As the sun goes down in District Nine, the sun often sets aglow the vast fields ripe with the harvest in the days leading up to the Hunger Games. At night, people feel freer to pass around whispers and discard the expectations the Capitol places on them, just as Arista has discarded her heels in favors for more practical cowboy boots. Ditched the fancy updo for a more relaxed do aglow with its own lights. This carefully crafted Capitol Doll has grown up looking to break out of her pretty little box by more than rebelling against her stylist...
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Similar to the sting of a recently removed bandage, Reed felt an unpleasant prick at the Tribute Tower. The roof reminded him of moments shared with a fiery redhead. The preparation area for the parade refreshed his memory of ensembles Acacia designed for the Robles twins. Sevenâs quarters prompted thoughts of how the bedroom his sister stayed in now housed someone else. What made matters worse was that someone else was one of the two tributes meant to heed his advice. How could he mentor others with incessant memories of the Quarter Quell seeped into his head?
He weaved through the preparation area to catch his tributes before the parade, but Reed swiftly became distracted. The newest victor stopped to stroke a horseâs mane. A watery smile crossed his features, as he petted the horseâs neck and allowed his mind to wander. Even horses reminded him of Ten, including little Shiloh and the brother he accidentally butchered. The smile faltered with the memory of Beau Williams, though Reed managed to maintain a warm demeanor as someone approached.
âDo you think the horses like doing this? They cart around tributes year after year, but most of the attention isnât on them. I wonder if they ever get jealous.â He commented, continuing to pet the horse.
âI think...â Arista paused as she pulled a carrot out of her bag, since her dress had no pockets, and fed it to one of the horses. âThey like the treats they receive after they cart the tributes around.â She noted as she gave the magnificent creature an affectionate pat. Her horse certainly seemed more motivate to do anything if there was a promise of food for a reward.
As for his next question, Arista gave pause. âYou know, I think it probably depends on the horse. Kind of like some humans are more prone to jealousy than others...â It seemed like a logical conclusion. Her horse didnât seem to get jealous, but she had witnessed peoplesâ dogs and cats get jealous of when they pay attention to someone else.
Well this woman wasnât her stylist. She folded her arms over her chest, full of attitude which was formed only by the walls she put up to protect herself. âMaggie.â She replied, a frown forming over her lips. âI donât wear stuff like this at home.â It was nicer than anything sheâd ever even laid eyes on, that didnât make it any less itchy though.
âItâs nice to meet you Maggie,â Arista told the girl with a smile. Every part of her wanted to frown with the knowledge of what awaited this child, but she didnât want to scare her. Maggie would find so much in the world soon to scare her, Arista wanted to offer her some comfort while she could. The children were always the hardest.
She nodded. âTo be honest, none of us do.â In the Victors got dressed in elaborate clothing they would never wear otherwise. âThese clothes arenât very practical, are they? But, after the parade you can change into something more comfortable. I certainly prefer my own clothes to these.â
âStupid.â She muttered, itching at her freshly waxed leg with the toe of one shoe and fidgeting with the dark and dusky material of the dress sheâd been forced into. All she wanted to do was go back home, to Theo, to hold him and cuddle him. Who would do that while she was gone, when she was gone? He was only two, he couldnât take care of himself and Maggie knew from experience that her parents wouldnât take care of him.Â
âWhen can I take this stupid thing off?â She huffed, hearing someone approach and turning to face them assuming it was the horrid woman whoâd put it on her in the first place. Â
âIn a little bit,â she assured the girl figuring she was one of the tributes though Arista did not recall which. Her own tributes had demanded most of her attention and after last year, she was determined to try and prepare them a little better. Arista had learned many things over the winter, but it didnât mean she could deny someone that needed a little help. She had been terrified as a tribute and she had been fifteen, clearly older than the girl before her.
