Chapter Text
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
I stare down at the jagged edges of five logs that were formerly a beautiful red cedar trunk. The culprit, Selin Thaine, peers up at me with teary eyes, her hands clutching the small axe in her hand. I run my hand through my dark brown hair and take a deep breath before surveying the damage.
Each of the logs is splintered and cracked up a few feet of the wood, and the ends are rough to the touch. I glance around in the wooded area we are working in for any Peacekeepers, but the only others in the area are other workers who are also dripping with perspiration and the mist from the air. Hefting my axe onto my shoulder, I look straight at Selin.
“I think I can fix this, but we are going to be short of the length they wanted on these. I swear to God, Selin, if this gets us a lashing, I am going to…” My threat dies in my throat as I see her tremble under my glare. I sigh, lean over, and tousle her hair. “We will be fine, don’t worry. But please go somewhere else and get out of my way.”
I watch her scamper off and then turn back to my work. With a sigh, I lift my axe over my head and bring it down hard on the log of wood.
⤱⤱⤱
The Peacekeeper looks over the logs and puts his hands on his hips. “Mason, we both know that these aren’t up to the quota specifications.” Selin whimpers next to me, and I put my arm around her shoulders. He looks at her softly, and then shifts his gaze to mine and narrows his eyes. “Your last warning. I mean it this time.”
I release the breath I was holding and hurry Selin off towards the shuttle that will take us back into town. My brother, Corwin, awaits us inside, looking noticeably relieved that we are unscathed. I bump into him fondly with my shoulder and give him a small smile.
“I don’t know how you fixed that,” he whispers, out of Selin’s earshot.
I wiggle my fingers. “Magic."
We both laugh as the engine rumbles to life, the Peacekeepers hop on board, and the shuttle begins to move. I watch out the window as we drive through the forest, tall mossy trees blocking out the sun.
District 7’s primary industry is lumber, and at a young age we are split into two labor factions. We in the district fondly designated them with our own names: forest or fingerless . If you are lucky, you get to go to the forest, which includes felling trees (what Corwin does), cutting the lumber to length specifications (what Selin and I do), and hauling and transporting the lumber. Where you work is decided by a number of things, especially if your family has any influence, but it primarily is decided by fitness exams done at a young age.
Us forest workers have the benefit of working hard physical labor, so the district feeds us a little more than the others. The Peacekeepers also tend to leave us alone while we work; whether they are scared of us because of our physical strength or because they have more trust in us, it’s hard to tell. The fingerless , on the other hand, face strict oversight and are fed the minimum allotment of food that the district can get away with.
The fingerless operate all the mills, primarily paper, which includes using old machines that often leave the factory workers without at least one or two fingers by the time they stop working. Children will begin training at as young as four years old to pass the physical exam and avoid the fate of the mill.
As the shuttle bounces over the cobbled roads, we pass by these mills. Smoke pours out of their chimneys, and Peacekeepers march out the mill workers and load them into a shuttle to return home. Eventually, we clear the industry area, and small wooden houses come into view. Finally, the shuttle squeals to a stop in front of the city hall and we all begin to file out.
Corwin, Selin, and I begin our walk home, but not before looking at the city square that is bustling with activity. White Peacekeeper uniforms are scattered around the area, with Head Peacekeeper Mitchell directing them where to go. Large screens and speakers are being erected around a stage, and we watch them drop a banner down behind the platform.
THE 71ST ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES.
Corwin and I hear Selin whimper, and without even exchanging a glance, we both drop down and hug her. I shush her as she begins to cry. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”
But she’s not, and we both know it. Nothing can guarantee that she’s okay, because at 13 years old, Selin is eligible for her first Hunger Games reaping.
We move her on, out of view of the stage, and finally make it to our homes. Selin’s mother runs out as she sees us and scoops her daughter up in a big hug. She mouths “thank you” up at us, and we both give her a nod before heading into the house next to theirs. A figure dashes up to us and grabs both of us into a hug around our waists.
“Hey Ashen,” I say, ruffling the pile of sandy hair pressed against my stomach. In the doorway, my mother pokes her head in.
“Ashen, you just took a bath, please don’t hug your brother and sister,” she scolds, ushering Ashen back into the kitchen. When he’s gone, she turns around and takes us in, before pulling us both into a hug of her own. My mother is hardly affectionate, but the Games have a way of pulling out the sentimentality of everyone.
A bang sounds behind us at the door, and our father, back from his own job at the lumber transport center, runs in and joins in on the hug, rubbing his rough beard against my neck. I let out a squeal and squirm out of the hug, laughter choking out of me. Ashen, hearing the commotion, runs back in and jumps on my father’s back. He lets out a roar and spins my brother around in a circle.
I take this moment in, my family laughing when the odds are against it. My throat suddenly feels tight as I fight back the emotions rising in my chest. Even on the eve of the reaping, these people I love manage to bring a little joy into the world.
We sit for dinner and attempt to ignore the feeling of dread that sits in our stomachs. As the energy dies down, my mother ushers Ashen to his bed and my father heads to his room, his snores quickly following. I quietly creak open the door and walk a few paces in front of the house, taking a seat on a patch of grass.
I fold my knees up and lean my head against them, taking a deep breath while listening to the buzzing of the insects in the woods. My body is finally feeling the fatigue from the day; my arms ache from the extra work I did fixing Selin’s mistakes, and I rub my hands against them to knead out some of the tension.
I hear a few footsteps behind me, and then a huff as Corwin plops down beside me. I look over at him, giving him a teasing glare. “Hey, this was my wallowing session, leave me in peace.”
He winks at me, and a mischievous glint lights in his eyes. He holds up a transparent bag and waves it in my face. “I suppose my little friend and I will have to go elsewhere then.”
My eyes widen and I lean over and snatch the package out of his hand. I examine its contents in awe. “Holy shit, where did you get this?” I exclaim, pulling the rolled-up tobacco out of the bag.
“A magician never reveals their secrets.”
I slap his knee and stick it between my lips as he lights a match for me. I inhale, the burn of the smoke clawing against my throat. As I exhale, I pass it over to him, and he breathes in the sweet smoke. We sit in silence like this for a while, swapping the cigarette between us.
The silence breaks as a few Peacekeepers come into sight a ways down the road, noisily laughing and cheering with each other. They stumble past the entry to our road and continue onward, their hoots fading away after a moment. At the same time, we hear screaming and sobbing through the walls of our neighbors’ house, little Selin waking up from her nightmares. The horrible contrast of the sounds makes me clench my fists.
I motion at the street with the smoking cigarette in my hand. “God, are you ever able to get over how sick this is?” I ask.
He sighs. “No, Jo. I don’t think I ever will be.” We sit in silence again, swatting away a few bugs that flit around our heads.
After a moment, I turn and look at him. “If they had reaped you, would you have killed someone in the arena?”
His eyebrows crease and he shakes his head. “Let’s not talk about this-”
I cut him off. “No Cor, let’s. You’ll never have to make that choice in real life anyway.” Corwin aged out of the reaping last year when he had turned nineteen, making me the only Mason family member in the reaping tomorrow.
Exasperated, he throws his hands up. “Yeah, I would have. In the end it’s a game, Jo. All these other kids are playing it, and to not play it means you die. Everyone in and outside that arena does everything in their power to physically and psychologically overwhelm you, and so yeah. I would put up a fight against that, for you and Ashen and mother and father. We might not get a choice if we want to play the game, but we have to play it anyway to survive.”
My eyes burn with tears. I know he’s right, but the heaviness of what he’s saying feels like a pile of bricks sitting on my lungs. “There has to be something we can do to change this,” I say, exasperated. “This can’t be all that life is. Working ourselves to the bone for scraps. Having to sit here and talk about whether we would rather lose our humanity by murdering another human being for the thrill of the Capitol or go to our death in the arena. It’s fucking disgusting.” I take an angry drag on the last stub of the cigarette and stamp it out on the ground.
“Jo,” Corwin warns sternly, his polite way of reminding me to keep my treasonous thoughts in my head. I dig my fingernails into my palms, leaving four little half moon indents in the skin on each of them.
With that, he stands and reaches down to help me up. We go to our shared bed and he lays beside me, his breathing slowing as he falls asleep. I lay there for the rest of the night, our conversation ringing in my head.
⤱⤱⤱
The morning at my house blurs together as my family tries to brave their emotions for me. Even Ashen does his best to hide his tears as I get ready. My mother pulls out a green velvet dress for me with buttons running down the front of it. I make a face at it, but the strained look on her face is making my stomach churn, so I put it on anyway. She pins my cropped brown hair back behind my head. Each family member takes their turn giving me hugs and kisses. As I stand in the entryway ready to leave, I take in the sight of the four people I love most in the world. Their faces are full of anguish, and I blow them all a kiss before I step out.
“I love you all.”
Selin is waiting on her front step with her mother. Our families will be in the audience at the reaping, but once we leave our houses today there is no guarantee we will see them again. Selin has tears streaming down her face as her mother squeezes her tight, and then I gently pry her off and take her hand. She sobs as we walk away, her little hand gripping tight to mine.
More children appear as we approach the city center, and I see a few people my age huddled just outside the square. At the sight of me, their faces turn into sneers.
“Hey Mason, I heard the mayor rigged it so only your name is in the bowl,” jeers Thalen Greaves, a stocky boy whose muscles ripple as he moves. Thalen comes from the wealthy part of town; his father is a key informant to the Creed family, the Capitol family who runs most of District 7’s industry. Thalen is the result of a lot of spoiling and in turn, he is an A-grade asshole.
I bare my teeth at him. “Hey Thalen, I heard your daddy paid to take yours out because he thought you were too soft to make it.” His friends hoot at this, and he takes a step forward to square up with me. His friend Passon tries to grab his shoulder to pull him back, but Thalen wrenches his arm away and towers over me.
“Watch it, Mason.”
I smile up at him. “Bite me.” I elbow him in the gut faster than he can react and jump out of the way as he doubles over in pain. I grab Selin’s hand and quickly walk away before he gets back up. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the mayor standing on the other side of the square, watching me with narrowed eyes. I turn and face him, giving him a little curtsy as I join the queue for the check-in. The scowl on his face deepens as he turns away from me.
The mayor’s gripe against me started when I began spending time with his daughter, Livia. And as Livia and I grew closer, our friendship eventually turned into more. And when he inevitably caught us together, he charged at me, waving a fist in my face and grabbing a hold of my throat. His threat was that if I didn’t stay away from his daughter, he would have me killed, and shoot the bullet himself.
It was all bullshit since he couldn’t expose me without exposing his own daughter. While our relationship would mean nothing different if we were Capitol citizens, in the districts we could be strung up for not doing our fair share to produce more slave offspring. Every now and then there are a few men and women who hang in the square for their “unseemly” and “illegal” behavior.
Even though Livia never spoke to me again after that incident, the mayor still holds that hatred for me so deeply that everyone around town can see it, in turn tainting everyone else’s perception of me. Not that his help is needed - my abrasiveness turned most away since I was little.
Selin and I make our way to check in and then are corralled to our pens, separated by age and gender. Before we part, I lean down to give her a big hug. “I’ll see you after,” I whisper. She gives me a tearful nod as she is ushered away by a Peacekeeper.
