I wake with a raging hangover. I've had them before, but never in my life like this. I sit up, groaning and hissing as I put my hand to my head as if that might help. It definitely doesn't.
Rolling out of bed, I soon find that my legs are weak and wobbly, and end up on my ass more than once on the way to the bathroom. In the end, I just crawl towards the toilet. Just in time too, because as soon as I throw the lid up I heave into it. I throw up nothing but liquid, and it is pure alcohol going by the burn it leaves in my throat.
By the time I'm done, I'm covered in snot and tears and saliva. After I've pulled the flush, I cross to the sink to splash my face with water. It doesn't help me look any better, but once I've scrubbed my teeth I feel a little less gross, at least.
I'll shower later, but right now I need some pain killers for my head. I'm only in underwear - Astrid must have stripped me out of the dress last night - so I pull on a fluffy robe, shove back my messy hair and stumble out of my room and down the corridor.
The dining room is empty but there is food spread out on a table, I'm not sure I can handle anything heavy, so I start with a piece of buttered toast. Even that makes my stomach wobbly, but I force another piece down. When I have, I order some pain killers through a comm in the wall. They arrive promptly on a silver platter, and I thank the Avox as I slump into a armchair and try my hardest to keep my toast down.
The Avox waits, staring at me, and I tell him I don't need anything else. He smiles and bows, and I thank him again before he leaves.
There isn't much to do now, except stare out the window, and I've seen the view of the city my whole life, it's boring now. So I switch on the TV in a vain hope that perhaps Coin will let the country watch something other than her propaganda.
I'm in luck; it's the coverage of the ball.
I'm really not shown all too often. The only time they cut away from our greetings to Coin is when I dip into my curtsy; they be sure not to show my face. While they show all the other tributes mingling with guests, they don't show me slumped at the bar. They do briefly show me clinking glasses with Haymitch though.
When the dances are being recorded, they focus heavily on my little altercation with Coal. It looks much more violent than it was; him grabbing me and me shoving him away. The commentators muse over this for ages, wondering what on Earth could have happened for the two of us to act so hatefully towards each other.
Lastly, I'm shown leaving on Peeta Mellark's arm. He's smiling and nodding as he leads me through the crowd, and though my eyes seem a bit glassy and my movements a bit wobbly, he moves in such a way that I don't seem blind drunk. Leaning towards me like we're talking, holding me like he's not actually carrying me.
The commentators rave about this too, especially since we pause to talk briefly to Katniss Everdeen. I watch for the first time - having no recollection of this at all - as she steps in front of Peeta and I, speaking too quietly for the cameras to pick up. She looks gorgeous with her hair unbound and in a crimson dress. Nothing like herself though.
She looks angry when Peeta carries me past her, and the commentators focus on this for a long time too.
They focus a lot on Peeta and Katniss, actually. When the cameras aren't on us tributes or Coin, then they're on them. They wonder if the couple will renew their wedding vows and have a proper wedding now that the Rebellion is over. I wonder why they're still keeping up the charade.
I'm still watching as the ball slowly starts to come to a close. This is long after I've gone home, but nothing much seems to be happening anyway. It's at that moment that the elevator gives a quiet ding, and I look over. I expect Birch or Astrid, maybe an Avox delivering dinner, but instead, when the doors slide open, I find Peeta Mellark standing there.
My eyes fly wide, and I jump to my feet, staring at him in shock. He spots the movement and looks towards me, and then he smiles. I can't seem to control my expression - which is scrunched up in blank confusion - as he makes his way across the room.
"Hello, Emerald."
"Uh," I murmur, cough awkwardly, and try again. "Hello."
"I brought you these." He offers a plate covered with cloth, but I don't move to take it. His eyebrows raise in curiosity, but he says nothing as he instead leans forward to slide the plate onto the low table in front of my armchair.
"What are you doing here?" The question is cold and rude. I can't help but be suspicious. "Did Coin send you?"
He doesn't seem at all bothered, but instead smiles softly.
"No, though she did approve me coming."
"Which means she's listening." I look around like she might have suddenly appeared in the room. "Or someone is."
"No one is listening, Emerald." Peeta assures me, smiling gently. Like I'm being silly.
"Yes, they are!" I snap at him, "They listen in here and in the bedrooms."