Arista smiled softly at the girl. âIt all goes by rather fast. When they make me wear something I donât want to or donât like, I try not to think about it.â It didnât solve the problem but it usually helped. âMy name is Arista, whatâs yours?â
Reed chuckled softly and envisioned what District Nine must like look in January. His own district experienced substantial cold in the dead of winter, but he learned to treasure it. Perhaps throwing snowballs and challenging his classmates to lick icicles also helped during his youth. âAw, câmon. It canât be that bad, can it?â He jested with a warm smile. âYouâll be wishing for this when summer rolls back around, and weâre in the Capitol.â
His expression became far more solemn with Aristaâs words. While Reed often attempted not to let the Quarter Quell faze him, it seemed nearly impossible after losing those he cared about most. âThatâs what Iâve been trying to do, but itâs hard. I think Iâve been focusing a lot of energy on trying to navigate this house and the Victorsâ Village.â A soft sigh escaped his lips at those words. âA bonfire sounds pretty great about now, huh? Maybe weâll have one somewhere around here tonight after all the formal stuff, if the Peacekeepers let us.â Burning the districtâs hottest commodity never sat quite right with their officers.
âTell Soleli to keep her chin up. Itâll be warmer before both of you know it.â Reed chuckled softly. âI tried to count once or twice after the Games, but I never got over one hundred. I donât know, it took me a really long time to get that far, and I donât think anyone wants to leave me alone in the forest for long. I swear Rowan found me in record time, but maybe Iâm just not trying as hard to hide anymore. Whatâs the point?â Â
Arista had to laugh because a part of her would be wishing for this moment in the summer, but not for the weather. She would be wishing for the solace of the moment spent talking to a friend and the safety of District Nine. The Capitol was about as safe for Victors as it was for tributes, as Reed was bound to find out, eventually. He would probably have a few years before the Capitol started asking for demands. Arista had gone many years without demands being placed on her plate because of her age, but she was neither young nor naive anymore. This year was bound to be different.
âItâs a lot to get used to for sure,â she agreed. Similar to Nine, she wasnât sure District Seven had much going on in Victorâs Village, but Johanna had won only a few years ago. âI hope you get to have a bonfire,â Arista said happily. She found her best memories were sitting around the fire and listening to her father tell story after story. âMy dad loves to tell stories around the fire as we would roast the corn if the harvest was good and if we were real lucky, make some popcorn.â A real treat around District Nine when you could get it. âHave you ever had popcorn?â
Arista had to laugh. âOh, itâll be spring before long here.â Arista frowned at the thought because she didnât much like spring. Fall was more her favorite. In the spring came the tumultuous storms District Nine was famous for. âThere is no point,â she pointed out with a frown. As a Victor someone was always watching over you, good or bad. âBut your family is probably worried about you.â
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Arista stared at the piece of paper in her hand with a hastily written number scribbled on it. Her stylist had insisted she call her to plan her look for the next Reaping and Tribute parade, but Arista admittedly couldnât make out the numbers clearly. Was that a four or a seven?
Oh, well... She thought as she dialed the number and hoped for the best. What was the worse that could happen? It wasnât like she could accidentally call President Snow or something.
âHello?â Arista asked as she heard another voice on the phone. âI have the wrong number, donât I?â Arista asked with an awkward laugh hoping she hadnât interrupted whoever was on the other end of the phone too much.
"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up so snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, âGo to sleep, darlings, till summer comes again.ââ
A single ember floated in the frigid air and landed at her feet. Arista barely had a moment to register itâs glowing plight before a white boot stomped it out and with it any hope of change. Fire was not going to catch, not now, not here.
A frown made its way to her lips as Arista surveyed the scene before her: the tipped over containers that hours previous had held the bonfires were now spilling embers and coals into the square. The laughter that had filled the air had been replaced by an eerie silence. Surely the Peacekeepers had made all the citizen return home.
You see, the winter in District Nine was unusually harsh this year. Arista could not recall a winter that had been so cold, but the older generation, swore they had winters this cold in their youth. Winters so cold your breath was stolen from your lungs the instant you walked outside.
These days things were uneasy at best in District Nine. Being the off season, there was no work to be had in the fields. The frozen ground was as barren as their hope for the future and their stomachs. If you werenât worrying about hunger, you were worrying about frostbite claiming your livelihood. Arista did not want to think about all the children that would not see the flowers blossom in the spring.
The people of District Nine had simply come seeking a meal and the warmth of the fires. It had been their hardships that had caused them to raise their voices in protest. Inside their shouts had been muffled, but she didnât need to hear it to know it. Panem wanted the same thing.
Unfortunately, they had picked the wrong time to make their voices heard, because there was extra Peacekeepers on duty that day. The fighting had been brief and meaningless the Capitol would be quick to point out, but Arista wasnât so sure.
