SIX -
The train station is heaving when we reach the Capitol.
Hadley and I are separated and instantly whisked off to meet our prep teams. Their job is to strip everything District about us until we're good enough to be passed on to our stylists, who will dress us in our themed garb for the tribute parade.
Our boy and girl are almost always dressed in gold, silver, or the sandy colour of the brick dust we are coated with each day. Bulky armour-like outfits designed to reflect our renowned mason's strength and more subtly, our success in the arena.
Despite this, a couple of more recent stylists have chosen the Peacekeeper route instead, donning our tributes in altered versions of the Capitol's law-enforcement uniforms. I hope this year's stylist prefers jewel tones to military whites – any memories of my father are not welcome here in this city. The city he abandoned us for.
I lay back on a metal bed in the Remake Centre as a collection of people dressed similarly to Tallulah totter about on their heels and rid my body of unnecessary hair. My eyebrows are plucked into shape and my skin is covered in all manner of lotions and ointments, as a woman named Augusta, with a wig made entirely of multicoloured feathers, chatters with her colleague about, much to my horror, Hadley.
"That boy must have the best genes in District 2, I tell you." Giggles the other of my prep team, a surprisingly young woman called Luciana, with bright orange hair fashioned into a perfect bow on the back of her head. She's probably only around nineteen or so, and it's clearly her first year in the team. "Of course, that family all scrub up pretty well, don't you think?"
It takes me a moment to realise she's speaking to me. "Uh-uh I guess so." I manage to stammer out, grateful when Augusta distracts her with another comment about all the scars my skin has collected over the years.
Healed training wounds from the Academy, but also earlier scrapes from trips and falls climbing up the rocky slopes and mountains surrounding 2. The sudden memory of home, the sun beating down upon the dusty roads, the sound of the stonecrafters whistling their age-old songs of mighty battle on their way to work, sends my heart jolting in my chest. I clutch at Loren's necklace and will myself not to let it show as the two women make the final finishing touches to my body.
"Right, I think it's time to call Sabetha!" Grins Augusta, and the two women disappear in a trail of rainbows and glitter. The Capitol fashions and accents are so eccentric on my District eyes and ears that there is no way to truly process anything about them without a minute or so extra time. I'm still trying to decipher their comments about Hadley, whilst wrapped in a pale blue robe with my sopping wet hair clinging to the nape of my neck and dripping rivulets down my spine, when a third Capitol woman steps into the room alone.
Whereas my pair of prep ladies were bright and colourful, this woman – Sabetha, they called her – is all white. I instantly think we may have chosen the nickname 'Ice Woman' for the wrong person in 2, as Sabetha is pale as a ghost and decked out in a shade even lighter. Even her hair is white as fresh snowflakes, falling almost to her thighs and braided into an intricate net. The only things about her which seem to hold a vague pigmentation are the heavy pewter cuffs around her wrists and neck, and the acidic green of her eyes.
"Good afternoon, Clove isn't it." Sabetha holds out a hand. Her nails are short compared to most of those I've noticed in the Capitol so far but are painted bright silver and sharpened into talons. I can tell why this woman is the stylist for 2 – she looks like a weapon herself.
"Yes, that's-" I begin, but the woman cuts me off, raising a violently clawed palm. I stop talking immediately, eyes trained on her as she circles me, a smile not unlike Sidonia's trademark smirk creeping onto her face. White feathered lashes frame her bright green eyes, glinting beneath the glow of the lights overhead.
"Yes, you will fit my design perfectly." She exclaims. "I did wonder whether it'd be the right style for you as well as your District partner, but I don't think we'll have any problems."
I cross my fingers behind my back in the hope that it's not a Peacekeeper uniform.
I sit with Sabetha for the remaining hours until the opening ceremony, eating more beautifully presented Capitol food which my stylist orders by speaking to a hole in the wall. We dine on platters of dainty sandwiches and I drink my fill of more exuberantly flavoured coffee whilst Sabetha drains at least three glasses of sparkling purple wine. Then she runs me through the opening ceremony and what will happen this evening.
Tonight, the Capitol will get their first real look at the tributes of each District. The event will set the ball rolling for the gamblers and sponsors to start speaking to mentors, choosing which tributes they will back when we are all inside the arena.
Once I rule out the chance of Hadley and I being dressed as Peacekeepers for our chariot ride around the city ('don't be silly, my dear, I've never liked those awful uniforms') I allow myself to relax and eat my fill, hoping that Sabetha's talents don't lie exclusively in trying to one-up Tallulah Frost as the Capitol's ice queen.
We have to look the best tonight – Sidonia's fears of competition for sponsors from the District 12 girl have burrowed their way into my head, and I can't help but feel cheated by her bravery. This is supposed to be my year.
No, this is our year.
