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May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor	By : CJ_Wallace Category: G through L > The Hunger Games Trilogy Views: 12259 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy and make no money off the posting of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Nine
I dream of a fox that night. It changed color throughout the dream, it also grew tails every time we met. It constantly ran off, leading me across a field, into the mountains, down to a forest that lead to the sea. When I first met him, or I assume it was a him, he looked like a normal red fox with one tail. I followed out of curiosity, wondering if I was really seeing a fox, but after a while he seemed to be leading me, disappearing and reappearing in a different form.
In the mountains he had three tails and a dull blonde pelt, the color muted by dirt and dust, but nevertheless flat. I asked why it had lead me here. He ran at me, his blue eyes wild and I fled, scared for my life. I didn't know if the fox followed, or why I was running from such a small creature, but I didn't stop until I broke the tree line.
I found him again in the forest, trotting up meekly, five copper tails wagging. I crouched next to him and stroked his muzzle, looking into his grey-black eyes. I ask him softly why he had attacked me, but the wolf only nuzzled my face. A sound to our right startled us, and the fox dashed off. I wandered, looking for him, calling until my voice faded. Before long, I could smell salt and I was standing on sand.
The water lapped at my feet and I turned, looking for somewhere to go, anywhere... And the fox found me, pulling me by my jacket with his teeth. I put my hand on his pure black pelt; I didn't have to look to know he had seven tails. I ask where we're going, but the fox only growls, glaring with amber eyes.
I was led across the sand, following the shaggy black form ahead of me through a sandstorm. It seemed to shrink and grow as we walked, but I thought it to be a trick of the sand. Soon, the wind stopped blowing and we stood at the feet of a ruin. The fox fur had changed to a blood-color, he had eight tails, and looked frail and weak. There the fox looked up at me with his emerald eyes sadly, then vanished. I was lost and alone, and I couldn't help but cry. I didn't know how to get back, I didn't know where to go, and I just wanted to lie down and die.
I wandered in the desert for the longest time, praying for relief, or water. Anything... then a glimmer of gold caught my eye. I raced for it, running for dear life, finding the field once more. There, on a hill sat a gold fox, sitting with his nine tails floating around him. At his feet there lay weapons and dead, faceless bodies. In a rage, I picked up a sword and rushed at it. I scream for the endless time chasing it. For the lack of reason. For not answering my questions. For scaring me. For making me cry and look weak.
Before I can see the outcome, I'm woken to someone crawling under my covers. It's Jet, I realize sleepily. I'm irritated at being woken, but too tired to fight.
"You missed dinner," he whispers.
"How late is it?" I ask, shooting up in bed.
"Late," he assures me, gently pulling me back. "It's dark and quiet out there. Too quiet."
I lay in his arms and listen to him breathe. "Why did no one wake me?" I ask quietly.
"I told them you'd eaten a big lunch and asked not to be disturbed," he said. "They didn't even question it. Sid thinks you're genius. He must anyway, because he's not worried. Everyone chatted so happily at dinner, you'd think they've forgotten we have our private sessions still."
I groan and roll away from him. "Don't remind me. Why'd you come in here and wake me up? I was having a great dream..."
"I just thought... since I'm alone, and you're alone, we could be alone together." He presses his body against my back and rests his head on mine. "I enjoy the time we don't have to pretend we hate each other."
For some reason, I find this funny and giggle. I admit to myself I enjoy it too, though I wasn't pretending to hate him, he just pushed my buttons wrong. "You know you're not supposed to be in here."
"Let them come and take me," he whispers. "Until they get here, I'm not moving... unless you tell me to leave."
I push him back and sit up, looking at him. I can barely see his face in the darkness, but I don't need to see. "So, if I tell you to go back to your room?"
"I'll leave," he repeats.
"I already told you not to come back to my room," I pointed out.
"Do you want me to leave?"
The question hangs heavy in the air for several minutes, but I shake my head. When I lay back, cuddling with Jet, I realize he's shirtless. I hope he's wearing pants when I squirm an inch away from him. "Please tell me you're not nude," I mutter.
"Of course not," he laughs. "And I won't try anything."
I tsk, and roll my eyes. I still hadn't forgiven him for using me in the chariot, but I hadn't expected him to make a move. "I didn't think you were really interested," I say casually. "It's just a game to you Jet, you don't really care about me."
He's silent for the longest time before he pulls the blanket back and slides out of bed. "It's only a game if you think it's a game," he mutters, looking down on me. "The question I want answered is if it's a game to you. Give me your answer by tomorrow night, or I won't help you at all. That is a promise, Nara."