âDonât you dare help him.â
Arista heard the voice and did not have to turn to know who it belonged to. Marshall âLawâ Stone. District Nineâs newest heart throb and newest Peacekeeper. Only a few months ago, Arista would have thought he was possibly her future, but now she knew he was just another snake in a basket already teeming with them.
âHe wouldnât need my help if you didnât bash his head in,â Arista spat back as she stared out at the now empty square. They were lucky the only injuries had been a knock to the head, probably just a concussion, and some hard feelings from the shouting match between people and Peacekeepers. All the important people had left before the chaos broke out. In a way, it was fortunate for them they had.
As the man reminded her of the punishment of interfering with a Peacekeeper, Arista finally turned to look at him. âAnd what is the payment you must pay for inflicting such harm?â Her voice was steady as her green eyes did not waver from Marshallâs face. âDo you even have a soul left to pay with?â
She saw his hands twitch knowing they itched to strike out at her. Truthfully, Arista wasnât sure what had gotten into her either. It was as if all this anger and frustration had bubbled to the surface all at once. As if all the feelings she had suppressed since the arena was rushing to the surface all at once. The Hunger Games had not broken her, Marshall Stone did not get that honor either.
Making an enemy of a Peacekeeper wasnât a great idea, Arista knew that, but she was tired of being manipulated and bullied by people. The Capitol was already fashioning her into something she had never wanted to be. She had noticed her stylistâs sudden urge to shift her wardrobe with shorter skirts, plunging necklines, and tighter constraints. With another male Victor, the Capitol was running low on respectable recent female Victors to satisfy the Sponsors.
They wanted her to grow up, only once you started the ball rolling down the hill there was no stopping it.
Winning the Hunger Games didnât make her a hero.
Arista heard the words that Marshall called out to her and once again, she found her eyes meeting his stone cold ones.Â
âNo, but it did make me a survivor,â she told him evenly. âI believe you still have a party to go to.â Peacekeepers liked to party as much as anyone and it was still Snowâs birthday and the minor disturbance was over.
âHave a goodnight Marshall,â Arista told him as she walked away happy to head home. There would be no sunset today, the clouds had already rolled in thick and heavy promising more snow.
It reminded her of something she heard back in District Four, âred sky at night sailors delight; red sky in the morning sailors take warning.â Well, the morning sky had been red for a while now
The Victory Tour came and went, but the home in the Village still felt unfamiliar. Reed exited the structure each morning only to recall how sumptuous it felt once more. The Village home contained more space in the kitchen than his old home possessed in total. It included a mahogany staircase to reach a second floor Reed and his siblings never had growing up. For once, the Robles family did not feel cramped, as they all roamed the house. It almost felt too spacious between them, which was only amplified by missing one of their own. She perished in the very arena Reed Robles managed to survive.
Reed stared at the telephone suspiciously while it rang. The device came with the house, but like everything else in the vicinity, he was still warming up to its presence. He approached the phone warily before extended a long arm to answer the call. âHello?â Upon hearing Aristaâs voice on the other side, the telephone seemed less strange and a bit more familiar. He enjoyed speaking with the other victors whom understood his current struggles.
âHey, Arista, howâs it hanging?â Reed chuckled with a bright smile. âTodayâs an alright day, I guess. A little better than yesterday, but it still sucks. Just getting ready for the lunch for ole Snow. Everyoneâs making a big fuss around it here.â He replied, shrugging his shoulders naturally. âHowâs life in Nine? Have you been out riding lately?â District Nine had been a highlight of his Victory Tour due to Aristaâs insistence that they went horseback riding. She had also been right about the stars in her home district all along.
Arista couldnât help the smile that blossomed on her face at the sound of Reedâs voice, because it meant he was okay. The first year was the hardest in a lot of ways, but the easiest in others. At fifteen it had seemed unbearable to her and she had not experienced the horrors of having survived a sibling in The Games. âWell, I think I have officially turned into an icicle.â She joked. âThis has been one of the worse winters I can remember.â
She was quiet for a moment as she listened to Reed talk as she wasnât sure she could bring herself to promise him it would get easier. It wouldnât. âSometimes, all you can do is take it one day at a time and enjoy the good moments when they come.â There still were days she had to remind herself there was good in the world and that she was bigger than what happened to her; that she needed and wanted to be a bright spot in the world. âYeah, these events tend to make everyone a bit crazy. Itâll be a cozy fit here having to be inside where itâs warm, but thereâs not many of us to be there anyhow.â District Nine wasnât exactly swimming in Victors. âThe people will probably build fires outside which actually sounds more fun,â she admitted with a laugh. Bonfires were a popular past time in both winter and summer.
