Snowdrop

Chapter 3

I stay by the window of the train until the last bits of my home are gobbled up by the woods. I hear a soft rustling behind me, and turn. It's Ember.
"Hey, kiddo," he says. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I reply, even though I'm not. "I – I just miss home. And it's awful knowing that I'm never going to see Mother, or my bed, or that that funny old tree near the fence. You know, the one that we'd play in when we were little? I won't see that ever again."
He places a palm on my shoulder. "Me too. Don't worry. But if either of us gets home, we will be able to climb that tree again, and we can scrape our hands and knees on the bark like we used to."
I face him. "Yes, but for that to happen, one of us has to die."
"And it won't be you, I'll make sure of that." Ember hugs me, resting his chin on my head.
I don't think we've done this for years. He's always too busy with schoolwork now to pay me much attention, but that's about to change. I realise just how much I've missed his affection.
"You should go and see Bailey," he says after a moment.
Bailey's on her bed, her face in her hands. I sit down beside her and start rubbing circles into her back.
She's not crying, though. It's more likely that she's fuming. The Capitol, they picked her sister. Then she volunteered, along with her best friend.
"I hate them," she mutters.
"Me too, Bee," I reply.
And I do. I hate them. I hate them for standing by, while our families starved and caught incurable illnesses, while we lived in fear of being picked to participate a death tournament and be ridiculed like animals.
"I hate them!" she screams, then suddenly lashes out at the glass of water on the table beside her bed. The glass shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces, and the clear liquid runs towards the back of the car. She runs her hands through her hair. I've never seen her quite like this, and it's almost frightening.
"Bailey, I know you hate them. But lashing out and breaking things won't help."
Bailey looks at me, her scowl fading and her anger ebbing away. She sits, clenching and unclenching her fingers like she's trying really hard not to break anything else. She might simply be trying to stop herself breaking. As she presses her head into the curve of my shoulder, my arm automatically pulls her into a hug.
"Come on, Bee. Let's go to dinner."
Everyone's already assembled at the dining table. I wonder if maybe Ember told Maximus to leave us to come and get dinner when we're ready.
Bailey slumps down in her seat, myself next to her. Almost immediately my spirits are lifted by the food laid out on the table. Soft rolls spread with creamy goat's cheese and a strange, pale yellow soup which Maximus informs us is potato and leek. More and more food keeps coming, and I keep stuffing myself because it's all so good. Pork chops and bitter greens, mushrooms in sauce and mashed potato and peas, a fruit and walnut cake. There's also a strange, dark red liquid. I try some, but it burns my throat. I splutter, and Maximus laughs.
"Oh, silly girl! That's wine! You're too young to be drinking that," he says. "Pass it to your brother."
So I do. Ember's suppressing a smile as he takes the glass, and I shoot him a look.
Haymitch looks over at Acacia, then finishes his mouthful of pork. "So, do you have any advice for us yet? Because you're not much use as a mentor if you're just going to sit there and watch us eat."
Acacia smirks. "I'm not watching you eat. I'm trying to decide what angle I want you all to play. We want you to be believable in both the chariots and the interviews, and we can't do that if you're showing different personalities all the time."
She has a point. What use are the interviews if I play a cute, happy girl in the chariots and then I'm presented with as much anger and brutality as I can muster? Not only will I look stupid if I play that angle, but people will be confused and won't know who I am.
"Have you decided anything yet?" I ask, scraping my plate clean with my fork.
Acacia cups her chin in her fingers, thinking for a moment. "You and your brother should definitely act like siblings who want nothing more than for each other to get home safely."
"That's what we do want," interrupts Ember. "We're not acting like that at all."
"Well good," says Acacia, and I can't quite tell if she's being sarcastic. "Because then you'll be so much more genuine! You – Bailey, what's-your-name – you and Melia are obviously very close. But you're very different from her. You're... darker."
It's my turn to interrupt. "Uh, no, she's not. Maybe you should wait to get to know us better before you start saying we're something we're not."
Acacia stares at me, a smile working its way to her lips. "Yes, maybe I should." She's watching me thoughtfully, and it's slightly disconcerting.
I feel slightly guilty for snapping at her, but she's trying to pass judgement on our personalities and we've hardly even seen her for five minutes. Should I apologise? I know I should, but I'm too angry with her to even speak.
So we all eat in silence, the only sound the occasional scrape of cutlery against dish. Soon I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have eaten so much food, but I'm determined to keep it all down. I look over at Ember, and he's looking decidedly green. Being from the Seam, we've never had quite enough to eat, even when we've sold Posy's clothes as she grows too big for them. But the best thing we can do between now and the arena is get some meat on our bones.
Once the meal is over, we troop to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings. It makes me feel sick all over again to watch the sheer number of kids walking to their death, and despite so many tributes, only a few stand out in my mind. A girl from District 1 who lunges forward to volunteer. A massive, muscly boy from 2. A boy from District 3 whose glasses perch on the end of his nose. A thin girl from District 10. She's smiling slightly.
Last of all, District Twelve is shown. I watch as Willow is reaped, Bailey runs forward, screaming to volunteer. I see now who I could hear crying. Three girls, all merchants' kids. Two look identical, and I recognise Maysilee, the girl I volunteered for. I watch myself mount the stage as the commentators talk about how odd it is to see volunteers from District 12, let alone two in the same Games. I close my eyes as my brother and Haymitch are reaped, then the anthem plays and the programme ends.
"You're a bit of a rebellious bunch, aren't you?" asks Acacia. There's no hint of anger or sarcasm in her voice. She's perfectly calm.
I open my eyes, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
She shifts in her seat. "The volunteering. The hand-holding. And even now, you don't seem to be upset or annoyed at the circumstances."
"None of it was planned," my brother replies. "Well, except for the hand-holding. But even then, it wasn't meant to be rebellious."
Acacia smiles, and I can see she's thinking again. "But that's good. That's very good." She nods, but not at anyone in particular. "I think... I think I might know how we can play this. It'll just involve our own little game. But anyway. You four will need to be up early tomorrow. Go on, off to bed." She flaps her hand at us dismissively, and we leave to our rooms.
My brother stops at my door and holds his arms out. I accept his embrace. I want nothing more than to burrow under his blanket and curl up with my arms around his neck like I did when I was small. That was before I had to worry about the reaping, when I was so young Ember could protect me from anything. Before my father died and everything got so much worse.
"We'll be okay," he says. "You and me, we can do this. We can make District Twelve proud."
I nod, and he pulls away. He smiles sadly, then crosses the train carriage to his own room.
I open the drawers and change into a soft nightgown, something I've never worn in my life. I've always just slept in my undergarments. Once I'm changed, I crawl between the sheets. I want to cry, but I can't. Instead, I listen to the train until I fall asleep.


