Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Careers - Venus

Venus

"So, Venus. Or can I call you Vennie?"

That settles it. My district partner is an idiot. Jax catches sight of the look on my face and laughs, a gigantic boom that fills the carriage and drowns out the chug of the train. "Watch yourself, Claymore," he warns. "Last time I saw a girl looking like that the guy who did it wasn't a man for much longer!"

Everything the exuberant mentor does is big, everything he says is loud. It's a relief after the pressing silence of the Justice Building. Even Chase said nothing there. I guess they couldn't think of anything to say and left me to babble away, just endless sentimental trash, so that it was almost a blessing just to get onto the platform with the cameras flashing and shouting for my attention.

I finish chewing my mouthful and decide that dignifying the stupid question with a reply will at least stop him doing it for a small while. "My name is Venus," I explain carefully. "My parents called me that for a reason and it wasn't so that cocky fools could make me sound like somebody's dessert."

Claymore has tuned out, his gaze fixed firmly on a spot just above my head. He nods a little. A lot of effort must have gone into his appearance because not a strand of his hair moves. "Cool. My parents named me Claymore because they wanted a girl."

"Cool," I echo, prodding at the stew with an elegant knife that's no good for throwing. It's not hard to not sound at all interested. Perhaps if I mimic him, he'll realise how absorbed he sounds. It works on some of the others.

"I don't like my name being shortened either," he offers.

Obviously not.

A huge, putrid belch bursts from our mentor's side of the table. Jax is leaning backwards in his dainty chair - it creaks a little under the weight of solid muscle - and rubbing his stomach with an almost impossibly satisfied grin.

"Speaking of desserts..."

"Don't worry, Venus - not Vennie, of course not Vennie - you won't have to get along with him for that long. Idiot like that is likely to get bloodbathed, just like...now what was his name? Tall, dark hair. Not Jax; he's alive right now, isn't he? So who was it? A few years ago now. Got a nine or a ten, something like that. Anyway, it doesn't matter. So just try and get along if you can, it  won't be for long. Who knows, he won the tournament so he's got to be of some use, scare some of the younger ones away, probably..."

The room falls quiet as my thoughts move away. I must have been talking to myself again. I laugh a little to cover up the quiet but it sounds forced and that's almost worse, so I stop and look around.

It's a nice room, better than my place back home. The bed is twice the size and - I hurl myself onto it - twice as soft. It practically swallows me. Outside the window, craggy mountains wind past; the train is plunged into the dark. We must be in a tunnel. The lights in the room are soft and gentle, and they illuminate the elaborate carvings on the wardrobe. There doesn't seem to be anything particularly special about them, just intricate patterns of leaves and flowers. I run my finger over them. There aren't any pine needles so these can't be trees from Two.

Inside the wardrobe there's only one outfit. That makes sense. We won't be on this train much longer; soon we'll be in the Capitol. The actual Capitol, with buildings that stretch higher than mountains, sparkling in every different colour of the rainbow. Streets full of beautiful people and a thousand different voices throbbing against bright lights. All these people cheering and waving at me, for me.

I wonder who my stylist will be.

It's obvious just by looking at the dress hanging there that they were expecting someone taller. Irritation brushes against the vivid excitement that the Capitol always brings up. They could at least have checked who won the tournament. They can pretend that they don't know about it all they like, but everybody knows that they do.