Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

3. Smalls

I was thoroughly chastised when we returned from the chariot ceremony.

“Why didn’t you wave? You looked like dead stiff! You’ve disgraced the name of your district! Why didn’t you even crack a smile? You are such humiliation!” they droned on and on.

I nodded and gave a halfhearted shrug, then left them blathering on while I retreated to my room. If they expected me to just stand there and take it as yelled and tore me down, well, they had another thing coming to them.

We’d have three days to train for the games, with the third day being only a half day. The first day I entered the gymnasium looking quickly for Bodey. As my eyes scanned the faces before me I  was thoroughly surprised when I finally found him.

With all these daunting tributes, and menacing careers around, I half expected him to have the same expression I had; one of suspicion and fear. I was wrong. He looked utterly at ease and wore a look of complete trust as he stood behind the male from District Ten. No, as I looked closer I saw it wasn’t Bodey who hid behind the blonde boy, it was the opposite. The tall, muscular boy actually seemed to be standing, or rather guarding, Bodey from the tributes around him.

I’d watched the Reapings attentively and knew that his name was Macon Wells; an eighteen-year old from District Ten. When I’d studied him on the train, I’d naturally assumed that with his build and apparent confidence, he’d be with the careers or at least partnered with another strong tribute. I was wrong again; I watched as he eyed all the other people with mistrust, shielding Bodey from wandering eyes, and putting his body between him and the careers. What was his goal?

I was still staring when he’d approached me with Bodey at his side.

“Hello there, I’m Macon Wells. You’re Mipe?” he asked when he was at close enough for me to hear. I noted his slight southern drawl, saw the kindness in his eyes, and felt the quiet power he emanated.

“I go by Smalls,” I found myself answering. I was surprised; I hadn’t meant to speak just yet. Somehow, he’d made me feel secure enough to talk unguardedly.

“Smalls huh? I like that,” he said with a warm chuckle; not at all mocking like my mentors and escort. He nodded at the boy beside him, “This is Bodey Jacks.”

“Just Bodey,” he interjected with a smile. “We sorta’ already met.”

Macon peered curiously at us and just smiled. “I umm, had a proposition for you.”

I nodded, staying where I was. “Yeah, I’m listening,” I said guardedly.

He seemed to sense my anxiousness and so he raised his hands, almost in an I-come-in-peace fashion. “This is just a suggestion, you don’t have to accept. Just hear me out ok kid?”

I nodded after peering at Bodey again. Our eyes met like before and I saw in them his whole conviction; he trusted Macon, with his life even. I was suspicious by nature but even I had to admit it was easy to like this blonde boy with the kind eyes. “Ok, go ahead. I’ll listen, really.”

He smiled and then proposed we form an alliance of our own; just him, Bodey, and me. My heart swelled with appreciation but the cynic in me questioned his reasons. Why was he doing this when he so clearly could win without any help? Was he only trying to gain my trust so he’d be able to finish me off faster in the end; kill me when I least expected it? I pushed my confused thoughts away and settled on the one and only question that mattered; the question that would ultimately help me decide whether to trust or disbelieve Macon’s intentions.

I took a breath and then spoke. “Why are you doing this?” I asked softly. I saw Bodey also turn to read Macon’s features.

Macon looked from my face to Bodey’s and answered without hesitating. “I’ve never been afraid to stand up for something I believe in, even if I’ve had to stand alone.” He paused to look at the careers, the Gamemakers in the balcony, and to us. “I know what’s right and I know what’s wrong. I’m doing this because it’s what I believe in.”

No matter how much I wanted to remain distant and suspicious I couldn’t find it in me to hate or even doubt this boy; Macon from Ten spoke the truth and it resonated in his words. I found myself smiling. I’d never even began to imagine that I’d find someone to who wanted to partner up with me, much less two tributes like Macon and Bodey. I would not be alone to face the monstrosities of the arena.

Before the first day of training came to a close, I did catch a glimpse of what was to come. I’d been at the camouflage station with Bodey and we’d been, more or less, getting on the station teacher’s nerves as we playfully argued about who had the better painting technique.

 Macon was nearby at the swords station trying his hand at inflicting any kind of damage to the dummy before him. I could see he found it difficult to actually draw up any sort of violence, however, and was struggling with the concept of execution. Now that I knew him better, it really wasn’t all that surprising. Despite his outwardly strong and omnipotent appearance, Macon was a kind soul that rejected violence.

“No, see if you swirl the paint rather than dab it, it looks so much more real,” said Bodey as he dipped his brush in more of the green paint.

I looked away from Macon, not worried; I knew he’d find it in him eventually, the willingness to fight. “Whatever Bodey, dabbing is the way to go. See? You can barely tell my arm is an arm,” I said with a laugh.

It wasn’t until I heard a scuffle of feet to my left that, both Bodey and I, were aware of what was going on. I stared in quiet horror as Macon shielded us from the oncoming tribute, Flint. They were far enough that only heard bits and pieces of conversation. I didn’t need to hear more; just by piecing bits together, I was able to get the basic gist of what was being said. Flint would not just wait to find us, no, he’d hunt us out. We were his prey.

Macon visibly stiffened at Flint’s threat and I could see him shaking his head, wanting to believe we would be ok. Flint didn’t seem at all bothered though; he merely leaned around Macon and waved at us. “See you soon!” he jeereed, and then mockingly pretended to swing an invisible lasso at us; obviously a jab at Macon since he was from District Ten. “I’ve got my eyes on you.”

I shuddered and felt Bodey stiffen beside me. After that event, I pushed myself harder than before. I’d prove everyone who’d underestimated me that I was worth something; I wouldn’t just be a burden on Macon, I’d help in any way I could, even if it were only to forage for nuts or find firewood.

I wasn’t really good at wielding any of the weapons available, but I did find I had a talent for making tight and reliable snares. Trying to look on the positive side, I consoled myself with the thought that at least I wouldn’t starve in the games.

My next big break came on the third day. Bodey and I had the same idea in mind; to find at least one thing we were good at. While he was proving to be quite good with a slingshot, I found myself actually feeling slightly jealous.

True, in a real fight a slingshot would be next to useless, but it still counted as a weapon. As Bodey continued to work on his aim, I wandered over to the shelf that held some of the smaller artillery. That’s when I found the blow-dart. It was small, about the size of a pencil, and hollow. Beside it, lay a little pouch with feathered darts. I picked it up and went to stand beside Bodey.

After a couple of tries I was practically jumping with joy. My hits weren’t exactly spot on, but I got the darts to stick each time and usually they hit the target I aimed for. It was small, non-threatening, and honestly a little pitiful; but it was my weapon and my life-line.

When we were taken out one-by-one during lunch to perform for the Gamemakers, I went in with the slightest bounce in my step. When I entered the room, I immediately picked up the blow-dart and proceeded to shoot at the dummy in front of me. I got most of my darts to stick and when I was excused I was happy that I’d at least shown something other than my “superb” snare skills.

When the scores were posted that night I wasn’t surprised to see I’d scored a four. I’d been happy with my performance, but not blind to the fact that it wasn’t something the Gamemakers would be impressed with. No matter, I went to sleep with a satisfied feeling in my heart. I would not be entirely defenseless.