In my section, most of the girls give me a wide berth as they stand in clusters, whispering amongst each other. I see Livia standing in a group on my left, dressed in a beautiful satiny peach dress. She catches me watching her and we meet each other's eyes. My heart quickens as I stare into her dark brown eyes, and it's all I can do not to push my way over to her. But she made her choice when she sided with her father. So instead I mouth “Good luck,” and she gives me a small nod in return.
My attention is pulled back to the front as someone taps on the microphone. A thin man dressed in the most bizarre suit I have ever seen stands with his hands on his hips as a wide smile spreads on his face. Viello Marquis has run the show of the District 7 reaping for as long as I can remember. His high voice paired with his elaborate Capitol outfits always makes him a sight to be seen. This year, his green hair is gelled into an elaborate swirl on his head, and his suit is colored to match, the entire thing encrusted with emeralds. His eyes have large white circles painted around them with orange eyeliner on his lids, and butterfly earrings, made from dead monarch butterflies, dangle from his ears.
He clears his throat, and his high voice rings through the microphone. “Hello again, District 7, and welcome to the 71st Annual Hunger Games!” There’s a smattering of applause as he continues to grin. “Before we get this party started, let’s all take a moment to remember why we are here.” He turns his attention to the screen as the yearly Capitol video begins, talking about Panem and the rebellion and how the Hunger Games keep us united and all that bullshit. I catch Livia looking over at me, her eyebrows raised, and I mime wiping away tears from my eyes, mimicking Viello on stage. She lets out a little giggle that she covers with her hand, and her friend elbows her to shut up.
As the video comes to a close, Viello wipes some tears from his eyes. “What a touching story, it gets me every time.” He composes himself after a deep breath, and then his dazzling smile returns. “And now, it is my privilege to choose the two individuals who will have the honor of making your district proud!”
He walks over to the first bowl, full of small paper slips. His hand hovers over the bowl before digging in, grabbing a slip with his sharp pink nails that look like they could maim someone. He heads back to the microphone, giggling with glee.
“The moment we have all been waiting for. Representing our ladies, we have…” He pauses to unfold the slip, and silence falls over the crowd. We are all collectively holding our breath, hoping beyond hope that it isn’t us. I say a silent plea that Silen is spared. She has one slip in there, it can’t possibly be her. He holds up the slip and reads the name.
“Johanna Mason.”
Chapter Text
When I was five, my mother took me out on a snowy day to walk by the river that runs through District 7. There were often deer that milled around on the banks, and my favorite thing to do was watch them play around in the snow.
On this day, my mother used some of the meager pay she had earned at the factory to buy me a hot chocolate from the market, a luxury normally reserved only for birthdays. Her hand was loosely wrapped in mine as we walked, and she pointed out all the different trees around us, describing what they were used for and explaining what my father did with them.
I spotted a deer munching on a few berries by the riverbanks, and I wrenched myself out of my mother’s grip and sprinted towards it. The deer startled upon hearing me thundering toward it and leaped across the river in a long graceful stride. I kept running full speed ahead, blocking out my mother’s shouts in my chase. I ran straight onto the ice-covered river, and it cracked me right into the water.
The icy water pricked my skin, bone-shatteringly cold. The only light was coming from the hole where I fell, a single tunnel to follow amid the darkness. My body froze in place, and, not knowing how to swim, I felt myself gently sinking as the current began to pull me away. I remember looking up and seeing my mom’s face over the hole; her mouth was open as if she was screaming for me, but the water muted her cries as she desperately reached in to yank me out of the water.
That underwater sensation is how I feel at this moment. I know everyone is looking at me, and I can faintly hear my family’s screams for me, but it all just feels like the current is trying to carry me away into the darkness. My body is still as everyone parts around me and the cameras zoom in to project my dazed face onto every screen. I feel my lungs tighten without breath, the feeling of drowning on dry land.
I snap back into it when I feel a hand on my wrist, the sounds crashing around me as I hear the murmuring of the crowd. Viello’s sparkling suit glints in the sunlight, blinding me as I look up at him. Then I turn my head to the source of the hand on my wrist. Livia is next to me, gently holding my arm as I get my bearings. She slowly walks me towards the center aisle.
I search over the crowd for my family, trying to quell the feelings of panic in my chest. I spot Corwin towering above everyone, fighting his way to the front of the crowd. We meet eyes for one moment, and then I see him mouth “ Play the game .”
My mind spins, trying to process everything. Play the game . I have this one moment to decide how I want to play these games. Every district, every member of the Capitol, and every other tribute will watch this moment and use it to determine who they will be up against in the fight to the death. Am I strong-willed? Confident? Apathetic?
So I begin to cry.
Not just cry, I begin to wail. I let my heavy sobs and screams continue as the Peacekeepers yank me away from Livia and practically carry me on stage. I grip onto Viello’s arm as he leads me to center stage, not bothering to wipe away the snot dripping from my nose. His face wrinkles slightly in disgust, and he takes a green handkerchief from his pocket and places it in my hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Johanna Mason!”
There is no applause, but it isn’t silent either. Everyone is exchanging confused glances between themselves and whispering to the person next to them. I know what they are saying about me - the Johanna Mason they know is not the kind of person to fall apart on national television. Between my fake sobs, I look back to where my family is standing. My father’s arms are wrapped around Ashen and my mother, who both lean into him and drench his shirt in tears. Corwin stands, his jaw set, and upon meeting my gaze, he gives me the smallest nod.
Unfazed by the hubbub in the audience, Viello flounces over to the other bowl. “Don’t worry, boys, I didn’t forget about you!” He quips as he reaches his hand down into the bowl. His fingers dig around until they grab their victim. He unfolds the slip, humming the Capitol anthem as he does so. Finally, he leans over to the microphone.
“And for our lovely boys, we have…” He pauses, reveling in the attention he receives from the anticipation.
“Thalen Greaves.”
My body stiffens at the announcement, a tendril of nausea snaking its way through my stomach. I spot him slowly walking down the aisle, his friends patting his back as he passes by. His face is emotionless as he comes onto the stage, and he stares blankly into Viello’s eyes as he is announced once again as the tribute.
I feel a gentle push at my back as a Peacekeeper nudges me towards him. Viello claps in delight. “Alright you two, let’s see a handshake!” Thalen is in front of me then, just as we were an hour prior. This time, though, his face is unreadable. His hand limply connects with mine as we perform a loose handshake.
Then the mayor steps forward to do his own customary handshake with the tributes. He clasps his hands over Thalen’s, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Then he steps in front of me, taking in my damp face and snotty nose. When we connect hands, a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “Best of luck, Mason,” he whispers, quiet enough to avoid getting picked up by the microphones. “Livia and I will be sure to watch your…performance.”
My jaw clenches, but I exhale to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a response. I shake his hand, squeezing it beneath my grip as hard as I can. I let my face crumple once again into a teary meltdown. A few Peacekeepers pull Thalen and I off the stage and into the City Hall building as Viello closes out the show. The doors slam shut behind us, and the room falls into silence as we both look around, avoiding each other’s gaze.
City Hall is normally reserved for Peacekeepers and the mayor. Rarely are District citizens allowed in here, and usually, if someone comes in, they don't come back out, at least not alive. Despite its spaciousness, it isn’t much; the walls are a drab beige color, and the floor a musty carpet matted down from years of dirty boots stamping on it. It connects directly to the train platform that Peacekeepers use to come and go between the Capitol, separated only by a thin door that lets in a cool draft. All of this is made up for by the large, arching ceiling criss-crossed with beautiful dark wood logs. The elegance is out of place in the otherwise unassuming room.
This isn’t my first time here, despite my current attempt to pretend for the cameras that it is. Livia and I snuck in during the middle of the night using her father’s keys, stifling our giggles as we crept into the dark space. In retrospect, we were fools; breaking into City Hall was grounds for some serious punishment from the Peacekeepers. But we were fools in love. We wanted to experience life and act on our impulses, pretend for one minute that we were something more than disposable. I know behind one of these locked doors that this main room leads to is her father’s office, and in his office is a wobbly wooden desk.
“Jo, shut up or we’re going to get caught,” Livia chides as she fumbles to get the key into the lock. I bite back another laugh and focus my attention on the arching ceilings above me. My eyes scan over the craftsmanship of the logs, their flawless coloration and measurement a sight to behold.
Livia breaks me out of my daze by poking me in the side. I swat at her hand as she pulls me into the room, closing the door behind us. Dim light from the moon filters in through a small rectangular window at the top of the wall, illuminating the space just enough that we can see each other’s faces.
I spin Livia back around to face me and press my lips to hers, and she wraps her arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. Then she abruptly pulls back and crawls onto the floor beneath the desk. I sigh and follow her, both of us laying on our backs underneath the rickety wooden table.
“What are you doing, crazy girl?” I whisper. I feel her hand bumping into mine as she fumbles in her pocket, and then she pulls out a small whittling knife. She reaches up and begins scratching on the wood with it. She works for a minute, and I strain my eyes to see what she is doing beneath her hand. Finally, she pulls away and reveals her masterpiece.
“Ta da,” she hums, pleased with herself. I run my fingers along the letters she carved, feeling each indent.
J + L
I roll onto my side and give her a long kiss. Our silent rebellion beneath the moonlight. Our ‘fuck you’ to the Capitol. “Us against the world, Livie.”
I’m jolted from my memory when the door swings open, blinding me with the bright sunshine that leaks in. Through the light, I see my family running towards me. Their arms wrap around me, and I fall into their embrace. I quickly scan the room to see if there are any cameras, and upon spotting one in the corner, I let more tears begin to fall as I squeeze my mother, father, Ashen, and Selin.
Ashen grips my arm, his nails leaving small moon-shaped indents along my skin. He isn’t able to choke out many words between his sobs. My heart aches as I kneel and hug him, kissing his cheeks and forehead and wiping his tears. I stand up and look between my mother and father. They both give me kisses, but neither has much to say beyond “I love yous.”
Selin, who is standing outside of the circle of my family, slowly steps towards me, her arms clutched across her body in fear. Her deep brown skin is covered head-to-toe with goosebumps. I sweep her into a big hug, gently rubbing small circles on her back.
“You’re going to come back, right, Jo?” She whispers into my ear, her voice wobbling. “Right?” I nod and run a thumb across her face to wipe away a tear. I don’t say anything else, because no words seem like they would fit the space.
A minute passes before there are calls that it is time for me to go. As a Peacekeeper comes to grab my family, Corwin steps in front of me and gives me his hug. I feel his breath on my ear as he whispers, “Play smart, Jo, and be careful.” He pulls away, kisses me on my forehead, and then throws his hands up at the Peacekeeper trying to pull him away. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
I watch their five heads walk out the door, and I feel like a hole in my chest has grown, threatening to devour me. Glancing at Thalen, I see him giving similar emotional goodbyes to his own family, though the Peacekeepers are much less pushy about pulling them away. I start to walk towards the train car, but stop in my tracks when I hear a voice yelling behind me. “Wait, Jo! Wait!”
I see a small figure sprinting towards me and barely have time to identify her before she runs straight into me, her arms wrapped around me in a fierce embrace. She is whispering “I’m sorry” over and over against my chest.
I lean down, her coiled black curls tickling my nose as I smell the sweet scent of her soap that lingers in her hair. “Livie, how did you get back here?”
She pulls back, but her hands remain gripped on my biceps. “We only have a minute before my father finds me. Jo, you have to come back. You can’t…” Her voice breaks. “You can’t die. I need you to come back. Us against the world, right?”