Maximus hammers on my door, calling for me to wake. I dress in a plain grey shirt and trousers. I don't even bother to brush out my hair before I go to the dining car.
Acacia sits with Maximus, whispering to him. Her hand is clenched around a cup of something that smells really nice, and I recognise it as coffee. We can rarely afford this drink, but my mother and Kaitlynn adore it.
I slide into my chair beside Bailey, and I'm served a plate piled high with food. Eggs, bacon, sausages. There's a basket of soft, buttery rolls on the table, and a jug of some kind of sweet-smelling brown liquid. I pour myself a cup and take a sip. It's hot and creamy, and Ember laughs as I drain the cup and pour myself another.
"It's hot chocolate, apparently," he says, eating a forkful of egg.
Bailey seems far happier this morning. She downs a plate of breakfast and then eats quite a few bread rolls. Haymitch says nothing, just eats in silence.
Acacia looks up at us after a while. She gulps back the rest of her coffee and then leans towards us. "Right. Now that I've got you all here and quiet, I want you to listen. We'll be arriving in the Capitol soon, and then you'll be sent straight to your stylists. I've been working with Maximus on the angles I want you all to play." I butter a roll and take a large bite as she continues. "Melia, you and Ember will try and stick together as much as possible. Once we're in the Capitol, there'll be people waiting at the train station, all trying to get a glimpse of you. You two stay at each other's side until you're in the Remake Centre. Bailey, you seem to be quite energetic and likeable. Wave, smile, do whatever you have to do to make the crowd love you. Haymitch, you're the dark one. Don't smile, don't show the crowd you like them in any way."
Haymitch snorts. "Oh, don't worry. I don't like them anyway."
"Good, then you'll have no trouble. But am I clear? You stick to those angles. We'll work on them a bit more when you're getting ready for your interviews, but I think we can make this work." Acacia smiles at us, then remembers something. "Oh! Yes, I nearly forgot, it's been years since I did this myself. Your prep team. They're going to do things that you won't like. Ripping the hair off of you, lathering you with creams that'll scrape off several layers of skin, soaking you in baths of chemicals. Don't complain, no matter how painful it is, okay?"
A shudder runs through me at the thought of what's going to happen once I'm handed over to my prep team. I've seen the way our tributes look after coming out of the Remake Centre. The girls have their eyebrows plucked within an inch of their lives so they look either permanently surprised or angry, and they have makeup plastered on to cover any blemishes.
Eventually the train slows, and we race to the window. People in bright, extravagant clothing wave at us. The children clamour at their parents, some holding out their hands to the train. Even through the steel and glass of the train's exterior, I can hear the cheers and shouts as we pull into the station.
We've arrived at the Capitol.