"How do you know?"
"Because-" I stop dead, if they ever found out that the Avox told me, she'll be killed. "I just know, all right? I'm good with that kind of thing."
"Right." He drags out the word, squinting at me skeptically like I might be going mad.
"Why are you here?" I demand again, scowling at him.
"I just wanted to check on you. You weren't looking very well last night and I just-" He shrugs his broad shoulders, "I was worried."
"Yeah, well." I clear my throat and sink back into my armchair, conscious that I'm in nothing but my underwear under the robe that feels suddenly too short around my thighs. "It was self-inflicted. I'm fine now."
"You don't look fine..." He inspects me with those brilliant blue eyes, and I shrink away from his gaze.
"You calling me ugly?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Hideous." He nods, and when I grudgingly smile, he does too. It's a nice smile.
Peeta runs a hand through his hair, messing up the style so it sticks up every which way. It seems he didn't have the same kind of fun that I did last night, because he looks perfectly pristine today. His thick wool jumper, the colour a soft periwinkle, doesn't have one crease in it, and his shoes are shined to perfection.
13 are certainly taking care of him.
"Haymitch told me about your conversation." His voice is hesitant.
"Ah, so this is a pity visit."
"No! No. Emerald, it isn't like that." He takes a faltering step towards me, but when I curl my legs up into my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees to make myself smaller, he backs away again. "I just... I... Well." He splutters for words.
"You don't have to explain anything to me." I shrug, "The Capitol hurt you, I get that. They threw you into an arena, twice, and then they tortured you and turned you against your wife." I stare at him, but there is still judgement on my face. "I understand why you would want to watch children pay for that."
He flinches back, away from me. "I voted against it."
That pulls me up short. Is he lying? Could he possibly be telling the truth? If anything, I would have thought that he of all people would have voted yes.
"And I just... I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." He's staring at me like I can offer him salvation, that maybe if I forgive him then he's absolved of this crime.
"I hope you're going to ask Chaim's forgiveness." I say, instead of accepting his apology. "I hope that when that little boy is slaughtered, you'll finally all be satisfied."
Peeta stares at me a long moment before he nods. Then he turns and starts to walk back towards the elevator.
"I'm sorry, Peeta." I call, he stops but doesn't turn. "You seem like a good man, you do. I'm grateful for last night, too. But I just... It isn't enough. I... I can't forgive the people who have ordered my death. Who've ordered all of our deaths."
"I understand." He turns to look back at me and smiles, and there's something in his eyes now, a determination that wasn't there before, something that makes me a bit apprehensive and a bit scared. "Enjoy the cookies."
As soon as the elevator doors close, Birch trudges into the room and I know for a fact that he was listening. He moves right past me and towards the platters of food on the table, I stare at his back, waiting for him to say something. But his shoulders are hunched, almost as if he's protecting against my stare. Eventually, he sits down across from me.
"Well, he was dramatic, wasn't he?" His voice sounds almost cheerful, as if that might distract me. He doesn't meet my eyes, but I continue to stare stonily at him.
I allow the silence to become stifling before I ask.
"Did you, Birch?"
"Did I what, Casteel?" He grinds out, and he knows exactly what I'm asking.
"Did you vote for us to go into the arena?"
He looks up at me, and some form of emotion flickers in his dark eyes. Not remorse, not even regret, but something. He opens his mouth, frowns, and close it again.
Eventually, he says, "Yes."
I stare at him. I expected it, and I have no love for him, but it still feels like a betrayal.
Slowly, I nod. I stand, moving like an old woman under the weight of this world. I bend to pick up Peeta's cookies, and then I turn and walk back to my bedroom, not saying a word the whole time.
***
Training starts the next morning, and Birch sends an Avox to wake me rather than doing it himself. It's actually Thatcher, and I smile at him when he ushers me out of bed.
Breakfast is a quiet affair, even Astrid has fallen silent, reading correctly that there is a tension between me and Birch that will not be fixed any time soon. He doesn't even ride down the elevator with me to the training room.
As soon as the doors slide open, there's a camera in my face.
"Do you mind?" I growl.
"New policy." The camerawoman shrugs at me. She's from the Capitol, and I know that because of her purple hair and black claws instead of nails. "Training is to be recorded and aired each day."
