Chapter Text
It was still dark outside when Neil woke with a start, heart pounding in his chest and the smell of smoke and burning flesh lingering in his nose.
The memory of fire and blood felt as fresh as if it only had happened yesterday and not almost a year ago. In the gray light filtering through the curtains of his bedroom, Neil tried to find blood and sand on his hands and beneath his fingernails, but naturally came up with nothing.
Almost a full year had passed with Neil being on his own. No one was left to tell him to move faster, to keep his head low, a bruising grip on the back of his head and harsh fingers tangled in his hair. His mother would beat him senseless could she see him now.
Quiet, as if someone could hear him in this rundown shack that he had called his home since his arrival in District 12, he slipped out of his bed and went over to the rusty bucket filled with ice cold water. Clenching his jaw, Neil ducked his head in the water and forced any lingering memory of his mother down into a dark corner of his brain where it could fester and blindside him another time.
District 12 in all its dirty glory was the furthest from the Capitol (which had played a big role in Neil’s decision where to go after his mother took her last breath on some desolate beach between District 4 and 11) and usually was left out from official Capitol visitors because no one was interested in seeing misery and hunger when they could also watch healthy fishermen and women in District 4 or the cutting of gemstones in District 1.
The only time in the year when District 12 became as dangerous as any other District to Neil was the day of The Reaping.
With a nervous flutter in his chest Neil looked up and into the small broken mirror on the wall over the sink. Running water and electricity were only for two or three hours available here, so most people used candles for light and buckets or wooden tubs for washing.
Out of habit Neil checked his hair for any signs of red roots that might stand out in the black mess on his head and inspected the colored irises of his eyes. Even though he couldn’t see much in the dark, he was satisfied that his eyes still held the dark brown he had colored them roughly two weeks ago.
It was infinitely more difficult to get the long lasting hair and eye dye from the Capitol in District 12. His mother’s contact, who had made it possible for Neil to slip in unseen, lived in District 12’s Merchant section. She had given Neil his new identity, matched his blood sample with the new ID and also provided him with necessary items from the Capitol. Everything for a nice reward obviously. The problem started with Neil’s current residence that was located in the poorest part of the district, called the Seam. It was the closest to the border fence and next to the wild forests.
The Seam provided the fastest way out in case of an emergency, but also had by far the ugliest conditions to live with. Neil wasn’t sure if he had seen any of the residents as anything else but dirty and emaciated, faces smudged with coal and dust. Apparently death through starvation was not uncommon in this part of District 12.
Still, Neil liked it. No one asked him where his parents were or about the shabby clothes he wore. The people lived day in, day out in a monotonous routine. Most of them worked in the mine to feed their family which often involved 12 hours days and little to no space for another abandoned orphan in their lives. For them, Neil had been brought into 12 as a punishment. The Capitol didn’t think much of prisons; there were only two ways of dealing with criminals in Panem: death or deportation— usually to the poorer districts 10, 11 and 12.
But no matter how beneficial these living conditions were for Neil, it made things harder to find a reasonable excuse to go into the well off (by District 12 standards) Merchant’s section and ask his mother’s contact for expensive Capitol products that would hide his appearance from prying eyes.
The hair dye may last for another two weeks, but his artificial eye color would soon wear off and blue would start to bleed back into the brown of his eyes. No matter the continuous development in technology and science, there was still no permanent solution for physical alteration.
Tugging his hair out of his eyes, Neil straightened himself and went over to the curtains to let the early morning light in. He had to find a way around the Peacekeepers in the Merchant’s section soon and maybe get an ample supply this time.
With a knot in his stomach, Neil thought about the shrinking stash of money in the well-worn backpack in his closet. He needed to keep it tight. Maybe he should start hunting again for food and trading on District 12’s black market. He didn’t need much, just enough.
Outside, the early workers were already gearing up for work, mostly men that exchanged kisses with their wives on doorsteps and hugged their children. Today everything seemed a little more prolonged, father’s held their daughters tighter and pressed endless kisses on their son’s foreheads. Neil swallowed against the lump in his throat.