He left after that, just melted out of the room. I had expected him to be apathetic, not angry. However, it was a smart question. Was it a game to me? The Hunger Games had forced it to be a game. If he and I were in the park, watching Emery running around and chatting with Chiara... The scene flashed through my head unbidden and I watched us chatting happily together, laughing. I held Chiara's hand in my left, fingers linked, and Jet's arm in my right.
I shook my head and opened my eyes to cancel the image. If it weren't for the Hunger Games, we might have been happy. Yet, I had always planned on going. If it had been anyone else's name... anyone but Emery... I would be fighting alongside a boy I didn't care about and I would have never known Jet more than casually.
The only reason I needed Jet was for the Arena. It was the only way he was in my life. That life in the park didn't exist, it was a fantasy. It was what I wanted, for whatever reason. So... what was Jet to me? Not the boy that Chiara had pretended to love. That had never been a concern, just an annoyance as she dragged me along to "accidental" meetings. To me, he was a distant boy who was thrown into an unfortunate situation. I was sympathetic towards him.
I wanted his closeness because, like him, I'd kept myself distant from everyone until too late. In my mind, life was a game, and in the end everyone loses. Even the winner of the Hunger Games lost something, sometimes the price was too high. Many winners had been deemed insane, some had killed themselves, and some embraced it and lived. That was a special type of torture...
And then it was morning and the Avox girl was shaking me gently. She looked worried when my eyes opened slowly. She pointed at the clothes at the end of my bed, then the door. I looked out and saw the sun was up and shining brightly. As it registered I was late getting up, I sat up and held my head. Concerned, the girl wavered at the edge of my bed, waiting for an order. "I'm okay," I assure her. "Be ready in a moment."
The dress is pale blue today, the color of the silk on my parade dress, and bring out more of the green in the dark pants, even though the underdress was deep blue. I realize that it's the same colors of my dress on the parade night. That would go over well for my training session. Oh, Sug was a very clever man. I wonder what he had planned for my interview dress.
With my coat, my outfit looks spectacular, but the weight of the needles in my pocket dragged it down on one side. The clock read half past nine, so I took a few minutes to get a cup of coffee. At the table I smile wearily at Jet, Aollie and Sid and unwrap the needles at my seat.
Jet's watching me intently, having finished eating. Aollie was saying something about the training sessions today, but I wasn't listening. Sid, having noted Jet's interest, looks at well.
I examine them carefully, each about four inches long, thin and sharpened at the ends. They were all there, ten of them, but the cloth had been more than just a device of keeping them together. It was a holster, fit to be tied around my leg for easy access to my weapons. Rye must have made it for the needles, thinking he could get away with the theft. Or was it a gift? It seemed to be made of fabric shredded from his tunic, wrapped and braided to hold the needles in place. I stretched the top loop of the holster off the tip of a needle and caught it as it fell into my hand perfectly.
"What are they for?" Sid asked.
"I'm no good at throwing knives, so I made needles instead. I couldn't craft them out of metal, but they should work all the same, if I throw hard enough." I strap it on my left leg and stand, drawing one out. I take aim at the cabinet across the room and flick it. It thuds solidly into the wood, dead accurate, and I beam proudly.
"Clever, Nara," Jet says, jumping up to retrieve it. He brings it back, examining it. "It's still rough, could use some polishing, but it's deadly if you hit the right spot. Are these what Rye stole from you?"
I glance at Sid, but nod. "Yeah, but he won't be getting them ever again."
Down in the training room I keep the needles high on my thigh, hidden under my dress. As I round to the stations I wanted more practice in, I wait for Jewel to arrive and she does, in time. She doesn't seem surprised to see me waiting, but doesn't stop to see what I want. I fall in step with her anyway. "I was wondering if maybe you could teach me a bit in archery? You seem to have some skill at shooting quickly, and I'd really like to learn as much as I can."
She slows and turns to face me. "Yeah, and what do I get in return?" she drawls. "You're the one who was going on about handouts yesterday, weren't you?"
I shrug. "What do you want? I have very little on me."
Jewel eyes me suspiciously, but she purses her lips and crosses her arms. "I want into the career's little group."
I open my mouth, about to protest, when I thought better of it. "I don't know if I can get them to agree, but if you're talking an alliance... I can give you my protection, and nothing more. They like me, but I'm barely in."
"Can I sit with you for lunch?" her eyes are intense as they study me.
I shrug and smile. "Sure, I don't mind. I'd like that, actually. Everyone only stops over, even Jet..." I stop there and look away to try and find him. Unlucky for me, he's at the archery pitch. I groan and glare at his back as he loses an arrow at the target and it hits the bulls-eye.
