!” which really sounded like “Lay-Dies Fur-ursssst” She stuck her fingers in the glass, fingering many of the slips, as if she was looking for a name. She wasn’t though, that was strictly illegal.
Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not. Me. Not. Me. Not. Me. I repeated the words in my head until finally she drew a slip from the ball.
“Adah Glassmen!” A girl who was a year older than me walked up to the stage, looking sad, but not upset. She had blonde hair that had daisys weaved into it, and a dress that was white. Oh yeah, she was the girl who got married last month. A man, probably Darrens age, cried, his sobs sad and pathetic. I felt sorry for the guy. I almost felt relief, but then remembered there was more people.
Jaci, with her tall boots, tapped the glass on the ball and quickly pulled out a slip of paper. Her face twists in a smile, and her eyes get in a cat look. “Hm… last years tribute has a relative in this games.” She holds up the paper to the sky and says with her most normal voice. “Alaqua Treewater!” King and Rose break out crying. The shock dosent register until a very relieved girl pushes me to the stage, where I stand there, crying. I am not sobbing, tears are just running down my face, one by one.
She crosses the stage to the boys, and calls out the names. “Lucas Sap” and “Brighton Rebel” and two boys my age come onto the stage, their heads hung slightly. One, I think whos name is Lucas is blonde and is slightly more strong looking than Brighton, who is wheezing quietly. “Shake hands,” Jaci instructs. I shake Brightons hand, which is stronger than I imagined, but not strong enough to win. Then we switch to Lucas, then I shake hands with Adah, who is looking at me in a way that means she has something to tell me.
“Never fall in love.” She whispers, her face curled. She is tall, and her eyes are blue, which is pretty unusual around here. Usually, eyes are green or yellow, but I guess that her eyes are green blue. The curtain on the stage closes, and suddenly it sets in. Fight or flight, obviously flight takes more advantage, but the cameras are trained on us, and we are whisked to the town hall, where we sit in the closely watched lobby. “Adah and Lucas, please come with me.” Jaci walks to the elevator, where they follow and the doors close. I look at the flimsy books on the table infront of me, so I pick up one and start to read. A chapter, then I saw people streaming up the stairs, most likely to see Adah and Lucas.
Brighton is drawing on a pamphlet about lumber jobs, while the cameras are still on our faces. You can see he is trying hard not to feel, but by the things he is drawing (a scene of his own death) he is pretty angry.
Finally, Jaci comes down for me and Brighton. We get into the elevator, which is old and has carpeting that is starting to run on the thin side. We make our way up, not smoothly, but not with bumps either and I am brought to a small room with two chairs, a couch, and a table with cookies and tea on it. I nibble on one, even though it is overly sweet, I wait until my family walks in. My Mother is giving my Father a told-you-so look, Gretchen is a mess and Darren is sullen. We barely speak, they just look at me with assurance. “You will make it out.” Is all they say until a peacekeeper comes in. “I love you.” The simplest thing they can say, and I reply the same and there gone. Then there is Rose and King, who we talk for. We jabber, until finally Rose slips something into my hand. Her Father is a jewler, so when I pull out a pretty little ring, I smile.
“Thank you. I will use it as my token.” I say. The jewel in it is huge, the size of an olive maybe, and then I remember. “This is the stone I found, right?”
King nods. “Remember, this is a gift. Your family has to keep it if you… die.” He says stiffly.
“See you on the other side.” I say, then they leave. My last guest is my aunt Susan, who smiles at me and says “Look at me, winner,”
With that, I am brought down the elevator, where I am whisked to the train station, where I board a silver train with black details and the door closes behind me.
The train dosent move for a while. I am shown to my cabin, which consists of a bedroom, and a bathroom with a shower. I have heard of them, and had been in one once, but it was hot water that hit my skin. In the closet was a selection of clothes, and seeing the sparkley purple gown, I put it on as a joke and slip on high heels. A buzzer goes off in the cabin. “Please come to the main dining room.” I decide to do that, just that, but in the dress. I turn in the hallways, and finally find the table, where they are already seated, infront of a huge feast of foods that smell rich.
I take a seat on the chair, which is cushioned. A heck of an idea. Jaci comes in her face unglittered, leaving her different. Well, its also probably the simple dress shes wearing, though it looks expensive. She sits down and proclaims “Eat!”
I look at the food, and reach for a breadstick, which is good. A red soup accompanied by hand rolled pasta, sausages and peacock meat, a rich cut of venison, boiled eggs salted, tropical fruits, and ice cream flavored like chocolate and peanuts. I have some of each, but take seconds on the ice cream, its honestly the best thing I ever ate. The other tributes, though, I notice, are gorging themselves. Brighton is even jamming the rice down his neck. The menors are even eating richly, and slipping fruits into their pockets occasionally.
Finally, a log cake comes out, which I take a slice of. The food seems to curb my anger for a while, probably due to the ice cream, but by the time the slice is done, im fuming. “Let me go to bed.” I say, my head down, walking towards my room. I change into a nightgown made of a luxe material and switch off the lamp.
*&*&*&*&*&*&
I awaken to the squeals of the breaks, which is actually weird. I get up, and put on another outfit, a pair of jeans and a shirt the color of tree bark with yellow leather boots that actually are pretty. I walk to the dining room, where a small buffet of food is laid on the table.
I sit down, and see Ophelia and Denmark smiling. Ophelia instructs me to grab what I want, so we can discuss strategy, while Annabelle is instructing Adah. I get a plate with bacon, rolls, eggs and a small thermos of a chocolatey milk. I touch it, and its hot.
“Its hot chocolate.” Ophelia smiles, knowing my questioning look.
“Good…” I say, my face probably unsure.
“Try it,” She uncaps it and hands it to me. I sip it.
“Why have they been hiding this from us?” I ask. I put in my mouth a little bit of the food, and think.
“So strategy.” She smiles. “I always loved this. Can you wield any weapons?”
I think. “I am decent with a spear, I guess.” I say, biting down on a bacon slice.
“That’s a start. They usually do have spears. And if you can handle a spear, you can handle knives decently.” Ophelia smiles. She is pretty, which probably was part of her sponsor support during her year. She also has a charisma, as far as I can tell.
“So…” I say.
“Oh yes, we need an angle. For interviews and stuff.” She knaws on her nail. “Well, you cant do evil. Nor can you do baby girl. That’s reserved for twelve year olds…” She snaps. “I have it! You can be the sweet and spicy,” She smiles, pleased. “I haven’t seen one of those since five years ago during the tumbleweed place.” She claps. “Show me what you got.”
I was eleven that year, so I summon my wits and remember Lena Harengold. She had a quick tounge, though she seemed completely a nice person. “So pertend to be Ceaser.” I say.
“How confident are you in the games?”
“I am pretty confident, I assume, as long as my competitors don’t beat the living heck out of me.”
“Good, good. Snarkily sweet,” She smiles. “So now, before we get off this train in ten minutes, I have a question for you.”
I look at her, and her eyes glow in the darkening room.
“Are you prepared to die?”
“Well, I have to go pack up my things.” I stand up and walk to my room, only to find my token laid out on my bed. I put it on my finger, and look at the glistening stone. The train suddenly cascades into a deep valley, and then a city just sprawls up. The capitol.
Everything is so bright, sparkling. The sidewalks are clean, and the people there are just as colored as the cars and the buildings. People are snapping pictures with small cameras, and waving. I am tempted to wave back, so I do, just enough for them to know im here. I think im on camera, so I smile as much as I can.
We pull infront of a crystalline building, which I have seen to be as the training center. We are escourted into the lobby, which has blue sofas and a huge sparkling centerpiece. The elevator comes down, and Jaci, Ophelia, Adah, Annabelle and I pile into the quick moving masterpiece. We go to the seventh floor, which is honestly luxurious.
I am escorted into my room, which is more than a room, it’s an apartment, really. Its probably the size of my house. I sit on the couch, and look around. A buzzer goes off. “Go to the first level for your designer fitting.” Great.
This was fabulous. I pressed the elevator key to the first level, and I was brought into a small door down a hallway, and there sat the most obnoxious looking people ever.
They were fourecent in color, and started to peel off my clothes. Then, I stood stark naked as they waxed me, did my nails, and finally deemed me acceptable.
A woman with orange hair came in, smiling. Her face was painted with lipstick and eyeshadow, and sparkled shrouded her face. “Were going with a more au natural look this year,” She directed. I stare at her, and she finally rolls her eyes. “Put on a robe and meet me over here.” She said, smiling. I had recognized her from at least two years before, maybe before.
She pushed a button, and out of the table came orange chicken with purple rices, a thick steaming white broth, a basket of light rolls encrusted with sesame seeds, mango juice and a platter of cupcakes. I pick up a plate and fill it.