I nod, biting my lip to hold back the sob threatening to break loose. She reaches into her pocket with shaky hands and presses something into my palm. “Your token, for the arena.” I slip the object into my dress pocket and then run my hands through her hair. I grab the back of her neck and tilt her head up to look at me, running my thumb along her dark skin. I lean down and lock my lips onto hers, a few tears finally falling at the familiarity of the embrace. I feel her make a soft squeak of surprise before softening against me. Cameras be damned, because all I need right now is Livia’s face against mine.
We hear an angry yell and jump apart as the mayor strides into the room, his face snarled in fury. She looks at me, panic in her eyes as I start to step backwards toward the train. “I will see you soon, Livie,” I say, dropping her hands and giving her a small smile. She takes a deep breath before nodding at me, giving me a final pleading look.
“You better.”
Before the mayor can make it over to us, I quickly slink over to the Peacekeeper waiting by the train car and duck into the entryway. I glance behind me one more time to see Livia’s father screaming at her glazed-over face. Then I turn around, wipe the tears off my face, and walk towards my fate.
Chapter Text
I don’t like trains.
Like, I really don’t like them.
It isn’t so much the motion sickness, though my stomach is still lurching at every turn. It’s the speed. The world is flying by outside the window at speeds higher than I have ever seen, definitely way faster than the transport vans we use back home. It’s impossible to even figure out where we are beyond identifying it as a forest or a field. There is no regard for admiring the beauty of the scenery, only the desire to get where and what is wanted efficiently.
Uncomfortable silence hovers between Thalen and I as the train barrels onward. We are sitting across from each other, me staring out the window and him looking down at his hands on the table. The ornate interior of the train car features a stunning glass chandelier, polished silver dishware, and an array of beautifully frosted breads and desserts spread on a table. My stomach clenches at the thought of eating anything, and I turn my back to the table to avoid even thinking about food again.
Right now, the train car is empty besides the two of us. No one has spoken to us since we left the station an hour ago. Having time to sit has allowed the shock and sadness of the morning to switch to an even more intense emotion: Anger. The fury building in my chest is threatening to explode into a destructive rage if I can’t find something to take it out on.
I watch Thalen fidget with a ring on his right hand, spinning it around and around his finger. Each time he spins it it gently bumps against the table, making a click each time it hits. The repetitive sound claws at my brain, and it is the final nail that pushes me over the edge.
I kick my foot against his shin, and his attention shifts over to me. “I think you were right,” I say. “I’m pretty sure the mayor did actually rig it in my favor.”
The expression that takes over his face indicates that he is not in a joking mood. “We are not doing this, Mason.”
“Aw, but this was good news for you!” I goad. “It seems like your daddy doesn’t think you're soft after all.”
He slams his hands on the table, rattling the glasses and knocking a few pieces of silverware onto the floor. The outburst makes me flinch, but I maintain our eye contact, letting his glare bore holes into me. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?” He growls. I shrug, and that causes him to hop out of his seat and let out an infuriated laugh. He clenches his hands into fists and takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Of course you do. And what the fuck even was that back there?”
“I have no clue what you could possibly mean,” I say innocently.
He scoffs. “Please. You,” he waves his hands up and down as he indicates to me. “Are not whatever that was. The sweet girl in the pretty green dress who just can’t believe she was reaped. That’s such bullshit Mason, and we both know it. No amount of fake tears can make me believe otherwise.”
“Maybe I am absolutely heartbroken,” I say, forcing up some tears and letting my words wobble. “You don’t know me.”
He spins in a circle with his hands gripping at the hair on his head, biting his tongue to hold back a scream of frustration. “When are you going to cut the act and admit you are actually scared? You have just as many people to lose as I do. Stop pretending you don’t give a shit when I know that you do.”
I bring my face back to normal, needing to get in one final blow with the rage burning in my chest. “At least I can die knowing I didn’t spend my life sucking up to the people who put me in the arena.”
It hits a nerve. His face burns red, but instead of lashing out at me, I see tears begin to well in his eyes. He wipes them away angrily, then looks me dead in the eye. “Fuck you, Johanna.” With that, he storms away and slams the train car door shut behind him.
⤱⤱⤱
A few minutes later, the same door slides open and Viello marches in, followed by a tall man whose brown eyes gaze at me curiously. His features are overall pretty plain, and he appears to be around his early to mid-30s. I recognize him, if only from seeing him during his yearly appearance on the reaping stage, but I must have completely missed his presence this morning.
“Johanna,” Viello chirps in that too-high voice. “This is Blight, your mentor.”
Blight leans down to shake my hand, and his hand is firm in mine. I wait for him to say something, but we all sit there in a beat of silence, the rumbling of the train the only thing occupying the air. Our eyes meet and he gives me a small nod of acknowledgement.
District 7 has had a few victors over the years, but Blight is the only one who remains. He’s been a mentor for almost 20 years, and has been doing it solo since our one female victor died ten years ago. From the tired look on his face, I can only imagine how hard it is being the sole carrier of that kind of responsibility.
Viello chuckles nervously in the silence. “Well, I see we aren’t a chatty crowd, now are we?” Blight and I break our handshake and look back at Viello, who is anxiously fiddling with an unkempt strand of green hair.
I shake my head at this, wrinkling my nose and rolling my eyes. “And you can’t seem to shut up. It seems like we are a perfect team.” Viello makes a harumph noise and gives me an indignant look before heading back the way he came, undoubtedly off to see if Thalen is a more dignified tribute.
Blight and I look at each other briefly and then burst into a fit of laughter. “He’s fragile, be a little gentler,” Blight chides. I bite back another laugh and shake my head.
“I can’t wait until he finds out that Thalen might be even worse than me,” I chuckle. Our laughter dies, and we both sit in contemplative silence. I glance at him then.
“I am going to fight, you know.” I whisper this for some reason, maybe hoping that if I don’t speak it too loud that what it means to win won’t be as horrible as it is. He nods at me, his solemn face giving away nothing about how he feels about this.
“That’s what they all say,” he murmurs. Before I can respond to this, the car door slides open again and Viello sashays into the room with Thalen on his heels. To my surprise, Thalen is smiling with Viello, who is looking positively pleased that at least one of his tributes is amiable.
Viello claps his hands at the group. “Let’s eat!”
⤱⤱⤱
That evening, we all hunker down in front of the television to watch the Capitol program that shows the reapings for each district. My stomach starts to churn. I put Livia in jeopardy for kissing her in front of cameras, and who knows what kind of target could be put on my back if that’s aired.
I wipe my clammy hands against my dress fabric and force myself to tune in. Viello and Blight are filling in more information on the districts as the screen begins to cycle through the districts.
“District 1 is known for their luxuries,” Viello begins as the tributes are flashed across the screen. Both are very tall and muscular, but what catches my attention is the rosiness in their full cheeks. Like it’s exhilarating to be sent to their death. “They create this diamond face cream that is to die for .”
A beat of silence as we all look between each other, Viello clueless to the irony of his words.
Blight fills in the empty space as the screen transitions onward. “District 1, 2, and 4 usually team up into a ruthless killing alliance. The Careers.”
We watch in silence for a bit, filtering through the first six districts. My mind starts wandering again around District 3, only half listening to Viello and Blight’s commentary. I could have put Livia in trouble.
I snap back into the present when I see the familiar setting of District 7, the stage backdropped by beautiful looming trees with sunlight breaking through. As we watch the events of only just this morning, Thalen gives me a pointed glare as my weeping face is projected across the screen. Viello lets out a sigh when he sees my tears, lifting his hand to wipe a few of his own away. “You poor girl.”
I hold my breath as we switch to the scenes of our goodbyes, but to my surprise Livia isn’t included, just my family and Selin. I release the tension in my body. Maybe they didn’t get it on camera.
I lose focus again as we cycle through the remainder of the districts, my mind back on that train platform with Livia, her lips against mine, her touch, her smell.
The screen fades to the Panem logo as the program ends, and the four of us sit there in the dim light from the television in a moment of quiet. It’s broken by Viello, who bids us goodnight and bounces away.
Blight finally speaks to both of us without the presence of Viello hanging over us. “I’m here for both of you to strategize and talk things over with. We can do it all together or separately. My best advice now is try to eat and sleep as much as you can, you will need it once you’re in there.”
We both nod, and at that he pats both of our shoulders and leaves the car as well. It’s just Thalen and I again, but this time neither of us have any jabs for each other. Without a word, he stands up and follows Blight, slamming the door behind him.
I stand up and walk over to the window, the bright moon illuminating the blurred landscape outside. A sharp turn causes me to stumble a bit, and the token Livia gave me falls out of my pocket. I bend down to pick it up. It’s a small necklace, the chain made of a silver material that must have cost a fortune. Hanging from it is a small dark wooden pendant carved in the shape of a wolf.
The moon is bright as we walk hand in hand across the forest floor. We make little noise beyond our footfalls, and the clamor of the district is behind us as we walk through the restricted forest area.
Suddenly, Livia grabs my hand to stop me in my tracks. “Look,” she hisses, pointing straight ahead. I squint in the darkness and see a wolf silhouetted by the moon.
Together, we watch it sniff the ground, and then let out a big howl into the air. The hair stands straight up on my skin in awe and fear of this beautiful creature. We both hold our breath until it runs off into the woods.
Wolves are rare to see anywhere in Panem after they were hunted to near extinction during the rebellion, especially this close to the district center. We stand there even after it’s gone, our foreheads pressed together as we both cry a little at the luck of our day.
My eyes fill with tears as I rub my fingers over the details of the wolf, feeling every carving and curve. I fold the chain up and slip it back into my pocket. With a heavy heart, I leave the room and walk towards my sleeping cubby.
As I walk down the dimly lit hallway, I’m stopped by a noise through the door on my left. I press my ear against it, and through the door I hear Thalen's choking sobs. He’s crying so hard he is retching, the horrible sound ringing in my ears. I step back and quickly move away, unable to stand the sound of his grief.
Chapter Text
I wake up in the morning to Viello tapping rapidly on my door, announcing our arrival to the Capitol. I don’t remember falling asleep, but at some point exhaustion must have taken over. I take a deep breath before getting up, settling into myself and bringing back the quiet, unassuming girl that I presented to Panem. Let the games begin.
I change into the all-black provided t-shirt and pants, and then quietly head out of my door and step up to the big bay window in the dining area. The towering buildings glitter in the morning sunlight, their elegance and beauty momentarily blinding as they reflect off the big lake next to it. But after shielding my eyes to the light, I see how dull the buildings are in actuality; soulless concrete and glass buildings built more for grandiosity than craftsmanship. The buildings in District 7 are much more beautiful in my opinion, despite being more modest in size and stature, due to the care that our citizens put into their work in building it.
I feel Thalen’s presence next to me as he too squints out the window. His expression gives nothing away, but my eyes linger for a moment on the bags under his red eyes, the only indication of his private breakdown. Our train glides through a tunnel, and when we reappear there are thousands of Capitol citizens standing on the train platform, each cheering and pushing through each other to get a glimpse at the tributes.
I inhale deeply through my nose to avoid showing my disgust, and then I reach my hands up to shyly play with my hair and pull it across to slightly cover my face. My expression remains fairly neutral, but I do pull my bottom lip back to bite at it.