Jewel seems content, and unconcerned with my inner turmoil, and strides across the room. I follow her, but slowly. I drag my feet as I walk past Jet and pick up a bow, turning my full attention to Jewel, despite Jet's curious glance. She looks at the bow, then my arm. Shaking her head, she takes my bow, and picks out a new one. "That one was too long. Generally, for contest shooting, you'll want a bow about as long as your armspan. For shooting like we're going to be doing, you'll want a shorter bow, easier to move around with. Shoot an arrow for me and I'll let you know where we need to start," she says.
Jet gives her a sharp look behind her back, then looks to me confused. He mouths something, but I pay him no attention as I string the bow she's given me.
I ignore him and ready my stance, draw an arrow, and notch it. I take steady aim at the center, take a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing. When the arrow hits its mark, I lower my arm and grin at her. I take Jet's congratulations with a sarcastic curtsy and nod. "My aim when standing still isn't the problem," I say to Jewel. "It's the slowness of the process, and not being able to move around or hit moving targets."
Jewel's lips are thin, I see as she licks them and looks at the target again. Her brows are low, a bad sign, but her expression borders impressed. "Your stance is good, your aim is good, but you're too stiff. You have to loosen up, not think so rigidly. In fact, don't think so much." She moves to my back, turning me by the arm. "Now, face me."
I do as she tells me and for some reason I look into her eyes, gasping when I recognize the color. I take a step back as eyes like hers, flash across my memory. I give a small gasp, clutching my bow, remembering the fox in my dream from this morning.
"Good, I don't know what's on your mind, but good!" she insists, her expression switching to one of amused focus. "Now watch me, only me. When I give you the signal, I want you to turn, draw and fire. Do it in one motion, don't think where to aim, but remember where your bow was aimed when you release. Focus on your fear and your target, do you think you can do all of that?"
I nod, looking at the gloss and shine of her soft blonde hair. She was beautiful, despite her plain face and few trace freckles. I realize I have never seen her with make-up, and if she had worn some in the Parade, it had been hidden when she stood hiding her face in her hands. Her hair is not the color of the black pelt, but her eyes... they had reminded me of the fox on the beach.
"Now," she whispers, barely audible.
Focusing only on the fox, I spin myself with a push from my right foot, bringing the bow up and drawing an arrow mid-turn. I draw back as I face front and when my right foot hits the ground again, I steady myself. I huff out the breath I was holding and look at the target as I release the arrow. I was aiming at the green ring, right bottom under the center, but my arrow struck high and left in the inner blue, due to my bow pulling towards the hand that held it when I released. I could feel the tug, but the spin hadn't let me hold my position quite as well. I was surprised when the arrow hit above the bulls eye and stood shocked.
Jewel said nothing, but motioned for me to follow her, watching Jet shoot his last arrow into a nicely grouped set around his own target's bulls-eye. When he had lowered his bow, we all set out to the targets to retrieve our arrows. "Where did you aim?" Jewel asks when we reach my target, Jet right behind me. Of course, he’d been watching, he'd been listening. He was evaluating me.
I point at the outside green ring I had shot towards mutely. I hear Jet snort, and it's no wonder why. On our targets, the outside of the target is a black woven cloth and secured to hay 30 paces off, 60 paces and the farthest bale is 90 paces. The outermost two rings of the target are white, the next two rings are green, the next two are blue, the outside of the bulls eye is yellow, and the inside center is red. I had aimed for the nearest target, far too low to hit the bulls-eye, but for some reason, I had hit a above it and a little to the left.
Jewel looked back at the pitch, thought for a long moment, then looked back at me smiling. "You're natural, or you have some secret that you're not telling me."
I use this to my advantage, and in an instant I have a plan. "Jewel, I just needed to get you out here without attracting attention. Jet, you stay put." I had seen him start to move off to the far target, but I kept my eyes focused on Jewel. "Look, you asked to be part of the career pack?"
Jewel frowns, glancing at Jet pointedly, then nods mutely.
I motion Jet to join us with a slight motion, ignoring Jewel's discomfort. "He's on my side. You can trust him," I assure her quietly. "Just play along." I point out at Jet's target, while I look around the room to see where the rest of the Pack were. Motioning to my target, I ask loudly with a laugh. "So, would you say this lucky shot is better than Jet's well placed, concentrated shots at a lot further back?"
Jewel looked to Jet, who rolled his eyes and just shrugged.
"Just go with it," he mutters.
She shifted her whole body, looking at Jet's target. I was amazed to see something so graceful. She had been standing loosely, ready to turn and run should she need too, but now she stood with both feet close together, arms crossed, holding herself tall. Her head crooked to the side, her hand under her chin with a finger over her lips. I realized it's what she would have looked like in the parade if she hadn't been covering her face.
"Well, it is closer, and you had been moving," Jewel says, shaking her head. "In a match between you and Jet with the bow, I'd say he still has a few points on you with distance and accuracy. Now tell me what's going on, and be quick about it."
