Against the Tides

Chapter 7

If you’ve never been in love, then you have no idea what it was like to wake up beside Tristan (Yeah, you read right; I was in love with him. I just hadn’t realized it yet. Rotten luck, I know).    

“Morning,” he whispered.

I yawned, laying my head on his side. “You make a nice pillow.”

“You smell awful.”

“Like you smell any better,” I said, slapping him playfully. 

Tristan flashed me a goofy grin.

I’d gotten used to eating less, but my stomach still ached and swirled with nausea. Just the taste of a sunflower seed was like heaven. Thanks to sponsors, we’d actually eaten soup the previous night. Of course, among my allies and me, it ran out after one meal. I was still concerned about Whitney, how little she ate.  I hadn’t seen her eat for at least forty-eight hours.   But I never dared to say anything. She’d probably kill me if I did. Literally.

“We can’t stay here forever,” I told my allies. “We have to find a new headquarters, or the Gamemakers might not be so nice to us.”

“Not necessarily,” Tristan said.

“Well, I’m not one to take any chances,” I snapped.

The others mulled it over, and they nodded at me in approval.

“Your girlfriend’s right,” Shawn said to Tristan.

Tristan shook his head. “Oh, she’s not… we haven’t…”

“We were only keeping warm,” I offered, but it didn’t conceal the blush that bloomed on my cheeks. 

“Anyways… we’ll migrate later in the day,” Ryder said. “We should pair up again like yesterday. Mags, you get to go with Gemma today and hunt down tributes.” He wasn’t giving me a choice.

“I-” I almost protested. If I told them what I really thought, that would’ve been my death sentence. It’s a price many tributes have already paid for defying their allies.  

“Okay,” I replied.

Whitney and Ryder stayed behind, while I left with Gemma, and Tristan left with Shawn to find food.

“More people are likely to be hiding in the city,” Gemma said, “because it’s easier to conceal themselves there. We’ll start searching around here.”

“That’s perfect,” I admitted. “I’m too exhausted to walk very far.”

“Rumor has it that you’re a master at making traps. Is it true?”

“Kind of…” Here came the part I dreaded most; where I’d lose pride in my knotting skills. Anything I made would catch more than just fish.

The first place Gemma and I entered looked to have been a pharmacy. Empty shelves, everywhere, and items tossed around; bottle lids and candy wrappers on the floor. We stopped at an aisle that used to hold beauty products. Capitol people would’ve had a field day here. I didn’t mind wearing make- up on special occasions, like the interview and parade, but that aisle was so long. All of that space for beauty? Whatever happened to natural beauty?

Gemma noticed my disgust. “Yeah. Pathetic, I know. I’m as far from girly as you can get. That dress I wore at interviews? That was my only dress in ten years. I wore pants even at the reapings.”

“You were allowed to wear them?”

“Weren’t you?” she asked.

“No. Not at reapings.”

Gemma chuckled, the only time I’d heard her laugh. “I’m glad I didn’t live in District 4, then.”

Didn’t, not don’t. She thought she wouldn’t return home alive. Even as she held a knife, her fingers were twitching anxiously.  I started wondering if Gemma trusted me at all.

Reluctantly, I put together a net and strung it between the shelves.  I laid the final product out on the floor, where it waited for a victim to take into its clutches.    

“Nice,” Gemma said. “I can see why they gave you a 10.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. 

Crash.

Somebody had knocked over a shelf. We couldn’t see him or her, so Gemma and I took off to pace around the pharmacy. She or he kept avoiding us, whoever it was.

Suddenly, the tribute screamed, “Help me!”

“Oh, we’ll help you, all right,” Gemma muttered. To me, she said, “Sounds like we got one, Mags.”

That mad, sadistic girl was right. A boy dangled inside my net, shaking with panic as we came towards him.

I looked at Gemma anxiously. She knew what I was trying to say: Will you do it? But she refused my plea.

“Your trap, your kill, Mags.”  

From my pocket, I drew a knife. Took steps in his direction.  Both of us, terrified. Most people think killers aren’t scared when they commit murder. They’re dead wrong.  

“I don’t want to kill you,” I told him softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

First, I cut him out of the net.

“I’ll make it quick,” I said. “Kneel down.”

He obeyed me. I struck his throat, deep enough to cut off his air instantly, and so, he didn’t suffer.  The boy’s cannon boomed.    

To Gemma’s disappointment, we didn’t run into anybody else before we reunited with our allies. Tristan was clutching his side, wincing.

“Fought with the guy from District 7,” he explained when I asked what had happened. “I think he broke a few of my ribs. Geez, this hurts. He had serious skills.”

“You know,” I said, “the hospital probably still has bandages somewhere.”  

“Yeah. Could you go look?”

“No problem, Tris.”

I’d thought I would need a sponsor in order to get bandages for Tristan, but I managed to find some in a cupboard. Sometimes, the Gamemakers could actually be fair, I supposed. 

“This is probably gonna hurt,” I told Tristan.

“Can’t be worse than the pain I’m in,” he said. He grabbed the scuff of his shirt to pull it off and show me his injuries, but it just made him grunt.

“Let me. Raise your arms.”

It was easy, helping Tristan out of his shirt. What wasn’t easy? Seeing all the bruises on his chest.

“It’s not so bad, actually,” he said. “But I’m glad you’re here- Not that I wanted you to be a tribute-”

“I know.”

I don’t remember what got into me next.  My fingers brushed Tristan’s bare chest, light as a feather. He didn’t stop me. I didn’t want to stop. 

“Maggie…”

Concentrate, Mags, I thought.

But at the same time: Why can’t we just be alone so we can figure out what this is?  I wished the cameras would go away. How I managed to actually open the bandages and bind his ribs, I have no idea.

Talk about getting stuck in a moment.