âOnly a little bit. Itâs a bit cold for Soleli to be out long,â with a frown because she did take joy in getting to ride every day. âHow about you, still counting all those trees?â
Annie liked Arista more than most other people. that was why she smiled when she saw the ID, even though she hadnât smiled in weeks. she propped up her phone so she could knit as they chatted. right now, she was knitting an extra large blanket. it was one of her tricks for when she wanted to pretend she wasnât stressed out. Blankets took a long time to make, so when she was knitting constantly sheâd still finish it in about the same time it took her to normally knit a scarf or socks.
and the idea of needing to be perfect in a meeting with the president⌠it was a lot. why didnât he just bring her some new âmedicationâ for her âillnessâ like he tended to do? a gesture of goodwill without actually having to publicize miss crazy. she wished she wasnât invited. âyes! very well.â her voice was strained, though, and the smile fell. âsorry. a lie. I want to be⌠crab.â she wanted to curl up under a shell, bury herself in the sand, and hide away. she pulled the finished blankets around her tighter to illustrate that notion. she wanted to curl up in a fuzzy covering and just hide hide hide.
âyou?â
Arista listened quietly for a moment because she didnât need to ask Annie what she meant. They all knew what it was like to be show dogs, dragged out whenever the Capitol had an agenda to push or some event meant to be a distraction. District Four she had to imagine was one of the highlights for a lot of people in the Capitol considering they were a Career District, had plenty of Victors, and was generally looked favorable on.Â
âItâll be alright,â she assured her friend. It was only one day, a few hours. âJust think of something else or plan your next knitting project.â With so many Victors Annie could just show up and push through it. âIt wonât take very long and then you can go home and be a crab.â Hopefully, then she wouldnât be bothered until the Games rolled around and could get a reprieve.
Arista shrugged even though she knew her friend could not see the gesture. âAlright. It is not a nice winter...â The weather in Nine could be unpredictable and once in a while they had a harder winter than normal. The last one had been the winter after her father had died... âIt certainly leaves a lot of time for indoor activities like music and reading.â Truthfully, she had been spending a lot of time at the clinic tending to colds, cases of the flu and frostbite, but Arista didnât trust the Capitol not to be listening to their conversations.Â
Arista carefully dialed Reedâs number hoping to find the newest Victor at home. She wanted to check up on him and see how he was managing. Winning the Hunger Games was not an easy feat to cope with regardless of how it was portrayed by the Capitol and Reed had it harder than most. It was hard losing a family member, but that lost coupled with a new reality as a Victor? Her heart went out to him. Arista knew what it was like to deal with the fallout alone and she did not wish that on any new Victor, especially the ones from the Districts that did not have a wide support team of previous Victors.
âHi Reed, itâs Arista.â She told him happily as she heard his voice on the line. âHow are you doing?â It was a simple question but she knew it was also the most complex question she could ask him.
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If Arista was being honest, the news of a Presidential luncheon scared her a bit. District Nine felt uneasy ever since the Seventy-Four Hunger Games, but that wasnât anything new. Like most outer Districts, they had never harbored any great adoration for their ruling bodies. It was hard not to be resentful when you were starving and produced a lot of the food that feed the Capitol. Either way, she pushed the thought from her head because it was a conundrum to ponder later when she had time.
Instead she found herself calling Annie, hoping to find her friend well and safe in District Four. The new year had ushered in a period of snow and cold on her end. âAnnie! How are you? Keeping well I hope!â
âCourse I do. I can probably count the number of people I can really talk to on my hands. Maybe even one hand.â Lincoln shrugged with a smile. Three years of journeying to the Capitol taught him to be precautious with expressing his most frightened emotions. The Capitol citizens certainly would not understand the terrors that snuck into his dreams and transformed them into nightmares. Arista, on the other hand, he could count on.
âMe too. Itâs strange how I never grew up having one, but I donât know where Iâd be without it now.â Lincoln noted, as he continued handling the spear in his grasp. Frankly, he leaned on all his victor friends for support. This extended to the ones in other districts like Arista whom he felt compelled to check on from time to time. A lot of good or bad things could happen in the period between Gamesâ years, after all.