I frown and look disappointed. "Look, the career pack is bound to break, and quickly. We hate the careers as much as anyone, but we need them. If you want in the Pack, come to the Cornucopia on the first night, after the dead are announced. By then, we should have taken care of the ones that we don't need."
"You have a plan?" she asks Jet.
"It's something of a plan," Jet answers, then turns and leaves us there.
"If Cairn's dead, come to me straight away," I insist. "If she's alive and I'm dead, you run for your life."
"I'll think about it. Keep working on this, you'll get it."
I was left alone with barely an answer, but as long as the offer was out there, I am content. I don't spend long practicing though, as I'm not too bad and I quickly figure out what is most comfortable for me. I work a little more with the throwing knives, refusing to show off my needles. My aim improves slowly, but I work at it despite my failures.
Just before lunch, I stretch my body and go for a run around the room. I don't just not like to run, I hate it; but I know it is essential to the game for those in danger. The dream I'd had this morning was enough to urge me to push through the pain in my chest and run until I'm exhausted. By that time, lunch had rolled around and my stomach was protesting as much as my legs.
I ate quickly, wolfing down bits of meat and crunching on some nuts as I converse silently with Jewel. She doesn't seem to have much to say, but her presence is comforting. Before long, Jet joins us and looks at me. "Private sessions are starting soon, boys go first. I thought I'd let you know so you can start preparing."
I nod and thank him, tossing him a peach that he catches. "Good luck!" I call after him. "Knock them dead!"
Jewel's short laughter next to me is sweet, and when she smiles she looks innocent. "A peach? You give him a gift?"
My lips twist and I open my mouth slowly. "Well, you'd have to understand our limited interaction and the things we barely know about each other. Peaches are something we have in common." I almost told her the story of how Jet and I met, but shake my head. Later there would be time.
"You two," she says softly. "You're the talk of the tributes, you know?"
Her abruptness is concerning, but I smile easily and reach for the second peach I had gotten for me. "Tell me, what do they say about us?" I ask.
Jewel frowns again. "Well, there's your temper, but it's softened by your sweetness. You're intelligent, clever, and when you teach, you lead to the answer gently. Jet is good with weapons, he's strong, but he's focused on you. It's apparent he cares about you, the way he speaks, however, he says crass things about you."
"He's spoken to you about me?" I ask, surprised.
She shook her head, hiding in her hair. "No, no one has said a single word to me aside from my mentor and you. I just listen."
No one had spoken to her? Not even her tribute partner? I put a hand on her shoulder, understanding why she had asked to sit with me. "That makes you more valuable than me," I tell her. "You are the perfect spy."
Jewel shrugs, but smiles a little. "I guess. The careers are a-chatter about you two and how they can control you, eventually pitting you against each other. They hope Jet kills you."
I nod, not surprised. "Well, I'm too clever and Jet... well, he works alone. He may take suggestions, but he doesn't take orders."
"I take orders," Jewel says. "You gave your protection, so I'll protect you too. You tell me what to do and I'll do it."
"Sit back and watch the show, Jewel," I say, waving my hand across the tributes. "It's going to be a fun one."
I wait until I'm called, putting up my hair in a ponytail, and singing softly. I leave Jewel with a wave, going back to the training room. I'm second and the Gamemakers seem to be in pleasant moods, conversing lightly, watching me with interest. A few point out my outfit and I skip towards them, giving a little spin before bowing to them. They love it and clap, talking to each other once more.
"Nara Chise, District One. I'm going to need a trainer," I say, trying to be confident, but feel like I'm asking a huge favor.
"I'm here already, Chise," I hear coming from somewhere out of sight behind me. "I'll come out when I'm needed. Show them your weapons first, then we'll dance."
I nod and reach down, ripping the vivid blue fabric of my dress and drawing attention. I reveal my wooden throwing needles as I stride over to the target area. I throw a few, hitting a few targets on one dummy, though, not impressive shots. I try and move while I throw, like I had when I shot with the bow, and it helped a little. I'm almost out of needles when I feel a movement to my right and twist to the left, raising my hand automatically to catch the hand that swings past me.
Sid made his entrance perfectly, and uses his own knowledge of martial arts to slip away and we circle each other throwing punches and kicks. He's stronger than I am, but slower and less fluid. He, however, has more experience with a partner and I am quickly overpowered, knocked back and I see him reaching down to end the sparring. Thinking quickly, I did the only thing I could do. I raise my left hand up, last two fingers curls down, thumb out and first two fingers held up and pressed together. "Mercy! I yield!"
Sid stops, and I smile up at the expression on his face. Disbelief and rage battle each other, but he nods and starts to back up. As soon as he moves, I launch myself at him. I catch him unaware, and he stumbles back, dragging me with him. When we come to a stop, my fist is at his throat with my last needle gripped firmly, legs straddling him. "I lied," I laugh. "Sorry."
