Chapter Text
I wake up to Effie’s tapping at my door. I quickly hide the glass underneath my bed, scared of her reprimands – I’m not trying to die before I’ve even made it to the Capitol.
“Coming!” I call whilst I hastily change into a dark brown long-sleeve shirt with some black jeans and pull my hair up into a ponytail. The clothes feel odd on my skin, like they weren’t made for me. I desperately want to put my mother’s dress back on, but I know it’ll only make me vulnerable. I’m here to learn today, I need my mind clear. My head thumps rhythmically from the remnants of last night. Images of Haymitch’s disheveled state force their way into my mind, making my movements clumsy as I put on my shoes and open the door. I shake my thoughts clear. I need to pull myself together – he’s my mentor, for god’s sake.
I walk down the silver corridor, pulling my ponytail tighter as I walk. The smell of fresh toast is enough to starve me out of my thoughts. I still can’t wrap my head around the amount of food here – I’ve starved for years, a platform away from the privilege of not going to bed hungry. I bless my hangover for my lack of anger towards it all – I know not to underestimate surviving before I’ve even entered the arena.
I sit down at the table, still being shocked by how plush the chairs are since the only one I have at home is rickety and splintering. Aspen is already sitting down, eyes groggy from sleep, as I imagine mine are. Effie is already in her glam, today in a pale blue with a matching wig and snow-white nails, sitting down at one of the couches and sipping some tea. I’m reminded of what Hazel said once – “All that money and none of it on food” when we watched some Capitol show. I load my plate up with toast and butter them up. Butter is more of a rarity for me back home, especially salted butter, so the taste is a bit foreign to me. I pour myself a cup of coffee, but I’m not quite sure what I should add to it, since I’ve never had it, only ever watched the mayor sip on it whilst I helped nurse his wife. I decide on a teaspoon of sugar and a small bit of milk. The bitterness is harsh, but not so bad. Still, though, I chug it in one and it almost burns when it goes down my throat.
As I’m about halfway through my breakfast Haymitch stumbles in, still wearing what he wore the day before. Effie must have given up long ago, since she doesn’t reprimand him for it. He stumbles down into his chair and pours himself a drink. I look up at him, momentarily, finding it a little harder to swallow my toast. As he lifts his head I look back down at my plate. After pouring a cup of coffee – with a splash of something added – and having a bite of jam-covered toast he clears his throat and looks at me. I look wide-eyed at him, wondering if he’s forgotten our agreement last night.
“Do you know how to start a fire?” He asks. I take a deep breath in, releasing the tension in my body.
“Yes. I also know how to make one that doesn’t create much smoke.” Years of living independently by the forest and hunting taught me how to not get caught with game you shouldn’t have access to. Haymitch nods his head in approval and sips his coffee again, lost in thought. It dawns on me that he’s determined, before we’ve even got to the Capitol, that Aspen doesn’t have a chance. I don’t think he does either, but seeing the disappointment in his face that Haymitch has abandoned him, I can’t help but include him.
“Aspen,” His face perks up, hope plastered all over his face. “Do you know how to start a fire?”
He shakes his head timidly. From what I can remember, he lives better than most in twelve, enough to not know why he should ever need to start a fire, anyway.
“I’ve- I’ve seen people do it, but I’ve never made one.” He looks down as he finishes speaking. I’ve tried desperately to not get attached to him. I’ve seen what happens in that arena, I know he’s dead before he steps off this train. But I’m the only one who still views him as human, as something other than a future corpse on live television. Maybe, I think, he can make it just a little further. Maybe he won’t be one of the blur of bodies that hits the ground in the bloodbath.
“I can help you.” He looks up at me, surprised.
“You will?”
“Sure.” He smiles and digs into his food a little faster than before. Haymitch looks into my eyes, full of warning. I try to look back, but I end up just staring at my plate and picking up my toast again. I can still feel his eyes, though, over the rim of his cup.
The rest of the day consists of Haymitch teaching us the basics of what we need to know. At first he doesn’t include Aspen, but after my constant attempts to involve him and a pleading look, he grows annoyed and talks to us both. Most of what he’s said I already know, having been in a state of survival for what is now half my life.
“Now, whatever you do, do not run towards the cornucopia. You will die.”
Just as Aspen opens his mouth to comment, Haymitch raises his hand, silencing him.
After hours of learning, dinner when Aspen has gone to bed, and Effie retreats to her room to prepare for the next day, Haymitch and I share a drink. I drink this one slower, knowing the day that awaits me tomorrow. He huffs as he sits down on the couch and runs a hand at the back of his neck.
