Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Garden - Cole

Cole

The garden is a beautiful place, to say it's on a roof and everything. It's at least the size of the training room, probably bigger. The bushes are lush green and winding, gravel paths weave through them, complete with benches. It smells earthy like the Meadow back home, not that I ever spend much time there but I recognise the smell. I lean back on the bench and breathe it in, pretending it's my last smell of home. It's almost peaceful.

The Capitol have ruined it, of course. Every so often a hideous flowering monstrosity bursts through the leafy green, the petals glistening in a rainbow of colours that would assault your eyes even in the darkness of the mine. In the distance people are shouting and shrieking happily. If I look up, the sky is a sort of foggy orange colour, has no stars and shimmers slightly with the forcefield.

I scoop up a handful of gravel and hurl it up into the sky, grunting slightly with anger. They flash off the forcefield in a shower of sparks.

Well. This is fun.

Below me, fifty two teenagers are sleeping what could be their last night. Though I bet only the Careers are sleeping, the bastards. They enjoy this, they're lapping it up. This is so unfair.

I never ever thought I'd be here. Yeah, reapings happen, but only to other people, though I worry crazy about Gret and Idisha. But it's like that for everybody else. Only the Careers want to be here. Everybody else just wants to be out of here and back home.

I'm not alone. Gravel is crunching nearby, interrupted occasionally by small sighs. I freeze in the seat. If whoever it is tries to speak to me, even looks at me, they're going to get all my anger straight in their face. I don’t care if I lose sponsors; I probably don’t have any anyway, not after that shambles of an interview.

Khave was totally asking for it, though.

My hands are clenched, my nails digging into my palm. My nails have never been clean, but now they’re not just clean, they’re manicured. So at least I’ll die looking fabulous.

Actually, I just thought the word fabulous. Kill me now.

The gravel noise is getting closer, somewhere in front of me. Good, that means they’ll see me before I see them. And I can see them, a shadow through the bushes. I think it's a girl, and I think it's one of the Career girls. Hah, well. She signed herself up for this, she can't complain. Not like the rest of us, us poor unfortunate suckers who have to die so the Capitol can feel safe.

Two of fifty six. Even for the Careers those odds aren't great. So no wonder she's out here. I wish she'd come over here so I can tell her what a hard life really is, what it's like to take tesserae and knowing you've got to risk your own life just so you and your family will maybe make it to the next reaping.

A voice interrupts the familiar sting of angry thoughts.

"Cole?"

The shadow gasps and there's the noise of it running away. Oh, doesn't want to be found, does she? I strain my eyes to see if I can see who it is, because you never know when this sort of information might come in handy, but she's quick and she's already vanished, the footsteps stopping abruptly.

"Over here, Bram!" I call back. Bram hovers into view, pushing aside branches and plants; he's not bothered with using the paths. That's so typical. He's obedient as the Capitol would like and he works hard, but he's not afraid of a bit of disobedience, as long as it won't get him in trouble.

He thuds into the seat and we sit in silence for a while. I don't know what to say, for once. Bram might die because of me. And both of us probably will. There's no point kidding ourselves. And we don't need to say that. Bram won't speak, even if he's got something to say, but the silence is too much. There's nothing else to talk about except the arena.