“Look at this bounty!” The woman with orange hair cries. “Wait… did I tell you my name? Its Hayley. Hayley Williams was like my great great grandmother or something,” She toys with her hair. “So anyway, I was thinking about something like this.” She pulls out a sketch of a swimsuit like outfit with leaves with a connecting vine across between the two pieces. Rugged looking high heeled boots accompanied by an intricate hair piece made of twigs and mesh.
“its pretty.” It is, its just im not that comfortable with my body.
“You know what, your really pretty.” She says. “And your makeup should be dramatic. Even in the slightest way, it should stand out.”
“How am I pretty?” I question her words.
“You have a nose I would kill for. Your hairs shiny and the color of your eyes if great. Oh and your body is so thin, so in, so perfect. So I have a question. Have you heard my great great grandmamma sing?”
“No.” I reply.
“Well, she was part of the rebellion.” Hayley presses a button and a poppy rock song comes on and a womans voice sings. “And don’t tell anyone. If you do, its taboo to listen to this.” The chorus comes on as she finishes her food.
She pulls the outfit from the closet behind her and smiles. I slip it on, and she is right, I am thin. Not see the bone thin, but I barely have any fat on me. She pins it into place, then starts sewing. It gets tight, and she starts to do my makeup. Brown eyeshadow with bright green eyeliner, brown lipstick and blush. She roughs up my hair to make it feathery and pins the clip in. I almost look like a tree nymph. My ring looks perfect against the colors of the outfit and finally brown ribbons wrap the same direction as the green vine. I think I look stunning. No more plaid shirts and cowbody boots. Only a forest fairy who looks more beautiful than a district one dweller.
A knock echoes in the room, and in comes adah, wearing a green wraparound with brown ribbons. It is more classy, but not nessicarily prettier. “So girls, we are going to present you with the boys as partners. Alaqua with Brighton, Adah with Lucas.” Adahs stylist presses a button. “Send them in.” A minute later a knock on the door signals Lucas and Brighton, who are wearing either a brown tuxedo or a pair of leaf shorts and brown body paint. Brighton was wearing the body paint.
The four designers fussed over us, and finally came to a compromise. Brighton and I were in the front, and Adah and Lucas in the back of the chariot. We would stand up, hand in hand at the end of the chariot ride. Finally, half an hour before the chariot ride starts all of the tributes, minus the lower districts (10, 11 and 12) gather in the lobby. I can see that one two and four have pulled out the big guns: Diamonds encrusted for one, two has white coats and syringes, four is artistically arranged fishing nets emblazoned with diamonds and tails. The other districts are wearing things, but I think ours is one of the best.
We board our chariots, ours a brown wooden one with painted trees on the side, and in lettering “District 7” We drive to a small building where the last three districts get on. One Is sporting animal themes, eleven is fruits made into costumes, and twelve is awful. Jumpsuits, baggy baggy jumpsuits. But despite the ugly outfits one of the people is completely beautiful. I remember watching the recap on the train, and seeing him. I think his name is Haymitch, yes that’s his name. He has dark brown hair that falls into curls, and grey eyes that show a spark of intelligence. Olive colored skin. Honestly, I think he is the most handsome people in the competiton.
He gets on his chariot, and we are off, going through the streets. People are screaming in applause as we make our way through the tunnels, finally arriving in the convention hall, where president snow is sitting at the end. We circle around, the horses stopping. I stand up and bow, hand in hand with Brighton.
The anthem plays and president snow gives his speech, and we are whisked out quickly.
The next morning I woke to Ophelia standing over my bed. “Get up get up get up. Your training today,” She slammed the alarm clock that was playing music off, and with her insistant voice tossed me a sweatsuit with the number “7” emblazoned on the front. “Meet me at the breakfast table in five.” She slammed her fist on the bed and walked out. I pulled my hair into a pony tail and got dressed quickly, then sprinting down to the dining area, where Ophelia was holding a banana, a bran muffin and a breakfast smoothie. She threw them at me. “You are to eat this for the training today. I want you to take knife wielding, spear and the shelter class today. Then, lunch will come. Then you go to first aid, archery and camouflage. Then we will have dinner, and you will sleep because we have training scores tomorrow.”
I ate the banana and muffin, then sipped the smoothie down and rode the elevator into the gymnasium. It was a bright room, huge and expansive with athletic equipment. A gamemaker explained the rules to us, and we were released to the room filled with highly dangerous toys. The career tributes ran towards the mace range and the axes, while I made my way to the knives, where Haymitch was. “Hello,” I said, smiling and throwing the knife at the target, nailing it.
“Good,” He said, looking at me. “Your…” he thought. “you have an unusual name…. Alaqua. That it right?”
“Yeah, you have a pretty unusual name too.” I said, throwing another knife on the bullseye.
“Yes, but I assume its not as unusual as yours,” He snickered and threw his knife.
“It means thorny tree.” I said. The knife dug deep into the cork. Masilyee came over, smiling.
“Hello.” She said. I could tell she was rich, especially due to her token, a small bird pin.
We threw knives for a while until I decided I was bored and wandered off to the spear place, which was encased by glass. A few career tributes were throwing them, and I smiled. “Hello, im Alaqua,” I introduced myself to a girl who looked useful in the game.
“Marabout” She threw a spear at a dummy, and it hit it in the head. For measure, she used an axe. I just used a spear and achived the same result.
“Is this your first time spearing, seven girl?” Marabout asked.
“I tried it once before, but pretty much,” I say.
“Your good,” Her perfectly coiffed black hair falls infront of her face, and I notice she is wearing a much more stylish style of outfit than my stupid sweatsuit: Purple sparkley jeans and a white tank top with jewels in it.
“Thanks,” I hang onto the words.
“Can you throw knives?”
“Spot on.”
“Join me for lunch seven.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Now that we have that settled, I know something about that Haymitch guy,”
“Yes…”
“You like him right?”
“Hes cute, I guess…”
“He is from the seam in district 12…”
I had heard the word seam before, it was the poorest part of peneum. The seam made me shudder. Marabout probably was from the richest part, uptown District 1. They were opposites, as far as I could tell.
“So im going to go shelter. Care to join?” I ask.
“I need to be perfect seven. Remember, lunch. Look for me.” She threw the axe, and it split the dummy in half. Good thing I was on her team.
I walked to shelter, where the instructor found out I have experience with wood (Note: Do they even know what we supply them???) and showed me makeshift shelter. Maybe that would help me get into the careers. Maybe just maybe. A bell buzzed and a large door opened to a cafeteria room where a buffet was set up for us. I grabbed bread, meat, cheese, lettuce and tomato next to corn and bottled flavor water and a cookie. I went to the table where Marabout sat with eleven other people.
“Hey,” I said, setting down my plate. I pulled up a chair and put my arms on the table. “Im Alaqua,”
“Hello seven,” Marabout said. “From one is Glitter, Oynx and Leather. From two is Herba, Janice, Oliver and Granger. From four is Aquarius, Brooke, Jack and Trout.” The people looked at me up and down and nodded.
“You have arm muscles,” A girl from district two said. “Im Janice,” She stuck out her hand.
“But you’re a bit on the scrawny side…” A boy remarked.
“Don’t be a pessimist Trout.” Glitter remarked.
“But its part of district four,” A girl said. I think it was Aquarius.
“Sure…” Oliver or Granger added.
“Lets just shut up and give the girl some credit. Shes a seven.” Marabout insisted. There was some grumbling, but then they finally came to a descion.
“You work your way around a shelter, and I heard that you are pretty good with a knife and spear.” A girl said. “Herba,” She stuck out her hand and I shook it.
So we ate our lunch in silence until finally they looked at the group that had aligned: The rest of the seven people, eight dwellers and a few stragglers from eleven and five. Nobody more really had chose an alliance. And with that, we headed for the first aid section.
The next morning, the day of the scoring, I put on the career packs colors for the games (black and white with a hint of purple) that I had borrowed from Aquarius’s closet, who was the closest size to me, which was a white bejeweled tank top with black cotton leggings that stretched perfectly, and a pair of black and white checkerboard pattern boots with a purple scarf on my neck. Of course, it wasn’t the most functional outfit, but it was pretty and comfortable. In my luxury withdrawl, I grabbed a bagel from the table outside my room and walked the stairs all the way to the basement, where gamemakers were ushering us into a large room off the arena with plush purple chairs, tables with cookies and coffee dispensers and mugs and sugar packets, a small breakfast bar with fruits and vegetables, recaps of old hunger games on the five televisions in the room, board games in neat boxes on a shelf, computers on a wall and last but not least a privacy screened section for people to talk strategy.
I walked over to the small breakfast bar where the rest of the careers were standing, their hands wrapped around their mugs of tea and coffee. “Hello,” I say, cautiously.
“Purple screen.” I walked over to the screen, where a few of the careers sat, pouring water and energy drinks instead of coffee.