I get off him and help him to his feet. He's scowling, but when he looks at me, I can see he's impressed. Jet was right, Sid knew how good I was, and I had surpassed his expectations. I retrieve the rest of my needles, slipping them in the holster, bow to the Gamemakers and leave with Sid. He walks with me out the doors and takes me to the elevator where Jet waits with Jade.
When the green-haired girl bounces up to take Sid's arm, I move on to join Jet. I give him a pleased smile and ask how his session went.
He's mysterious and doesn't tell me until we're curled up on the couch in the sitting room. "Jade surprised me. I threw a spear, tossed some weights, shot a few arrows... nothing showy, but Jade popped up while I was throwing knives and attacked me."
I laugh, but listen silently as he tells me of his knife battle with the shorter woman.
"It wasn't unlike when you and Sid were dancing," he finished. "I tried to watch, but I was busy at that moment. I couldn't figure out what he was telling you, and I was too far away to hear."
"He was ridiculing me because I can't work with people. I can't dance with him unless I have knives in my hands." I laugh again and kiss his cheek. "They seem to work together those two. They like it. Why can't you work with me that way?"
"We have to kill each other," Jet answers sharply.
"Not if someone kills us first..." I say, holding up a hand when he looks at me angrily. "Look, if we don't work together, we're going to die alone. It's the law of nature, and we have to think beyond the inner problem. We already knew we don't want to kill each other, unless we have to. They don’t want to kill us, they want us to kill each other. The only thing keeping us alive is our usefulness. They want you for your strength, your aim, your strong sword arm, and you get along well with both the girls and the boys. Me... I have my rules and my clever mind, that's it. Luckily for me, I have a card up my sleeve they don't know about."
Jet smiles and shakes his head. "Your mind is what will keep you safe while I'm gone. Your honeyed words are sweet, Nara, but you need to stay away from me in the Arena. I've been doing my own work here. You're not the only one making circles, and you're not safe with me."
I'm touched by the warning, but as I lay my head on his shoulder, he holds me gently. When the dinner call comes from an excited Aollie, we're slow to pull away from each other. "Jet..." I say when he stands up. "I'm in love with Chiara." It's the barest of whispers, and I don't even mean to say it, but now that it's said I have no choice but to let it hang between us.
He doesn't answer, and looking into his eyes, I know he had already known. Before I can swallow the lump in my throat and continue, he leaves me sitting there. After a moment I stand, compose myself and follow.
I eat lightly, sticking with a salad with an orange glaze dressing. I drink water, though I was offered wine. Jet, I notice, took a glass and sipped it slowly. Instead of eating, I focus on Aollie who was marvelously entertaining us as only a Capitol escort could. He tells us how he spun our story to the press, our confusing attraction and our obvious rivalry. He says offhandedly he said very little about our district, but I knew he was forced to talk about Emery and Chiara. I wondered what he had said.
Sid and Jade are lost in each other, speaking in low tones and whispers. They occasionally glance at Jet and I, frowning when they catch us watching.
After dinner we are ushered into the sitting area which they lit up and turned on the television.
The broadcast starts with chatty banter from the announcers before they started the revealing of the scores. Jet is pictured on the television, then a 9 flashes on the television. He seems pleased and laughs with Jade across the room. I'm sitting on the arm of a chair and watching the screen in rapt attention. When my 10 flashes, I take a deep breath. Too high. I had done too well. However, it's not an 11 or 12, so I don't worry too much. Surely more of the Careers would get a ten, they usually did.
It quickly became apparent that the scores were not going to improve, and by the end, I was miserable. Brock also got a 9, which was expected. Cairn's 8 gave me a chill and I knew the girl would be seething right now, screaming, maybe even throwing things.
District Three's tributes were as wretched as they looked, Tessla scraping up a 2 while Switch managed a 3.
Ray had gotten an 8 and Amia a 7, which meant in the Pack, they were controllable. They would do well, as long as they were safe.
Surprisingly, Jewel gets a 7 and I feel a smile on my lips. Good, she must have impressed them for such a score for her District. Her partner, Daniel, had only managed a 5. I wondered what she had done and mentally reminded myself to ask her next we could speak freely.
Aken, the golden-brown boy from District Six received a 6, and Charon a 4, about average for their districts, but I had a sense the girl was holding something back. She could be thinking tactically.
I'm not surprised when Yew pulls a higher score than Cypress though, she seemed to know quite a bit. Her 6 made his 4 look inadequate, but they had been tested separately. I'm assuming the boy didn't know what to do and faltered. The girl was obviously the brains of the duo, and I knew if they fought together, she would be the one to take out first.
