Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Companion - Amure

 Amure

"Explain it to me again. Please."

Fletch peers over the table at Perry and I, rubbing one hand through his thinning hair. It looks like he hasn't heard me and I cringe at the thought of having to repeat myself. The whole room seems to be trembling with tension. I don't like it; it's too big and too bright, the walls an optimistic lilac colour, the furniture more like twisting art than furniture. The chair I'm sat on doesn't even have legs, just one curving shape that nestles into my spine and forces me to sit up straight.

Perry remains cheerfully oblivious, toying with the hem of his outfit. He's washed his hands before eating but blotches of peachy pink paint still remain, like odd bruises on his otherwise pale skin. My own hands feel too clean without any factory grime under my knuckles and I can't see my skin under the paint.

My face feels worse. Whenever I try to open my mouth to speak, I can practically hear the makeup crack. I didn't recognise myself in the mirror; my features were too small, too defined. Like a doll. That's the point, probably. The Capitol advertise their clothes on life-sized dolls.

Fletch waves the papers for no apparent purpose. For a moment I think he's going to give them to me and I steel myself for the awkward task of reminding him that the writing on the colourful pamphlet is little more than a bunch of squiggles, a pattern for cloth. There's no shame in not being able to read or write in Eight. It's normal. But somehow, admitting that to Fletch, used to the Capitol ways by now, would feel worse than asking him a question.

He props the pamphlet up against his plate and scans it quickly, squinting.

"You have to nominate someone of reaping age from home," he explains. "They'll come into the arena with you. If you die, they will die too. But if they die, you'll continue to live. Both of you can win."

"What if I refuse to pick somebody?"

"You are, and I quote" - Fletch rifles through the sheaf of paper - "'strongly encouraged to nominate a companion, as it will provide an advantage in the arena...should the tribute be unable to nominate a certain person, the relevant authorities will do so instead'. And you can bet that they won't provide anybody who could be any use."

"But I don't have anybody -" I start.

He sighs, "Then you'll just have to think of somebody quickly, Amure, or tick the little box that says 'no nomination'."

I think, but nobody comes to mind. No, not true. Nina's face flashes up, grinning among a circle of her friends at the reaping, her first, her hair chopped into rough spikes and her eyes bright and unafraid. And it does cross my mind for a moment, but I can't do that. I can't bring my younger sister. Besides, she'll be no good. It'll have to be somebody I work with, somebody else the Capitol will view as disposable. After all, if a worker dies, there'll be another to take their place.

"I don't have anybody either!" Perry announces. It makes me jump; I'd assumed that he wasn't listening. Fletch blinks at him, still visibly startled. I can see why. It's hard to believe that Perry is actually older than me.

"Then the same will go for you too," Fletch explains in a voice that indicates he's trying really, really hard to be patient. Another question begins to tug at my mind and I have to force myself to blurt it out. I need to know everything I can, whether it makes me uncomfortable or not.

"Will they do training with us?"

"Let's see," Fletch murmurs, scanning through the pages. I feel a sudden pang of envy that the patterns make sense to him. I know that I don't need to be able to read or write and that I've barely even noticed that I can't up until now, but now it feels like I'm missing out.