“Good morning seven.” Herba said. Herba was what you would call fairly normal, with medium brown hair and grey eyes and a light olive skin tone. She was probably 5’ 6’’ and was the thinnest of the true careers. The only distinctive thing about her was the large scar that ran down her arm, that swelled and puckered a slightly darker tone than her skin. She wore a black dress with a white silken coat and white ballet flats with black bows. A amethyst necklace sat on her neck, and she looked as luxe as anyone could be.
“Morning!” I chirped. Trout shot me a glance, and so did Granger, who was a fairly funny looking guy in general. Marabout Oynx and Leather came back from the coffee bar, where they sat in the small compartment and pulled the shades. A gamemaker would come in at any moment for Oynx, who was drawn first for the games.
“So after Brooke is drawn, we are going to discuss strategy until its Alaquas turn, then after that we have a straight shot to finish our strategic thoughts. After that, we grab iced tea.” Marabout, who honestly seems in charge at that moment, strikes a chorus of laughter after her, in her purple shirt, and black pants. She has even dyed her hair distinctfully white. Well, I think her stylists did, but whatever.
“OYNX SWATHOZI!” A gamemaker called. Oynx, who was dark haired and pale skinned got up, bowed and walked out of the tent room and closed the room to the training center closed. We heard a smattering of applause, which probably was for his amazing ability to knock something off with a sword. Could be heads, feet whatever.
Oynx came back in, sweating. I could expect this from him, since he seemed like a weak seventeen year old. Oh, just you wait, there Is going to be a sword in the arena. “LEATHER PANTENT!” Well, what a classy name. I waited for a second, and leather got up, his brown hair ruffling in the process. In my opinion, he was probably the most hansome of the career pack, mostly because he looked more natural, more woodsy, I would propose.
He came back a minute later, smile on his face. “MARABOUT SILEK” The next call comes for her. She smiles and stands up.
“Good luck!” I cry. She shoots me a look, probably saying “Like I need it.”
I hear cries and screams from the peacemakers, who are probably starting a joy riot over Marabouts skills. Not only is she useful in a spear, she is probably at her best with one thing: A meat cleaver. I know, stupid idea for a weapon but it registers enough pain to knock someone out and then slice their heads off in a puddle of blood.
Marabout comes in, smiles. “I think im getting at least an eleven.” She looks confident, secure. “GLITTER IRIDESENSE.”
The long list of names being called in and out makes me realize that not everyone can wield a knife, or a bow. There is of course, includes the small twelve year olds, who are just beginning to adjust to their height, or that eighteen year old that is cursed. Soon, district seven starts.
Lucas, Brighton, Adah, finally they call my name, snappily and quickly “Alaqua Treewater.” I stand up, unfurl the paper around me and walk to the woman who is calling names, a short woman with brown hair, probably in her fourties. “Go right in.” Is all that she says, so I enter the room to see gamemakers who are suddenly shocked by my arrival.
“And you are?” A woman in deep black robes asks.
“Alaqua treewater. District seven.” I respond. I grab a spear in the corner, then take a small penny and place it on the ground. I see the aplethra of gymnastics supplies on the top of the ceiling, so I gracefully fling the spear to the penny, which lands. I get a smattering of applause, then continue. I jump up to the supplies, and gracefully and quickly leap across the ceiling, removing the spear and flinging it into my hand, and climbing back from there. I get applause again, then I fling the spear once again, landing straight in the middle of a poster saying “Support our districts: Hunger Game it!” I take a bow and walk out.
“So I was thinking about doing this…” Marabout pauses. “We don’t kill anyone, let those savages kill themselves. Well, unless it comes down to the final few. But nobody goes hand to hand anymore. We either kill in direct shot or try to stay alive. No picking fights, let Haymitch…” Marabout snickers my way. “Fend for their stinking selves. So we raise our glasses to today!” Ah ha!
Finally, the last district 12 girl, whos name is Maysilee Donner, finishes and we are released to go shower, get into clothing that isn’t drenched in sweat, have dinner and finally watch the scores being earned.
I go into my apartments and turn on the shower, which I carefully select to smell like ponderosa, with steam instead of water. I get wet, and scrub myself. I get into a black and white frock with purple patterned tights and black leather boots and go down to the dining room, which I pile dry bean soup and wild rice with lamb leg, a greeny salad, a tropical fruit I have a newly acquired fondness for and a small portion of wild mushrooms.
I sit infront of the screening room on our level, and I wait for the scores. The district ones all get elevens, with the exception of Leather, who got a ten. Then there was twos, who got various, from eight to eleven, naturally. Four did all tens, but one twelve, which I could probably hear Marabout ranting about right now, probably taking off the idea of not killing. She will kill that guy now. (FYI it was Trout)
Then my scores came in. Brighton got a seven. Lucas got a nine. Adah got a five. Me, I got a ten. Not bad, pretty good, actually. Better than Haymitches refusal to participate, which got him a one (Well, it was being disobedient, and that always causes drama in the games)
So basically after that I grabbed a carton of ice cream flavored like Shipova, with chocolate chips studded in it. I flicked on the television in my room and watched a comedy show that was on, and that actually wasn’t that funny. They kept on making remarks about something called a PalmCommunicator and how it was the thing that made this kids thumbs huge. No comment about it.
I finally glanced at the clock, when I got a knock at my door. “Come in,” I grumbled.
“Hello!” Ophelia walked in, smiling. “Tomorrow I was thinking that we get your etiquette down and maybe grab some lunch,”
“You said I am going to die.” I say blankly.
“But still, Honestly, you probably will. Theres twice the amount in the stinking arena, and honestly, this is crazy. I barely made it out alive…”
Ophelia had been in the fourty second hunger games and was in a weird arena: it was almost like a forever darkened steep cliff place, with rare sunlight. She had killed nobody, but instead formed an alliance with a weak player, watch them die, then ignore the career tributes. Now that, that worked for her. Not me, her. I was actually in.
“Fine.” I coughed. “So if a career dosent win, who do you bet on?” I ask her. She picks up my blanket.
“That Haymitch kid will have sponsors killing for him. He is just so snarkily delicious and good looking that he probably will win,” She points out.
“What about Adah?” I ask.
“Well, Adah is very… emotionally attached. She will die at the cornucopia. Most likely.” She sets down her hot chocolate on my bedside table. “Have you formed an alliance yet?”
“Career.” Its all that I say.
“Niccee.” Ophelia smiles, “total opposite of me. I hid.” She adjusts her scarf. “I need to get going. Sleep a lot, you only have so much natural beauty to work with!” She cries and flips off the light as she exits the room.
I sit in darkness and finally doze off to sleep.
I woke to rain. I sat up, rubbing my head. Something was wrong, I could tell. Then, I saw Ophelia standing over my bed. “GET UP GET UP GETTTT UPPPPP.” Her voice was demanding, and her deep set blue eyes were demanding me do exactly what she said. So I crawled out of bed, and picked out a black and white dress and purple boots.
“What do you want now?” I ask her.
“Hayley, your stylist wants to have help designing your dress. Now, go before I tell her you will wear rags with… soot.” She shakes her head and points to the door. I opened my door, and walked to the elevator. Screw luxury withdrawl. I slid down to the first level, where I walked into Hayleys studio. She was listening to a song, probably by her great grandmamma and her little band.
“I nevah been so used as I am using youuu….” The voice echoed in the studio.
“Ehllo! Come in, Alaqua, have breakfast.” She turned off the music and sat down at the table, where food just rose from. There was a steaming quiche with bananas on the side and fluffy pink rice. Sliced baby sized onions were in an omelet, which I ate quickly and thoroughly. Once the feast was completed, Hayley turned back on the music and smiled.
“See this dress sculpture? We have all the acess to fabrics and jewels we need. And now, choose.” She opens a closet with everything in it. There are silks, and velvets and linens and beautiful jewels and yarns and other things that make dresses pretty.
I finger each fabric, and finally choose a deep green silken. Hayley fingered it, smiling. “Nice,” She pulled a large crystal pendant and started to form a dress. I watched lazily as she formed the dress, gathering here, sewing there. A crystal embedded here, and finally she had a dress. It was beautiful, and as I checked the clock, I noticed something. We were due to start in an hour. She draped the dress on me, pinned a few places and the prep team started on my makeup.
It was more subtle than the ceremony makeup, but my lips were very noticeable. Finally, she placed sandals on my feet and I was drawn into a dark car where I was alone. I sat, then finally went into the TV studio, where people were talking around.
Ceaser Flickermen, who had started broadcasting five years ago, strolled across the stage, his face indifferent. He sat down, his eyelids and hair a nutrel olive color. The cameras started rolling, and he smiled, eyes sparkling.
“Hello, Im Ceaser Flickermen, and we are interviewing tributes today.” He adjusted his tuxedo, which was flickering and smiled.
“First up is Marabout Silke!” He claps his hands together and smiles. Marabout stands up, and adjusts her outfit. It is a purple plastic dress with a silver belt in the middle. Soft silver calfskin boots and a thick bangle amount accompany her sparse makeup, and her silver necklace.