Thalen glances over at me and scowls, but if he has anything to say he doesn’t say it. Honestly, the scowl works for him; it makes him look brooding, and with his height and muscular build, he could pass for a Career if he wanted. He would probably fit right in, based on his family’s proximity and chumminess to the Capitol.
The train pulls to a stop and Peacekeepers board to bring us through the crowd. The people around us are all dressed in similarly elaborate getup like Viello, each immeasurably ugly in their own way. We make it to our destination, a tall, 12-floor building, and the doors close behind us and block out the noise. We are led to a glass elevator, and Viello pushes the button “7” with a flourish.
“Each district gets their own floor. I am so jealous of Effie, she gets the penthouse with those filthy District 12 kids.” He goes on for the entire short ride to the floor, and the four of us head into the space.
It’s just as elaborate as the train car, only with much more room. Milling around are Avoxes, who Viello says will “wait on our every need.” He shows us to our rooms, massive things that feel too large for one person. I see on Thalen’s face what must be reflected on mine, the awe at what is normalized for people in the Capitol. Even with a family as rich as his, they are still nothing compared to Capitol wealth.
Viello says that our stylist team will be up soon to prepare us for the parade tonight, and then he vanishes, Blight along with him.
“Scared yet?” Thalen whispers, even his quiet voice echoing around the room.
“Never.”
⤱⤱⤱
I barely have any time in my room before three eccentric Capitol stylists come fluttering into my room. They whisk me off and throw me into a sickly sweet smelling shower. Afterwards, they strip me down and begin to wax my body of hair inch by painful inch.
They tell me their names but I don’t bother to remember them. They all are clearly representing District 7 in a gaudy way with their green outfits featuring fake leaves and bark patterns. They keep passing looks of disgust between each other as they work on my body, three little hummingbirds flitting around me.
Finally, they declare me presentable. “Freesia will see you soon!” A female bird says before they all hurry away. I step in front of a mirror and examine my naked body; it doesn’t even look like me, with makeup covering up scars from stray cuts from work and the lack of my layer of body hair to keep me warm. My face is covered in a layer of perfectly applied creams and colors that they smudged above my eye. I look too unnaturally clean and perfect.
I don’t have to wait long until a tall oaf of a woman comes barreling into the room. I’ve seen enough tribute parades to know she is responsible for the abysmal outfits District 7 tributes wear each year. Sure enough, the woman whips out a scratchy looking brown and green outfit that resembles a tree.
Her voice is deeper than I expected, a low, gravelly sound. “Let me know if it’s too big. We had to make a smaller one for that 13-year-old last year so we should have one that fits. It took so much extra work.” She spits. I hide my shiver of disgust that I am wearing a dead person’s clothes.
Freesia is gone before I can think of a reply. I look down at the fabric in front of me. The dress is made of mostly mesh material with what look like actual twigs sticking off of it. The straps and headpiece are a scratchy, sparkly fabric that fluffs out in resemblance to tree leaves. It’s hideous, but with a sigh I pull it on.
⤱⤱⤱
Viello meets Blight and I at the District 7 parade chariot. Blight escorted me down the elevator to the parade start. Upon seeing my getup, he made a disapproving noise. “Damn Freesia never does anything new.” I thought Thalen would be with us, but Blight mentioned that Viello would bring him down to meet us.
And he’s hard to miss.
Thalen’s stature is so tall that he towers above everyone like a small tree himself, wearing similarly atrocious garb to my own. He has a look on his face that suggests he’s ready to bite Viello’s head off, who is standing next to him speaking rapidly about something vapid.
I glance around at the other districts to see if they look as miserable as us. District 12 has their same coal miner look each year, but besides that everyone else is wearing clothes that flatter them. I suppose that my uninspiring outfit will help me blend in even more and not draw attention to myself, but it’s so itchy that I can barely manage to not rip it off. I start to use my newly buffed and polished fingernails to itch through the fabric, but at that moment Freesia swoops in out of nowhere and slaps my hand.
“Don’t scratch, it will rip it and then you’ll be in for it.” Her breath smells sickly sweet from the desserts she has been indulging in, and has the faintest stench of alcohol wafting off her. It’s all I can do not to gag.
“Because that would be so horrible,” I mumble under my breath, but she vanishes just as quickly as she appeared, not hearing my retort. A signal from the front of the line indicates that the parade is about to begin, and Blight holds out his hand to help me step into the chariot.
He leans up to whisper to me before we are off. “Keep the tears small and your posture smaller. Blend in.” The District 6 chariot heads off, and then we are moving out of the tunnel and into the streets of the Capitol.
People are screaming from all sides, cameras flashing bright in our faces. I look up at the screen and see Thalen and I projected across it. Next to him in these outfits I look so much noticeably smaller than him, and the crowd notices it too. They shout his name, and he responds with a few waves and smiles.
“Still sucking up, I see.” I mutter, quietly enough that only we can hear. His smile tightens, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the crowd.
“You could learn a lesson or two.”
I glance back at the screen and watch myself as I fold my arms across my chest to hug myself. I muster a few tears and quickly wipe them away. A few Capitol people notice me, and I see them turn to each other and say things along the lines of “what a sweet girl” or “she reminds me of my kid.” I am basically a shadow now thanks to Thalen’s hulking form, and I keep it that way as the chariot comes to a halt in a large circle, all 12 district chariots in an arc facing the pulpit where the President of Panem stands.
I never paid much attention to President Snow as a kid; he wasn’t as funny looking as the rest of the Capitol with his boring gray suit and the little rose always stuck on his lapel. Even today I am more distracted by the burning on my arms from my sleeves than I am focused on his speech. I sit here wiggling my toes as he speaks, breathing through my nose and clenching my fists to avoid digging my nails into my skin.
I hear the roar of applause once President Snow finishes his droning speech and the chariot jolts back to action, pulling us back through the streets to the tribute building. My eyes begin to burn at the effort to avoid itching, and once the chariot pulls out of the line of sight of the Capitol citizens I let my hands loose on my arms, letting out my frustration and rage at the uncomfortableness on my skin.
Without waiting for Freesia, Blight, or Viello, I dash into the elevator before anyone notices I am missing. My fingernails rake over the fabric, but the relief isn’t enough. I claw my hands at my back, trying and failing to find the zipper to this damn outfit. I am so engrossed in this that I don’t notice another person slip into the elevator as the doors begin to close.
The other person alerts me to their presence by letting out a low chuckle at my predicament. I clench my jaw and lift my head to glare at him. A tall, toned man stands across from me, practically radiating the sun with his tanned skin and bronze-colored hair. He can’t be much older than me, but he isn’t wearing the elaborate parade garb of a tribute, and he is definitely not Capitol. He watches me with his arms crossed and leaned against the glass side on the elevator, a smirk playing at his lips. This sends my rage over the edge.
“Make yourself useful and unzip me?” I snap as the elevator begins to move. He bites his lip to hold back a smile and motions for me to spin. I feel his strong hands fiddle for the tiny zipper on the dress.
His breath is hot on my ear as he begins to tug on the zipper. “You are quite feisty for a girl who just cried for all of Panem,” he teases, his hands dragging the zipper down my back. “You look much better out of the shadows.” This sends a shiver of fear through me, my body tensing at his touch.
His hands pull away and I feel air hit my back. “Ta da.” I waste no time in immediately pulling my arms out of the sleeves and I hold the bodice against my chest. The skin along my arms is bright red and irritated, and I sigh as the cool air hits my skin. At that moment, the elevator lurches to a stop, a red error light flashing where the floor number should be. The quick stop causes me to stumble, and I reflexively reach my hands out to maintain my balance.
The man clears his throat. “I’m flattered, but don’t you think you’re coming on too strong? I’m afraid I’m not interested in you like that, what with you being on death’s door and all. Seems messy.” I suddenly realize with horror that my entire chest is out, the top having fallen away when I balanced myself. My hands reach up to cover up my breasts, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I begin to feel the rising sensation of panic in my chest.
I force myself to make eye contact with the man, and then I see he has a wide, cheeky grin on his face, obviously amused by his own joke and my discomfort. His eyes crinkle at the corners, making their sea-green color sparkle bright. His straight, white smile fits in with the rest of his dazzling beauty. And then my brain clicks into who he is, my face dawning with recognition.
“Oh, I know you!” I yelp. His grin gets even wider.
“I suppose that’s only fair considering I know you,” says Finnick Odair, victor from District 4. I was right in my estimate; he is only three years older than me, but won the Hunger Games six years ago when he was fourteen. I was only eleven at the time, so I don’t remember much about his games, but when he came to District 7 on his victory tour, the one thing I remembered about him was how unnaturally bright his smile looked.
He tilts his head at me as I put the pieces together, and suddenly a lump of dread settles in my stomach. He must see the concern pass over my face, and raises a hand to wave it off. “Don’t worry, I won’t share your…” He raises an eyebrow at my current state. “Fascinating alter ego with my tributes. There is something very interesting about you, Tree Girl” The elevator lurches upward again, and continues a very short ride to the fourth floor. When the door dings open, he pulls his shirt off and tosses it at me, giving me a wink. “Cover up, sweetie. Wouldn’t want anyone else to get the wrong idea.”
As the doors close, I watch him saunter away with his torso now bare. I blink a few times in confusion, my brain trying to process what the fuck just happened. And then, I pull on the shirt.
Chapter Text
I sit on the 7th floor balcony that overlooks the city, watching the party from the parade begin to peter out at the end of the night. There’s a light breeze drafting through, a nice wind of fresh air.
After I dipped out after the parade, I shut myself into my room until everyone else went to their beds. The quietness of the balcony, even with the roars of the Capitol below, is a nice respite from the past 24 hours.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, a shiver running through me as a cold gust whips at me. I pull my arms against my chest to protect them from the cold. The soft fabric of Finnick’s shirt keeps my body nice and warm. I was going to take it off since I could get in trouble for wearing it, but it is the nicest fabric I have ever felt and I couldn't bring myself to do it.
With my eyes closed, I take in another deep breath through my nose. I jump when a shoe scuffs the ground near me and look over to see Thalen standing uncertainly in the doorway. His hand hovers on the handle and he begins to take a step back inside.
“You can stay,” I surprise myself by saying, and I can tell he is just as shocked. He slowly steps forward and closes the door behind him. I rest my chin on my knees and look up at the sky.
“It’s so weird to me that the Capitol gets the same sky as we do,” I say as Thalen settles uncomfortably onto the ground on the other side of the balcony area. “Their lives are so different you’d think they’d want their own flashy sky too.”
He snorts, and I turn my head to look at him. I’m struck by how small he looks beneath the stars, like a little boy standing in a shadow. I watch him fiddle with the ring he was spinning on the train. It’s a beautiful ring, polished oak wood with gold hammered around it.
I point at it. “It’s beautiful.”
He bites his lip, training his eyes on the motion of his fingers as he twirls it. “My father and I made it.” I must make a face, because he scowls at me. “He isn’t all bad. I know you make him out to be this big villain, but to me he’s just…he’s my father.”
“I don’t think he’s a villain, I just think that he’s a district traitor and Capitol sellout.”
“So a villain.”
“I suppose so, yes.” We sit for a moment, him staring at his ring and me staring at him. Finally, he lets out a big sigh and relents to my questioning look.
