When Luck Runs Out

Our Little Celebrity

"So, what exactly are your plans?" I asked him as we stepped onto the train station platform, walking through the abandoned ticket stand and jumping over the guard rails.
"I don't know; just see whatever I can I suppose. I've never been out of the District boundaries except for the games." John shrugged.
"You're certainly a curious one." I decided.
"You act like that's a bad thing." John pointed out.
"It is at six in the morning." I pointed out, finishing off my bagel as we walked towards the city on a beat up, chipping concrete road.
"Get over it will you, god you're like an old lady." John laughed. The town got closer and closer, but the day got hotter and hotter, and soon the lack of shade was too noticeable as the sweat clinging to my forehead increased.
"God, we don't have heat like this in Twelve." John decided, glaring up at the sun as if scolding it for being so hot. I took off my jacket, draping it over my shoulder and trying not to look too winded as we approached the town. From what I could see there were many people already on the job, men carrying around farming equipment and women carrying baskets full of fruit and vegetables. The buildings were no more than simple wooden structures, the bigger ones were thick wood but the small houses were mostly sticks and straw sewn together to make a very crude shelter. The streets were full of people, but they all looked miserable. Their stomachs were caved in with hunger, they had frowns permanently plastered on their face from endless hours of labor, and their bare feet were heavily calloused. John looked speechless, in our heads we had pictured Eleven to be a happy family of a District, with everyone getting along and everyone well fed, considering they grew food for a living. The one thing that really stuck out to me though was the abundance of peacekeepers walked among the civilians, clad in white armor and guns, patrolling the street corners and the entrances to a lot of buildings as well.
"This is different then I pictured." John decided as we walked through the crowds of people. They were all dark skinned, so we must have stuck out like sore thumbs, but no one seemed to recognize us, or notice that we didn't really fit the dress code of misery.
"Molly said the market was close, just down the street here." John decided, following the crowd and bringing us around a corner. Here the stream lessened, all of the men with tools seemed to be going into the fields and women with baskets were walking into a large building, probably for shipping out the food to the Capital. There was a long, one story building stretching for about a block, with people milling in and out, but not many. John and I exchanged nervous glances, but since we were here we might as well look around. I followed him in, standing very close, protectively, in case one of these people wanted to steal from us or something. The inside of the building was very dark except for the sunlight coming in from the roof, where there were large fans to cool everything down or something. There were very shabby looking lights coming from the ceiling, but they weren't on, and judging by the spider webs that filled them, I would guess that they haven't been turned on in a while. The market was the only thing this place had similar to Twelve, the lines of tables filled with whatever the sellers could get their hands on, from bread to cloth to metal wire. John and I walked through the stands, nodding politely at the people behind the tables, but they just glared at us. I wanted to maybe strike up a conversation with someone, but from the looks they were giving us as we passed they weren't really in the talking mood. I noticed that the people behind the stands were mostly elderly women and men, those who were unable to work in the fields and therefore sent to fend for themselves. John and I bought some honey sticks from a woman, those flavored little tubes of honey that were heaven for the three seconds they lasted, and a couple of pieces of homemade fudge from another. We munches as we walked, observing all of the things the market had to offer (which really wasn't that much), but we bought a loaf of bread to bring back to the train for a little foreign treat. When we got back to the streets the sun seemed to have increased at least double the intensity it was before, beating down on us like we were bread in an oven.
"So, this is definitely not on the top ten vacation listings is it?" I muttered.
"Not at all." John agreed.
"Anything else you want to see?" I asked.
"Not particularly." John muttered, sounding a bit disappointed to have cut his little trip so short. Honestly I suspected that if we stuck around too long they'd put us to work, and the last thing I needed was to do heavy labor in this heat. So we headed back, eating the fudge and complaining about the sun until we finally got back to the nicely air conditioned train, where Molly and Mrs. Hudson were only about done with breakfast, and were huddled around watching the news.
"That was certainly fast dears." Mrs. Hudson decided as we walked onto the train, panting and trying to keep beads of sweat from rolling into our eyes.
"Yes well, there's a reason no one takes vacations to other Districts." John decided.
"We did get you all some bread though, as if we needed more food." I pointed out, putting the very seeded bread on the counter.