Hodden's 5 and Florence's 3 are glossed over quickly, but Rye's 8 flashes on the screen. I knew the boy was clever, but I had thought him too stubborn to get that high a score, considering the scoring had been cut drastically. I was obviously being singled out as an example. Poppy's 6 is typical, but I also feel as if she was hiding some skills. Or she had skills she wasn't able to show, which were more interesting to me.
Bos also receives a 9, which makes me wonder if Jet's 9 was warranted as well. He wasn't nearly as bulky or strong as Brock or Bos, but I knew he had weapon skills. Sierra receives a 6, which looks unimpressive next to her partner's score, but I know those eyes hide secrets even Jewel couldn't discover.
Berry earns a low 4, but Cherry's 5 disappoints me. She seemed so talented, and I knew she'd be the last one to be winded running.
After seeing both tributes from Twelve earn a 2, I stop paying attention and realize the room is thrumming with excitement and joy.
"A 10," Jet breathes, coming up behind me with a soft touch to my back. "Impressive. You must have wowed them."
I smile, looking up at him. I realize he's drunk, but he's not drinking anymore; still I'm cautious. "I'm unhappy I'm the only one who got a 10, but I'm not going to complain. Your 9 seems unnaturally high as well."
He laughs and looks hurt. "I didn't do too badly, you know," he teases, poking my forehead.
I rub the spot and glare at him. "I'm just saying... Brock and Bos are giants! They're unnaturally big for their ages. How did you rank up with that much muscle and mass?"
He brushes his hair back and winks. "Charm, good looks, and speed?"
I'm doubtful, but I laugh with him. When he asks what I did, I give him a smile. "I yielded."
He looks at me in disbelief. "You... what?"
I hold up my hand in front of me as I had done, last two fingers closed, first two raised with a stuck-out thumb. "I yielded. Sid was too strong, and knocked me down quickly. So I did the smart thing, I surprised him by begging mercy. When he dropped his guard, I attacked."
"What if he hadn't?" Jet asks seriously.
"Then my score wouldn't be as impressive," I admit, kicking myself mentally.
We're joined by Sid who is positively glowing with pride, but Jet quickly excuses himself.
"You did well, I knew you would," Sid starts. "However, I'm going to have to ask you to give me your coat, Chise. I'm taking it with me when I leave."
I frown, standing from the arm of the chair I was perched on. "My coat?"
He nods once, stern. "I want you to put your needles and anything you'll want for the arena in the insides pockets now. No food. Leave it hung up when you go to bed. I promise you, you'll get it again."
I wonder what his thinking is, but I don't question it, only reach down to untie the holster on my leg, wrap it up and stuck it in one of the inside pockets. I knew my wedge was in another pocket, but didn't look for it. I don't even wait before hanging it up on the peg, hesitating before slipping my ring off my finger. I stare at it before putting it back on my hand, kissing the rose the sapphires formed. I can't give it up, even though I know I'll see it again. I'm weak like that.
I stay and have a few drinks with Jade and Aollie, Sid refusing to touch any. Jet joins us, sitting with his arm around my shoulders. We laugh and talk about what we'd do with the winnings. He wants to move his family in with him, close the barber shop, and maybe settle down. I smile wistfully, wondering if that would even be possible after. I make up a story about an attractive statue for the park, in honor of the Hunger Games. The more I talk about it, the better an idea it becomes. Jet agrees it would be a nice touch, and when our eyes lock, I see the question in his eyes.
Who is going to build it, Nara?
Our night comes to a close and Aollie retires to his quarters. Jade and Sid bid us good-night, reminding us to be up early in the morning. Sid has my jacket and Jade has a longer coat under her arm as well. They share a knowing glance between them, then leave us standing at the door.
Jet looks to me and I can feel the tension starting. I try and steer the conversation away by distracting him. "Jade gave you a coat too?" I ask.
He nods. "I didn't wear it," he said, taking my arm and leading me gently down the hall towards our rooms. We pass mine and I'm suddenly confused. I try and stop him, but when he looks back at me, his expression strikes me silent. He pulls me into his room, closing the door behind us.
I hear the lock flip, and I realize why he refused to stay in here very long. It's much darker in his room than mine, and suddenly I can't move, encased in dark until my eyes adjust to the soft gloom. Having just walked in from the bright hall, it was different than being in bed when the lights turn off.
"I don't like being in here alone," Jet whispers. "I hate the dark."
"You and me both," I admit. "The dark is the only thing I'm afraid of. I can figure out a solution to almost any attacker; the dark is another breed of terror.
"So..." he says, hesitating. "What's your answer?
I want to run, but don't want to face my own dark room alone. "It's not a game," I say quietly. "It's life. Life is the game."