“So, Miss Marabout, how are you?” Ceaser asks. “Well, after seeing your training score?”
“Fine.” She says sharply. “Some people did better than me, but that just puts a target on anothers back. I know I am more skilled than… Trout.” She spits.
I look at her, in her slight violence.
“Well, do you have anyone special at home?” Ceaser tries to recover the calmness before Marabouts arrival on stage.
“Well, I have like twenty guys who asked me to the stinking Summer Formal.” She pauses. “But I am in a relationship with a boy named Armani Gucci. Love you honey!” She blows a kiss in the direction of the camera. I roll my eyes and glare.
“So who will you miss during the games?” He asks, his face sullen for a second, then recovering.
“Probably my Trainer, Mercedes. Or Armani. My sister, Aerophane. My parents, Chino and Cendal.” She ends the list of names.
“Last but not least, how would you describe your family?” Ceaser adjusts in his chair.
“Chino and Cendal: Distant. Aerophane: Certifibley insane. Pretty much, the only family member I feel like I have isn’t even closely related to me, Mercedes. She is nice, I guess.” She finishes, and the buzzer goes off. She gets up and walks back to her chair.
“Glitter!!!!” Ceaser calls. Glitter is wearing a white and silver dress with a small braided belt. Her hair is spun into curls, and she is smiling. She sits in the chair and smiles.
“So Glitter, what are a few hobbies back home?” Ceaser asks, throwing in a question.
“Oh I love love love baking. That’s one of the things I miss most about home.” She smiles, breathing in and out.
“Oh! I love a fresh made cookie myself. So, what has impressed you about the capitol?” He asks, taking a sip of his clear coffee.
“Actually, the architecture fascinates me. I find it to be….” She pauses. “Intriguing. Bright.” She smiles, and laughs.
“Now I love your dress now, do you like your designers fashions?” Ceaser compliments on the frock she is wearing.
“Yes! Gracie is absolutely stunning with clothes. I mean, where could you get these puppies?” She holds up a silver high heel studded with diamonds and hands it to Ceaser.
The buzzer rings once he says “Pretty,” and Glitter gives a kiss to the audience and sits down in the chair next to Marabout. From what I can tell, they are night and day.
“Oynxie!” Ceaser calls, and he steps up to the stage, strolling. Boys, of course, have less options, so he is wearing something simple: Black skinny pants and a white shirt. The only thing adorning him is a thick, black onyx that is on a black chain around his neck.
“So, such a handsome young man must have a lady, whats her name?” Ceaser asks. Onyx looks uncomfortable, but smiles.
“I wont tell the world. If I don’t die, youll find out.” He smiles and the audience laughs hardily. The rest of the interviews fly by, tick tock. I am getting more nervous as the time wears on until finally Ceaser calls Alaqua Treewater. I walk onto the stage, my floor length green dress flowing beneath me.
“Why, hello Alaqua. You have a unique name. What does it mean?” He asks,
“Thorny Tree,” I reply, smiling my head off.
“So we expect some competiton from you. You even got the highest score for your district. Care to explain?” He asks, laughing.
“I cant… remember?” I question. He nods, and smiles. “So…. How is your family?”
“Well. My Mother is probably shooting my Dad dirty looks right now because she-told-him-so. Gretchen is probably hanging on to every word I say. My eldest brother, he is probably locked inside the bedroom, reading or something. He tends to get emotional.” I say, straightening my dress.
“No mention on any dates or anything?” He says, eyebrows raised.
“Nope.” I replied. “No guys have ever actually liked me, as far as I am concerned. But, I would think my friends, King and Rose are probably screaming at the TV as we speak.”
Ceaser laughs. “You seem to love people. If you make it out of the games, what would you do?”
“I would bake a pie and give myself a slice with whipped cream, saying humble. Because, who knows? I could get a big head!” The audience laughs and the buzzer buzzes. I sit in my chair, dreamily watching the people talking to Ceaser in the audience.
Honestly, I didn’t do the best, but I wasn’t horrible. And Hayleys design probably made some type of statement, opposed to maybe Renee from District five who was a quivering mess of emotions. She would laugh so hard and start bawling.
She was more of an emotional rollercoaster than me, maybe.
Finally, Haymitch took the stage, and made snarky remarks about everything. When Ceaser asked the most impressive, Haymitch expressed the similarities to the toilets at home to the capitol hairstyles. Honestly, he was just plain disrespectful. But, I guess the crowd loved it.
I was whisked off to the training center, where I went upstairs. Tomorrow was the last day of training. Maybe I could master some type of skill, I don’t know, edible food? I got into a robe and fell asleep on my bed.
The day was silent, I looked around, astonished at the silence my family is in. Mother and Father, sleeping silently. My older brother, Darren and younger sister, Gretchen sleeping without fuss. The unnerving noise was actually the silence. Usually there was noise, comforting noise. Feet sliding on shoes, axes being polished, coffee being poured, sometimes even the sound of a butterfly could be sensed through the cabin. This was unusual… then I remembered. Reaping day. I shuddered, looking around. The room was medium sized, and had four beds. Three were small, and were covered by only a threadbare quilt and mashed down pillow. The other had slightly newer pillows, and a larger quilt. A small table held a mirror, newly polished, and a book, worn with age. In a corner sat a box with clothes in it. The thin curtains were drawn, and let the sunlight come in. Just then, my mother woke up screaming.
“Juniper, are you OK?” My father asked, his eyes crinkled unhappily. It seemed my Mother did this every reaping day since Darren turned twelve. She screamed so hard, tears poured down her face. Except for this time, she could barely breathe, and sweat drenched the bed.
“Its… just a dream.” She tried to calm herself down, and she put her face into her pillow, sobbing. “Just… a dream.” I could make out that. Her hair was tossed on the bed, its caramel color differing against the cream and red quilt. Darren looked around, got up and looked at me and Gretchen.
“Come on. Lets go and pick up some breakfast.” Darren sighed and put his pants on, then his boots. I followed in motion, except for I slid on the jacket I had received for my birthday on top. Gretchen went to the front room, sat down and started to read. Of course she wouldn’t want to see the streets today, she was a bit soft sometimes.
The moment I stepped out of the cabin, I immediately saw it. The car that belonged to Jaci Myrett, the woman who annoyed me to death. “Keep on walking,” Darren said, face down. Jaci would probably recognize us if she saw us. My youngest brother, Arvid, had died because of her slip in hand. Arvid Treewater. I remembered her smile as she reached in, her smugness when she read the name out loud. I had cried so hard, that I might as well been my mother this morning. We rounded the corner, and came to one of the side streets.
District seven had one main street down the middle, and streets cutting through it every twenty or so feet. At the top and bottom were three curved streets, residential ones. The richer were at the south, and the poorer at the north. The town square was in the middle, a circular area with shops, town hall and a large tree stage, that was where the reapings were held each year.
The street before it had a bakery that was a favorite of my family’s. You gave it the grain rations that you had, and with that, you got five loaves of bread per person per month. With my family, that was twenty five loaves a month. They had a little card that they stamped per loaf. Sometimes, on days like today, they would give you a muffin, or cookie. Luxuries made of sugar, and butter.
I opened the bakery door, where at the counter sat the usual person, Cardigan. She took the card, and handed Darren a bag with our usual order for a morning: half a loaf of tessere bread. She added a small package on top, then handed us our card back. “Have a nice day,” She said, looking at me. Of course, she knew me. I was the girl who cried when her brother was pulled into the games. “Wait,” she said, before we exited. She pulled out the capitol accent. “May the odds… be EVER in your favor.” Ever is right. This year, the fiftieth edition of the hunger games, they were requiring twice the amount of tributes to come. A chill ran down my spine and I felt disturbed. I shook off the feeling at once and opened the door, and stepped out, the bell tinkling behind us.
The next stop was the butcher, maybe for some deer. We walked down the streets, dangling the bread. “What do you think is in the package?” I asked, envisioning the treat that could be in there.
“I don’t know. Its probably a muffin.” Darren responded, even though a hint of curiosity went over his face. “lets open it to see.” So we looked at it, and slowly ripped it open.
It was in the shape of a muffin, but had a pile of something colored on top. Then I remembered. “It’s a cupcake.” I say, looking at it.
“Wow.” Darren stared at the sugar filled sweet. He closed the package, and we thought, continuing to walk.
“Gretchen will love it.” I say, my mouth watering.
“I bet she will.” The butcher was the next corner, so I turned and saw the storefront. Darren kneed the door open and we looked at the selection. There was bacon. I don’t remember the last time I had bacon, so I looked at him.
“Should we get it?” I asked.
“Lets say were celebrating that I am not in the reaping ball.” He set down the money, and waited for the owner to package the thinly sliced meat. I carried this package, and it was much lighter. The air was tinted with cold, but it didn’t matter. We had a cupcake and bacon. Darren wasn’t going to be in the reaping, Gretchen was only in four times. The chances were slim even I wasn’t going into the games. Some eighteen year old girls had five siblings under the age of twelve to care for, those were the people more likely to get in.