I can no longer ignore Hadley and his imminent presence beside me for the next week in the Capitol, and until there is no other way forward but for one of us to die, we are a team. I can only hope that somebody else will be the one to take him out in the end, because after last night I'm not sure whether I could manage it myself. And I don't want to have to think about it until he becomes a threat.
Instead push all thoughts of my District partner from my head and wait for Sabetha to signal time to start getting ready.
A few hours later, I am staring at myself in a mirror, unable to muster a single word at the sight of my costume. Sabetha wasn't lying about steering clear of Peacekeepers, but I suspected something similar to the usual oversized metallic or sand-coloured suits us tributes from 2 are usually decked out in. This year, our outfits are refined and elegant, but still pack the punch Panem has come to expect from my District over the years.
I am dressed in a glittering gold breastplate, embellished with layer after layer of feathers, and sleeveless to show off the metallic swirls Sabetha has painted up and down my arms. The top merges into a matching skirt, split into sections of alternating gold and silver, each capped off into sharp points which settle just above my knees. A pair of copper coloured heels and a gold helmet sprouting ivory wings from the temples finishes up the look. Sabetha has braided my dark hair into two tight fishtail plaits which settle on my chest, and combined with dramatic highlights and dark eye makeup, I look ready to kill.
I thank my stylist for her incredible job with our costumes and follow her to meet with her sister Tatiana, who has spent the day prepping Hadley. I am lost in my thoughts, my mind questioning whether Tatiana has spent the whole day simply sitting around as it's fairly unlikely that Hadley took much fixing in the first place, when Sabetha and I round the corner.
And my gaze is met with one of the gladiators from Mr Goldstein's pictures.
He is straight from the pages of a history book, and all of a sudden that strange vision I had in the Justice Building after my father's comment – of Hadley's aureate blood causing him to shine from the inside out – is no longer just a figment of my imagination. Our outfits are practically the same, but I must look like a mere child next to him. His similar sleeveless garment exposes the corded muscle resulting from years' worth of hard training – he does not need the sparkly tattoos which now suddenly seem almost tacky, winding their way up my biceps – and dressed entirely in gold, he could be a statue.
I am saved from the mortification of being caught staring by Sabetha's hand on my back, guiding us down into the basement stables of the Remake Centre. I try my best not to make eye contact with Hadley at all during the elevator trip, but as soon as we are shown to our chariot, the stylist sisters disappear to chat with their friends catering to other Districts, leaving us alone with the horses.
"So, what do you think?" Hadley asks, a dangerous smirk playing about his mouth.
"I think you're lucky that our stylists designed these things with you in mind." I fold my arms across my chest and lean back against our chariot, watching as our pair of palomino steeds chomp at a bag of hay on the floor beside them.
Hadley laughs. It's not like that horrible laugh from the train, but the usual bright chuckle I've never heard any other time than when we mock each other. As much as I wish there weren't, there's something comforting about it. "And what's that supposed to mean, huh?"
I look him up and down for effect, eyebrows raised. "That gold's clearly your colour."
"Ah, I'm not sure about that, actually." He jokes. "You don't scrub so bad yourself Clover." The sudden glint in his eyes and the satisfied grin on his lips at the realisation that he might have rattled me makes me want to slap him.
But I don't get the chance, because at that moment Sidonia comes charging out of nearby elevator wearing a dress which looks like an oil slick for the rainbow of colours rippling across its surface beneath the lights. Her raven hair is loose and poker straight, barely a strand out of place, and if anything the harsh glow from overhead brings the crimson lines of her brutal tattoo into starker relief. Brutus follows behind her like a bodyguard, though it's clear he'd rather be in the Capitol with anybody but Sidonia.
"Alright kids, stop flirting for a minute, we've got a hell of a lot of shit to do and not much time to do it." She shouts. Hadley and I both seem to edge a little away from each other, and I don't doubt a hint of blush is creeping up my cheeks. I can only hope Sabetha's heavy layers of makeup will be good enough to conceal it.
Around us, more tributes are filing into the Remake Centre basement with their mentors. The boy and girl from 1 are dressed in glittering silver, to represent their production of luxury items for the citizens of the Capitol. Their mentors, Gloss and Cashmere Ziggett, a duo of classically beautiful siblings who won consecutive games when I was a kid, wave over at Sidonia as she helps Sabetha and Tatiana straighten out costumes.
I spot the blonde girl who could've been mistaken for a Hadley, trying to catch my eye, and I shoot her a quick smile. She beams back, a perfect diamond grin, and elbows the boy next to her. She begins whispering something in his ear, and I'm trying to catch what they do next when an announcement booms over the stables.
"Tributes mount up. Tributes mount up."
"Right, it's time. Heads up, smile, the two of you look like warriors tonight so you better act like it as well." Says Sidonia, shoving Hadley towards the horses.
As soon as my District partner is in place he turns, holds out a hand to me, and says in the perfect rendition of the Capitol accent. "Your chariot awaits, my lady."