“Despite what you might think my life was, it wasn’t all that great. Nobody wanted to be my friend, beyond the other kids with better-off families, because they felt the same way as you. I still worked forest, same as you, even if he negotiated a better assignment. But what you said on the train was right; he did think I was weak. He would…” he trails off, then shakes his head. “Anyway, he might not have worked in the industry but he knew a few tricks of the trade, and growing up he taught me how to do this. He wasn’t the best parent, he wasn’t even a good one, but he is my memory of Seven and I don’t want to lose that in the arena.” He chuckles dryly. “And isn’t that fucking sad. Even my best memories are reminders that I am worthless.”
Neither of us says another word as we stare out over the city. Finally, he stands up and walks back inside as if nothing had happened, and I soon follow and give in to sleep.
⤱⤱⤱
The next morning, Thalen’s icy demeanor towards me has returned, and I am still reeling from the whiplash as we ride in silence down the elevator to the basement for the first of three days of training.
Prior to leaving, I pulled Blight aside and briefed him on everything that I had done thus far. He pondered for a moment on the strategy. “You know how to use an axe, I’m guessing?”
“I know how to use it to cut a log, not kill a person.” He gives me a sad look.
“It really isn’t that different, in the end.” The sentence hovers between us before he continues. “Don’t show your cards to anyone, including the Gamemakers. Take the time to study your opponents, especially the Careers, and learn their weaknesses. You could be the best fighter in the world for all I care, but if you don’t have the smarts it’s going to be hard.”
With Blight’s advice still bouncing around my head, we step out into the training facility. It’s sleekly futuristic, with racks of weapons scattered throughout and other skill stations, like camouflage, knot tying, and fire starting, pressed against the sides. We join the crowd of tributes and stand in front of a tall woman, who introduces herself as Atala and launches into a spiel about the ways we can die in the arena and the rules of the Training Center.
As she talks, I slightly turn my head each way to begin to capture tribute groupings and put districts to faces. The two blond tributes from District 1 I clock immediately, remembering them vividly from the reaping videos. Lush - I remember the boy’s name, and I rack my name to pull up the girl’s - Azure. I’m still trying to decide if I even want to remember names when the crowd breaks as tributes head to their stations. I watch the two District 1 tributes giddily run to the sword station.
I scan the room for a place to go, and decide on a small skill station tucked against the wall that will give me a good vantage point to see across the room. I walk over, and a small unremarkable woman who introduces herself as Lazaelia begins her spiel on plant identification. I mostly tune her out, favoring watching the room instead.
While the District 1 tributes are slicing up practice dummies, I spot the District 2 tributes at the knife station, throwing them with speed and accuracy that makes my heart race. Lazaelia finally catches on that I’m not listening and follows my gaze to them.
“Quite remarkable, isn’t it? Wythe’s brother came through here a few years ago. I’ve never seen anyone quite like him.” The admiration in her voice irritates me, and I continue to ignore her as if she hadn’t spoken. Capitol citizens are going to be Capitol citizens, even if their job is to help me.
But she surprises me when she continues. “They might be physically stronger than everyone here, but I’ve seen more Careers die from exposure, or eating the wrong berry or plant than I have of them getting stabbed. So, can I please teach you something while you are here?”
I turn around and study her for a moment. Her mousy brown hair is tied back into a tight bun, but the only thing that betrays her as Capitol is the eye makeup that makes her hazel eyes look gigantic. “Okay then. Show me what you got”
Thrilled with a rapt audience, she jumps back into her spiel, showing me the differences between toxic and safe mushrooms, a variety of berries that would kill me on the spot, and some other common plants, like dandelions, that have edible components. It is actually useful; I recognize a few plants just from spending time in the woods, but they are otherwise unfamiliar to me.
Satisfied with her work, she lets me sit at her station to observe, busying herself with cleaning everything up again. I scan the room for Thalen, spotting him clumsily following Atala’s instructions for fighting with a sword. He tries to parry her sword, but each attempt ends with her wooden practice blade at his throat.
He has an audience as well - Wythe as well as the District 4 tributes are standing a station over, with Wythe pretending to stab into the female tribute and her miming bleeding out. My stomach churns, and I have to swallow back the bile I feel rising in my throat.
It’s remarkable how similar the District 4 tributes look to Finnick, each with sandy hair and bright blue eyes. I observe them head to the trident station, each adeptly throwing them at moving targets. That’s how Finnick won his games - he used his District skills in the arena.
While the Careers are busy flaunting their abilities, the other tributes are faring much worse. In similar fashion to Thalen, they fumble through some weapon training, but no one strikes my attention except one girl at the spear station. She’s thin, like everyone in the non-Career districts, but strikingly tall and muscular. She handles the long spear as if she’s been wielding her whole life, and I make a mental note to keep an eye on her.
When lunch comes - a delicious beef in gravy - all of the tributes besides the Careers huddle by themselves or with their District partners. I sit at the end of the long table, keeping my gaze averted from everyone. No one seems to notice me.
And that’s how the next two days of training go. I find a skill station on the side to camp out at, learn a thing or two about starting a fire or how to use different knots, and observe. I begin to pick out the weaknesses of the Careers. Lush is strong in hand-to-hand combat, but cannot throw a blade on target. Azure can wield smaller blades, but she doesn’t have the strength to fend off someone larger than her. Wythe is beastly but slow to react, and his district partner, Mercia, has great aim but horrific hand-to-hand combat. The District 4 tributes, whose names I learned from loud conversations during lunch are Vinny and Yona, are a harder puzzle to solve. If they have weaknesses, they are keeping them close to their chests.
The surprise to me is the girl I noticed on the first day being exceptional at hand-to-hand combat. She can hold Atala back and she’s quick too, which I didn’t expect due to her size. From what I’ve gathered, she’s from District 10, so my best guess is she learned it from working with cattle. I’m not the only one who noticed her - the Careers keep their eyes on her, passing looks of approval between themselves when she does something impressive.
Since the night on the rooftop, Thalen has been avoiding me, purposefully skipping any meals if I am there and staying as far away from me as possible in the Training Center. I should be happy; we have hated each other our whole lives, and there’s no reason to stop now. But I can’t stop thinking about what he said. Even my best memories are reminders that I am worthless. My family is my whole life, I can’t imagine not having them.
My nights are spent sitting moodily around the table and choking down food while Viello drones on about whatever new trend is making its way around the Capitol. I mostly tune him out, but I still pick up a few fashion tips. The color blue - out. Thick black eyeliner - in. Cow print - definitely in. After we eat, I briefly chat with Blight about what I’ve learned, but otherwise I spend my nights sitting on the balcony, watching the lights of the Capitol slowly fade to black as people go to sleep.
While I sit out there, I hold the necklace from Livia, running my finger over the details. I try not to let the rage boil in me, but I can’t help it. I want to scream at her for leaving me for so long and hold her because I want her close. Mostly, I just want the chance to do both, and I know that I will probably not get that chance.
My family is always on my mind at nights too. Thinking about them makes the loneliness set in; I want Ashen’s tight hugs and Thalen’s arm slung over my shoulder and dad’s jokes and mom’s forehead kisses. I want Selin’s big eyes looking up at me every day. These tears I cry away from the prying eyes of the Capitol are just for us - me, my family, and Livia. These are ours and only ours, and the Capitol will never get their greedy hands on these.
Chapter Text
“You have to be good, but not too good, bad but not too bad. A 5 or a 6 maybe, nothing that will immediately mark you as extraordinary and nothing that will mark you as an easy target. You could try…”
I stare out the window while Blight discusses in a slightly panicked voice a strategy for showing my skills for the Gamemaker ratings. I haven’t thought through it much even though it’s only a few hours away. My head has been throbbing all day worrying about it.
“Johanna. Johanna?” Blight is snapping fingers in front of my face and I jolt back to the conversation. “Did you even listen to anything I said?”
I close my eyes briefly and nod. “Be average. Yeah, I got it.”
I hear him sigh as he places a hand on my shoulder. “You will be fine.” And then he walks off to talk through Thalen’s strategy elsewhere.
The constant vigilance of playing my character is draining me. And even though there are days where I want to wipe the stupid grin off of Lush’s face, I know that my life very well could depend on tiptoeing this fine line of looking weak and forgettable.
A buzzer goes off, signalling it’s time for us to head to the training floor. We convene next to the elevator, and Blight gives us both a nod of encouragement as we step in and it drops us down. Thalen is nervously clenching and unclenching his fists and taking noticeable breaths in and out. I nudge his leg with my foot.
“You’ll be fine. Play to your strengths.”
He looks at me but doesn’t say anything, and we both step out into a room of tributes, all sitting quietly around a table. Once everyone has arrived, a speaker calls for the boy tribute from District 1, Lush, to enter. He smugly looks around the room before stepping through the doors, which swing shut ominously behind him. After he is done, the girl District 1 tribute goes, and then the boy from District 2, and so on. By District 3 I am already getting antsy. How can people from District 12 stand it?
Finally, they call Thalen’s name, and he nervously walks towards the doors. Before he enters, he looks back and makes eye contact with me. I give him a small smile of encouragement, and that seems to give him the strength to walk through the door.
I jump when, after twenty minutes or so, the speaker booms back to life. “Johanna Mason.” I swallow down the lump of anxiety that has grown in my throat and begin the journey through the doors. The Gamemakers are up above the training area, looking on with fading interest as I walk forward.
I scan the area, trying to quickly decide what I am going to do. I didn’t spend much time with the weapons to avoid drawing too much attention to myself, but now I don’t know what skill to showcase.
My memory recalls time spent in District 7, where Corwin and I used to draw targets on the trees and throw knives at them, making it a competition of who could get closest. I would win every time, and he would always accuse me of cheating before tackling me to the ground.
I make my way to the knife station, picking up a few of them by the hilts. They are heavier and sharper than the ones we used at home, which were rusty dull knives we stole from our kitchen. I grip the handle and, turning towards the target, throw it with all my might at one of the targets in front of me. It hits in the outside ring, and with a quick glance at the Gamemakers, they don’t seem particularly interested at all. I do this again and again, hitting the target in various locations that aren’t the center and missing a few all together. Finally, my buzzer goes off, and I quickly scurry out of the room.
In the elevator, I slump against the wall, willing my pounding heart to slow down. I take the rest of the afternoon before the score presentation alone in my room, drifting in and out of an anxious sleep before Viello taps on my door to tell me to come out. I groan, but oblige and head to the television, which already has Blight, Viello, and Thalen huddled around it.
The Panem anthem sounds as Caesar Flickerman, the announcer for all things Hunger Games, walks on the stage to the roar of applause. He talks briefly about what the scores mean, and then they begin to flash on the screen as he announces them. Lush scores a 10, Azure a 9, and all the other Careers follow suit with similarly high scores. The rest range on the low-to-middle end, with very few outliers.
Thalen’s face flashes on the screen as Caesar reaches District 7. The room collectively holds our breath as the number 8 flashes on the screen. We all let out a few claps, and I see his face flush and small wisp of a smile pass over it. Then I see my own face, closely followed by the number 6. I release a sigh of relief, knowing that my 6 will hide amongst all the other numbers. We wait for the end of the program, watching the low numbers pass by. There are a few 2s and 3s scattered throughout, making them much easier targets than me.
The girl from District 10, who Caesar announces as Carina, shows on the screen followed by an 11, which is the highest score of the night. Blight lets out a low whistle. “Now that’s putting a target on your back.”
My stomach lurches again. Who am I to think I even have a shot at this against someone like Carina, or Lush, or Wythe, or Yona? They’re twice my size and could take me down one-handed.