âOkay, maybe a little bit. Iâm still trying to figure out this whole modesty versus egomania thing.â He chuckled, watching her curiously as she weaved the dried leaves. His self-importance had been too magnanimous before the 72nd Games, but now excessive humility took its place at times. âSometimes I think using a bow requires a lot more thought than using one of these. You donât have to aim nearly as much.â He chuckled, gesturing to the spear in his hand. Lincoln was a decent shot, but he preferred closer combat.
âHow about we make a deal? Iâll teach you something about weapons, and you can show me something about herbs or needles?â Lincoln proposed with a raised brow. âI can go first. Holding a weapon like a sword or spear is all about finding its center of gravity first. Once you find the point of balance, it becomes a lot easier to hold.â He shared, holding the spear horizontally in his hand and balancing it in his palm after finding the center.
âI donât think you have to worry about it Lincoln,â Arista assured him because she wasnât sure he was the type to be egotistical about things. People just assumed that because he was from a Career District, but the Lincoln she knew was far from any of those things people would assume he was. âYes, but the bow felt less intimidating,â Arista admitted. It was silly now, but it was how she had felt as a tribute standing in the training center that first day.
She nodded. âDeal.â She didnât have to think twice about it because she wanted to learn as much as she wanted to share her knowledge with Lincoln. âThere are a lot of useful herbs for headaches and simple ailments that could help you at home.â Arista was able to take some Capitol medicine back for her little make-shift clinic back home, but it wasnât nearly enough and she couldnât risk drawing the attention of the Capitol.
Arista picked up one of the smaller swords that she could handle without looking completely useless. âSo just find a balance and then what...?â
KyAnne too gave a small chuckle, though the smile that resulted didnât reach her eyes, as she thought about the tiny terror that was Valkaryie Quartz. âIt can be.â Helping Trixanna with Val made KyAnne often wonder what life wouldâve been like had she told her parents off and kept the child sheâd had when she was only a teenager, or wonder what her daughter was like now at twenty years old. âBut I wouldnât change it for the world.â She spoke up, shoving those recurring thoughts to the wayside.Â
The mention of taking the two horses for a ride caused KyAnne to pause for a moment. She hadnât been riding in years. But after a moment, she turned to put the brush back where sheâd found it. âSure.â She dusted her hands off of whatever imaginary dust was there. Maybe it would help to clear her mind. âMaybe itâll help clear my mind.âÂ
âI find it is one of the best ways to do so,â Arista told KyAnne as she reached for the saddle resting on the nearby stall door. âGives me a reason to be outside too.â Not that she needed much of that in Nine between the clinic and the garden she kept. âI like riding at night but thatâs not such a good idea.â The Peacekeepers had been pretty strict lately with the curfew and wandering around at night had never been a safe venture for a girl in District Nine.
âI wish you could see the stars here...â The Capitol lights made that all but impossible. Arista was quiet a moment as she finished saddling up the horse and as she pulled herself up into the saddle. This horse wasnât her own, but it was a fine creature nonetheless. âSo, are you ready to go back home to District Ten?â
âMe too. I see you found my hiding place.â Lincoln chuckled with a shrug. âThis place always seems to clear out after the training period ends. I really only see Avox cleaning or an occasional Peacekeeper. I try to keep my distance from Peacekeepers, and Avox obviously donât have much to say.â The young man acted cordial with both parties when they crossed paths, but they never fell into any easy pattern. âBut itâs much better being in the company of someone I actually donât mind talking to.â A gentle smirk crossed his lips.
The smirk quickly dissipated at the gravity of Arista arriving to a lonely Victorâs Village in District Nine. Lincoln could not fathom having survived over the past three years without constant support from Fourâs other mentors. Finnick, Harper, Annie, and even Mags sheltered him in moments of doubt. âAt least we have the phones.â He knew it would be nowhere the near the same. Lincoln also wondered if the Capitol monitored their calls.
A chuckle escaped his lips, and he shrugged with a glance around the gymnasium. âAmazing skills, huh? I donât know whoâs been lying to you.â He replied with a chuckle. âNo, Iâm pretty good with weapons like spears, tridents, nets, and swords.â Lincoln offered, approaching one of the abandoned weapons racks and twirling the shaft of a spear effortlessly in his hands. âBut give me a needle or some herbs, and Iâm lost.âÂ
Arista gave him a smile. âWell, I am glad you count me as someone you can talk to.â To be honest, Arista wasnât sure what she would do if Lincoln wasnât there to talk to. She liked all the Victors, but it was nice to have someone her own age that understood what it was like and all the other unpleasantries that went with their situation.
