Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Plink - Venus

Venus

The rain makes a nice plinking noise on the roof, as well as dripping from the rim of the Cornucopia like layers of music. It's different to the rain at home that drives horizontally into you and soaks you right down to the bone, seeping into your organs so that you feel damp for days afterwards. We used to have to jog around the township in that, to get us used to it, and you could see warm faces looking at you through windows while the rain blurred your eyes, so all you could do was follow the blob of a person ahead of you and hope they were going the right way. I always tried to imagine myself back inside, listening to Chase brag about how he'd finished third - he never did, he just knew that I was always too far back to contradict him - and watching Kale smile a little to himself because those were the only times when he was pleased that he hadn't been selected for the training program, and if I imagined hard enough I found myself back in the training room before long, shivering towards the end of the line.

Luxury doesn't like the rain, it's obvious. She keeps glaring out at it, her whole face pinched in so that she doesn't look pretty anymore. Diamond is scowling too; for once the two of them seem to agree. They look so alike right now that it's almost funny. Diamond is more angular and her face is startlingly even - it makes my skin feel covered in blemishes even though I know it's not - whereas Luxury looks a  little smoother, with a tiny birthmark on her left cheek that I can only see because I've been watching them, looking for some imperfection in their faces. They look just different enough that I can tell the difference between them, but still very similar. I wonder what happened to anybody at home who pointed this out.

"Chase!" I whisper. Instantly, Luxury and Diamond are watching me, suspicious. They're uncertain, whether they know it or not. Luxury's little speech yesterday about not leaving said it all; if people leave it leaves the rest of us exposed. Like, for example, the space inside the Cornucopia feels a lot bigger without Claymore in it, and without Portia it feels less tense. Only a little bit, though. Elton shuffles away in a corner, so quiet now that I keep forgetting he's there. If I was going to cut and run, I'd take him out first. He looks capable enough physically, but his eyes stare off into nothing and his hair is a mess and he's obviously not quite there. He misses Wake. I don't. They tried too hard to be funny.

"What?" Chase grunts from the floor. What is he on about? Only as he heaves himself into a sitting position do I remember that I'd spoken to him, but not what I was going to say.

"I forgot. Sorry. I'll remember soon."

With a sigh, he flops back again, staring at the roof. What was my point? I was thinking about the rain, and then about Luxury not liking the rain...Luxury, not Lux. She'd rather be called Lux but I don't like shortening people's names, especially not when they're not for being friends with. And so far making friends has always been secondary. Games first. Claymore would understand that, if he was here. He's been through the same training, though surely it's similar in District One. 

It didn't stop him trying to call me Vennie, though.

The only noise is the rain and Elton's constant fidgeting, and the second can be tuned out. Adrienne and Crispin are silent, though just by looking them it's obvious that it's the comfortable silence of two people who don't even need to talk. Crispin is laid back on the floor, almost like he's copying Chase, hands behind his head and eyes closed. Adrienne sits by him and runs her net through her hands, twiddling it around her fingers. Every so often she glances at Crispin and I feel like I have to look away, like I'm intruding on a private moment. It wouldn't be the first time.

Nobody is saying anything. It makes me twitchy; it feels like everybody is sizing me up when I'm not looking. I'd rather be seeing whatever they're watching on the screen now. Last eleven, so it'll probably be replays, interviews with the stylists or random people from the Capitol streets. A bit of colour, a bit of life, rather than the constant drip drop drip of rain.