Thalen must notice my body tense up because he taps his thigh against mine. The touch brings me back down from the panic and I slowly take a deep breath and take my leave.
⤱⤱⤱
“Oh dear,” is all that Viello says when he sees our interview outfits. Thalen and I are standing side-by-side in equally horrific outfits, his a puke green suit that is so tight it looks like he might burst out of it, and mine a forest green dress that has a lovely velvet top with gold embossments but also has a skirt that looks like someone stapled fake leaves the whole way down. It crinkles with each step I take, but at least it isn’t as itchy as the parade outfit.
We are in a large waiting area that leads to the stage. All the other tributes are huddled by district except the Careers, who are obnoxiously laughing in the middle of the room. As Thalen, Blight, and Viello go over his interview planning again, I take a small walk over to the doorway to try to get a glimpse at the stage.
“You’re not living down your nickname, Tree Girl.” I whip around in surprise to be met by a big dazzling grin.
“Don’t you have some tributes to be coaching?” I snap at Finnick. He holds his hands back in a “Don’t shoot” position.
“I wanted to say hello and wish you luck. On your interview and, well… what comes after that.” He trails off and his face drops, but he quickly recovers after a beat. “Anyway, I figured we were that kind of close, y’know? You did share a lot of very private details with me.” He chuckles to himself at that.
I clench my fists, and keep my voice to a forceful whisper to not draw attention. “You don’t want to be friends with a dead girl, Finnick. Your tributes will probably kill me themselves.”
He considers this, his face dropping the grin he normally has plastered on. Without that, I suddenly see how tired he looks. His eyes have dark rings underneath them and his eyelids look heavy on his face. He catches me staring and gives me a soft smile.
"I'm rooting for you, Tree Girl.” With that, he walks out of the room towards the audience, and I stare after him for a moment before turning back to my group.
My team welcomes me back as I rejoin them, and Blight pulls me aside to go over my final strategy. We hear the roar of applause and glance up at the screen in the waiting area. Caesar Flickerman walks onstage to cheers, his suit a burgundy color with hair to match. I swallow down the lump in my throat as Viello places his hand on my shoulder.
“Just be yourself, Johanna.” I hear Thalen let out a snort from behind us, but he busies himself with his tie as I shoot him a glare. Peacekeepers are motioning for Blight to leave the room, and all the tributes are placed into a line in ascending district order.
As we stand with our backs against the wall, Thalen leans over. “Mason, whatever you do, do not be yourself.”
I bite back a smile, resorting instead to chewing on my lip. “Can you imagine? ‘Johanna tell us about yourself.’ ‘Fuck you.’” We both let out a giggle and are immediately hushed by the Peacekeepers.
I watch Azure step onto the stage in a form-fitting silky dress. She is radiant, and the crowd knows it too; roses are flying onto the stage as she gives the audience a smile. She settles on a couch across from Caesar.
“So Azure, tell me, do your brains match your beauty?”
She lets out a sweet giggle. “I’m smarter than any other tribute, and I look good doing it.” That earns another round of cheers. I look away from the screen, unable to watch another second of her pandering. I suppose she is playing the game too, but my disgust for the Capitol would never let me stoop as low.
I pick at the polish on my fingernails as she exits, Lush enters, and the interviews continue on. I keep shifting forward in line, my stomach twisting with each step towards the stage. It will be the first time I have to actually speak in front of the crowd, and I’m working hard to keep my resolve from crumbling around me.
The male tribute from District 6 walks onto the stage and I become painfully aware that nothing is now standing between me and the stage. I clench my fists and breathe deep, trying to quell the anxiety in my stomach.
Thalen nudges me with his elbow. “Three more minutes Mason. Hold it together for three more minutes,” he murmurs. I nod at him. Three minutes is nothing. Three minutes is less than hacking off a branch. Three minutes is less than waiting for the transport van and much less than the ride back to town. Three minutes is less than quality checks after work. Less than my goodbyes with my family. Just three minutes.
Applause, and then I’m being pushed towards the stage by the Peacekeepers. I frantically look back at Thalen, and he mouths “be yourself” and smiles. His reassuring joke relaxes me and I become more steady on my feet as I walk onto the stage. Caesar greets me with a beaming smile and stands up to help me to my seat.
“Hello dear, you look stunning tonight! Don’t you agree, Panem?” The crowd cheers, but it is noticeably less enthusiastic than when Azure entered the stage. I give him a small smile, but my voice feels trapped in my throat, unable to give any response. Once the crowd quiets down, he turns back to me.
“So Johanna, or Jo, as I hear you go by, we all saw the touching scene with your family back in your district. Tell us more about them.”
I bite my lip, painfully aware of the thousands of eyes trained on me. More if you count those watching on from the Districts. I feel like my head is full of cotton, unable to form any thoughts to send to my mouth.And then I think of my family. Of Ashen’s unkempt hair that always was sticking up in all directions, of Corwin’s firm guidance as he shows me more efficient ways to cut logs, of mom’s humming while she cooks, or dad’s horribly cheesy jokes. Of Selin’s big, innocent eyes.
Of Livia’s mouth on mine.
And finally, the words come to me. “I love them and miss them terribly. They are my purpose. They are my everything. Without them, I don’t think life is worth it.”
The audience makes “aw” noises as Caesar clutches a hand over his heart. “We all can feel just how connected you are with your family.” A lie, but whatever. As if anyone here knows the bond of unconditional love. “I imagine they are your reason for fighting to get home.” I nod, and he smiles back at me.
So far, I have been able to manage this. I look at the timer off to the side, which shows one more minute remaining. One more question.
Caesar leans forward. “Does this family of yours include a special someone? A beautiful girl like you must have a man in her life.” The audience roars back to life with applause, then quiets, hanging on anxiously to every word that comes out of my mouth.
I can picture Livia miles away, a grin shooting across her face. “Talk your way out of this one, Mason,” I can hear her saying. I give a small, inconspicuous shake of my head, and shoot Caesar a wry smile. “Now Caesar, I don’t kiss and tell.”
With this, the audience erupts into cheers, and Caesar stands to motion my time to leave. “Miss Johanna Mason of District 7, everyone!” I make a quick exit off the stage, finally allowing myself to breathe. My forehead is coated in sweat from the bright, hot lights, and the cool night air makes me shiver. Thalen passes me on his way to the stage, and as I pass him, I mouth “be yourself.”
As I step off to the side to watch his interview, I feel a presence besides me. Finnick is staring out at the stage, no indication that he is paying any attention to me, but his next words are directed at me. “Not bad, Tree Girl.”
The audience is considerably more excited for Thalen, and I don’t blame them. He is a stunning figure, and with his large and muscular physique, as well as his high score, actually looks like a good candidate to be competitive in the games. Caesar greets him, and once the crowd settles, asks him a question or two about his Gamemaker score.
He looks relaxed, which makes sense, considering the amount of public appearances he made with his father in front of Capitol audiences growing up. It may be a facade, but he wears his confidence well.
I watch Caesar lean in again, as if whispering a secret to Thalen. “I hear you have someone special back home. What would you say to her if she were here now?” I furrow my brow. I have no recollection of Thalen being with anyone, but then again I am not in tune with the gossip of the town, especially where he is concerned. I am not exactly anyone’s first choice to share news with.
Thalen gives a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Maybe I imagine it, but I swear he even glances over my direction. “I don’t know if she would want to hear from me. We left things pretty poorly,” he chuckles. Caesar reaches out a reassuring hand, urging him to continue. “I guess I would say that I miss her. And that even if I’m not her first choice, I think we could have built something special. She means the world to me, and I don’t care if she doesn’t feel the same.”
The audience is lapping up his words, eagerly hoping that there is more. And then, this time I’m positive he did, he looks over at me before looking Caesar directly in the eyes.
“And the last thing I would say is that I hope I can make it home so I can marry her.”
Chapter Text
To say the crowd went wild is an understatement. Thalen’s confession sparked feral cheering from both women and men alike in the audience. I hear a low whistle from behind me as Finnick watches on. “Now that’s a smart kid.”
Caesar mimics their outrage on his face, eating up the cheers for a moment before gesturing for them to quiet down.
“You’re supposed to marry this girl?” Caesar asks sympathetically. Thalen nods, putting on a small smile. The crowd screams again as Caesar reaches his hand out and puts it on Thalen’s knee. “Then we have to get you back to her, don’t we Panem?” A cheer roars out in response as Thalen’s time ends and he leaves the stage, quickly speeding past me in a beeline for the elevator. I don’t even notice the District 8 girl head onto the stage as I turn to find him.
I watch his head weave and bob through the room and disappear. I’m not the only one watching - Finnick has also cast an eye over his shoulder.
“There’s nothing these people eat up more than a beautiful young man in love,” he whispers. His voice has taken on a pained edge, holding both a cry and a warning behind it. “The more heartbroken, the better.” He shakes his head then walks away from the stage and back to his tributes.
I shove through the rest of the crowd from the remaining districts and ride the elevator to the top floor. The doors open and I see Blight and Thalen straight ahead of me. Blight is murmuring something as Thalen’s shoulders shake with sobs. The moment feels too private to be a part of, something that is not my place to see. I try to close the elevator doors immediately to head back down, but they ding open, alerting both of the men to my presence.
At the sight of me, Thalen turns on his heel and walks away, quickly using the sleeve of his horrible suit to wipe at his eyes. Blight gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well done, Johanna. Get some rest tonight. You’re going to need it.” I nod, and he pads softly down the hallway and disappears into his room.
I turn back to where Thalen disappeared, and see the door to the balcony is slightly ajar. Quietly, I walk over and step through the door. He is leaning against the railing, staring out over the bright lights of the Capitol. I take a few hesitant steps to stand beside him, hearing him sniffle over the sound of the wind.
The silence is broken by Thalen, who puts a hand up to rub his eyes. “What are you doing out here Mason? Did you just want to see me cry?”
I open my mouth, then close it, because I don’t have an answer to this question. Why did I come out here? He and I aren’t friends. We are the opposite and have been our whole lives. Tomorrow we might be in situations where we have to kill each other. And yet here I am, standing next to the person who did nothing but terrorize me back home, not because I want to see him cry, but because I don’t want him to be alone while he does.
Even my best memories are reminders that I am worthless.
“I want to give you a memory where you feel like you mean something. That these moments out here make you feel less alone.” He doesn’t respond, only sniffles again and rubs his eyes. I don’t look over at him, knowing he would hate to be watched in this condition. “Who is she?”
He chuckles dryly and shakes his head. “Come on Mason.”
I throw my hands up. “What do you have to lose, Thalen? I’m going to be dead, it’s not like I can do anything about it anyway. At least feed my curiosity.”
He takes a deep breath, gripping the railing until his knuckles turn white. I wait for a moment then finally let my eyes wander to look at him. To my surprise, his stare directly back into mine.
“Did you ever wonder why I hated you?”
I shrug. “I figured it was because I was better than you and it made you mad.”
He rolls his eyes, but then his face settles into a sad smile. “When you grow up the way my family did, with more money than everyone else, you want that to stay in the family. To marry people who will help keep your family in power, because if you lose your power you are at risk of becoming like everyone else, underfed and overworked. That’s how I was raised, with this idea that everyone I was around needed to be good enough for my family.
