the way things go [s. plinth]

v i

The next morning, the tributes were rounded up once more. Instead of the truck with the bars, they were led to a truck with a wide, flat bed. Ophelia gasped as she laid eyes on a crane attachment secured to the truck. Hanging from the crane was Brandy's body. Her clothes were stained with blood, but Ophelia couldn't tell if it was Brandy's, or her mentor's.

Ophelia could hear her blood pumping in her ears. Her breathing quickened. She felt like she was going to vomit. Brandy had been so full of life just yesterday, and now, she was just a corpse, swinging in the wind.

Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulders, turning both of them away from the scene. He rubbed her shoulder gently.

"One," whispered Marcus. "Two. Three."

Ophelia realized he was counting her breaths for her. Like she had done in the truck after the reaping.

"Four. Five. Six," they counted in unison as Ophelia tried to get a hold of herself.

Once she had gotten back in control, Ophelia wrapped her arms around her district partner's torso, tucking her head under his chin. Marcus stiffened for just a second, before hugging her back.

Ophelia had never thought she and Marcus could be friends. He was a bit too stoic for her taste. But here they were. Marcus was the only tribute she felt she could trust. He had been there for her since the reaping, even though it would probably be more advantageous for him if he stayed solo during the games. He had been the only consistent part of this situation. Ophelia, though she cared about Sejanus, wouldn't be able to rely on him the same way, since he had always been on the other side of the bars. She needed him, but he would never need her in the same way. At least Marcus was going through the same experiences as her.

Ophelia's brief moment of contentment was interrupted when two Peacekeepers dragged her to the truck bed, shackling her to the floor. The chains were so short, that Ophelia couldn't even stand to her full height. She decided to sit, tucking her legs beneath her.

Beside her, Lamina, the younger girl from District Seven cried quietly to herself. Ophelia wanted to reach out to comfort the girl, but her fetters prevented it.

"Don't be scared," she said. "It will all be alright."

Lamina looked over at the older girl, smiling shyly at her. Ophelia allowed herself to smile back.

She knew there was no truth in her words. Truthfully, Ophelia had no idea what was going on. Clearly, this event wasn't planned, otherwise Sejanus would have told her about it. Would they be sent to the arena early, without the interviews, as punishment for Brandy's actions against the Capitol? Ophelia knew she wasn't ready for the Games, she didn't think she ever would be. But she was counting on having at least a few days to prepare. As the truck started and left the zoo, Ophelia came up with her plan.

When the bell rang to start the Games, she would run to the middle and find a knife. It was the only weapon she could trust herself to use. Then, she would keep out of the way of the other tributes as long as possible. She'd only fight someone else if she needed to. Ophelia wasn't sure where Marcus fit into the plan. Though they had decided to work together, Ophelia couldn't come up with a possibility in which that would work. They had very different skill sets, causing them to be liabilities to each other. She hoped they would figure out a way it would work out.

She also knew that only one of them could leave the arena and go home. So clearly, the plan would never be perfect. If it was, they could both go home. Maybe Ophelia could bring Sejanus with her. But that was just wishful thinking.

The truck turned onto a wide street. Ophelia couldn't see much from her position, but she could hear someone speaking into a microphone, their voice garbled from the distance. People lined the streets, dressed in black. Ophelia looked at the buildings. She couldn't focus on the people gawking at her. At first glance, the buildings of the Capitol looked grand, all columns and marble. But on closer evaluation, Ophelia could see the flaws. Chunks of marble had been removed from the buildings, some places had been hastily fixed, those sections clearly newer than the original modeling. It reminded Ophelia of the war. She knew the Capitol had to rebuild, the same way as the districts, but she hadn't realized the extent. Even ten years later, they were still struggling, putting on a facade to make the city seem more grandiose than it really was.