And there were at least two of those. Hopefully, I would think. By the time I was finished counting my blessings, we were home and my parents were eying the bacon. We put it inside the ice chest and had thinly sliced bread to eat for breakfast. The meal was hard to eat, due to the blessings were getting smaller and smaller.
Gretchen has brown hair. Our cat never had to go to a reaping. I once killed a bird.
My thoughts were running dry.
This bread isn’t cardboard. The capitol has people die too.
Finally, I finished my mind list with a fake flourish of my name.
Alaqua Juniper Treewater
I mentally folded up the list and sighed, looking at the remaining bread on my plate. I sipped my water, and let myself eat scarcely. I wouldn’t want to vomit if someone I knew was drawn. Yes, positive thoughts, I didn’t think I was drawn, someone I knew. That kid who had social issues at school, or Ms. Whans granddaughter. I don’t know, someone. By the time I had finished the slice, Gretchen was getting bathed.
We were expected at two o’ clock, and it was twelve. She came out of the washroom dressed in one of my old dresses, the prettiest one that I had. It was green, and her hair was pulled up, and her lips glistened of beeswax and honey.
I followed, scrubbing myself clean, then brushing my hair into a small braided bun and found the only dress that fit me, a blue one that was pretty, if you liked dresses. I put on the prettiest boots I had, and finally looked at myself in the mirror. Light olive skin, green eyes, not beautiful, not ugly. Maybe pretty, maybe not.
We walked out the door, quite truthfully scared senseless.
We padded down the street, walking slowly, and then Gretchen and I were drawn into a crowd of people our age. I was placed in the sixteen year old section, and Gretchen in the fourteens. My parents were whisked to the side, where parents were biting their nails with distress. The day was cold now, and I was sure it was going to rain.
“To match my mood…” I muttered, looking at the people next to me. My best friends, Rose and King were in the front of the section, which I wriggled through to find them. They were twins, but looked nothing alike. Rose had reddish hair and intelligent yellow eyes, and King was dark haired with luminous green eyes. As usual they had arrived half an hour early, ready to “Get it over with.”
Rose was trembling and King tried to put on a stone face, I could tell he was about to break out into tears. One minute. The clocks hand was moving slowly. One minute. Thirty seconds, twenty. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six five four three two… one.
The clock on the tree dinged, and as if clockwork, Jaci, with her purple and black hair styled into a bob walked onto the stage, her black leather jumpsuit and purple cape extremely ugly. She was glittery, and she looked at the victors on the stage. There was Annabelle Isan, who was graying, Jared Harworth, in his mid thirties, Ophelia and Denmark Lentson, who were probably twenty seven and twenty four. The mayor was next to them, and she continued with her speech. “So today we have our annual reaping ceremony.” A smile beyond belief. Were her teeth studded with amethysts…. I shuddered. “Except for today, our reaping ceremony is even more…” She searched for a word. “Fun” She found it. “Than before, since twice the amount of tributes are participating in the games, two girls, two boys for our second quarter quell.” She smiled again. “So before we announce the winners.” God, those amethysts were getting annoying. “We are going to say the usual.”
Well, the “usual” was the anthem of panem, followed by a retelling of the hunger games story. Paneum came from North America, most commonly referred to as Canada and the united states. After a war, Penum was formed, only to have rebels knock down the government. No, no no. That would not do, so the capitol created the games to show one thing: We cant kill you, that would be unhuman. We will have people from other districts to kill your children so we can laugh at you, due to your unsuperiority. Oh, and you have to adknowlege the games as a good time.
The long story ended, and the audio in the background stopped. Jaci then looked over her shoulder and smiled at the audience, who was in complete utter silence. “Now we are going to have a small speech from each of your victors.”
Annabelle was first, the enstranged girl from the seventh hunger games, who had nearly died. “Stay alive.” Wow, what great advice.
Jared just sighed, hollered and walked away. He was relieved not to mentor anyone, that’s for sure. This party guy had been arrested many times, but not killed.
Then there was a silence. The reaping balls were wheeled in, filled with tiny white strips of paper. Each was filled half way, and even the birds fell to deathly silence. Rose was about to cry, so I patted her arm in relief. Jaci even shut up for a few seconds before opening the glass ball, and in her highly stupid accent, calling. “Ladies first!” which really sounded like “Lay-Dies Fur-ursssst” She stuck her fingers in the glass, fingering many of the slips, as if she was looking for a name. She wasn’t though, that was strictly illegal.
Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not. Me. Not. Me. Not. Me. I repeated the words in my head until finally she drew a slip from the ball.
“Adah Glassmen!” A girl who was a year older than me walked up to the stage, looking sad, but not upset. She had blonde hair that had daisys weaved into it, and a dress that was white. Oh yeah, she was the girl who got married last month. A man, probably Darrens age, cried, his sobs sad and pathetic. I felt sorry for the guy. I almost felt relief, but then remembered there was more people.
Jaci, with her tall boots, tapped the glass on the ball and quickly pulled out a slip of paper. Her face twists in a smile, and her eyes get in a cat look. “Hm… last years tribute has a relative in this games.” She holds up the paper to the sky and says with her most normal voice. “Alaqua Treewater!” King and Rose break out crying. The shock dosent register until a very relieved girl pushes me to the stage, where I stand there, crying. I am not sobbing, tears are just running down my face, one by one.
She crosses the stage to the boys, and calls out the names. “Lucas Sap” and “Brighton Rebel” and two boys my age come onto the stage, their heads hung slightly. One, I think whos name is Lucas is blonde and is slightly more strong looking than Brighton, who is wheezing quietly. “Shake hands,” Jaci instructs. I shake Brightons hand, which is stronger than I imagined, but not strong enough to win. Then we switch to Lucas, then I shake hands with Adah, who is looking at me in a way that means she has something to tell me.
“Never fall in love.” She whispers, her face curled. She is tall, and her eyes are blue, which is pretty unusual around here. Usually, eyes are green or yellow, but I guess that her eyes are green blue. The curtain on the stage closes, and suddenly it sets in. Fight or flight, obviously flight takes more advantage, but the cameras are trained on us, and we are whisked to the town hall, where we sit in the closely watched lobby. “Adah and Lucas, please come with me.” Jaci walks to the elevator, where they follow and the doors close. I look at the flimsy books on the table infront of me, so I pick up one and start to read. A chapter, then I saw people streaming up the stairs, most likely to see Adah and Lucas.
Brighton is drawing on a pamphlet about lumber jobs, while the cameras are still on our faces. You can see he is trying hard not to feel, but by the things he is drawing (a scene of his own death) he is pretty angry.
Finally, Jaci comes down for me and Brighton. We get into the elevator, which is old and has carpeting that is starting to run on the thin side. We make our way up, not smoothly, but not with bumps either and I am brought to a small room with two chairs, a couch, and a table with cookies and tea on it. I nibble on one, even though it is overly sweet, I wait until my family walks in. My Mother is giving my Father a told-you-so look, Gretchen is a mess and Darren is sullen. We barely speak, they just look at me with assurance. “You will make it out.” Is all they say until a peacekeeper comes in. “I love you.” The simplest thing they can say, and I reply the same and there gone. Then there is Rose and King, who we talk for. We jabber, until finally Rose slips something into my hand. Her Father is a jewler, so when I pull out a pretty little ring, I smile.
“Thank you. I will use it as my token.” I say. The jewel in it is huge, the size of an olive maybe, and then I remember. “This is the stone I found, right?”
King nods. “Remember, this is a gift. Your family has to keep it if you… die.” He says stiffly.
“See you on the other side.” I say, then they leave. My last guest is my aunt Susan, who smiles at me and says “Look at me, winner,”
With that, I am brought down the elevator, where I am whisked to the train station, where I board a silver train with black details and the door closes behind me.
The train dosent move for a while. I am shown to my cabin, which consists of a bedroom, and a bathroom with a shower. I have heard of them, and had been in one once, but it was hot water that hit my skin. In the closet was a selection of clothes, and seeing the sparkley purple gown, I put it on as a joke and slip on high heels. A buzzer goes off in the cabin. “Please come to the main dining room.” I decide to do that, just that, but in the dress. I turn in the hallways, and finally find the table, where they are already seated, infront of a huge feast of foods that smell rich.
I take a seat on the chair, which is cushioned. A heck of an idea. Jaci comes in her face unglittered, leaving her different. Well, its also probably the simple dress shes wearing, though it looks expensive. She sits down and proclaims “Eat!”
I look at the food, and reach for a breadstick, which is good. A red soup accompanied by hand rolled pasta, sausages and peacock meat, a rich cut of venison, boiled eggs salted, tropical fruits, and ice cream flavored like chocolate and peanuts. I have some of each, but take seconds on the ice cream, its honestly the best thing I ever ate. The other tributes, though, I notice, are gorging themselves. Brighton is even jamming the rice down his neck. The menors are even eating richly, and slipping fruits into their pockets occasionally.