His mother would strangle him if she could see him now. Beat him and then urge him to pack his stuff and meet her at the fence in half an hour.
Today was the first time ever Neil would take part in the Reaping.
His mother’s contacts could only do so much, but once he got registered in a district he was in their system. His name would end up with hundreds of other children between 13 and 19, ready to be drawn and sent on their way to die for the amusement of the Capitol’s citizens.
Ever since he had run with his mother from his murderous father, they had never stayed long enough to see his name drawn. His small stature helped them long enough to make him seem younger than 13, and once that wouldn’t work anymore, his mother had him on the road days before the Reaping.
Slowly breathing in and out while counting from 100 backwards in his head, Neil tried to calm down. He was 18 years old. His name was in six times, for every passing year one time.
He should have made himself younger. He should have run. Why wouldn’t he just run?
Where to? A small voice whispered inside his head, and Neil chewed nervously on his lower lip. He had nowhere to go. His mother’s contact had assured him that the chance of his name being drawn was rather small, compared to people who had put their names in many more times, be it for money or food. Maybe he would be lucky.
Even though he had never been lucky in his life before.
Neil watched the farewells outside his window only for a moment longer before he put on some loose shorts (the only pair he owned), a holey cotton shirt and his dusty leather boots and went out for a run.
This early in the morning the air was still chilly and the wind felt good on his sweaty skin. Soon the sun would rise fully and with it an unbearable heat that would make the gathering in the center of the town for the Reaping as torturous as the procedure itself.
Neil enjoyed running. It gave his body something to do and took his mind off of distracting thoughts and lurking memories. His mind would fall in a senseless buzz while his feet flew over the dusty road and his heart pounded steadily in his chest.
He had almost reached the end of the Seam when he heard his name being called. He turned around to the source and saw Mr. Hernandez — or rather Coach Hernandez how everyone seemed to call the man — on the front porch of a small house, waving and smiling.
“Neil! Good morning! You’re already up?”
Awkwardly shuffling with his feet, Neil was unsure if he should go closer or if this was just some sort of small talk. He nodded however and managed a quiet “Good morning” in return.
He felt himself shrink under the scrutinizing look of the older man and wished to just return to his running.
“You already had breakfast?” Coach Hernandez asked eventually, and to Neil’s own astonishment over his stupidity, he found himself shaking his head.
Grinning like he just had a major breakthrough, Coach Hernandez beckoned Neil to come closer. “Come on in then, kid. Rena just set the table.”
The thought of Coach Hernandez’s wife smiling at him and asking him about his week made Neil almost turn around instantly and run as fast as he could. He stopped himself though and forced a pathetic smile on his face to wave Coach Hernandez off.
“No thank you, sir. I’m fine.”
With pursed lips the coach put his hands on his hips and shook his head slightly. However, before he could say something, the front door of the house opened and a short woman with thick black hair and twinkling eyes poked her head out.
“Is that Neil I’m hearing?” she asked no one in particular, and her look fell upon Neil. The corners of her lips lifted in a happy smile, and she stepped out to join her husband.
“Come on in, Neil! I got fresh bread just yesterday. The old bear over here can be a real sweet talker if he wants to, seduced the loaf right out the baker’s hands.” She tapped her husband’s shoulder once before she vanished inside the house again. Neil couldn’t even object because Coach Hernandez just gave him a solemn nod and a wink as he followed his wife, but waited for Neil to join him in the doorway.
Neil had no idea what he was doing. He had no intention of getting to know any people here. Even though the coach and Rena had tried to talk to him many times before (sometimes with more success than other times), they always did so with genuine smiles and probably good intentions. Nothing Neil was particularly interested in, as too much interest in him threw up too many questions he could not answer.
Nevertheless, he followed Coach Hernandez inside the small house and to the kitchen that admittedly smelled wonderful, and Neil’s traitorous stomach growled audibly at it.