"Of course it fucking is." I growl and shove past her, joining the crowd in the middle of the room. As soon as everyone is present, a lady steps into the middle of us and starts speaking.
She explains quickly. This year, every single station is mandatory to complete. For these two weeks, we'll wear electronic wrist bands which we have to scan at every station, and they'll keep track of us and where we need to go. Of course, Capitol children have never actually learned anything of value. It's not like we've trained for the Games like the career Districts used to, or learned how to hunt and fish and stuff like that.
So really, we're all starting from scratch.
This year, we won't present a skill to the Gamemakers at the end of the two weeks. They'll simply observe us, and then they'll score us on the Friday before we go into the arena.
As she speaks, our wrist bands are secured around our wrists.
She wishes us happy Hunger Games, and then I assess where to go first. Coal seems to already be recruiting his elite group of bullies - the massive boy. Crimson, the girl with tattoos. Stephan, the boy with blue skin - and they head immediately to the combat stations, so I head for simpler things.
The truth is, I'm good at fighting. Hand to hand combat, especially. That's not an issue. I'm better at shooting, but guns aren't allowed, so I'll make do with knives. I'm a good shot, so weapons aren't an issue either. I'll try my hand at a spear or perhaps an ax, and I'll see how I get on with that, but combat isn't an issue at all.
What is an issue is the fact I don't know the first thing about killing an animal and preparing it for food, or finding water, or identifying poisonous plants. So, I'll start there.
That's how the week goes. I get up, I shower, I ignore Birch at breakfast, I train, I ignore everyone at lunch, I train again, and then I ignore Birch at dinner.
I don't need him anyway, I have plenty of time to evaluate my competition in training, and I note weaknesses easily. Larron Fairbanks, that massive boy, has a weak ankle, which means I'll outrun him easy. Coal, he can't fight for shit, so I could beat him if it were one on one. Rosamund (with the the purple hair and facial piercings) quickly joins their group, and I notice that she is deathly afraid of fire, which is a little inconvenient, but it would do as a distraction.
Right now, I'm looking at them as my main opponents. Not because it's them I'm aiming to beat, but because I know for a fact, know it deep in my bones, that Coal will undoubtedly set them on me with a vengeance when we're in the arena. I know it because of the way he sneers at me, the way he tries to pick fights. Every single day, there's a new drama, a new confrontation, and though sometimes my anger gets the better of me and I lunge at him, I try my best to keep my cool.
While Lux and I train separately, I always eat lunch at his table. We don't discuss being allies in the arena, but I'm sure that we will be if we have the chance. Thorny - the weepy blonde girl I've known since I was tiny - clings to me too, but I know that she'll be too much of a burden in the arena.
Chaim seems to gravitate towards me as well. He shows me how best to climb trees, and I teach him how to hold a small knife, and even how to throw it decently. He makes me smile, and there's something about his dreamy, wide eyed gaze that makes me want to protect him.
Again and again, I lean forward to offer to be his ally, but the words never come out. How can I possibly offer him protection when I've already accepted my death?
The Gamemakers watch us vigilantly, and I know that Coin has ordered them to take this seriously. There is no alcohol for them, no feasts, this is an actual job now. Most of them are from 13 anyway, you know because they wear the number emblazoned on their chests proudly. Among them though is Haymitch, and so is Plutarch Heavensbee.
I try not to catch his eye. We're old friends, the two of us.
I focus only on the survival skills. I'm itching to show off, but I stifle the urge. I don't want another reason for Coal to hate me, and if I outshine him in any way, then I'll be even more of a target.
It's grueling work. Not just physically, but mentally too. Thorny makes it harder, bursting into tears when she gets something wrong, so eventually I stop trying to help her and just tune her out.
The simplest things take a massive effort. Learning how to find water in every sort of environment. Memorising poisonous and edible plants. Learning how to skin and cook all sorts of animals. Learning how to tie knots, how to set snares, how to build fires, how to disguise yourself when you're in a hurry.
What's worse is the cameras, constantly in our faces, every single second of the day. Even at lunch, they're there. They get every single argument that passes between me and Coal, every single near fight that occurs. They lean over me when I'm trying to set a small, complicated snare, or they're panning in on me when I'm sweating and heaving as I try to climb a tree.