“You know it’s no use, helping him.” He says, glancing over at me.
“I know,” I say, running a hand down my face. “But I just want him to make it a little further. Make sure his family knows he did his best.”
Haymitch’s brow furrows and he stares down at his drink.
“What, just to die of something worse? Like ripped apart from a mutt or hunted down?” I frown at his sudden tone shift. This is harsher, even more direct and cruel than I know him to be. “Believe me, it’s mercy if he dies in that bloodbath.”
The images of Aspen dying flash across my mind in quick succession. A lump forms in my throat. I swallow it down.
“I can’t just let him die so soon, he’s the last I have from home.”
“The more you get attached, the more likely it is you’ll die. And believe me if I could bet, my money’s only on one of you.” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs deeply, avoiding eye contact.
I stare at him before softly saying, “You think I can win?”
His eyes grow more sunken in response.
“Haymitch please, all I need is a little faith.”
He sits in silence a moment more before rising, grabbing his glass and bottle. My heart sinks as he starts walking towards the door. I look away from him, staring at the window, pleading for my tears to not seep over.
“You’ve got a big day tomorrow, you should get some rest.” I snap my head over, where his hand rests on the doorway and his head is tilted to the side. Before I can respond, he leaves with the door hissing shut behind him.
I stay for a moment longer before finishing my glass and leaving.
***
The first thing I register when I wake up is the loud knocking at my door. Used to telling the time by the sunlight coming through my window, I’m momentarily disoriented before I remember where I am and where we’re going. I think I call out that I’m coming, since the knocking stops. I decide on a blue silk shirt and some black trousers. People are seeing me today, I need to stand out since we’ll be the last ones to arrive. I wear my hair down, in loose black waves. Before I leave I stare at my ma’s dress, then leave my small room.
The dining car is eerily quiet as I approach. It’s incredibly unlikely something happened to them, but still my heart grows faster and I slowly approach.
Though instead of slit throats and an intruder waiting for me, it’s Effie and Aspen with a birthday cake, candles illuminating their faces. Haymitch is nowhere to be found.
“Happy birthday!” They yell.
My heart sinks to my stomach. I haven’t celebrated my birthday – not really – since my parents died. It never felt right, and the one time I did I ended up crying the whole day. This is like a cruel reminder of what I don’t have, and what I’m about to lose. They might as well have written “happy last few days of living!” on the cake, instead. But they’re looking at me with such joy and expectation on their faces that I can’t help but smile and act excited. I’m going to have to start being a different person in a few hours anyway, why not start now? Effie urges me to blow out the candles and make a wish. I wish to make it out of that arena.
We sit down at the table and grab a couple of slices. I try to stomach it down but I can feel nausea swirling in my stomach. Aspen wolfs it down, but Effie takes one bite and sets her fork to the side of her plate. Today she’s wearing a pink bodice with a pastel chiffon and silk skirt.
“I’m just so pleased we could do this for you. A last little hurrah before we arrive at the Capitol!” Her voice rises at the last word, barely containing her excitement. “Of course I tried to get Haymitch, but he was still sleeping and I thought it best not to wake him.”
I try not to let my confusion show, but there’s something underlying in the way she says it. I have a sip of water, instead.
The unsettled feeling in my stomach still swirls as the morning drags on. I keep looking to the doorway, expecting a disheveled Haymitch to stumble through. He doesn’t. I assume both Effie and Aspen catch me looking, but they don’t say anything. I must be wearing my emotions on my face more than I realised.
“Look, children! The Capitol, your new home for the next week!” I go over to the window, eager to escape the small celebrations.
The Capitol is even bigger than I imagined. It’s a sprawling, shiny, intimidating city. Feels a long way from home. Before I can get a better look, the window is obscured by what I’m sure is a tunnel, though I’ve never been in one. When it passes, I’m met with sprawling crowds of what seems to be hundreds of Effies. Suddenly, I can start to feel the panic rising in my chest. I’ve spent the last two days trying not to break, to accept what’s going to happen once I step off the train. This is all too real, too soon. These people are cheering for my death, hoping to say to their friends as they watch me fight for my life that they saw me in the flesh. I take a breath in and out as the train slows. I put on my best smile and wave for the crowd. I turn my head and nod to Aspen to join, but he looks wide eyed and afraid. He shakes his head. I turn back around and start waving again, plastering a smile on my face.
The train jilts to a halt, and Effie starts ushering us out. I try to say to her that I want my dress back – my ma’s dress – but she shoos us out anyway. I stand in front of the door, and brace myself.