No one commented on it though, and Rena served them the bread from the day before, followed by scrambled eggs, warm milk, honey, jam and to Neil’s surprise, butter.
The breakfast felt unexpectedly nice , Neil thought. The Hernandezes chatted away any awkward silence that could have befallen them and didn’t ask Neil any questions that couldn’t be answered with a short “yes”, “no” or “nothing”.
Eventually, it was time for Neil to head back though; he still had to wash up and panic in silence about his questionable life choices and everything that lead up to today’s Reaping, which could bring him right back into the Capitol’s claws and therefore right under his father’s eyes.
For a dark second Neil wondered if his father would rather watch him get killed in the games, or if he would do the job himself. He leaned strongly toward the latter.
Back on the front porch, Neil thanked them stiffly for the meal and wanted to turn around to leave when Coach Hernandez softly said, “Neil.”
A heavy hand landed on Neil’s shoulder, and it took Neil every ounce of self control to not flinch away from it. He looked up into Coach Hernandez’s face and met his soft look blankly.
“We’ll be there.” He cleared his throat at Neil’s confused frown and elaborated, “At the Reaping. We’ll be watching. Don’t worry, kid. It won’t be you.”
He squeezed Neil’s shoulder before he let go, and Rena ruffled through his unruly hair with a small smile. “If you go hunting again bring us a rabbit, will you? And let us invite you to lunch more often, you are such a skinny little thing.”
She was hardly taller than him but Neil still nodded and swallowed again around the anxious lump in his throat.
“I- Thank you. I’ll try to get you a rabbit next time.” He held up a hand in an awkward farewell gesture and jumped down the stairs from the porch.
Without looking back he took off to run all the way back to the small, shabby shack he lived in while the late morning sun already beat down on him mercilessly.
With rising and sinking anxiety, Neil went through the routine of washing, more thoroughly than usual because the Capitol liked to take offense in everything if it meant beating down the District’s citizens.
He watched as the water turned murky in the wooden tub he was sitting in, knees to his chest and hair dripping. He had prepared his best clothes to wear later, a gray short-sleeved shirt and dark pants, even though best only meant clean and whole in his case. He had freed the brown leather boots from the worst dirt earlier, but they still looked the worse for wear.
After a few more moments in which he allowed himself to play with the idea of running away and living in the woods, Neil got up and carelessly dried himself off while avoiding looking at his own torso that had more scar tissue than smooth, unharmed skin.
Most injuries had occurred before he had even turned ten during his father’s gentle care and that of his henchmen. Not that living on the run with his mother had helped in any way; the old bullet wound on his shoulder still ached from time to time and reminded him of another close call and the borrowed time he lived on.
With a quiet sigh Neil longed for a cigarette. But cigarettes were a luxury few could afford, and he wouldn’t start throwing money out of the window for sentimental memories of his mother smoking or the last moments he had spent with her body on a lonely beach. It was time to go.
On his way to the Hall of Justice, the center of the town in District 12 and the place to gather for the annual Reaping, he passed many more families with their children. For some of them this would be their first year, their name only once among thousands of other names. Neil had heard that some people had thrown their names in forty-eight times now, which meant more food for every additional name.
Compared to them his chances were not too bad, or so he thought.
When Neil arrived at the square, the sun had reached its peak; no shadowy corner was left, and the young people herded towards the middle of the square looked like cattle that was to be counted and then led to the butcher’s slaughterhouse.
In Neil’s case that might be actually true in its literal sense, his father’s nickname as The Butcher made him well-known in certain circles.
Camera crews surrounded the square, filming the people silently filling in and signing up. The Reaping was a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well.
Thirteen to nineteen year-olds were herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front while the younger ones stood towards the back.
Neil found himself with people he had never seen before, and with every passing minute the space got tighter, more claustrophobic and Neil started to sweat. His eyes darted around for escape routes and found none as the District’s whole population was squeezed into the big, but not big enough, square; every exit closed off by huddled bodies.