"It's depressing over there." John decided, sitting on the couch and leaving a space for me to join him.
"And hot." I added.
"Everywhere is different, but not always in a good way." Molly shrugged. I watched the news they were watching, which was just going on about some robbery in the capital, nothing major of course.
"Are we on?" I asked.
"They broadcasted a little bit of the interview, but things will pick up when you start getting to the lower districts, and especially the capital feast." Mrs. Hudson assured.
"Not like we need any more attention." John sighed.
"You're Victors! This is the only tour you'll ever be on, so enjoy it." Molly insisted.
"This is your third tour." I pointed out.
"Not as the victor though, I'm more backup crew." Molly debated.
"Well, I don't think it's all that memorable." John decided.
"You just started." Mrs. Hudson pointed out.
"Still." John shrugged.
"Well, we've got about two hours before the stylists get here, anything else you two want to do while we're here?" Molly asked.
"Sleep." I decided.
"No sleep, you can't look tired for the speech." Mrs. Hudson debated.
"I'm not even going to be on!" I debated.
"You very well might be, we can't take any chances." Molly insisted.
"Please tell me we're not going to be dressed as snowflakes again." John pleaded.
"Of course not, I don't think they've ever seen snow around here. For the tours you'll be wearing suits, just normal ones but with a little bit of pizazz." Mrs. Hudson decided.
"Never say that again." I muttered.
"That's good; I don't want to look like a walking Halloween disaster." John decided. Mrs. Hudson just laughed, shaking her head and going back to the news.
"Oh, there you guys are!" Molly exclaimed. Of course, the picture, they had to be showing the picture, that my parents will see from home once again. They were talking about the predictions for John's tour, and how everyone in the Capital was simply dying to meet the 'lovebirds of District Twelve'.
"That's mortifying." I decided.
"At least they know you." Mrs. Hudson muttered, but obviously she was having a bit of trouble making everything positive.
"We're nothing more than soap opera stars." John pointed out.
"True, but they'll eat it up." Molly debated.
"We don't want publicity." I defended.
"Well, that's what you're getting, sorry." Mrs. Hudson sighed. "Nothing to do now but play the game."
"Could be worse, we could be pretending to hate each other in public." John pointed out.
"Good point." I agreed with a small laugh. "Or I could have to pretend I fancy Molly."
"Hey!" Molly defended.
"Oh don't get all red, I thought you said you never liked me." I pointed out.
"I don't like you, and I never did." Molly insisted.
"You keep telling that to yourself, I'm irresistible." I laughed, twirling one of my curls on my finger.
"It's true you know." John agreed.
"I liked him better when he thought he was trash." Mrs. Hudson decided.
"Still do, but pretty trash." I assured. The four of us just laughed uncertainly, which was definitely a cheesy family movie like scene, but soon we just continued watching the news, which was now presenting a whole new way to decorate your cakes with brand new edible jewels. Capital people and their ridiculous contraptions. We ate a small lunch and then waited for the stylists to decide on our outfits. The two of them were still in furious debate about whether to put us in the purple suits with orange trim (which were horrible in my opinion) or the grey suits with red ties (which were a little bit more my speed). In the end they settled with the grey ones (thank the lord) and John and I were forced to go change into our new circus outfits. Molly was dressed in the color scheme as well, but it was a short grey dress with puffy red flowers on it. It must be so much easier to be a girl, then you get to have a lot more options than just suits and ties.
"Oh, you all look lovely." Mrs. Hudson decided, who hadn't been properly assigned the outfit but was wearing a grey knit dress all the same. She seemed to have a knit dress for every occasion. I struck some sort of model pose on the little podium they sat us on, and John just cringed, as if totally embarrassed to be my boyfriend. I would be too, of course. Then they did our hair and a tad bit of makeup touch ups, but they put a bit too much blush on my cheeks and the powder got up my nose and I sneezed all over Sara, who looked extremely annoyed but smiled it off. Finally, when we were done getting pampered Mrs. Hudson handed us all our speeches, already prepared just in case either one of us got on stage. Molly already started reading over hers, practicing a charming smile, but I just stuffed mine in my pocket and didn't bother with them. Neither Molly nor I were going to get on the stage, not because they didn't care about us, but more because I seriously doubted this district knew what social media was, and probably haven't even seen that accursed picture. When we were all ready to go we started the long hike up, the stylist's crew carrying large curtain like shades that covered John, Molly and I from the slight breeze blowing dust and stray bits of hay and leaves in our direction. Personally I thought that was overkill, but whatever they wanted to do to make sure we looked perfect, they could do. As long as it didn't involve me.