Finally, a log cake comes out, which I take a slice of. The food seems to curb my anger for a while, probably due to the ice cream, but by the time the slice is done, im fuming. “Let me go to bed.” I say, my head down, walking towards my room. I change into a nightgown made of a luxe material and switch off the lamp.
*&*&*&*&*&*&
I awaken to the squeals of the breaks, which is actually weird. I get up, and put on another outfit, a pair of jeans and a shirt the color of tree bark with yellow leather boots that actually are pretty. I walk to the dining room, where a small buffet of food is laid on the table.
I sit down, and see Ophelia and Denmark smiling. Ophelia instructs me to grab what I want, so we can discuss strategy, while Annabelle is instructing Adah. I get a plate with bacon, rolls, eggs and a small thermos of a chocolatey milk. I touch it, and its hot.
“Its hot chocolate.” Ophelia smiles, knowing my questioning look.
“Good…” I say, my face probably unsure.
“Try it,” She uncaps it and hands it to me. I sip it.
“Why have they been hiding this from us?” I ask. I put in my mouth a little bit of the food, and think.
“So strategy.” She smiles. “I always loved this. Can you wield any weapons?”
I think. “I am decent with a spear, I guess.” I say, biting down on a bacon slice.
“That’s a start. They usually do have spears. And if you can handle a spear, you can handle knives decently.” Ophelia smiles. She is pretty, which probably was part of her sponsor support during her year. She also has a charisma, as far as I can tell.
“So…” I say.
“Oh yes, we need an angle. For interviews and stuff.” She knaws on her nail. “Well, you cant do evil. Nor can you do baby girl. That’s reserved for twelve year olds…” She snaps. “I have it! You can be the sweet and spicy,” She smiles, pleased. “I haven’t seen one of those since five years ago during the tumbleweed place.” She claps. “Show me what you got.”
I was eleven that year, so I summon my wits and remember Lena Harengold. She had a quick tounge, though she seemed completely a nice person. “So pertend to be Ceaser.” I say.
“How confident are you in the games?”
“I am pretty confident, I assume, as long as my competitors don’t beat the living heck out of me.”
“Good, good. Snarkily sweet,” She smiles. “So now, before we get off this train in ten minutes, I have a question for you.”
I look at her, and her eyes glow in the darkening room.
“Are you prepared to die?”
“Well, I have to go pack up my things.” I stand up and walk to my room, only to find my token laid out on my bed. I put it on my finger, and look at the glistening stone. The train suddenly cascades into a deep valley, and then a city just sprawls up. The capitol.
Everything is so bright, sparkling. The sidewalks are clean, and the people there are just as colored as the cars and the buildings. People are snapping pictures with small cameras, and waving. I am tempted to wave back, so I do, just enough for them to know im here. I think im on camera, so I smile as much as I can.
We pull infront of a crystalline building, which I have seen to be as the training center. We are escourted into the lobby, which has blue sofas and a huge sparkling centerpiece. The elevator comes down, and Jaci, Ophelia, Adah, Annabelle and I pile into the quick moving masterpiece. We go to the seventh floor, which is honestly luxurious.
I am escorted into my room, which is more than a room, it’s an apartment, really. Its probably the size of my house. I sit on the couch, and look around. A buzzer goes off. “Go to the first level for your designer fitting.” Great.
This was fabulous. I pressed the elevator key to the first level, and I was brought into a small door down a hallway, and there sat the most obnoxious looking people ever.
They were fourecent in color, and started to peel off my clothes. Then, I stood stark naked as they waxed me, did my nails, and finally deemed me acceptable.
A woman with orange hair came in, smiling. Her face was painted with lipstick and eyeshadow, and sparkled shrouded her face. “Were going with a more au natural look this year,” She directed. I stare at her, and she finally rolls her eyes. “Put on a robe and meet me over here.” She said, smiling. I had recognized her from at least two years before, maybe before.
She pushed a button, and out of the table came orange chicken with purple rices, a thick steaming white broth, a basket of light rolls encrusted with sesame seeds, mango juice and a platter of cupcakes. I pick up a plate and fill it.
“Look at this bounty!” The woman with orange hair cries. “Wait… did I tell you my name? Its Hayley. Hayley Williams was like my great great grandmother or something,” She toys with her hair. “So anyway, I was thinking about something like this.” She pulls out a sketch of a swimsuit like outfit with leaves with a connecting vine across between the two pieces. Rugged looking high heeled boots accompanied by an intricate hair piece made of twigs and mesh.
“its pretty.” It is, its just im not that comfortable with my body.
“You know what, your really pretty.” She says. “And your makeup should be dramatic. Even in the slightest way, it should stand out.”
“How am I pretty?” I question her words.
“You have a nose I would kill for. Your hairs shiny and the color of your eyes if great. Oh and your body is so thin, so in, so perfect. So I have a question. Have you heard my great great grandmamma sing?”
“No.” I reply.
“Well, she was part of the rebellion.” Hayley presses a button and a poppy rock song comes on and a womans voice sings. “And don’t tell anyone. If you do, its taboo to listen to this.” The chorus comes on as she finishes her food.
She pulls the outfit from the closet behind her and smiles. I slip it on, and she is right, I am thin. Not see the bone thin, but I barely have any fat on me. She pins it into place, then starts sewing. It gets tight, and she starts to do my makeup. Brown eyeshadow with bright green eyeliner, brown lipstick and blush. She roughs up my hair to make it feathery and pins the clip in. I almost look like a tree nymph. My ring looks perfect against the colors of the outfit and finally brown ribbons wrap the same direction as the green vine. I think I look stunning. No more plaid shirts and cowbody boots. Only a forest fairy who looks more beautiful than a district one dweller.
A knock echoes in the room, and in comes adah, wearing a green wraparound with brown ribbons. It is more classy, but not nessicarily prettier. “So girls, we are going to present you with the boys as partners. Alaqua with Brighton, Adah with Lucas.” Adahs stylist presses a button. “Send them in.” A minute later a knock on the door signals Lucas and Brighton, who are wearing either a brown tuxedo or a pair of leaf shorts and brown body paint. Brighton was wearing the body paint.
The four designers fussed over us, and finally came to a compromise. Brighton and I were in the front, and Adah and Lucas in the back of the chariot. We would stand up, hand in hand at the end of the chariot ride. Finally, half an hour before the chariot ride starts all of the tributes, minus the lower districts (10, 11 and 12) gather in the lobby. I can see that one two and four have pulled out the big guns: Diamonds encrusted for one, two has white coats and syringes, four is artistically arranged fishing nets emblazoned with diamonds and tails. The other districts are wearing things, but I think ours is one of the best.
We board our chariots, ours a brown wooden one with painted trees on the side, and in lettering “District 7” We drive to a small building where the last three districts get on. One Is sporting animal themes, eleven is fruits made into costumes, and twelve is awful. Jumpsuits, baggy baggy jumpsuits. But despite the ugly outfits one of the people is completely beautiful. I remember watching the recap on the train, and seeing him. I think his name is Haymitch, yes that’s his name. He has dark brown hair that falls into curls, and grey eyes that show a spark of intelligence. Olive colored skin. Honestly, I think he is the most handsome people in the competiton.
He gets on his chariot, and we are off, going through the streets. People are screaming in applause as we make our way through the tunnels, finally arriving in the convention hall, where president snow is sitting at the end. We circle around, the horses stopping. I stand up and bow, hand in hand with Brighton.
The anthem plays and president snow gives his speech, and we are whisked out quickly.
The next morning I woke to Ophelia standing over my bed. “Get up get up get up. Your training today,” She slammed the alarm clock that was playing music off, and with her insistant voice tossed me a sweatsuit with the number “7” emblazoned on the front. “Meet me at the breakfast table in five.” She slammed her fist on the bed and walked out. I pulled my hair into a pony tail and got dressed quickly, then sprinting down to the dining area, where Ophelia was holding a banana, a bran muffin and a breakfast smoothie. She threw them at me. “You are to eat this for the training today. I want you to take knife wielding, spear and the shelter class today. Then, lunch will come. Then you go to first aid, archery and camouflage. Then we will have dinner, and you will sleep because we have training scores tomorrow.”
I ate the banana and muffin, then sipped the smoothie down and rode the elevator into the gymnasium. It was a bright room, huge and expansive with athletic equipment. A gamemaker explained the rules to us, and we were released to the room filled with highly dangerous toys. The career tributes ran towards the mace range and the axes, while I made my way to the knives, where Haymitch was. “Hello,” I said, smiling and throwing the knife at the target, nailing it.
“Good,” He said, looking at me. “Your…” he thought. “you have an unusual name…. Alaqua. That it right?”
“Yeah, you have a pretty unusual name too.” I said, throwing another knife on the bullseye.