He needed to calm down. He wouldn’t faint in front of the cameras and attract the whole of Panem’s attention and make his father find him without him even taking part in the games.
His eyes fell on a short figure two rows ahead of him. Neil was surrounded by the pale colors of District’s 12 idea of Sunday best: grays, whites and faded blues.
In front of him, however, stood a short figure, clad entirely in black. Black t-shirt, black pants and even black armbands, it must be unbearably hot under the harsh sunlight, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. Not that Neil could see his face, but he radiated a kind of calm or maybe even something closer to apathy, unaffected by the nervous energy around him, that made Neil feel calmer himself.
Neil started to take the boy’s back in, watched as he stood there unmoved not even twitching while he looked at the temporary stage that was set up before the Justice building. It held four chairs, a podium and a large glass ball, containing the names of every District 12 candidate on paper slips in neatly written letters.
The boy didn’t even reach the girl’s shoulder next to him. Neil knew he was not tall himself, quite the contrary actually since he had inherited his father’s looks from the color of his natural hair and eyes to the curve of his eyebrows but unfortunately his mother’s small stature. With 5’3 even most girls could spit on his head.
But the black clothed boy in front of him looked even tinier than Neil. Absurdly this made Neil almost smile as he regarded the boy’s pale blond hair that looked almost white in the sunlight. He had to be older than Neil to be standing in front of him, so it was a nice rarity to know that other people had been betrayed by their genes as well.
His line of thought was interrupted when two of the four chairs on stage were filled by the District’s mayor and Allison Reynolds, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her blood red dress made out of thousands of roses and golden hair braided into a complicated looking hairstyle.
They exchanged a few murmured words as two more people entered the stage. They sat down just as the town clock struck two, and the mayor stepped up to the podium and started to read.
As far as Neil could recall, it was the same story every year in every District. When he had still lived in the Capitol in his father’s house, he had watched the Reaping from time to time on television.
His father hadn’t much cared about the games or anything involving them, so Neil had only caught bits and pieces when he was out shopping with his mother and the games were broadcasted on the giant screens all over the city. He also knew the story from school and almost every patriotic Capitol citizen that liked to recite it on every possible occasion.
The history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. Disasters that had occurred, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that had swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance had remained.
The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then The Dark Days had followed, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve had been defeated, the thirteenth obliterated.
The Treaty of Treason had given the new laws to guarantee peace and, as a yearly reminder the Dark Days must never be repeated, it introduced the Hunger Games.
The rules of the Hunger Games were simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts had to provide two young people, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes were to fight in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland over a period of several weeks to the death.
The last tribute standing won.
To make things go from bad to worse, the Capitol required the districts to treat the games as a festivity, a sporting event for the districts to celebrate while their children killed each other for the slim chance of a life of ease back home as a winner. The winner’s district would be showered with prizes, mostly consisting of food and gifts like oil and delicacies like sugar, while rest of the outer districts battled starvation.
The mayor completed his speech with the words, “It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks.”
Then he proceeded to read the list of past District 12 victors. In thirty-four years, there had been exactly two.
“David Wymack,” the mayor read, and a big, muscular man stood up from his chair and gave the crowd a curt nod. His bare arms with the infamous flame tattoos were crossed over his broad chest. He looked like he enjoyed this whole charade as much as any of them. It probably took its toll to watch children die under your care year after year.
The mayor waited for David Wymack to sit back down before he continued with “Renee Walker”, and the young woman next to Wymack stood up.
She smiled gently as she waved to the people in her district. Her shoulder long hair had been bleached and only the last two inches looked like they had been dipped into a rainbow.
Neil remembered her, if only dimly. She had won the Hunger Games ten years ago, the first and only games Neil had actually watched. He had been eight and Renee must have been thirteen or fourteen; Neil remembered it because she had been the youngest victor since the start of the games.