He guides us to his bed, which is smaller than mine, but still wide enough for both of us to spread out comfortably. We don't, however. We hold each other face-to face, curled and tangled with each other, enjoying the feeling. My skin is tingling and flushed, my head fuzzy.
We talk for hours in hushed voices about nothing, favorite things, things we hate, the hobbies we used to have. I'm surprised to find he loves to read, and he can't understand how I can watch trees bloom while drinking tea all day.
When his lips meet mine, I don't push him away. I touch his face softly as he kisses my lips again, my cheek and then sinking his teeth gently into my neck as he pulls me close to him. I cry softly, groaning in pain and pleasure mixed as I move back and feel him growing hard between us. I say nothing as he helps me out of my clothes, but when I lay in his bed naked, I become aware of what we're about to do. I cover myself with my arms, watching him undress.
When Jet senses my discomfort, he stops. "Say the word and we'll put our clothes back on," he says, brushing my hair out of my face.
I don't reply, feeling my face getting hot. I want this. I want this more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I don't want to die without knowing. I had never let anyone get close to me, never had a boyfriend, and even though I had a girlfriend now... I pulled Jet down next to me. "I've never done this," I tell him.
His frown deepens, then he grins, lifting my chin up to look at him. "Are you telling me, that little Nara is a virgin? Oh, I was sure someone had sweet-talked you into his bed..."
I shake my head, giggling nervously. "I'm not that easy," I say.
"You're in my bed," he pointed out. "What would Chiara say?" he asked. He's mocking me, but his finger slips down from my chin and down my chest to circle a nipple.
I moan, unable to stop myself. When I don't protest, he dips his head. His tongue is soft and wet, but when he catches my nipple in his lips I gasp. He pins my arms quickly and he has a strong grip, I know I'll never be able to break away from him like this. He teases my breasts with lavish kisses, seductive licks and nips, leaving me to whimper beneath him.
"I can't wait any longer," he says, the softest of the whispers. "If you're going to stop me, do it now."
I can't say no, and I pull him up to cover me as our lips meet again. I allow him access to my mouth and cry out when he enters me. He fills me quickly and only stops when I beg him to stop, tearing up in pain.
"It's going to hurt," he says, holding me, but drawing out slightly. "You may bleed. I've taken a few virgin girls into my bed. They left forgetting it had ever hurt in the first place."
"Is that bragging?" I ask, wincing. I knew I couldn't have been his first, but he was my first and only man.
"It's confidence and skill," he chuckles, bucking hard against me and swallowing my scream in a rough kiss.
The pain is sharp, stretching, as he entered me fully. I try and squeeze my legs together, but he just grunts and thrusts in and out. His arms support me like I'm weightless and he cradles me as he picks me up. I grasp his shoulders and break from his kiss, breathing hard as I rode him. His hips force me up, but his hand on my hip and arm around my back pull me back forcefully.
I hated how good it felt, and how soon I was moaning words of encouragement and crying his name when he begged me to. I had never heard a sweeter sound than the moans and laughs of pleasure coming from Jet's mouth, and they were so loud next to my ear.
"Chise..."
I cry, clutching at him, one hand tangled in his dark hair, the other gripped to his firm shoulder. My name. He had called my name. I'm lost in the feel of him moving within me when I feel myself tighten around him.
Next thing I know, he pushes me away, back onto the bed. He scrambled backwards, holding himself, panting. He whimpered slightly, before he looked at me, laughing. He had on the sort of grin a man gives a woman when she's done something very naughty. "That was close, Nara."
I am confused, and have my back against the wall, holding myself. "What? What did I do?"
He sighs and strokes himself slowly, breathing deeply to calm himself. "It's my pleasure to pleasure you, but I wouldn't seed with you. I couldn't. I mean, you're not mine. Because you love someone else, right?"
I nod slowly, before shaking my head in disbelief. "Yeah... I was being stupid, sorry. It just... felt good. It felt... right. If you want, I'll go back to my room," I say, starting to reach for my clothes. I wasn't a fool, I knew how babies were brought into this horrible world. I was, however, fool enough to get caught by Jet.
He stops me, throwing my clothes back to the floor. We struggle, and we end up with me face pressed against the wall, on my knees, arms caught in one of his hands above my head. He has my body stretched out, pressed against the hardness between our legs. He enters me and I close my eyes. I struggle, shaking my head and scream for him to stop, but it’s all trapped in my mouth behind his hand. Unable to stop him, I relax, and even enjoy the feeling of being trapped in Jet's arms. I know I'm safe now, but in the Arena I wouldn't be. I may not want him to continue, but I know he won’t hurt me. I know, whatever the cost of his actions now, we both want this.
