Pyromania | The 60th Hunger Games

EIGHT

When Martial and I returned to our floor, Martial with stitches on his nose and a wet rag in hand and me with stitches on my forehead and a bloody wet rag in hand, we braced ourselves for a reprimanding from at least one of the women.

We passed over the threshold into the lounge where Lys was sitting waiting, hands wringing as she stared at the tablet in her lap. She looked up on hearing the door open and stifled a yell with her shaking hand upon seeing us. Her green eyes were brighter today, glitter in her contact lenses as well as at her hairline, and scanning our appearances.

Two doors slammed down the bedroom corridor and I saw Martial sigh and shut his eyes as our mentors rushed into the room.

"Oh fu-" Trix faltered at the top of the few steps, mouth agape as she looked between us.

"What did you kill someone already?" Gia yelled, stomping down the steps, taking our rags and dragging them down our faces with a heavy sigh. "Did you break your nose?" she grabbed Martial's chin roughly, turning his face to study the purple bruising blossoming on his face with a tut. He steps back when she lets go, watching as she grabs my face with as much force and little worry about my pained hiss. "Are those bite marks? What the hell happened?" Gia looked back at Lys, who undoubtedly had a full report and some sort of footage from the training hall on that tablet of hers.

No one ever truly knew what information escorts had but they always seemed to know everything.

"It was my fault," Martial began, but I nudged him.

"No, it-"

"Sh!" Gia held up a finger in our direction, watching Lys expectantly. Our escort shrugged, scrolling on her tablet.

"It seems as though Terra was just doing what we asked," Lys sighed, passing the tablet into Trix's outstretched hand and pinching her brow. She shut her eyes as Trix scrolled through whatever was on the tablet.

"I thought you didn't go to the academy?" Looking up from the tablet, Trix narrows her eyes on me. I shrugged, unsure what else to say since she already knew the truth. "How on earth did you best both of them?" I shrugged, glancing up at Martial, who seemed reluctant to admit his mistake. "I suppose it is obvious this one was pulling his punches," she motions briefly to the boy beside me, who earned a disapproving look from Gia. Lys stood and retreated towards the hall where the stylists had their own studios. "But Sly's record is squeaky clean, he's one of the best in his year."

Gia takes the tablet and, when she turns, I can see a series of grainy images clearly taken from a hidden camera.

"I'm not trained," I say, remembering Sly's impressed voice when he observed my fighting, "but it doesn't mean I can't defend myself."

"I'll admit, I am impressed," Gia said with a smug smile as she switched off the tablet, "let's hope he doesn't take it to heart. We don't want the pack to fall apart already."

"They'll be fine," Trix says, eyes flicking to Martial before extending her hand to me. "Come on, Terra, I want to talk to you before Nero robs you for the rest of the afternoon."

I sit on the counter in my bathroom, Trix standing between my legs as she carefully drags another wet rag around the stitches on my forehead.

"He really took a chunk out, huh," she narrows her eyes, focusing on removing every last patch of dried blood from my face. I shrug, wincing as she catches the stitches.

"It was my fault, I headbutted him."

Her head dips as her shoulders shake with laughter. When she looks up to concentrate again, she shakes her head slightly but the smile lingers on her face and I realise this is the first time I have seen any joy on her face.