“Yes, but I assume its not as unusual as yours,” He snickered and threw his knife.
“It means thorny tree.” I said. The knife dug deep into the cork. Masilyee came over, smiling.
“Hello.” She said. I could tell she was rich, especially due to her token, a small bird pin.
We threw knives for a while until I decided I was bored and wandered off to the spear place, which was encased by glass. A few career tributes were throwing them, and I smiled. “Hello, im Alaqua,” I introduced myself to a girl who looked useful in the game.
“Marabout” She threw a spear at a dummy, and it hit it in the head. For measure, she used an axe. I just used a spear and achived the same result.
“Is this your first time spearing, seven girl?” Marabout asked.
“I tried it once before, but pretty much,” I say.
“Your good,” Her perfectly coiffed black hair falls infront of her face, and I notice she is wearing a much more stylish style of outfit than my stupid sweatsuit: Purple sparkley jeans and a white tank top with jewels in it.
“Thanks,” I hang onto the words.
“Can you throw knives?”
“Spot on.”
“Join me for lunch seven.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Now that we have that settled, I know something about that Haymitch guy,”
“Yes…”
“You like him right?”
“Hes cute, I guess…”
“He is from the seam in district 12…”
I had heard the word seam before, it was the poorest part of peneum. The seam made me shudder. Marabout probably was from the richest part, uptown District 1. They were opposites, as far as I could tell.
“So im going to go shelter. Care to join?” I ask.
“I need to be perfect seven. Remember, lunch. Look for me.” She threw the axe, and it split the dummy in half. Good thing I was on her team.
I walked to shelter, where the instructor found out I have experience with wood (Note: Do they even know what we supply them???) and showed me makeshift shelter. Maybe that would help me get into the careers. Maybe just maybe. A bell buzzed and a large door opened to a cafeteria room where a buffet was set up for us. I grabbed bread, meat, cheese, lettuce and tomato next to corn and bottled flavor water and a cookie. I went to the table where Marabout sat with eleven other people.
“Hey,” I said, setting down my plate. I pulled up a chair and put my arms on the table. “Im Alaqua,”
“Hello seven,” Marabout said. “From one is Glitter, Oynx and Leather. From two is Herba, Janice, Oliver and Granger. From four is Aquarius, Brooke, Jack and Trout.” The people looked at me up and down and nodded.
“You have arm muscles,” A girl from district two said. “Im Janice,” She stuck out her hand.
“But you’re a bit on the scrawny side…” A boy remarked.
“Don’t be a pessimist Trout.” Glitter remarked.
“But its part of district four,” A girl said. I think it was Aquarius.
“Sure…” Oliver or Granger added.
“Lets just shut up and give the girl some credit. Shes a seven.” Marabout insisted. There was some grumbling, but then they finally came to a descion.
“You work your way around a shelter, and I heard that you are pretty good with a knife and spear.” A girl said. “Herba,” She stuck out her hand and I shook it.
So we ate our lunch in silence until finally they looked at the group that had aligned: The rest of the seven people, eight dwellers and a few stragglers from eleven and five. Nobody more really had chose an alliance. And with that, we headed for the first aid section.
The next morning, the day of the scoring, I put on the career packs colors for the games (black and white with a hint of purple) that I had borrowed from Aquarius’s closet, who was the closest size to me, which was a white bejeweled tank top with black cotton leggings that stretched perfectly, and a pair of black and white checkerboard pattern boots with a purple scarf on my neck. Of course, it wasn’t the most functional outfit, but it was pretty and comfortable. In my luxury withdrawl, I grabbed a bagel from the table outside my room and walked the stairs all the way to the basement, where gamemakers were ushering us into a large room off the arena with plush purple chairs, tables with cookies and coffee dispensers and mugs and sugar packets, a small breakfast bar with fruits and vegetables, recaps of old hunger games on the five televisions in the room, board games in neat boxes on a shelf, computers on a wall and last but not least a privacy screened section for people to talk strategy.
I walked over to the small breakfast bar where the rest of the careers were standing, their hands wrapped around their mugs of tea and coffee. “Hello,” I say, cautiously.
“Purple screen.” I walked over to the screen, where a few of the careers sat, pouring water and energy drinks instead of coffee.
“Good morning seven.” Herba said. Herba was what you would call fairly normal, with medium brown hair and grey eyes and a light olive skin tone. She was probably 5’ 6’’ and was the thinnest of the true careers. The only distinctive thing about her was the large scar that ran down her arm, that swelled and puckered a slightly darker tone than her skin. She wore a black dress with a white silken coat and white ballet flats with black bows. A amethyst necklace sat on her neck, and she looked as luxe as anyone could be.
“Morning!” I chirped. Trout shot me a glance, and so did Granger, who was a fairly funny looking guy in general. Marabout Oynx and Leather came back from the coffee bar, where they sat in the small compartment and pulled the shades. A gamemaker would come in at any moment for Oynx, who was drawn first for the games.
“So after Brooke is drawn, we are going to discuss strategy until its Alaquas turn, then after that we have a straight shot to finish our strategic thoughts. After that, we grab iced tea.” Marabout, who honestly seems in charge at that moment, strikes a chorus of laughter after her, in her purple shirt, and black pants. She has even dyed her hair distinctfully white. Well, I think her stylists did, but whatever.
“OYNX SWATHOZI!” A gamemaker called. Oynx, who was dark haired and pale skinned got up, bowed and walked out of the tent room and closed the room to the training center closed. We heard a smattering of applause, which probably was for his amazing ability to knock something off with a sword. Could be heads, feet whatever.
Oynx came back in, sweating. I could expect this from him, since he seemed like a weak seventeen year old. Oh, just you wait, there Is going to be a sword in the arena. “LEATHER PANTENT!” Well, what a classy name. I waited for a second, and leather got up, his brown hair ruffling in the process. In my opinion, he was probably the most hansome of the career pack, mostly because he looked more natural, more woodsy, I would propose.
He came back a minute later, smile on his face. “MARABOUT SILEK” The next call comes for her. She smiles and stands up.
“Good luck!” I cry. She shoots me a look, probably saying “Like I need it.”
I hear cries and screams from the peacemakers, who are probably starting a joy riot over Marabouts skills. Not only is she useful in a spear, she is probably at her best with one thing: A meat cleaver. I know, stupid idea for a weapon but it registers enough pain to knock someone out and then slice their heads off in a puddle of blood.
Marabout comes in, smiles. “I think im getting at least an eleven.” She looks confident, secure. “GLITTER IRIDESENSE.”
The long list of names being called in and out makes me realize that not everyone can wield a knife, or a bow. There is of course, includes the small twelve year olds, who are just beginning to adjust to their height, or that eighteen year old that is cursed. Soon, district seven starts.
Lucas, Brighton, Adah, finally they call my name, snappily and quickly “Alaqua Treewater.” I stand up, unfurl the paper around me and walk to the woman who is calling names, a short woman with brown hair, probably in her fourties. “Go right in.” Is all that she says, so I enter the room to see gamemakers who are suddenly shocked by my arrival.
“And you are?” A woman in deep black robes asks.
“Alaqua treewater. District seven.” I respond. I grab a spear in the corner, then take a small penny and place it on the ground. I see the aplethra of gymnastics supplies on the top of the ceiling, so I gracefully fling the spear to the penny, which lands. I get a smattering of applause, then continue. I jump up to the supplies, and gracefully and quickly leap across the ceiling, removing the spear and flinging it into my hand, and climbing back from there. I get applause again, then I fling the spear once again, landing straight in the middle of a poster saying “Support our districts: Hunger Game it!” I take a bow and walk out.
“So I was thinking about doing this…” Marabout pauses. “We don’t kill anyone, let those savages kill themselves. Well, unless it comes down to the final few. But nobody goes hand to hand anymore. We either kill in direct shot or try to stay alive. No picking fights, let Haymitch…” Marabout snickers my way. “Fend for their stinking selves. So we raise our glasses to today!” Ah ha!
Finally, the last district 12 girl, whos name is Maysilee Donner, finishes and we are released to go shower, get into clothing that isn’t drenched in sweat, have dinner and finally watch the scores being earned.
I go into my apartments and turn on the shower, which I carefully select to smell like ponderosa, with steam instead of water. I get wet, and scrub myself. I get into a black and white frock with purple patterned tights and black leather boots and go down to the dining room, which I pile dry bean soup and wild rice with lamb leg, a greeny salad, a tropical fruit I have a newly acquired fondness for and a small portion of wild mushrooms.