The girl back then had worn her hair in a dark braid, eyes wild and smile feral as she had taken out one tribute after another. She had been nothing like the young woman standing now on this stage with her pastel hair and buttoned up blouse.
The mayor nodded and next introduced Allison Reynolds who strode in her six inch heels to the podium and gave the crowd the signature, “Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor,” while she actually looked like she couldn’t care less. It was no surprise, no escort of the Capitol was that fond of District 12, and most of them ached to get bumped up to a better district where they had more than two victors and actual chances of success.
Her posh Capitol accent was so out of place, it reminded Neil of his mother who had beaten that accent out of him first night on the run. Adaption and inconspicuousness were the first two rules he had learned in those years with his mother. Many more had followed.
It was time for the drawing, and Allison stepped around the podium to the giant glass ball. She reached in, dug her hand deep into the ball and pulled out a slip of paper.
It was dead silent across the place as the crowd drew in a collective breath, Neil felt nauseous and found himself against all reasoning desperately hoping that it would not be him. Hope was nothing for him, it never had done him any good, but he still couldn’t help it.
Allison crossed back to the podium, smoothed the slip of paper and read out the name in a clear voice:
“Aaron Minyard.”
The relief almost knocked the breath out of Neil’s lungs. A quick glance around and the girls and boys around him had the same look on their faces even though it wasn’t quite over yet. But now that the first name was out and it was none of them, they couldn’t help but actively hope they would be spared this year.
Movement in front of him caught Neil’s eye where people shifted to make room for the proclaimed tribute. Neil saw black in a sea of pale colors and then he could see a boy in the usual District 12 clothes, same height and same blond hair as the boy in black standing there, frozen with his back to Neil.
From the corner of his eye Neil saw Peacekeepers making their way down between the roped areas to reach the frozen boy. He was to be escorted on stage where he would wait for the other tribute to be announced. The Peacekeepers had almost reached him when the boy finally stirred, he turned towards the Peacekeepers mechanically, legs not really moving but face set in a stony mask. He took a small step forwards when suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.
Blinking, Neil watched as the black clad boy pushed the other one back and walked in his stead towards the Peacekeepers. He said something to them and the Peacekeeper in front only shrugged before he held up his hand, for the people on the stage to see.
“Looks like we got ourselves a volunteer here. How exciting,” Allison remarked and the wolfish grin that tugged at the corners of her lips revealed that she might actually mean those words.
A volunteer in District 12 was apparently not standard like in other districts where participating in the Hunger Games counted as an honor.
Neil watched as the boy mounted the steps to the stage and stopped next to Allison who had more than a few inches on him, especially in those heels. Nevertheless Neil had the feeling the boy could throw Allison over his shoulder and walk away with her as if she weighed nothing.
“Well, bravo!” Allison said dryly, “Isn’t that the spirit of the games?” Now she smiled brightly, too much teeth and not enough honesty as she took in her volunteering tribute. And yet she seemed to be pleased that in her district finally some action happened. “What is your name?”
The boy turned towards the crowd his face unmoved, no, Neil thought, absolutely impassive. It looked like as if he couldn’t care less that he had just volunteered to get killed in an arena with twenty-three other kids. He might as well be counting blades of grass behind the fence for all he cared apparently.
“Andrew Minyard,” he told the cameras and his district before crossing his arms over his chest and simply staring into nothingness.
Allison actually looked delighted by the development things had taken, and she tapped eagerly with her long painted fingernails on the podium. “A twin for a twin! How courageous of you to take your brother’s place.”
Belatedly Neil realized she was right. They were twins. He had only seen Aaron’s back and profile, but now with Andrew’s face on the big screen, broadcasted from all angles by dozens of cameras, it was unmistakable that they were identical.
Apparently Andrew had opted out of the conversation and the unfolding events the moment he had stepped onto the stage because he completely ignored Allison’s attempts at small talk and her questions for his reasons to step in for Aaron, so the escort let out a small, frustrated huff after a few more moments of her repeatedly running against a wall.