“You knew all the kids I hung out with, kids of merchants or factory managers. Everyone who amassed any kind of power in the district. And they were all horrible people. But there was one friend who was better than the rest, who actually saw me for who I am.” He pauses the story here, anxiously wringing his hands. I try to picture all his friends' faces from when we were younger, but I can’t imagine any of those people caring for anyone beyond themselves.
And then I recall a memory, so faint I can barely bring back the details.
I’m standing at the edge of a field, watching all of the other kids from school run around and chase each other. Even though I was 10 and likely too old for games, I still wanted to be included. My body hugged itself, feeling sad that nobody had wanted to play with me. I’m about to go sit down and hide somewhere when I feel a tap of something light bouncing off my shoulder. I turned around, but no one was there.
“Psst, up here!” A voice whispered. I looked up, and a small girl was sitting in the tree above me, another pinecone poised to drop on my shoulder. Her black hair coiled in tight curls around her face, and her eyes were shiny with mischief. She hopped out of the tree and dropped down next to me, a grin on her face. “I’m Livia, but you can call me Livie,” she chirped. I smiled widely at her, my grin displaying a few missing teeth.
“I’m Johanna, but you can call me Jo.”
That’s where that memory normally ends for me, because that was the best part. But today, I remember more.
“Hey Livie, I found another big pine-” the voice of the young boy trailed off as he rounded the corner to see Livia beaming while standing next to me. “Who’s this?”
“This is Jo! Jo, this is Thalen, he’s my neighbor.”
Thalen's eyes narrowed at me. “I’m not allowed to play with town trash,” he growled, taking a step towards me. I stumbled backwards, but Livia jumped between us.
“Be nice, Thalen,” she chided. He met her eyes and softened, acquiescing to her pleas. She smiled again and ran off, both of us jumping into action to follow her.
I meet his eyes, as if he can see the memory playing through my head. “Livia?”
He closes his eyes at her name. “She was my best friend and suddenly she’s hanging out with this new girl. The kind of person my father always said to never be around because if the Capitol didn’t like them, neither should we. She’s not around anymore because she preferred spending time with you.” He spits this out, his voice venomous. I tense and prepare to leave if he strikes out, like he would have at any point over the past years. Instead, his body collapses in on itself.
“I was in love with her even then, I think. I didn’t even know what love was, but I knew it was her. And then when I turned sixteen, my dad told me that he and the mayor had an arrangement that Livia and I would be married when we were past reaping age, to preserve the standing of our families. And of course I was happy to marry the girl of my dreams. She finally started spending time with me again, and it felt like things were back to normal between us. I thought that maybe, maybe she might love me too. Because I still believed in stupid things like love. A world full of reapings and arenas and I still believed in love.” His voice cracks, tears streaming down his face.
“And then one day, she shows up and is completely unresponsive to me. She won’t say anything, her eyes all red like she’s been crying. I pleaded for her to tell me what was wrong, but she just said over and over that I didn’t want to know. And maybe I should have listened, but I kept pressing until she finally exploded at me. She told me what happened and what her father did. That she was in love with you.
“And finally it all made sense. She was never in love with me. She only ever had eyes for you. Even if she was forced to marry me, I would never, ever live up to you.”
We are both statues, looking into each other’s eyes, standing face to face with the person we have spent our whole life hating.
“I…” I begin, but trail off as I realize I don’t have anything to say. He shakes his head, his face pinching as he tries to stop the tears.
“You don’t have to say anything. I blamed you for my own failings, for blindly believing you weren’t worth my time and that cost me her friendship. She didn’t owe me that.”
Something still sticks in my mind. “You said you are still going to marry. On the stage.”
He shrugs. “I was. After everything that happened with you and her, her father was even more adamant about it. I guess…I don’t know Mason. But you have to realize she could never have you.”
The blow stings, and I scoff at him. “Rich, coming from someone who wanted to trap her in a marriage she didn’t want. She was my only friend for years, Thalen, and you still were selfish enough to want her for yourself.” The tension sits between us, the hatred that we had for all those years peeking its head out, waiting for its chance to explode like it has time and time again.
But this time, he sighs and releases the tension from his shoulders, letting them droop. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” We stare out in contemplative silence at the city below, the lights shining bright as the celebrations continue on.
“I suppose it doesn’t.”
He steps back from the railing and turns to meet my gaze. I see years of hatred and malice towards me ebbing away, until I’m staring into the eyes of someone I don’t know anymore. “Good luck in there, Jo.”
He disappears inside, leaving me to shudder at the first, and likely last, time he used my nickname.
⤱⤱⤱
My stomach churns as I lay in bed, from both the conversation and the nerves about the arena. My exhaustion eventually wins out, but my sleep is anything but peaceful. My nightmares drift between visions of Livia and my family and Thalen all in the arena, staring up at me with glazed eyes as they bleed out. Finnick saying the Capital loves broken boys in love. Thalen’s eyes as he calls me Jo. Lush’s face twisting into a smirk as he throws a spear right through my chest.
I wake up with a gasp, and the early morning light is just beginning to filter in through the windows. Goosebumps line my arm, and I put a hand up to my forehead to wipe the sweat away. I slowly climb out of bed to check the hallway, and bump into Blight just as he is coming to grab me.
“Come eat, Johanna.” I follow him, and the display of food in front of me is nauseating. I force myself to eat anyway, choking down some yogurt and pastries. The morning speeds by, a whirlwind of people flitting about and zipping me into my outfit for the arena.
It’s a dark brown zip up, the fabric fairly thick and warm but not too much that it would be difficult to dry. The outside is a slippery shell, likely water resistant. I look in the mirror before I leave; I look like I could be right back in Seven, hiding among the trees.
The floor is empty by the time I have to go. Blight is meeting us at the arena, and Thalen is nowhere to be seen, likely already to the loading area. I sigh, take a look around the floor, and exit down the elevator for the last time.
I’m sheparded immediately by Peacekeepers to a hovercraft, where I am strapped in and unable to get out (so nobody throws themself off, most likely). All of the tributes avoid meeting each other’s eyes, and I look down the row to see Thalen, head bowed and eyes closed. Peacekeepers inject us with a tracker, a sharp pain shooting into my arm.
From where I am, I can just barely peek out the side of the hovercraft and over the city. The skyline, its mountains and lakes, fades behind us as we venture out into the open plains, where shells of past arenas lay dormant. Museums, where Capitol citizens can reenact the brutal highlights of the victors. Will my death be just another replay for them to imitate?
My stomach lurches as we quickly drop, the walls darkening as we descend to a landing pad deep underground. Peacekeepers unload us, each of us disappearing into a room quickly to avoid others seeing our locations.
The room is stark white empty, apart from the cylinder tube with the starting pedestal and a timer countdown on a screen in the corner. I consider getting to it and smashing it, using the shards to bleed myself out and not have to die a gruesome death.
But I can’t. I have to try, for my family. I have to make them proud.
The timer ticks down the minutes, and I pace around the room, taking deep breaths to avoid throwing up the food I ate earlier. I’m so deep in my head that I don’t notice the door clicking open.
“Johanna,” Blight says, pulling me out of my stupor. His eyes are dark-rimmed, and I’m struck in this moment by how old he looks. He’s not that much older than me but he looks like he’s lived a lifetime after watching us kids die year after year.
He steps over to me, and we do what we do best: silence. He wraps me into a warm hug, and I start to tremble with fear as he gently pats my back.
“I’m going to die in there,” I squeak out breathlessly, my eyes wide with panic as the reality of the situation hits me.
He shakes his head, trying his best to reassure me. “If anyone can do this, it’s you. They aren’t gunning for you. Just do what you do best. You’re Johanna Mason, after all. Feistiest girl in Seven.” He holds both my hands, giving them a squeeze. “I have to go to Thalen now, but I wanted to give this back to you. It was approved for the arena.”
He pulls my necklace out of his pocket, the thin gold chain glinting as he pulls it around my neck. The wolf hangs in front of my heart, and I reach my hand up to rub my fingers against it. A little piece of Livia just for me.
Before he goes, he gives me one last hug. The timer has two minutes left, and I watch the seconds tick down. I’m glad that I am the one that will leave this room alone, and not Thalen. It’s fitting for me to leave this world by myself, with Livia’s love close to my chest. I tuck the necklace beneath my top, and as the timer indicates 30 seconds, I step into the tube.
I close my eyes and hum the tune my family would always sing at nighttime when I was younger.
All we need is each other
The trees and the bees
A world of wonder
For you and me
We will be with you
Through thick and thin
Side-by-side together
Though evil may be comin'
Sleep my darlings, knowing we are near
To watch you this night
And when the axe finally falls
We will hold each other tight
The cylinder slides closed, and I keep humming the tune with tears welling in my eyes as the pedestal begins to rise.
Notes:
Marathon training has gotten the best of me when it comes to writing this, but it will soon be over.
Chapter Text
The first thing I notice is the trees.
On all sides of our clearing is a dense forest, primarily pines, casting dark shadows beneath them. The ground is glistening with dew, a mossy bed for quiet footsteps. No thick brush to cut through. Exposed yet silent. It looks like every forest I’ve ever been in, like every tree I’ve climbed.
It looks like home.
The clearing we are in grabs my attention as the sun glints off the water, blinding me. Our pedestals are surrounded on all sides by a wide, shallow stream, water gurgling by in tiny, swirling rapids. We are in an arc around the cornucopia, rocks jutting out with various items along them on the way to the cornucopia.
The cornucopia sits as the base of a thundering waterfall tumbling off a steep cliff. Water splashes down its sides, creating a dense mist around the mouth and the piles of food, weapons, and supplies within it.
My heart hammers wildly in my chest as the timer begins to count down. I look frantically down the line, sizing up who is next to me. I don’t recognize the two tributes on either side, but Lush is close by, and Yona as well on the other side. Their eyes are focused straight ahead, ready to sprint into the bloodbath.
I frantically try to remember what my plan was - avoid the bloodbath, try to get some supplies if I can run fast enough, and get out. But I hone in on that axe, sitting perfectly on the pile, and I know in my soul I have to get it if I want to win this.
Thirty seconds.
I try to find Thalen, but the light is too blinding to see all the way down the arc. The sunshine is hot on my skin, especially in this warm outfit.
Twenty seconds.
My chest is constricting so tightly I feel like I might stop breathing. All sound falls away as my heartbeat thunders in my ears.
Ten seconds.
I briefly close my eyes, letting my family flash in front of my face. Then I open them, and set my sights on one target.
Go.
I splash into the water, making a straight beeline for my destination. I’m quicker than them, used to dashing through running streams with slippery stones. I snatch a backpack off a rock as I go, hopping quickly to avoid any sharp protruding rocks beneath me.
I breach the mist at the mouth of the cornucopia, the crashing footsteps through the water indicate that they are behind me. The realization dawns on me then that I might have cornered myself in here, trapped on all sides. But I grip my hands around the axe, familiar in my hands after years of practice. Blight’s words ring through my head: ”It really isn’t that different, in the end.”
