Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Diamond - Luxury

Luxury

The mood around the table is...strained, put it that way. Yesterday conversation flowed; well, it was more like a boasting contest, but it was still something. But today nobody is speaking. Everybody keeps glancing over to the door.

Ade toys with her necklace. There's something engraved on it and I can't see what it is, but every so often she mutters it to herself, rubbing a slender finger over the calligraphy writing. Her hair has been twisted into a bun on the top of her head, but a few strands fall down the side of her face and she keeps batting them out of the way, irritated.

Venus chatters away to herself. I stopped listening to what she was saying a long time ago. I could ask her to shut up but so far that's been ineffective. She just goes slightly red and starts talking again the next second. It's annoying but harmless, though if she doesn't shut it in the arena I'm going to have to make her. In the middle of her mindless chattering she's let slip that she's expecting her little brother, though it's hard to imagine anybody smaller than her. I picture a small, blonde bullish lump of testosterone like boys are back home, maybe worth playing around with. Chase, he's called.

Sat next to her, Elton is drumming on the table with his fingers. He's already devoured two plates of food and keeps checking his hair in the spoon. Occasionally he asks if his it looks okay, but nobody can be bothered to answer him. He's worse than the boys back home. They at least had some muscles to be proud of. Elton is built like a runner, slim and wiry, and he spends most of his time messing with his hair. I've never seen anybody with a quiff before; all it needs is some dyes streaking through it and he could be Capitol.

Like Ade, Claymore has a prop. He's looking down at an envelope resting on the table, smoothing out the creases where he's kept it, folded, in his pocket. So far he's been grinning almost constantly. Not now. Right now he's chewing on his lower lip, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He doesn't even look away from the letter to tell Venus to shut up or to complain about Elton's drum solo and it's obvious that its contents are bothering him.

"Open it," I suggest. He glances up at me for a tiny second and flips his hair out of his eyes.

"Should I? It's from Portia..."

Portia is the girl he's bringing, and if I didn't know any better, I'd swear that he's scared of her. So she's probably not like Venus and more like your typical girl from Two. All mouth and no action. He runs a finger down one of the folds.

"Go on, she's not here," I urge. It'd give me something to do while I'm waiting for the inevitable stand-off with Diamond. She should be thrilled to be here after I stole her shot in the Tournament, but something tells me that she won't be. After all, now she'll have to share the glory.

Should I call her Di just to annoy her that bit more? There's not much she can do to me that won't damage her too, and much as I hate to admit it, she's not stupid enough to ruin her own chances.

"Not yet she's not," he mutters, with a glance towards the door. Any second now...

Right on cue, the door is forced open and Diamond storms in, the head of a line of shadow-tributes. She stands, blocking the way, her massive eyes scanning the canteen. Everyone drops into silence; even Venus shuts up.

I stand up, nice and slowly for dramatic effect. Diamond locks onto me with a sneer that ruins her pretty features. Ah, who am I kidding? She's not that pretty. She thinks she is, but only because she spends hours in the mirror. Looks don't come naturally to everybody, you know.

"Di!" I exclaim, painting on my best friendly smile. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"As soon as we're in the arena, you're dead," Diamond hisses. My grin gets even wider; someone hasn't explained the rules to her.