While Lincoln worked out, Arista couldnât help but pull the basket of dried leaves, leftover from the training period onto her lap, and started weaving them. âI am glad we have phones.â It was the one saving grace about being a Victor. She could still talk to her friends whenever she needed them. Besides, she had her horse and her work to keep her company. It made her think that she needed to start getting out a little more.
âLying? I think youâre just being modest Lincoln,â Arista told him as she looked up from her work for a moment. âIt was an accomplishment for me to even pull the bowstring back let alone shoot the arrow straight,â she said with a laugh recalling the disastrous moments of her training period. Part of her wondered if she should learn now? âOh, well lucky for you I know someone thatâs very skilled with both herbs and needles,â she told Lincoln with a laugh.
âSo... teach me something,â Arista said after a moment jumping to her feet. âHow do you even hold some of these weapons?â She was supposed to be there working out after all.
KyAnne offered a small smile at the otherâs comment as she gently reached to stroke the muzzle of the horse sheâd joined in the stall. âHey bud.â It was little more than a whisper to the animal as she moved around to his side. âA bit perhaps. Though they donât leave their toys all over the house.â She offered, thinking of the constant mess of toys that seemed to have taken over Trixannaâs home in Two.Â
At the question of her having horses, she paused in her gentle strokes of the horseâs furt for a moment. âI used to.â Though she didnât anymore. Theyâd really been her parentsâ horses and whens he won sheâd cut all ties. âBut I havenât had one in years. I usually go visit theâŚâ Another pause, this time in her voice as she wavered on the end of her sentence. âI visit the rodeo when I want to see the horses.â Though, now she didnât even know what would come of the rodeo back in Ten with both Shiloh and Beau gone.Â
Arista had to laugh because she imagined kids left a lot of things all over. âSounds like chaos,â she admitted. Her house was neat as a pin, her father had preferred their house to be neat and tidy and Arista had inherited it from him. âThough I mean that in a good way.â Having lived alone since the age of fourteen, Arista could hardly imagine what it would be like to have anyone in her space. âItâs so quiet some nights I play the piano for some noise to keep me company,â she admitted with a laugh.
She frowned knowing where the older Victorâs thoughts were going. âI am sorry about your tributes.â Arista had met Shiloh only once but the girl had been a bright and sunny spot on a normal dismal day following the reapings and harsh reality kids were going to die. âWant to take these ones for a ride?â Arista had been debating the idea since she came into the stables. âI doubt anyone will pay attention with the finale so fastly approaching...â To be honest she just wanted a chance to get away from the whole Games atmosphere for a while.
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Ivory laughed softly, âI doubt they do. Itâs an interesting group on my floor. I definitely donât see eye to eye with some of them!â Ivory would be first to admit career victors, like career tributes, could be touchy to deal with. The egos, prestige and constant need to draw attention was suffocating. She had her close knit group of friends, those who mentored her to victory and supported her after. Others she didnât bother to converse with too frequently. âSome of my fellow District 1 victors can be a bit too much to handle.â She smirked.Â
Aristaâs question about One caught Ivoryâs attention. âI love One⌠It certainly wasnât my favorite place when I was young. But now, as shallow as it sounds. I love the glamour. Liking fashion and jewelry, itâs not a bad place to call home. But sometimes, I think I wouldnât mind a simpler life. I was drawn to districts like yours. The wide open spaces. It was calming. I remember that from my victory tour.â
âYou do have an interesting mix for sure,â Arista agreed with a laugh although she had not talked too much with District One Victors. Most of them did not seem all that interested in knowing a young Victor from District Nine or perhaps they were just busy. The Capitol did keep them very busy while they were there and dealing with the various aspects of The Games. âThough have you ever talked to the other Victor from Nine?â Arista asked with a laugh figuring she hadnât. If she saw her mentor it was usually with Haymitch joking about things she didnât understand.