"So I just read from the cards again?" John asked, walking next to me. We didn't hold hands simply for the sake that it was very public, Mrs. Hudson and Molly were chatting right behind us and I didn't want them squealing like the girls they were.
"Since you didn't know the tributes personally you should stick to the cards, they probably make the whole dead children thing sound a lot more bearable." I agreed.
"God, I hate being back here." John decided. "It's so depressing." We both looked up to the shacks once again, but, unlike before, the streets were empty. The people must already be gathered in the square, wanting their look of the Victor in the flesh.
"They're all waiting to see you." I pointed out.
"It's almost like I'm famous or something." John laughed.
"I just hope they don't make masks of your face like they did with some of the tributes." I decided.
"Did they for you?" John asked.
"God no, I wasn't popular enough. I think some people were actually disappointed that I won to be honest, they wanted someone buff and grim and probably someone who liked girls." I pointed out.
"Well then, you really don't fit the profile do you?" John laughed.
"As a little twig that's scared of his own shadow and dating you, no, not the slightest." I agreed. We walked up into the town and it was almost like there should be tumbleweed tumbling and weeding around, but even those were absent from the deserted streets.
"If possible, this is more depressing." John decided.
"Do we even know the way?" I asked, craning my neck to see if Mrs. Hudson had heard my question.
"What dear?" she asked, looking up from the script cards Molly was showing her.
"Where are we going?" I asked again, annoyed that even for an old lady she was unable to hear me.
"Oh, just follow the stylists, they've been here plenty of times." She assured, going back to the cards.
"Do you think Molly's going to get on stage?" John asked.
"Probably not, I'm not either." I decided.
"Well, you might." John pointed out.
"I think the only TV they ever watch is the games, not the local gossip channel." I pointed out.
"My sister loved that channel on our TV, even through the static and the terrible quality I still knew all of the Victor's spouses or the local celebrity drama. It's crazy to think I'm on that." John muttered. We must have been getting closer, because I heard voices, hundreds of excited voices, not very far from us. And I saw my first person, well, less of a person, more a machine for the capital, a white clad Peacekeeper, watching us from behind the screened helmet.
"They still scare me." John decided as the lifeless mask stared back at us.
"That's what they're supposed to do. I don't think I've ever seen a Peacekeeper make peace at all, they're just riot control with a more socially acceptable name." I agreed. We made our way to the back of the only building made of stone, white painted brick that was stained with dust, but there were very happy officials ready to open the door for us, smiling cheerily as we entered.
"Hello Mr. Watson, it is a pleasure to meet you." said a man as we walked in, shaking John's hand forcefully and smiling fully in his face.
"Oh, hello, nice to meet you too." John muttered, giving me a desperate look for hopeful support.
"I am Mr. Grover, Mayor of District Eleven." The man said, standing a little bit taller.
"Oh, sorry, yes hello, I'm John Watson." John nodded, obviously relieved he just wasn't meeting some random citizen that happened to break into the building.
"Ah, Mr. Grover, I see you met John." Mrs. Hudson said with a smile, walking up and giving the mayor a big hug.
"Martha, a pleasure as always." Mr. Grover agreed.
"Wait, Mrs. Hudson has a first name?" John whispered.
"I'm as shocked as you are." I agreed, shocked I never bothered to learn that her first name was something other than Mrs.
"Okay, you can come right up here John, it's set to start any moment now." Molly decided, pulling John by his shoulders near a very beat up looking red door.
"So just read the cards, smile, and look happy to be there and it'll all be fine." She assured, brushing off what she must have thought was dust on John's jacket. The mayor went out and said a few words, and then, finally, the door opened and John was forced to walk out onto the stage. I caught a glimpse of what looked like the entire District, all come to cheer him on, standing and cheering as if this were the highlight of their entire life. Then the door closed and we I couldn't see anything else. I heard John's voice though, I couldn't tell what he was saying but I was sure it was terribly similar to what every other Victor has said all of these 75 years.