★★★
I RUN A HAND THROUGH my hair and walk into the gymnasium. Immediately, I feel multiple sets of eyes on me and swallow uncomfortably. I'm the star of the show now.
I look around. There's no way I can use any of the weapons, and I only have a few moments to hold the Gamemakers' attention at the beginning. Then I start to see the various electronics around me with a different eye, the moving dummies, the lights, then the snares, and form a plan.
At first, it's hard to tell what exactly I'm doing. I work fast, knowing I don't have much time. I move to the snares section and grab a few spools of rope, tying them together to form a net large enough to snare a child. I then drag one of the training dummies to the center of the room, listening to the Gamemakers murmur to themselves. Finally, I dash to the weapons section and fix several darts to the underside of the net, hiding them from view with my body.
And for the final touch... This is it, the proof I'm from District Three. I run to the lights on either sides of the doors. Carefully, carefully unscrewing one, I move back to the net and, once again obscuring what I'm doing, coat the blade of a knife with the chemicals inside the light and spread them over each dart on the net.
I noticed the lights on the very first day of training. We learned a bit about explosive chemicals and where they can be found in school, but it was only due to personal research that I discovered that a very common chemical with a small explosion radius is used in Capitol lighting more often than not. The bluish-green tint of the lights told me all I needed to know.
Unfortunately, I can't remember how much pressure it needs to detonate, so I'll just hope that this doesn't quite literally blow up in all our faces. I check the time. Fifteen minutes left. Let's make this count.
It takes me less than five minutes to set the snare. Hoisting the dummy on its wheels, I send it rolling towards the trap and step back, waiting in anticipation. It careens straight into the trigger, and the net falls, ensnaring it. I wait. Five. Four. Three. Two—
Boom!
The net explodes, obliterating the dummy. I breathe a sigh of relief. The explosion didn't harm anything else, only leaving the dummy as a pile of ashes. I creep forward and nudge it with my foot. There's a black mark on the floor, but other than that it's alright.
Turning back to the Gamemakers, worry twists my gut. Will they like it? Are they angry that I've destroyed one of their dummies?
I scan their faces, seeing mostly shock. A pale boy looking around my own age watches me with eerie blue eyes, face unreadable.
I look over at Seneca Crane, Head Gamemaker, who seems deep in thought. Then he nods. "You are dismissed, Miss Rosewood."
"Thank you." I sweep into a small bow and walk out of the room.
★★★
"You what?"
Bacchus looks completely distraught. His hair, green today, is leaning to the left, and I wonder again if it's a wig.
"I blew up a training dummy," I mumble, picking at the rich food. "They didn't seem to hate me for it, though."
Beetee looks thoughtful, but Wiress is smiling widely. "Good!" she proclaims, slapping my back. I wince slightly. "Very good. Bright girl."
I smile softly, but worry and apprehension are still swirling in my mind. "What do you think I'll get?"
Beetee shrugs, pushing up his glasses. "What you did was very clever..." He trails off, lost in thought for a few minutes, then seemingly snaps back to reality. "You said only the dummy was destroyed? Nothing else?"
"No." I hesitate. "Well, there was a mark on the floor from the explosion. And I took out one of the lights by the door for the chemicals."
"Ah, yes. I'm familiar with it." Beetee looks at me warmly. "I think you were perfect. A good display of both resourcefulness and brute force."
I accept the compliment with a smile, but inside, I'm scared. Scared that I'm already turning into a monster. What's the difference between blowing up a training dummy and a real, living tribute? I imagine one of them running into my trap, getting tangled into the net, exploding into bits and pieces. I feel sick.
"Excuse me, I have to go." I stand up from the table and hurry outside before any of them can stop me. I need air.
The elevator rushes me to the highest place available. The roof. I step out and freeze. Standing there, her back to me, is Clove.
There's a few moments of silence before she speaks. "What the hell do you want?"
I start to say something, then find my voice has caught. Clearing my throat, I try again. "Same as you, I guess."
Clove whips around, so fast I jump. Her eyes narrow. "Oh, it's you."
"It's me," I agree, hesitantly stepping forward. She doesn't move, eyes flicking from me to the elevator door to the edge of the roof behind her. For a second, I wonder if she wants to toss me off the roof.
Clove looks tense, I can tell that much. Even before she registered my presence, she was standing stiffly. I wonder what happened. Something related to her furious knife-throwing session in the Training Center, maybe?
I don't say anything, instead choosing to walk right up to stand beside her. She stays still, refusing to look at me, but I feel the tension emanating from her body in waves.
We stay there for a while, not speaking, just looking out over the shining Capitol. The sun reflects on the polished skyscrapers, and I shield my eyes from the dazzling light.
When Clove finally speaks, her voice is tight and restrained. "Why do you care so much?"
I turn to face her. "What do you mean?"
Clove waves a hand, still not looking at me. "I'm someone from another District. We don't know each other. I'm probably going to kill you next week. Why are you talking to me?"
