The Hunger Games: Staying True. (Completed)

Chapter Five; Preparations and Practice. [Edited]

I wake the next morning to Birch ripping the covers off my body. He tells me gruffly to get up, that we've got more practicing to do. I groan, but as soon as he threatens to toss a bucket of cold water over my head, I scramble off the mattress.

He won't even let me shower, just snaps at me to get dressed in loose clothes and hurry to breakfast. When I've sat at the table, he glares at me and tells me I took too long. I feel like throwing a boiled egg at his head.

"You're doing well, Emerald." Astrid smiles brightly as she strolls into the dining room. Her heels clip loudly against the blue tiled floor. She's got a magazine in her hand, and she drops it down beside my bowl, filled to the brim of sugary cereal.

I lean over the front cover, it's a picture of Coin on Friday, stood alone and stationary at the podium, her arms raised above her head like the victorious leader she is. She's smiling, but it isn't a kind smile. It's cold and detached. There's a viciousness in her eyes that sends a chill down my spine. I know the exact moment this picture was taken, it was as she was mocking the famous saying; 'May the odds be ever in your favour!'

She's enjoying this, I bet. Every single second.

"Turn to page three, my sweet." Astrid urges me as she pours a cup of black coffee and adds sugar cubes to it. "Every single page of that magazine is dedicated to the Choosing Ceremony. You're on page three."

"Of course," I grumble, but I take my time, pausing to spread soft cheese over a piece of toast first, and adding three sugar cubes to my tea. I don't want to see what they're saying. I don't want anything to do with the spectacle of it all.

"Oh, for the love of-" Birch snaps and jerks the magazine from beneath my fingers, giving it a flick to straighten it out before he flips to my page and lifts it up in front of his nose.

"Is it bad?" I ask him, my eyes narrowed in apprehension.

"No." He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. 

Shit.

"Let me see." I growl, and snatch it from him.

I've crumpled the pages in my haste, and I smooth them out roughly to bend over my picture.

It's of me sat in my chair, lounging, arms crossed over my chest and my legs crossed at the knee, my foot mid-bounce. I look bored, disinterested in the whole affair. I don't look fierce or anything, but I look a little more formidable than most. My black heeled boots and leather jacket add to the image, as does my expression.

But the article is damning. Not because it comments on my rebelliousness in ignoring Coin, or my bravery in volunteering, or the despair of my goodbyes with Silver or Alden.

It's boring. It's frivolous, and makes me sound like a spoiled brat. They comment on how I used to be a social butterfly, how I was envied by the whole Capitol, and how I was adored by all around me. They comment briefly of me walking courageously past my four big brothers, but they only serve to make me sound idiotic and reckless, not someone you can bet on to win; it doesn't make me sound intelligent enough for that. That's only touched upon again as they describe me ignoring Coin, not an act of rebellion, but the act of a silly, forgetful girl, probably terrified out of her wits.

It does touch upon my goodbyes. They don't really discuss the cruelty of my mother; why would they? That would gain me sympathy. They wonder why Alden was so indifferent, and it sounds like gossip as they ponder if there's some sort of scandal in the family.

They make it sound like I might have got knocked up, and that's why everyone's so awful.

So this is my punishment.