Final Reality (THG Fanfic)

Chapter IV

I watch as Cathal groggily makes his way to the dining table, where everyone else has assembled. His hair is all messed up again, but the swollen bump on his forehead has disappeared, and his eyes are a light shade of red. I had a nap myself, but it was only after two hours Sean had woken me up for an early meal before we arrive in the Capitol. As soon as Cathal sat down across from Sean and I, the room was enveloped with Capitol servants – not Avoxes –filing into the room, carrying trays of extravagant-looking food. It was like our seats had butt censors that would tell the servants when to serve dinner.

When the platters, trays and plates were set down, my nose was attacked by different scents that didn’t seem normal. Maybe they put something in the food to make it appear to be satisfying – maybe some food colouring, too. I bet if they didn’t genetically engineer their foods, it’d taste like shit. Regardless of fake appearance, it’s food and I eat as much as I can. I try to avoid conversation the whole way through, which isn’t that difficult – granted I’m sitting next to Sean. But by the time we finished the main course of what I heard to be catfish with orange stew and blue beef casserole, Lorna had engaged all of us into a tight discussion about mentoring, asking us whether or not we’d like to be coached together.

“I’m fine with whatever,” I say quickly, shovelling a spoonful of cold dessert into my mouth. Sweet.

I see Cathal think hard for a moment, shooting glances at me momentarily. “Whatever you guys thinks is best for us,” says Cathal, resting his chin on his hands. I catch him staring at me, a crooked smile planted on his square face. I only ignore him. Although neither of us have no experience whatsoever with weapons nor fighting, I feel like he could kill me just with the twist of my neck.

“What an indecisive bunch you two are,” Sean states, which frightens me a little. “I’d rather coach them individually,” he utters to Lorna, as she responds with a glare.

Lorna takes a nibble of her chocolate cake. “Alright then,” she says as she signals for a servant. The servant hands Lorna a small, circular piece of metal – on one side a head, and a bird on the other. At first glance I thought it was a coin, but the side with the bird on it resembled the famous mockingjay pin that belonged to Katniss Everdeen. Makes you wonder what’s on the reverse side where you’d expect the profile of President Snow. “Heads: Wren is with me, and tails: she’s with you,” Lorna says to Sean. She flips the coin high in the air, all of our eyes following as it flips eight or nine times before landing in the palm of Lorna’s hand. She places it face down on the table and the atmosphere surrounding us intensifies. It worries neither Cathal nor me, however it seems as though Sean thinks this will determine how the rest of his life will turn out.

The air around us quickly loosens as Lorna gleefully squeals, “Tails!” Under the table, I can see Sean has his hands in tight fists – his knuckles turning white. Am I that horrid? I ask myself. To be honest, I don’t see myself as difficult to get through to. I can be juvenile at times, but overall I’m quite astonishing for an 18-year-old – let alone someone from District Six. Maybe Sean would rather mentor the strong male than a petty, teenage girl. It makes sense. If I were a mentor, I would automatically side with Cathal, too. I’m useless, worthless.

“Fine,” Sean finally says, pushing himself up from the table. “One hour until you two–” he glares at Cathal and I “–go through to the remake centre.” Before he leaves the carriage entirely, without turning around he shouts to us, “Good luck with that!” After that, his obscenities echo through the corridors before the door slides closed.

Lorna gets up to follow him, leaving Cathal and I with the rest of the dessert. “Sorry, he can be quite, uh, puerile,” she tells us, suppressing a laugh. “I’ll see you two shortly before we disembark.” Lorna leaves, and so do the assistants. Cathal and I exchange a few glances. After what feels like a century-long awkward silence, there is some sort of unseen agreement between the two of us to continue with finishing dessert.

Half an hour later, after the table disposed of its dishes automatically – which freaked the shit out of me – Lorna returns, with Liliana, and ushers us to sit down in the television room to quickly watch the recap of the reapings. No one says much, and it’s very hard to watch – particularly for Lorna, and I guess it’s quite obvious why. Some of them are spitting images of their brothers and sisters. And most of them end up crying when they walk up on stage. Lorna sporadically interjects from time to time, but she refuses to show any sign of melancholy. Liliana, on the other hand, lets her tears run freely, although a little too dramatically for my liking.

I, myself, get my fair share of downheartedness. Cathal, too, but we don’t tear up or anything. I almost give in when it comes to our reaping. The district, all grey and heated, watches as Katri Roxen is escorted down the paved aisle. As she slowly walks forward, the screen splits into two. Claudius Templesmith starts to explain as Wynter’s profile appears on one half of the screen. A picture of Wynter appears, or maybe it’s what Katri would look like in the future. “Spitting image, wouldn’t you agree?” Claudius says, and even though you can’t see him, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes, yes! What a pity!” Caesar replies. “If only someone would volunteer!”

Cue my entrance. The screen is back to the reaping. Roxy surrounded by a number of peacekeepers in the middle of the aisle. And me, as late as ever because someone simply didn’t want to be last alone, yelling I volunteer as tribute! at the top of my lungs. The camera pans out to the boys’ side of the Square, searching through faces, only to fall onto my little brother, Fletch, trying to stop himself from breaking down. The screen splits into one other slice, revealing my weeping mother and worried father. It’s quiet for a moment, not just at the reaping, but also in the room. Caesar and Claudius have stopped commentating, and I consider that the television has suddenly stopped working. That’s when you hear Liliana’s shrill voice, calling for me to step forward.

I walk straight up, ignoring the peacekeepers firm grip, ignoring Roxy’s piercing glare. Without the help of the peacekeepers, I make my way up to centre-stage, and the screen reveals the profile of my brother, JD, explaining his birthday, his relation to me, his place in his games. Out of the blue, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Sean’s solemn face is staring back down at me. I guess the others noticed him walk in because I’m the only one that’s surprised. Sean sits down beside me, whispering a sorry to me, and drapes his arm across my shoulders. And for once, I begin to think maybe Sean is human. Providing me with the feeling of security, almost homely.

“It’s been 10 years since her brother’s games,” Claudius says. “Miss. Ivory will be the oldest tribute this year. Although age doesn’t always equal to experience.”

Caesar sniggers a bit, “Yes, yes. District 6 has only managed to pull five victors, all newbies to the familiar cling-clang of metal swords. But I have hope for this girl. She seems very brave, very caring and selfless as she volunteered for that poor girl.” They both chuckle as Liliana pulls out the slip of paper with the name of my tribute partner. Cathal’s name is called and the screen splits in two again, uncovering the face of a blonde-haired girl with bright, blue eyes. Cathal leans forward on his knees as information on his sister begins to be listed next to her picture. But something isn’t right. She is not a Runyon. Her name is Vada Blighton.