She turned her attention back to the crowd, smile a little more forced now as she put her hand for a second time in the bowl.
“A truly exciting development here in District 12. Let’s see who will be the other brave tribute traveling to the Capitol this year.” She simply grabbed the first slip she encountered and walked back to the podium.
Neil didn’t even have time to wish for his own safety when she read the name.
“Neil Josten.”
The taste of hope being crushed to dust should be a familiar one to Neil by now. It had been fed to him so many times he barely registered the bitterness anymore. This time though he couldn’t help but actually feel betrayed.
He barely noticed the other kids around him making space so he could walk up to the stage and join Andrew on his way to the butcher. No one would volunteer for him, he was all alone in this world and the only person who ever had put any effort into his well being was buried under a thick layer of sand. A few burnt bones and nothing but broken promises left for him.
Neil had no idea how he ended up between Andrew Minyard and Allison Reynolds on the stage, in front of thousands of people and soon all of Panem. His face was in plain view for everyone and everything that had eyes to see. He blinked slowly.
“Shake your hands, tributes,” Allison instructed them and Neil turned towards Andrew, again surprised he had to look down instead of up. He gazed into dull hazel eyes and stretched out his hand half expecting to be ignored.
The sudden pain shooting through his hand pulled Neil out of his momentarily stupor, and he realized Andrew was almost crushing his hand with his handshake. Neil schooled his face into some faked calmness and tried to return the favor with equal force. It was apparent that Andrew was stronger than him.
“I don’t like you, little rabbit.” Andrew stated in a bored voice and let go of Neil’s hand that was throbbing violently after the assault.
Baffled, Neil couldn’t come up with a good retort before he and Andrew had to turn back to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem started to play.
An idle thought crossed Neil’s mind as he watched the people in front of him and his eyes somehow found Coach Hernandez and Rena looking at him, tight lipped and hands white knuckled where they were balled into fists. He probably had to kill Andrew if he wanted to live. And by the look of it, Andrew had at least one more reason than Neil to survive this year’s games. Aaron’s face looked sullen between all the other kids that could hardly hide their relief at the misfortune of two other people this year. He watched Andrew with dark eyes but from what Neil could tell, Andrew had written his brother off already. He didn’t even spare him a glance when they were both ushered inside the Hall of Justice and away from cameras and prying eyes.
Once inside, they were conducted to a room and left alone. It looked like the richest place in District 12, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs. It reminded Neil of his childhood home in the Capitol, where the carpets swallowed every step and it was easy for his father or Lola to sneak up on him. Lola had loved to surprise little Neil.
Neil sat down on the couch and started to chew on his lower lip as he held Andrew’s bored gaze from across the room where he was leaning against the wall. Neither of them spoke and Andrew’s unwavering eyes and his words from before threw Neil slightly off. He didn’t know Andrew, had never met him before but his words indicated that he was somewhat aware of who Neil was. Or it had only taken him one second to decide that he didn’t like Neil.
The big grandfather clock ticked loudly into their silence and after five minutes the door finally opened to let in family and loved ones to say goodbye. Neil had neither so it had to be for Andrew, and right on cue Aaron shuffled inside, followed by a tall, dark haired and dark skinned man that could barely hold his tears back. He shoved Aaron out of his way and threw his hands up in an exasperated gesture.
“Andrew I can’t believe you did that! But also I absolutely can!” He stopped just out of reach in front of Andrew and shook his head repeatedly.
Neil knew the man. Nicholas Hemmick worked in the bakery in the Merchant’s section where Neil would sometimes trade fresh meat for bread with the bakery’s boss. Even though hunting in the woods was illegal, no one seemed to care that Neil would slip through a hole in the fence occasionally and come back with freshly killed rabbits and birds. Meat was even for the Peacekeepers are rarity, so no one complained about the grubby Seam kid that somehow managed to catch little animals.
Nicholas insisted on being called Nicky and was a real chatterbox who was rarely bothered by Neil’s monosyllabic answers. Now that Neil saw the people Nicky associated with he wasn’t overly surprised anymore.