Arista nodded as she listened to Ivory talk. âYouâre allowed to like the glamor without sounding shallow.â Otherwise wouldnât it make her shallow for liking to dress up from time to time? âI certainly enjoy getting to wear nice things from time to time.â In her head, District One was a place where it was okay to be dolled up and all the people looked like they stepped out of a fashion magazine. Not in the crazy manner of the Capitol, but a more practical sophisticated kind of style. In Nine, no one could afford such things, even for the reaping, so it made you an outsider or one of them if you dressed up. Even Arista who dressed simply, wore minimal makeup on a normal day, and took time to bread her hair into some kind of hairstyle looked out of place.
âOh! Itâs fantastic!â Arista exclaimed happily thinking of home. âThe way the wheat fields shimmer in the summer and the blueness of the skies! Itâs a shame the Victory tours take place in the winter.â District Nine didnât get snow all the time but it was gray, depressing, and bitterly cold when the Tours came through. âWho knows, you might be coming to visit again soon!â District One still had their girl in the fight. Buckingham was the only Career left outside District Four, so she had a good shot.
Arista pulled her blanket tighter around her petite form as she listened to the raindrops hit the window in a soft rhythmic tapping. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine she was back home listening to the song of a light summer rain, but alas, she was not at home. If the window was open she would have been able to hear the murmur of the excited crowd as the finale of the Quarter Quell drew closer and closer.
On the television was the usual chatter about Victors and tributes alike. Now that the field was narrowed to eight, the crowd waited with bated breath for the family interviews. It was Panemâs chance to get to know their possible Victor a little more. That was the thing about the people of Panem, they always wanted to know more. They wanted to know your secrets, your desires, your fears, your plans, and even your dreams. It was like they exposed every thread that weaved the fabric of your being.
Truthfully, she had often thought about what her own interview should have been had her father still been alive. What would he have said? He would have been so charismatic on the screens Panem would have loved him with his big amber eyes, sandy hair, and an easy smile. Arista couldnât help but smile at the memory of her father.
Arlo Baize would have said...
He would have said his favorite thing about his daughter was how she was a spitting image of her mother. How Aristaâs sweet singing voice was an echo of happier times when Orla would sing to her a child. How Aristaâs gentle nature brought out the best in everyone. Arlo would have talked so long Ceasar would have had to remind him they had other tributes and other questions to ask.
When Caesar Flickerman questions him about why his daughter should be a Victor, he would point out the child was a born survivor. No, he would not tell Panem about the epidemic that claimed his wife and how his child kept him smiling despite her motherâs death. He would not tell them about her efforts to clean the house, cook dinner, and look after him while he was grieving despite her own pain. They did not deserve that part of her.
Nor would he tell them about the tornado that had ripped through District Nine the year before. It had been frightening and everything had been lost, but they had made it. If Arista could persevere through that she could make it through this too. His little girl had more fire in her than she realized. Every fiber of him knew Arista felt afraid and like she couldnât do it, oh but she could! She had to.
The moment that had scared him most... The fallout of the alliance with the girl from District Five. It had been the moment that had scared Arista the most as well. Her heart still pounded at the mere thought of it. How it had felt staring up at her dark eyes as the girl told her she was tired of games Arista hadnât known she was playing, how she was going to make sure she never made it out there alive because she was angry. Angry about knives Arista hadnât told her she received. In her nightmares, Arista still heard the popping noise her Achilles tendon had made when the girl twisted her foot.
The cry that had left her lips had chilled her blood, so she could only imagine what it had been like for her father.
Would he have been relieved when the ground trembled and interrupted what would have been a fight to the death? Or would her father have been relieved?
Caesarâs next question Arista was certain would have brought tears to her fatherâs eyes, who would he root for if Arista couldnât win. His smile would have faltered to a frown because what kind of man would ask that of a father? Was he heartless if he said no one because he didnât want anyone to win if Arista could not? It did not make him a bad man did it? Not that he wished death on anyoneâs child but he wanted his own to win.
It would be one question Caesar Flickerman would not get an answer to. The silence would build between them until the usually jolly host went to his next question. To what would he like his daughter.Â
âThat I love her.â Sometimes life was just that simple and sweet.
But her interview had not gone like that. Instead, Panem had listened to girls that claimed to be Aristaâs friend tell them about the quiet girl that sang in the chorus, who they assumed was friendly but shy. To the chorus teacher who said she was brimming with a quiet talent and a magical voice. They heard of the party District Nine would throw if they finally had a Victor after more than thirty years without one.
Panem would have heard how the girl with the braids deserved to live.