The first tribute that I spot through the mist isn’t one of the Careers; it’s Carina, who immediately grabs a long and heavy sword. She spots me at the same time as I her, and before she can bear down on me a shape darts between us. Yona nimbly sprints in and grabs a spear, turning to assess her surroundings. She sees both of us, quickly looking back and forth before deciding to take on Carina. I stumble backwards to begin my exit as she takes on the bigger threat, and I quickly spin around to sprint away. As I do, I collide with a large body. It’s hard to see what is going on with the watery haze, so I only see his face when he comes charging at me. Lush swipes at me with a knife, and I duck out of the way. I see a clear path in front of me towards the woods. For a second, I consider staying and fighting, but the sound of screaming and bodies dropping in the water tells me I’m outnumbered. The water swirling around my feet runs red with blood. The next time Lush swings at me, I dodge it and kick the back of his knee. He groans in pain, and then lets out a growl of annoyence, blindly slicing at me as I sprint past him. I feel the metal graze my leg, but I don’t look down, willing my legs to run faster as I splash through the stream and onto shore.
The mossy floor deafens my steps as I blaze through the trees, not daring to look behind me as I put distance between myself and the cornucopia. The screaming fades the further I run, my lungs burning as I push them to their limit. After what feels like hours, I stop and slump against a tree, gasping for breath and getting a grasp of my surroundings.
The branches on these pines are high, leaving the ground open and exposed. Soft needles litter the floor, and the air is muggy. I wipe off my forehead, and start to shiver as the sweat on my body dries. I can’t stay here; I know better than anyone how far away you can see people in these woods.
I look up, but the branches above me are out of reach and swirl in my vision as I try to catch my breath. As the adrenaline weans, a throbbing pain ebbs from my leg. I brush my hand over the source of it, and it comes back bloody. A gash runs across my shin, but doesn’t seem to be deeper than surface level.
The sun starts to dip - either I stayed here too long or the days are shorter here - and that urges me to finally stand up. There’s still no one around me that I can see, so I quickly walk around, stepping lightly even though the pine needles muffle my footsteps. Most of the branches are too high to reach, which isn’t dissimilar from back home. We usually used ladders or stools to reach the high branches if we needed them. The trunk is sticky with sap, gluing to my hands as I try to find any sort of grip that I can use to haul myself up inside the branches.
Frustrated, I rub my face in my hands, instantly regretting it as the smell of sap coats my face. If I were just a little bit taller, I could reach the branches and get off the floor. I begin to walk in a different direction, keeping my ears alert for any noise, when I finally see it: a felled tree on its side. I almost yelp in excitement before thinking better of it and jog over. The trunk is slippery from the damp moss covering it, but us Seven kids used to play games on these kinds of logs, daring each other to balance across deep streams. I step up, throwing my arms out to balance, and then look up.
If I can reach the branch, I will be okay, but if I miss, I will likely fall on the trunk of this tree and sprain or break my leg. I swing the axe up and lodge it in the trunk so I can free my hands. Taking a deep breath, I crouch down and then leap up.
My fingertips grab onto the branch, the bark digging into my palms. I grit my teeth in effort as I throw a leg up over it, pulling myself onto the branch.
Pine needles assault me from all angles, but they are soft enough not to scrape me. I sit on the branch and lean my head back against the trunk. I’m exhausted, but the idea of sleeping is even more daunting.
I pull the backpack off and open it up. Its contents are basic - a canteen for water, a few hard bars of food, a flashlight, and a rope. I use the rope to wrap around my torso, but I feel pretty secure up here in the dense pine needle camouflage.
My head leans back and eyes close, and suddenly I am lurched awake in the dark, the Capitol anthem blaring throughout the arena. Faces of the lost are projected up in the sky. I count them as they go. Both from District 3 are gone. I figured all the Careers would still be alive, but to my surprise, Yona’s face is cast up in the sky. Girl from District 5. Boy from 6. I hold my breath as we pass 7, but Thalen’s face does not appear. Several more faces appear, but Carina’s does not. She likely got away after taking out Yona.
Eleven down, thirteen left.
Cold air seeps through the warm clothes, and I begin to shiver. I remember this from home too; when the muggy day faded to night, the air took on a chill. I pull my legs up to huddle in my warmth, and it helps a little but not much. I know someone is going to light a fire tonight, and it is going to blaze a light visible through the woods. I listen to see if I hear anyone, but the world is silent.
The silence is all-encompassing. Whereas at home, there was the chirp of birds, hoots of owls, buzzing of grasshoppers, here there is nothing but the heaviness of the air to keep you company. The quiet is unnatural and unnerving, the world waiting for someone to make a misstep, to snap a branch or speak too loudly.
It won’t be me.
I let the exhaustion win out over my body, and my eyes droop to sleep.
Notes:
Whoops, work got busy with EOY campaigns, and I forgot about this.
Chapter Text
“How did you manage to get so strong?” Livia sits on a fallen tree, her feet dangling over the three foot drop. I grin as I bring the axe down on the chunk of wood, splintering it in two.
“You could help me, you know?”
She giggles. “But then I couldn’t watch you!”
I toss both sides of the log into the ring we’ve formed with rocks, adding to the growing pile. She hops down and squats next to it, and a moment later a flame bursts to life. She lets out a little squeal as she steps back, her face lit up by the fire.
We stare at it together in silence, listening to it crackle as the flames eat at the wood. The chilly autumn air fills with warmth, hot air cocooning us in a warm embrace. Her hand finds mine as we watch.
We keep our ears alert for Peacekeepers - we went pretty deep into the forest, but you never know when they might be patrolling through and catch us in a restricted area. But for now, it’s just the two of us.
Livia breaks the silence first, her words soft. “They are so afraid of us, you know. Because of people like you.”
I scrunch up my face in confusion. “They have the guns, they have the soldiers, they have the power. They aren’t really afraid of a scrawny District kid.”
“Scrawny! Take that back,” she jests, giving my bicep a squeeze. The yellow glow dances across her face, flickering in and out of illumination. Then her face turns serious. “You have fire in you. You could burn the Capitol if you wanted to. Me? I’m a coward. If they find me out here, I’ll get a slap on the wrist. But you aren’t afraid of them like I am. Their power comes from you being afraid, not from the weapons they have. We can fight guns, but we can’t fight without feeling the fire.”
She gives me a kiss on the cheek, and goes and hops back up on her log. I stay stationary, watching the flames grow. She can’t hear me as I whisper under my breath, “I am afraid. But for you I would do anything.”
The flames extinguish quickly, Livia vanishes from the log, and I am surrounded in darkness, spinning helplessly in circles. Smoke curls up my nostrils, and I choke as it works its way to my lungs. I gasp for air, but every breath burns as more and more smoke comes in, blinding me as I fall to my knees and try to crawl to escape. But it’s smoke, everywhere I look, the fire extinguished and unable to guide me.
I snap awake, dim sunlight reaching through the trees as I regain my bearings. I take a deep breath to center myself, but the burning sensation from the dream doesn’t stop. It’s then I notice the cloud of smoke waving its way around me.
I frantically move my fingers to the rope holding me in place, hands shaking as I claw at the knot. When it releases, I grab my gear, then swing down off the tree to the ground. My eyes burn as the smoke touches them, and through my watering eyes I see the path that leads away from the smoke.
My legs start running before my brain tells them to, dashing through the woods blindly, narrowly dodging trees as they emerge in my line of sight. I can hardly breathe, bile rising in my throat. My leg catches on a log, and it sends me flying, landing hard on my chest. The pain radiates through my body, but I crawl myself back up to keep going.
I feel like I’ve been running forever when I finally emerge through the smoke, falling to my knees and violently coughing, trying to clear the debris from my lungs. The smoke behind me stops abruptly, as though it hit a wall, gray tendrils trying to reach out at me.
Each cough causes my bruised ribs to send sharp pains throughout my body. As my eyes finally stop watering, I manage to open them and survey my surroundings, my adrenaline on high alert.
The smoke pushed me into a small clearing in the woods, brightly lit in the sunshine. Webs of tree roots weave across the ground and the tall trees they lead to tower above me. The smoke rises behind me, but there appears to be nothing else here.
And then I hear the screaming.
It’s coming from the opposite side of where I came from. I see the flames before I see the person running from them. The wall of fire bears down on the clearing, and I frantically look for a way out, but the only way out is through the smoke. But as it nears the clearing, the fire hits the same wall that the smoke hit, flames lapping furiously against the invisible barrier, trying to break through.
The person running falls to the ground, gasping for air and moaning in pain. She’s a short girl with ginger hair, one I don’t recognize from training. Her skin is badly burned, her shoulders charred through the skin and down to the muscle.
She hasn’t seen me yet, so I slowly lean down to grab my axe off the ground and begin to stand up. I hold my breath, my heart beating furiously in my chest. We are trapped here, and the message from the Gamemakers is clear - only one of us gets to leave.
I begin to step softly around the perimeter of the clearing, moving to try to get behind her. She’s still hunched over on the ground, making the sounds of a wounded animal. My hand squeezes the hilt of my axe, adrenaline coursing through my veins. But I’m still weak and clouded from the smoke, and I stumble over a tree root before I can catch myself.
The girl’s burned face snaps up immediately, eyes darting around the clearing until they land on me. If I had any sense of self-preservation, I would have gone at her then and there while she was weaponless and vulnerable. Instead, I watch, paralyzed, as she reaches behind her to pull out a small knife.
Our eyes meet, and I almost step away in shock as I see the wildness in hers, the panic of a cornered animal. I’ve seen it before - a bear moving through the woods, the Peacekeepers surrounding it with rifles aimed, the bear lashing out with one more strike before being shot down. Right now, she’s the bear.
We begin to circle each other; she’s limping badly from a gashed open thigh wound. We watch each other, waiting until the other makes a mistake. I desperately search for something to give me the advantage, anything that will let me get out of this.
“Slow down, Thalen!” Livia squeals. I watch them run through the woods, jealousy weaving through my chest. They sprint by, and then I watch a shoe catch on a tree root and a gigantic boy go flying.
I need to get her to trip.
The roots are all over the ground, and already made me trip once before. Her legs are weaker than mine from her gash. If I made her run, she might be so blinded by panic that she doesn’t look. It’s the only thing I have.
I take a deep breath, and then run at her.
She immediately begins to backpedal, but without turning around, she doesn’t see the hazard at her feet. She twists as she falls, landing hard on her arms and knees, crying out as her bad leg hits the ground. Her knife skids across the ground, and I immediately jump to grab it off the ground.
Her body begins to shake, and as I cautiously move towards her, I hear her sobs and the whispering under her breath, “I’m sorry Mom, I’m sorry Jamie, I’m sorry Dad.” She isn’t moving, and isn't planning to get up. She just lays there, sending her goodbyes into the world.
My throat fills with bile watching her, this young girl who isn’t any different from me. She has family back home too. She’s loved by someone.
When she finally stops her mumbling, she rolls onto her side, looking at my stricken face. “Do it,” she spits. She crawls herself into a sitting position, tilting her neck to the side. Her burns ooze pus and blood, each breath causing her to wince in pain. “Just make it quick.”
I slowly move towards her, putting the blade of my axe next to her neck. She looks directly into my eyes; hers are the brown of pinecones and maple syrup, warm even through the bloodshot whites. Her jaw sets, but she doesn’t stop looking at me, her eyes boring into mine, flashing with pain, sadness, and determination. I can’t do it while looking her in the eyes. It makes her too real.
I let my eyelids close.
Then I swing.
MacAndcheeseM on Chapter 1 Fri 20 Jun 2025 02:45PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 20 Jun 2025 02:48PM UTC
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Gemtherunner on Chapter 1 Mon 23 Jun 2025 03:09AM UTC
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