I sit infront of the screening room on our level, and I wait for the scores. The district ones all get elevens, with the exception of Leather, who got a ten. Then there was twos, who got various, from eight to eleven, naturally. Four did all tens, but one twelve, which I could probably hear Marabout ranting about right now, probably taking off the idea of not killing. She will kill that guy now. (FYI it was Trout)
Then my scores came in. Brighton got a seven. Lucas got a nine. Adah got a five. Me, I got a ten. Not bad, pretty good, actually. Better than Haymitches refusal to participate, which got him a one (Well, it was being disobedient, and that always causes drama in the games)
So basically after that I grabbed a carton of ice cream flavored like Shipova, with chocolate chips studded in it. I flicked on the television in my room and watched a comedy show that was on, and that actually wasn’t that funny. They kept on making remarks about something called a PalmCommunicator and how it was the thing that made this kids thumbs huge. No comment about it.
I finally glanced at the clock, when I got a knock at my door. “Come in,” I grumbled.
“Hello!” Ophelia walked in, smiling. “Tomorrow I was thinking that we get your etiquette down and maybe grab some lunch,”
“You said I am going to die.” I say blankly.
“But still, Honestly, you probably will. Theres twice the amount in the stinking arena, and honestly, this is crazy. I barely made it out alive…”
Ophelia had been in the fourty second hunger games and was in a weird arena: it was almost like a forever darkened steep cliff place, with rare sunlight. She had killed nobody, but instead formed an alliance with a weak player, watch them die, then ignore the career tributes. Now that, that worked for her. Not me, her. I was actually in.
“Fine.” I coughed. “So if a career dosent win, who do you bet on?” I ask her. She picks up my blanket.
“That Haymitch kid will have sponsors killing for him. He is just so snarkily delicious and good looking that he probably will win,” She points out.
“What about Adah?” I ask.
“Well, Adah is very… emotionally attached. She will die at the cornucopia. Most likely.” She sets down her hot chocolate on my bedside table. “Have you formed an alliance yet?”
“Career.” Its all that I say.
“Niccee.” Ophelia smiles, “total opposite of me. I hid.” She adjusts her scarf. “I need to get going. Sleep a lot, you only have so much natural beauty to work with!” She cries and flips off the light as she exits the room.
I sit in darkness and finally doze off to sleep.
I woke to rain. I sat up, rubbing my head. Something was wrong, I could tell. Then, I saw Ophelia standing over my bed. “GET UP GET UP GETTTT UPPPPP.” Her voice was demanding, and her deep set blue eyes were demanding me do exactly what she said. So I crawled out of bed, and picked out a black and white dress and purple boots.
“What do you want now?” I ask her.
“Hayley, your stylist wants to have help designing your dress. Now, go before I tell her you will wear rags with… soot.” She shakes her head and points to the door. I opened my door, and walked to the elevator. Screw luxury withdrawl. I slid down to the first level, where I walked into Hayleys studio. She was listening to a song, probably by her great grandmamma and her little band.
“I nevah been so used as I am using youuu….” The voice echoed in the studio.
“Ehllo! Come in, Alaqua, have breakfast.” She turned off the music and sat down at the table, where food just rose from. There was a steaming quiche with bananas on the side and fluffy pink rice. Sliced baby sized onions were in an omelet, which I ate quickly and thoroughly. Once the feast was completed, Hayley turned back on the music and smiled.
“See this dress sculpture? We have all the acess to fabrics and jewels we need. And now, choose.” She opens a closet with everything in it. There are silks, and velvets and linens and beautiful jewels and yarns and other things that make dresses pretty.
I finger each fabric, and finally choose a deep green silken. Hayley fingered it, smiling. “Nice,” She pulled a large crystal pendant and started to form a dress. I watched lazily as she formed the dress, gathering here, sewing there. A crystal embedded here, and finally she had a dress. It was beautiful, and as I checked the clock, I noticed something. We were due to start in an hour. She draped the dress on me, pinned a few places and the prep team started on my makeup.
It was more subtle than the ceremony makeup, but my lips were very noticeable. Finally, she placed sandals on my feet and I was drawn into a dark car where I was alone. I sat, then finally went into the TV studio, where people were talking around.
Ceaser Flickermen, who had started broadcasting five years ago, strolled across the stage, his face indifferent. He sat down, his eyelids and hair a nutrel olive color. The cameras started rolling, and he smiled, eyes sparkling.
“Hello, Im Ceaser Flickermen, and we are interviewing tributes today.” He adjusted his tuxedo, which was flickering and smiled.
“First up is Marabout Silke!” He claps his hands together and smiles. Marabout stands up, and adjusts her outfit. It is a purple plastic dress with a silver belt in the middle. Soft silver calfskin boots and a thick bangle amount accompany her sparse makeup, and her silver necklace.
“So, Miss Marabout, how are you?” Ceaser asks. “Well, after seeing your training score?”
“Fine.” She says sharply. “Some people did better than me, but that just puts a target on anothers back. I know I am more skilled than… Trout.” She spits.
I look at her, in her slight violence.
“Well, do you have anyone special at home?” Ceaser tries to recover the calmness before Marabouts arrival on stage.
“Well, I have like twenty guys who asked me to the stinking Summer Formal.” She pauses. “But I am in a relationship with a boy named Armani Gucci. Love you honey!” She blows a kiss in the direction of the camera. I roll my eyes and glare.
“So who will you miss during the games?” He asks, his face sullen for a second, then recovering.
“Probably my Trainer, Mercedes. Or Armani. My sister, Aerophane. My parents, Chino and Cendal.” She ends the list of names.
“Last but not least, how would you describe your family?” Ceaser adjusts in his chair.
“Chino and Cendal: Distant. Aerophane: Certifibley insane. Pretty much, the only family member I feel like I have isn’t even closely related to me, Mercedes. She is nice, I guess.” She finishes, and the buzzer goes off. She gets up and walks back to her chair.
“Glitter!!!!” Ceaser calls. Glitter is wearing a white and silver dress with a small braided belt. Her hair is spun into curls, and she is smiling. She sits in the chair and smiles.
“So Glitter, what are a few hobbies back home?” Ceaser asks, throwing in a question.
“Oh I love love love baking. That’s one of the things I miss most about home.” She smiles, breathing in and out.
“Oh! I love a fresh made cookie myself. So, what has impressed you about the capitol?” He asks, taking a sip of his clear coffee.
“Actually, the architecture fascinates me. I find it to be….” She pauses. “Intriguing. Bright.” She smiles, and laughs.
“Now I love your dress now, do you like your designers fashions?” Ceaser compliments on the frock she is wearing.
“Yes! Gracie is absolutely stunning with clothes. I mean, where could you get these puppies?” She holds up a silver high heel studded with diamonds and hands it to Ceaser.
The buzzer rings once he says “Pretty,” and Glitter gives a kiss to the audience and sits down in the chair next to Marabout. From what I can tell, they are night and day.
“Oynxie!” Ceaser calls, and he steps up to the stage, strolling. Boys, of course, have less options, so he is wearing something simple: Black skinny pants and a white shirt. The only thing adorning him is a thick, black onyx that is on a black chain around his neck.
“So, such a handsome young man must have a lady, whats her name?” Ceaser asks. Onyx looks uncomfortable, but smiles.
“I wont tell the world. If I don’t die, youll find out.” He smiles and the audience laughs hardily. The rest of the interviews fly by, tick tock. I am getting more nervous as the time wears on until finally Ceaser calls Alaqua Treewater. I walk onto the stage, my floor length green dress flowing beneath me.
“Why, hello Alaqua. You have a unique name. What does it mean?” He asks,
“Thorny Tree,” I reply, smiling my head off.
“So we expect some competiton from you. You even got the highest score for your district. Care to explain?” He asks, laughing.
“I cant… remember?” I question. He nods, and smiles. “So…. How is your family?”
“Well. My Mother is probably shooting my Dad dirty looks right now because she-told-him-so. Gretchen is probably hanging on to every word I say. My eldest brother, he is probably locked inside the bedroom, reading or something. He tends to get emotional.” I say, straightening my dress.
“No mention on any dates or anything?” He says, eyebrows raised.
“Nope.” I replied. “No guys have ever actually liked me, as far as I am concerned. But, I would think my friends, King and Rose are probably screaming at the TV as we speak.”
Ceaser laughs. “You seem to love people. If you make it out of the games, what would you do?”
“I would bake a pie and give myself a slice with whipped cream, saying humble. Because, who knows? I could get a big head!” The audience laughs and the buzzer buzzes. I sit in my chair, dreamily watching the people talking to Ceaser in the audience.
Honestly, I didn’t do the best, but I wasn’t horrible. And Hayleys design probably made some type of statement, opposed to maybe Renee from District five who was a quivering mess of emotions. She would laugh so hard and start bawling.
She was more of an emotional rollercoaster than me, maybe.
Finally, Haymitch took the stage, and made snarky remarks about everything. When Ceaser asked the most impressive, Haymitch expressed the similarities to the toilets at home to the capitol hairstyles. Honestly, he was just plain disrespectful. But, I guess the crowd loved it.
I was whisked off to the training center, where I went upstairs. Tomorrow was the last day of training. Maybe I could master some type of skill, I don’t know, edible food? I got into a robe and fell asleep on my bed.
