Queen of Diamonds

One Week After The Sorting

"Thirty-two," Alice calls from below, her shrill voice almost carried away by the wind. I sigh, wiping the sweat from my forehead. It's a smoggy day, and it even looks like it might rain, but the heat is still crippling. I swing my legs over the edge of the roof and climb down slowly. Alice has been keeping time for me all day, because Sonya, Felix, and Hugo went out on patrol, and Remy is up in his room mixing explosives. I've been training non-stop since I got the idea of being an acrobat in my head. The physical exertion helps fight back the memories of the way my life used to be. My book sits under my pillow, the corners of the plastic sheets frayed from how much I flip through it. At night, I lose myself to the thoughts of the Diamond sector, of my family, of Chris. But during the day, I train. I walk to where Alice is sitting, cross legged on the top of a rotting picnic table, and take the timer from her. It's exactly as she said. Thirty two seconds. It's not bad, but it could be better. It could always be better. I toss the timer on the table and take my hair out of it's ponytail, flipping my head down and shaking it out, trying to cool my neck off. 
"Do you get hot with all that hair?" Alice asks. her hair is straight, thin, and barely shoulder length. 
"Uh, yeah," I laugh, redoing my ponytail and glancing back at the bricked side of the Compound I've been climbing all day. My fingers are so sore, but I've stared to develop callouses. 
"I could help you cut it," she offers. I glance back at her. 
"What?" 
"If you wanna cut your hair. It just seems like it would be cooler. And lighter. And safer."
"Safer?" I ask. 
"In a fight," Alice says, grabbing her own hair and mimicking pulling it backwards. Oh. Safer in a fight. Despite the fact that I know all the training I'm doing is for an eventual fight, it still feels odd to consider. Before this, the closest I've even been to a fight was when one senior punched another in the halls. And now, I'm training to dodge bullets and cutting off my hair so no one can grab it. It would be so much cooler though. I used to take so much pride in my hair, but showers are hard to come by here, and its grown out matted and frizzy. 
"Sure," I say to Alice, "I'd rather do that than keep training." She laughs, and hops off the table, and I follow her inside.

Thirty minutes later, I sit at the kitchen table, staring at my reflection in the back of a shiny pot. My hair had been mid-way down my back, but Alice made quick work of it, silently snipping away as more and more of my yellow curls fell to the floor. And now my hair is about chin length, parted on the side and layered so it doesn't puff out too much. I barely even recognize myself. All my time in the sun has brought my freckles out, and my hair is a little blonder than it usually is from the sun. I'm wearing Sonya's clothes, and the muscles of my shoulders are actually visible. I run a hand through my new short hair. It is so much lighter, and the air on the back of my neck feels so good. I feel like I could climb a hundred stories. I grin at Alice.
"It looks great," I say, "Thank you."
"It suits you," she says with a shrug, but she's smiling too. 
"I've never had short hair before," I admit. I haven't talked much to anyone about my life in the Diamond sector. I'm not sure if it's because I want to protect myself from their teasing or if because I think I'll get to upset. Whatever the reason, I find myself saying, "this is nice, though. It would have made straightening it so much easier. I used to have to do that before every game."
"Were you a cheerleader?" Alice asks. I wonder how she knows what a cheerleader is. She was obviously born here, there's no way she's fifteen yet. 
"Yeah," I say with a smile. 
"That sounds like it would be fun," she sighs. 
"It was." I lean my head back against the chair. Some kind of weight has been removed from my shoulder, and I don't know if it was all the weight of my hair pr the weight of not talking about my life in the Diamond sector. I'm going to suggest we try to make some kind of lunch, when the front door bangs open, and I hear Sonya screaming. 

I jump to my feet, running down the hall to see what's happening, Alice at my heels. Sonya and Felix are half-carrying, half-dragging the limp body of Hugo. All three of them are covered in blood, and Sonya has a black eye. Alice springs into action, sliding her shoulder under Hugo's arm so Felix can let him go, running to a room off the main hall that I haven't seen inside yet. I stand, frozen in fear, as a sobbing Sonya and a surprisingly strong Alice drag Hugo into the room and lay him out on what I realize to be a repurposed operating table. 
"Sonya," Felix snaps, pulling on a pair of gloves, "pull yourself together." Sonya takes a shuddering breath and walks to where Felix is to get gloves as well. That's when I get a real glance at Hugo. He's bare-chested, like the boys always are in costume, and his chest is sticky with brilliantly red blood. I see where all the blood is coming from, a giant gash in his stomach, his skin town open to reveal a bloody mess underneath. I suck in a breath. His eyes are open, but barely, and his jaw hangs open, his breathing labored. 
"Move," Felix says, shoving me aside. He's holding a scalpel and a wad of gauzy towels. Sonya, tears dripping down her face, joins him, holding a needle and thick string. I feel the world spinning away from me as I watch them go to work, stitching him up and pulling him together again.