With all my noises muffled by his hand, I can hear every grunt and groan, all breathed into my ear from behind. When I stop fighting and move with him, his left hand lets my hands go and slips around to hold my stomach as he resumed where we left off. I focus only on trying not to want it, trying not to like it, trying to stop myself from moaning with him.
"You like that, don't you?" he croons in my ear, pressing me closer to the wall. "When I force you... Takes the choice out of your hands."
I groan as his hand covering my mouth slips to my throat. He squeezes gently, and I let him take control, trusting him for the last time. "Jet!" I gasp, unable to say anything else.
He shudders and slows for a second, then his resolve returns and he thrusts hard once, twice, and on the third he groans, pushing himself inside me deeply. "This isn't a mistake," he assures me softly, forehead resting on my shoulder. "You're not hers... you're mine."
I struggle against him, twisting and trying to breaking away, but his arms are strong. His breathing quickens as I fight, as if it turns him on more, as if the feeling is pleasurable to him. I hear him whisper my name once more, softly, like he’s pleading with me, his thumb stroking my stomach. Then a heat spilling inside me as he began to throb, thrusting desperately, crying his pleasure into my hair.
I support our weights on the wall and shiver around him, unable to stop trembling and moving with him. I find myself whimpering with him as he holds me, as if he'd never let go. Not for anything.
"I'm sorry," he says when we still and part. He lets me go, and moves away, leaving me huddled at the head of the bed. He sits at the end, back to me.
I catch my breath and curl around the wall, hiding myself in my hair. "Jet... what were you thinking?"
He laughs, and it sounds hallow. I see a spark of light as he lights a match, holding it up to reveal a thin white cigarette. "My last two, you might as well have one."
I'm surprised he has them, but when he offers, I take the last one and let him light it for me. "Where did you get these?"
"I asked Jade for them, and she gave me this. Took me three hours to figure out how to get into it."
I nod, but I'm distracted at the matter at hand. "Jet..."
"I was thinking," he said, his eyes glowing strangely in the light of the match before he shook it dead. "I was thinking 'What if I don't make it out of the Arena? What if she doesn't? What if she does?' And then I figured if we die, it won't matter. If you win, and if you do end up with child... I'll have made it out of the Arena. One way, or another..."
I stare at him, horrified. I'm terrified to raise my voice, and I'm shocked at the reasoning behind his actions. "You're telling me, that because we may or may not die it was okay to do that? After you said you wouldn't? After we agreed it wasn't right? Didn't you ever think of how I might feel about it?!"
He takes a long drag of his cigarette, thinking his answer over carefully, knowing I'm patient enough to wait for it. "I thought that when faced with death, a baby as a reward would be like a... I dunno, a wedding gift. A gift for the stupid girl who gets to keep the girl I want."
"Are you..." I let the sentence drift off as I think his words over. "You want me to... keep it? Even knowing they may someday play the games too?" I cover myself with his disheveled blankets and creep closer to him. "If I make it out, you want me to have a child and raise it with Chiara, is that what you're telling me?"
"I could think of nothing better," he muses, laying back, unashamed of his nakedness. "You and her can have your happy ending, and when you look at our little boy or girl... You'll think of me, you'll think of my lifeless body in the arena and we can all be there. You can train them, they can volunteer and follow in your family's crazy footsteps. But you will tell them how they came to be, as you will have to tell Chiara."
I sit there thinking, smoking the cigarette slowly, and flicking the ashes to the floor. They were a luxury I didn't indulge in often, but was much needed right now, to steady my trembling hands. I'm enraged, but unable to do anything to stop what had happened. His words only sting compared to his actions. "I'll do it," I say quietly, looking down at him. "Chiara and I can't have children, after all. I can only imagine what someone would say if we told them we wanted to get married." I laugh, trying not to appear too concerned.
I had never wanted children. I had never wanted a girlfriend. Until tonight, I had never wanted a lover. All I had ever wanted was the Hunger Games. It was grim, but it was true. In that moment, everything I had felt for Jet crumpled in a ball in my chest and set itself on fire. He was desperate, and he had done what he thought he had to. Just to escape. As much as I might have cared for him, the game wasn't worth a child.
He says nothing as we finish our treat, then throws them in a pitcher of water he has at the end of the bed. Jet roughly pulls the blanket off of me, throwing it towards the door and crawls under the sheet, holding it open for me. He holds me close under the thin barrier that kept us safe from the morning, but keeps his hands in careful positions.
“Chise,” he sighs sleepily, running his fingers through my hair.
As I lay there with him at my back, I stare into the darkness. I remember a thought I'd had earlier in the week. A person at my back was not to be trusted. I should have followed Sid's advice. Trust no one. "I'll never forgive you for this Jet," I say.
He doesn't answer, but I know he heard me.
- 7
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