Aaron lingered close to the door but watched his brother attentively while Andrew simply stared out of the window, mentally no longer in this room. However, his eyes snapped back to the door when two more people entered, two women Neil knew by sight but not by name. He was pretty sure they owned the apothecary nearby the school.
“Andrew,” the shorter woman with pale brown hair and glasses spoke up as she approached Andrew smilingly. She stopped at arm’s length from him and tilted her head slightly. “Do you want me to accompany you to the Capitol?”
It was an accommodating offer the Capitol used to show the people how generously they treated their tributes. Every tribute was allowed to take a person of their choice along. To spend their last weeks with someone they loved while they were trained to kill and to be killed in a perverted game for the entertainment of a few.
Andrew eyed the woman for a few seconds before he sighed and shook his head. “Always doing the right thing, Bee,” he said in a bored tone, “but I have to refuse though. You won’t be useful for me there.” He ignored Nicky’s offended gasp and let his eyes rest for a split second on his brother. “You’ll come.” He didn’t wait for some sort of affirmation before staring back out of the window.
The taller woman with the straight black hair approached Bee and asked her something which led to Bee pulling something out of her bag. “Abby and I thought you might like this. So you won’t get bored during the train ride.” She only smiled at the look Andrew gave her for that, but he accepted the book she showed him though. His eyes flew over the description on the back before he looked up and his eyes set on Neil who had hoped he could become one with the room’s interior furnishing.
Suddenly everyone was looking at him and his skin started to crawl with the unwanted attention. Nicky was the first to break the silence as he crossed the room with his arms spread and a loud, “Oh Neil!”
For a horrifying moment Neil thought he would be embraced but Nicky stopped right in front of him and looked at him so pityingly, the anxiety in Neil’s stomach turned into something ugly, akin to his father’s anger.
“It’s a shame that they always choose the pretty ones. Who is now left in this godforsaken district? What am I supposed to do now? Neil, you have no idea how often you have sweetened my day with your unfriendly little visits.”
Somewhere from the door came a loud groan and Abby who stood behind Nicky chided him with a smack on the back of his head. “Nicholas Esteban Hemmick, I hope you did not just say that to a tribute right in front of me!”
With a whine Nicky rubbed his head as he turned to Abby. “What? Look at him, he’s a runner! That does wonders for the human—in this case male body. Don’t judge me while you and Wy-“ Another smack interrupted him for good now and he actually looked like a scolded schoolboy, even though Abby barely reached his chin.
“He looks more like a rabbit to me,” Andrew interjected unexpectedly and gave Neil a bored look that finally managed to make Neil’s anger explode. He was good at that, initiating fights through angry outbursts but never finishing any because he was too busy running and not getting killed as a result. His father really blessed him with all kinds of gifts.
Neil pushed himself past Nicky and Abby and walked up to Andrew until there was barely an inch of space left between their bodies before he snarled, “What is your fucking problem with me? I don’t even know you!” It was a little bit satisfying to see how Andrew had to bend his head to maintain eye contact with Neil.
“I don’t like liars Neil ,” Andrew answered him simply before he pushed him off of him. He had said it so softly that the others probably hadn’t caught up on it, but that didn’t make it any better for Neil.
He suddenly felt exposed under Andrew’s gaze, and his mind started to reel. He had never exchanged a single word with Andrew Minyard before this very day, but somehow the boy had already seen right through Neil, undone eight years of work with one look. It didn’t matter that Andrew had no idea what Neil was hiding, it was enough that he knew there was something . Something meant he could start digging, and sooner or later he would find something.
If Neil survived the games against all odds and his father didn’t catch up with him, he might have a chance to live in District 12 where people did not care for him enough to ask unpleasant questions but still invited him for breakfast and lunch. He could have this tiny bit of normality, but only if he killed Andrew first.
They looked at each other before Andrew shoved Neil out of his way saying, “You bore me, rabbit.”