Eventually, I just start shoving them out of my face, and they keep at arms length after that. Just them being here annoys me; it is obviously Coin's way of reminding the Districts how weak we are. The cameras are especially eager to watch when we're doing bad at something. She wants them all to know that they're better than us, that we're privileged and spoiled. It's clever really, but it still irritates me.
The whole thing is hard, but I don't mind much. It feels like I'm finally doing something. Like I'm actively bettering my chances. I still don't hold out hope that I'll win, but at least now maybe I'll go out with dignity, rather than wasting away because I can't find water.
But by Friday, I'm itching to do something exciting. The interview is tomorrow, and I don't want to walk up there with everyone thinking I'm a weakling. I want people to know that I know what I'm doing, that I'm a formidable opponent.
So I leave Thorny at an arts station for camouflage and walk with my head tilted up towards the training mats.
A few trainers are there, idling. One other person is practicing hand to hand, and I know her faintly, but I can't remember her name.
I scan my bracelet, which alerts the trainers that I want to use this station. With a smirk, a man steps onto the mats and beckons me forwards.
I notice from the corner of my eye that Coal has turned towards me, and it only serves to make me more eager to shove terror into his chest. I'll let him know immediately that he's no match for me at all. The cameras swing towards me. Let the whole country watch.
The man pauses, assesses my stance, which is ready. He nods his approval.
"Don't instruct." I tell him, "Just fight me."
"You don't know how to fight, stupid girl." He rolls his eyes.
I dart forward, my movements completely silent, as I roundhouse kick his right leg out from under him, reach forward to grab his throat, lift him up and slam him onto his back with a loud thud.
"Say that again."
I back off, allow him to collect himself, and wait patiently as he gets to his feet. He's winded, but it passes quickly.
When he faces me again, he doesn't want to teach me. Good, let him get angry.
He runs at me, and I shoulder roll to one side. Spin back towards him on my knees, and deflect the kicks he sends at me with my forearms. I send a punch to his thigh which makes him stumble back, and I use the time to roll backwards, using the momentum to lift myself to my feet.
He comes at me again, I deflect his punches by using my palms to smack his hands away, and when his hands are flung aside I reach in, grab the back of his neck and yank him forward to crack my skull against his nose.
Stumbling back, he splutters as blood bursts from his nostrils. I'm not even out of breath.
He nods to one side, and I'm confused for a mere moment before the arm wraps around my throat and I'm pinned to a hard chest.
I'm pretty sure that's cheating, but it's whatever.
I twist my body to one side, draw my elbow forward and slam it right into my new opponents sternum. The breath leaves him, and before he can stumble away I reach behind me, grab his bicep and fling my torso forward while my feet stay planted on the floor. He flips right over my back and lands in a heap at my feet.
The punch comes from nowhere, and I stumble backwards, cheek on fire.
I guess the first one recovered while I was occupied.
Another fist to my stomach and I'm doubled over, gasping, and I only just manage to dodge the next one.
The other man is up on his feet, and now they're both on me.
It's all I can do to deflect the blows, but they get me a few times. I'm torn between the two of them, dodging one kick while I deflect a punch, rolling away from one only to be kicked in the stomach by the other.
One gets me into a deep leg lock, and I have to punch the other in the face before I can wriggle my way out of it.
I send one down with a jab to the throat, and the other is there throwing me to the floor while the other recovers.
It's a long and bloody fight, but I win. Over my dead body if I was gonna lose to a couple of 13 assholes.
Eventually, one of them gets a knee to the manhood and an elbow to the face, and the other I wrap my legs around his head and squeeze until he's unconscious.
He collapses on top of me and I slump to the floor, exhausted. But then, I shove him off with a grunt and stumble to my feet, and I'm bloodied and battered but I'm standing, which is what makes all the difference.
I limp off the mats, and Lux and Reeve and Thorny are all rushing towards me, calling for medics, but I wave away their hands as they go to help me walk.
I find Coal's eyes, round and wide and full of fear and hatred, and I give him a big grin. I give the camera one too, because I know that they haven't cut away from me since I stepped onto the mats.
Let the whole country see, let them all know that I will not go without a fight.
******
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