Trials and Tribulations

Chapter Three

The ground has dropped out under her. And yet Juniper knows exactly what to do.

She stands for a moment before formulating a face, eyes wide and drooping, brows knitting together. She puffs out her lips and pouts, before looking around slowly, as if desperate for anybody to help her. It seems she's come to the revelation that she's set in her fate, but she still does not move, looking at the ground as if she's rooted to it. She lets the peacekeepers put their hands on her, lets them drag her forward. She acts as if she's suddenly come to life, and plants her feet firmly, weakly asking the peacekeepers to let go of her. They follow her request but entrap her just the same, surrounding her as she walks timidly up to the stage.

Juniper does not hear Penelope bellowing her name and she does not hear Priestley's comments about her dress or her clothes or her hair or her beauty. She hears nothing at all.

Everything is muscle memory. Everything has been planned and everything has been practiced. She wasn't expecting them to say her name but now that they have she is ready for what's to come. Theoretically.

Usually, her father would play Priestley. He would reach into a dinner bowl and pretend to pull out the trigger to their plan, reading her name off it in a stately tone. From ten to the present, Juniper would practice weaving her way through the crowd, would practice the feeling of a camera capturing her every move.

The Hunger Games begin long before the tributes are tossed into the arena.

She makes her way up to the stage and the peacekeepers scatter as soon as she's up in the spotlight. They know there is no chance of her escaping now.

The victors' eyes follow her as she makes her way to the microphone, scuffing her shoes against the floor, and staring at her feet. Juniper sneaks a look at their expressions.

Hollis looks disinterested, eyes trained on a face in the male sector. Dugan is still squinting, chances increasing of it being on account of the shining sun. Mags looks as if she's pitying the poor girl whose life has just been changed, whose life may have perhaps just ended. And Finnick studies her momentarily. His eyes are empty-looking, as if he knows Juniper has no chance of sealing the deal. Perhaps that thought hurts him more due to their identical ages.

"Come here, dearie."

Priestley pulls her into his side, rubbing her on the arm in what is meant to be a loving way. Juniper leans into it, flashing her doe eyes at him as he pulls away. As if begging him to do something, begging him to not sign her death warrant.

Juniper is left standing to his left looking off into the distance, lip quivering as Priestley goes to pick a boy. Her eyes search for a moment before she finally sees her family. Max is cuddling into her father's leg, and her father's large hand is holding him tightly. Penelope is in the patriarch's arms held tightly, face tear-stained.

Juniper then looks directly into her father's eyes. The man nods at her slowly, before mouthing the word "camera".

Following instructions, she turns her attention to the camera recording her every move. She doesn't have to fake the mist in her eyes. Juniper slowly sucks at her bottom lip as if contemplating her fate, and then abruptly turns away.

Priestley has finished rifling through the bowl with the male names. He breaks the seal and wanders back to the microphone, clearing his throat.

"The male tribute is-"

"I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd stills. Juniper stops. This is unprecedented.

The boy who said it sounded almost bored. His voice is smooth like butter, gliding over the syllables easily. He steps out of the crowd, with a hand lazily raised in the air. He stands out, to begin with, long legs making him tower in the seventeen section. His skin is naturally tanned as if he's been out in the sun all day and been baked golden brown. His hair is tousled messily, almost falling into his eyes, and his jaw is sharp like sea glass. His eyes shine hazel in the light. The peacekeepers circle him in his walk to the stage, but he lifts his hands in surrender.