I open my mouth, then close it and look at her closely. Why does she dislike emotional attachments so much? Now that I think of it, all the Careers are detached in a way. Cato with his aggressive silence, the girl from Four rarely talking at all; even Marvel and Glimmer, the flashiest of the five, seem off in a way.
"I think... We're more alike than you think," I say slowly, carefully, not wanting to provoke her. And it's true. We are alike, in wildly different ways. We're both kids thrown into an arena to battle to the death for the Capitol's amusement. I'm less confident, less willing to kill, but Clove... if she has no problem with killing me, why does she not want to get attached?
Clove blinks and turns to face me, and I'm struck by the intensity of her eyes. "You don't know me." Her voice is cold, but I detect a hint of raggedness, enough to make me step closer. "You don't want to know me."
"I do," I say softly.
Clove stares up at me. "Why?"
I shrug. "It's like I said. We're alike."
Clove snorts and moves away, the moment broken. "We'll see about that." She casts a final look over the city skyline and lifts her chin airily. "Good luck on your training score or whatever, District Three."
And then she's gone, her ponytail whipping behind her as the elevator doors swish shut.
I try to process everything before remembering. The training scores.
★★★
That night, we gather around the television in the living room of floor three and watch as the anthem plays. They will reveal the scores we got from the Gamemakers—one being the lowest, twelve being the highest. I'm fidgeting with my fingers, nervous being an understatement. Gavin is the same, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Even Bacchus's eyes are fixed to the screen.
After the anthem ends, the faces of the tributes start flashing. Only a picture, a district number and a score. Marvel, the boy from One, appears first with a score of nine. Glimmer, eight. Cato, ten. Clove, ten. Predictable scores for the Careers.
Gavin's face appears onscreen, with a score of six. We all congratulate him, as it's a decent score, but he looks disappointed. I remember him saying he just set some snares.
Then it's my turn, and I hold my breath. Nine. A nine! That's practically unheard of for someone from the non-Career districts! I accept the congratulations with a giddy smile. The Gamemakers must have liked what I did.
The rest of the scores aren't that outstanding. Dana, the Career from Four, receives a nine. Perch, a three. I shake my head in sympathy.
The tiny girl from Eleven, Rue, manages a seven, which is impressive for someone of her age and size. The blonde boy from Twelve gets an eight. Katniss Everdeen receives an eleven, which is shocking, but I'm not that surprised. She always had something... different about her. I wonder what she did to garner such a high score. Something flashy and rebellious, no doubt.
For a brief, fleeting moment, I think about what it would be like to be Katniss. She never really jumped out in the group sessions. Maybe she was saving for skills for the private ones... I've seen her staring at Glimmer, particularly Glimmer's inadequacy with a bow. That must be it, I decide.
We eat dinner, chicken and lemon with a cold citrusy dessert I'm told is called sorbet, and then it's time for bed. I can't sleep again. Lying beneath the covers, I think of my family back in Three, of Xavier. They should be doing alright. I'm not of much use to my family, I realize. Most of our income comes from Colt and Haldin's factory work.
I hope Xavier is okay. He's still so young, in need of proper love and affection. I think back to the homeless kids on the streets, their parents dead before they reached a year old, their eyes hollow and devoid of emotion. I don't want that to happen to my brother.
It's another night spent staring outside the window at the city lights until sleep consumes me.
★★★
Shy and gentle. That is my angle for the tribute interviews with Caesar Flickerman tonight. No, not tonight. In three hours. I think back to what Clove said to me yesterday, on the roof. She seemed almost... vulnerable.
I shake myself out of it. You have bigger things to focus on, I chide myself. Luci is almost ready with my interview outfit, saying it's a surprise. I inspect my makeup in the mirror. The same winged eyeliner, but silver and glittery, with sparkles that catch the light. Once again showing off the technology district. I smile to myself.
Shy and gentle. How am I supposed make them see that? Beetee and Wiress told me it would be easy, but I'm not so sure. The shy part I can definitely manage in front of a live audience while being broadcasted to all of Panem.
Kindness is a form of bravery. Show them that you're shy, but have the will to be brave for kindness. Beetee's words. I take a deep breath and play with my fingers, the silver polish shimmering in the light.
Then Luci bustles in holding a bundle of fabric I assume is my dress. He motions for me to take off my robe, his eyes obscured by blue-tinted glasses, and the prep team scamper forward to help him slip the dress over my naked self. It's silver, of course. There are tasteful pinpricks of light dancing around the lacy ends. For the final touch, Luci fixes my ribbon in my hair and does it up in an elaborate updo, framing my face with a few stray curls. He steps back with a smile.
"Lovely!" he proclaims, and my prep team clap their approval. I smile bashfully and look at my reflection, seeing someone so incredibly different from Ivy the girl from Three. I look beautiful, but in the glittery, flashy Capitol way. I have never felt this truly pretty before, but it also feels unnatural.
"Thank you, Luci," I say, tearing my eyes away from the mirror and offering him a small curtsy. He waves me off with a good-natured grin and motions me to the door. I'm suddenly overcome by nerves, and hesitate. He notices.