“At least they won’t have any problems killing each other,” Aaron remarked with a shrug and returned Neil’s angry look with an unimpressed one.
“ Ugh , great first impression guys,” Nicky complained and put a hand on Neil’s shoulder that made Neil almost turn around and break Nicky’s wrist.
He shook it off by turning around and stepping away from him which Nicky didn’t seem to mind though. “So Neil, who’s gonna be your plus one? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Sister? Brother? Never saw you with anyone, granted I only see you like once a week for a few minutes.” He grinned and Neil felt himself reminded of Coach Hernandez in the way Nicky showed his perfect teeth. The bread they had eaten this morning had probably been from Nicky.
“No one,” he said eventually and was ready to bolt when he saw the looks Abby and Nicky gave him for that. Bee only looked thoughtful for a moment before she was back to smiling.
“How surprising, a loner. Makes running easier doesn’t it Neil?”
“Andrew,” Bee started, still smiling but with a censuring undertone.
Their time was up though, the door slammed open and Allison Reynolds entered with her flock of Peacekeepers. She looked around and finally settled for Andrew who looked right through her.
“Are you taking someone with you?” She waited for an answer in vain from him and after a few moments Aaron stepped forth and told her he would go with his brother. Allison was unmistakably ecstatic about the notion, the only thing better than twins traveling together would have been twins killing each other. She had to settle for the second best then.
She looked expectantly at Neil next who was about to shake his head when he caught Nicky watching the twins with a strained smile and a closed off look in his eyes, as if he was already trying to isolate himself from the pain. Neil had no idea in what relation Nicky stood to the twins, but he was sure that Nicky deeply cared for them. And it was not unlikely that this could be the last time he would see Andrew ever again.
He would kill Andrew or at least die trying to, but he could give Nicky a few extra weeks with the infuriating garden gnome and his gloomy looking brother.
Neil exhaled and told her with a nod towards Nicky, “He’s coming with us.”
Surprisingly, Nicky did not start yelling or shouting, instead he looked at Neil with his lips formed to a silent O and eyes as big as saucers. Bee nodded and smiled at Neil approvingly which unnerved Neil even more; he didn’t like those sharp brown eyes with laughter lines around the corners. She didn’t look like much, but Neil was sure she knew more than she let on. People that were hard to read he usually tried to avoid, but now he would spend the next few weeks in close vicinity to such a person and eventually had to kill him.
Andrew watched Neil with a minimal frown between his brows, and Neil caught himself thinking that the twins looked actually nothing alike. There was nothing identical in their facial expressions or the way they walked as they all followed Allison outside the building to a parked car.
There were no touches exchanged as they said their goodbyes, except for Nicky who hugged the two women and told them to take care of themselves. Abby looked like she wanted to say something to Andrew, but with a brief look to Neil she simply shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.
Neil was sure they all believed Andrew could win the games and return to them, even though they didn’t say such a thing, not if Neil could hear them. They didn’t know Neil, probably didn’t care enough for him to wish for his safe return if it meant Andrew’s death. But they still liked him well enough to not let him go with a bad feeling. Jokes on them, the closer he came to the Capitol the bigger the bad feeling in his chest became.
They all squeezed inside the car, Allison driving with Andrew on the passenger seat and Nicky between Aaron and Neil in the back. It was a short ride to the train station, and soon they were swarmed by reporters and their insectlike cameras trained directly on their faces.
Neil wiped his face clean of emotions and tried to make himself as small as possible. Unfortunately Nicky walked behind him or else Neil could use him as shield from the cameras, but as it was he had only Andrew directly in front of him. Neil watched his broad shoulders and wondered how strong he really was. He remembered the crushing handshake and the flexing muscles when he had crossed his arms. Neil probably had to work with speed to outsmart that obstacle.
Nicky and Aaron went inside the train first while Andrew and Neil had to stand for a few minutes in the doorway of the train while the cameras gobbled up their images, then they were allowed inside and the doors closed mercifully.