I shoot him a deadpan glare but allow Hadley to pull me up beside him, struggling with the climb in my heels. Sabetha and Tatiana give us a final once over before we are manoeuvred into position behind District 1. Sidonia mouths off about going to find a person who might have a drop of liquor, someone called Abernathy, then promptly turns on her heels and disappears into the stands, leaving Hadley and I to collect ourselves for the parade.
Before we know it, 1 are entering the city streets amid raucous cheers from the crowds of Capitol citizens gathered to watch the procession. I barely have the time to straighten up my helmet and steel my face into some semblance of a vicious smirk before we are following them.
Our chariot takes off into the night, through the winding streets and past giant screens plastered with shots of each chariot. Despite the cheers indicating several more Districts have exited the stables, the cameras seem to be giving us a lot of attention. And though I know its Hadley giving us all the airtime, it still gives me the boost I need to lace my fingers into his and raise our hands together.
We scream battle cries of victory and glory, whipping the crowds into a frenzy of chanting. Hadley, Hadley, Hadley, they intone over and over. I even notice a couple of groups cheering my name from their balconies, showering us with beautiful blooms and bright candies. This is what I am here for.
This is our year.
And then it all stops. For a moment, the entire city seems to fall silent. I'm looking around, still clutching tightly to Hadley's hand, confused and ready to begin another war cry, when the streets completely erupt. The sound is deafening, and the names they are shouting are no longer ours. I can't make them out at all, but I don't have to.
Because there on the screens is the girl from District 12. And she is on fire.
Her and her blonde District partner are wearing capes made of flickering flames, billowing out behind them as they charge through the city. Somewhere inside of me, that inkling of fear at Sidonia's earlier remark blossoms into rage.
Hadley and I spend the rest of our chariot tour in silence, still waving and accepting gifts but no longer chanting back at them. Tonight, the girl from 12 has declared war.
By the time we reach the City Circle, I am bristling with fury and the expression on Hadley's face is dark enough to kill. The chariots assemble beneath the President's balcony, at which point giant speakers play the Capitol anthem to welcome us.
Even as the ruler of Panem steps up on to his podium to give his yearly address, the cheering for 12 has not yet fizzled out. "Welcome tributes, we welcome you. We Salute you, your courage, your honour, and your sacrifice." It is the same every year, and I recite it along with him, lips moving so soundlessly I doubt even Hadley notices. "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour."
The noise from the crowd gathered in the City Circle follows us into the basement of the training centre. Our chariot files in behind 1's, and their sleek grey horses pull up beside the Ziggett siblings, who help them down and congratulate them on their performance.
I can't even see Sidonia or Brutus, but our two stylists shower us with praise the moment we step back onto solid ground. Hadley has to steady me as I climb down from the chariot, mocking me all the while, much to my displeasure. I'm tempted by the idea forming in my head of removing my headpiece and battering him with it, but after our ominous chat yesterday the thought disturbs me somewhat.
It's obvious Tatiana managed to take down the bruising on his cheek – he looks every bit the unfairly attractive boy I see at the Academy every day – but even if he's doing a good job of hiding it, I have no doubt the wounds his father inflicted on their farewell are more numerous than just the obvious physical one.
When Sidonia finally makes an appearance, she does so on the arm of a middle-aged man with shoulder length blonde hair, cradling a hip flask in the crook of the other. Though my mentor appears completely sober, the man beside her has clearly had a couple. She bids him goodbye just before she reaches us, and her companion disappears into the throng of tributes and chariots collected in the basement.
"I hate to say it, but I'm impressed." She grins, specifically towards me. "I like the team player thing you've got going on, Kentwell. Too bad we got upstaged by Abernathy." She huffs and rakes her hands through her hair, but her momentarily angered expression disappears as quickly as it surfaced. "Come on, Tallulah's waiting for us upstairs."
She begins to lead the way towards the bank of elevators leading up into the tower of the training centre, but I hang back. Hadley hasn't moved a step, his eyes glued to something in the far corner. When I follow his gaze I notice Sidonia's drunk friend helping the boy and girl from District 12 down from their chariot, and a look on Hadley's face which terrifies me more than anything I've seen since we left home thus far.
Jealousy.
AUTHOR'S NOTE -
Sorry it's super late guys but I had so much fun with this chapter! My fave murderous lovebirds got to flirt, it was adorable, and it will happen again soon. Just a warning this is not gonna be like Sharp Objects where they literally confess their love when she's dying hahaha because honestly who has time for that. Plus writing tragic Romeo and Juliet style death romance is not my forte and ends up cringey so it ain't happening this time around! I'm so much happier with this one than my last chapter so hopefully you guys like it too! ALSO 500 reads and we've been up for 6 days, like wow thank you guys!! To the little crew who comment on every chapter (you know who you are), you guys are literally making my days in quarantine better, and thank you so much for all the encouragement :') Much love - Vee xx