"You'll be fine, Ivy," he says firmly.
As my hand rests on the doorknob, I turn in time to catch Pippy beaming at me. "You'll do positively brilliant!"
My body is too wracked with nerves for a smile, but I hope she sees the thanks in my eyes. I take another deep breath and step through the door, meeting up with the rest of the group from Three at the elevator. Shy and gentle.
★★★
I take my assigned seat beside Gavin. The lights are too bright for us to make out the crowds, the buzz of many people talking at once filling my ears. I feel pressed in, claustrophobic. I take another deep breath. Wiress's voice floats to the front of my mind. Don't panic.
Caesar Flickerman, the host of the interviews for more than forty years, flounces on stage. This year, his hair and eyebrows are dyed a quite distracting blue. He makes his usual introduction, then the tributes start coming onstage for their interviews.
Marvel from One goes first. His mentors have decided on a happy-go-lucky killer for his angle, and his cheerful voice has a dark undertone of menace. Next is Glimmer who, predictably, takes the sexy angle. Her see-through golden dress doesn't leave much to the imagination, I think. She acts bubbly, but as with Marvel, there is no mistaking the cold malice in her eyes.
District Two. Cato walks up in a striking gray suit, a ruthless boy who delights in the Games, in causing pain and suffering. Then Clove, who looks stunning in her interview dress, sable hair done up in fancy plaits. Her dark eyes glint as she describes her knife-throwing prowess, and there's a light, flirty tone hidden beneath the layers of vicious glee.
These Careers are really something to look out for.
It's Gavin's turn. I'll be next. Another wave of nervous dizziness washes over me, and I'm glad to be sitting down. I resist the temptation to squeeze my eyes shut, knowing there are countless people watching me. Imagining Xavier seeing this makes me force myself to be strong.
Gavin's angle, if I remember correctly, is to flaunt his smarts. When Caesar asks him about school, he replies confidently with his high grades and side projects. I just worry that the Careers will make him a target.
Then, too soon, it's my turn. I get up, willing my legs not to wobble, and walk down to the stage where Caesar awaits. His hair and eyebrows are dyed a distracting shade of blue.
"Miss Rosewood!" he exclaims, greeting me with a little bow. "A pleasure to be of your acquaintance."
I manage a light laugh, taking the hand he offers. He presses a light kiss to the back of my hand and motions for me to sit. "So, Ivy. A score of nine, hm? Quite impressive, don't you think?"
I chuckle, looking down at my feet. "Oh, I don't know, it's not much. Thank you, Caesar."
He waves a hand. "No, no, I'm sure you did amazing!" I feel more at ease, and realize that that is Caesar Flickerman's effect. He makes the tributes feel comfortable, and is quite good at it. I don't have time to ruminate on what it's like to be Caesar before he's continuing with his questions. "What do you think of our fine city, Ivy?"
"Probably the colors," I reply. "It's kind of gray in Three, with all the factories and everything. Here in the Capitol, everything is different." It's the first thing that popped into mind, but I immediately start worrying about whether or not it was too shallow.
Caesar saves me from my internal panicking with his next question. "Now, at your reaping, we saw a little boy come forward when your name was called..."
Oh. I don't know if I can do this, if I can talk about Xavier without crying. Then I steel myself. "Yes," I say, in a near-whisper, and clear my throat. "My brother. His name is Xavier."
"It looks like like you love him very much," he says softly.
I do love him, more than anything else in the world. I can't very well burst into tears onstage, can I? "Yes. Yes, I do."
Caesar pats my back, and we move on. Since he does this with all the tributes over fifteen, I already know what he's going to say. "Now, might you have anyone special back home?"
I surprise myself by laughing. "Oh, no," I wave off, struggling to find the right words. "No one."
"Is that so? Why, I don't believe it." Caesar stands, and I follow. Our time is almost up. "Isn't she beautiful?" he directs at the crowd, and they cheer. I feel light-headed as Caesar raises my hand before our audience, managing to keep smiling.
The rest of the interviews are a blur. Peeta professes his love for Katniss, which I'm not really surprised by. I've seen him looking at her in that way. I wonder if it's all for show, or if he really feels that way about her. I'm betting on the latter.
Beetee greets the two of us with a smile, Wiress mirroring him. "You two were amazing," he says, hugging us both. "Gavin, they loved you. Ivy, you were practically glowing. I'm proud of you both."
I smile, still a bit shaky. "Thank you. Gavin, you did great."
He grins. "Thanks."
The tributes head back into the Training Center lobby and onto the elevators. Beetee starts with a guilty frown when he realizes his, Gavin and Wiress's car is full. "Ivy, is it alright if...?"
"Of course," I say immediately. "It's okay, go on without me. I'll catch another one."
I linger by the cars for the next available one, and feel a towering presence at my back. I look behind me and barely suppress a yelp. It's the tributes from Two, and Clove is glaring daggers.
★★★
a/n pls clove's character is literally so hard to write asgfzffsfs time to write that intense character study