Chapter Text
Once Stanley and Maeve had left, Johanna abandoned all attempt at sobriety and poured herself a tall tumbler of whiskey. Clyde also accepted a glass.
‘What do you think?’ he asked, after taking a measured drink.
Johanna drained her glass, and wrinkled her nose. ‘That I need something stronger.’ She rose to refill it. Pendanski looked slightly aghast.
‘Jo, you should probably stay sober –‘
‘What, so I can witness their deaths in full possession of my senses? Great idea, Mom,’ Johanna snarled. ‘And I’m not ‘Jo’, not to you anyway.’ She took another deep swig, straight from the bottle.
‘Mom?’ Pendanski, sounding utterly bemused, looked askance at Clyde, who stood up and tried to prise the whiskey from Johanna’s grasp.
‘A reference to your maternal concern, I think, Angelus. Ignore her. He’s right, Johanna; you can’t help those kids from the floor.’
‘I can’t help them, full stop,’ Johanna muttered. But she did let go of the bottle, to Pendanski’s obvious relief.
As he sat down again, Clyde repeated the question.
‘So, what do you think?’
Johanna rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly? That the girl’s already given up and the boy’s in no shape for an arm wrestle, let alone a fight to the death. In short, we’ve got one kid who can’t win and another who won’t. Another successful year, my friend!’ She raised her glass in a mock toast.
Clyde pursed his lips, thinking. ‘The boy’s average, as he says, but he’s got some character. The girl’s got brains but, as you say, she’s already beaten down. Neither of them are fighters.’
‘But are they survivors?’
‘Hard to tell. You’ve got one kid who’s overweight in a famine region and a teenage girl who actually enjoys school. Chances are they won’t have had it easy.’
Pendanski cut in, sounding unconvinced. ‘There’s a big difference between being targeted at school and the arena.’
Clyde answered with uncharacteristic heat. ‘Have you been in a school recently? ‘Cos I have, not so long ago, and let me tell you that children are ruthless in picking on anything that’s different. By the time I was reaped I’d been in enough fights to last me a lifetime, and while it wasn’t fun, it made me stronger.’
Johanna nodded her assent. ‘Where do you think I learned to wield an axe? Oh, how I miss P.E. lessons.’ She gave a wicked smile, as though reminiscing, and leant back in her chair. Pendanski, missing the wink she gave Clyde, blanched.
Clyde, who hadn’t missed it, suppressed a smirk. ‘I dread to think of your school reports, Johanna.’
‘Oh, so do I. Of course, thinking of them is all I do; they always ended up on the wrong end of an axe, somehow.’ She grinned, then became serious. ‘But yeah, if they’re used to having it difficult, that might be to their advantage.’
‘So we’ll focus on both of them?’
‘For now, yes. I don’t hold out much hope, but they’re better than some years. The boy’s at least interesting, what he said about his grandfathers.’
Clyde frowned. ‘They must be a lucky family.’
‘Luck doesn’t come into it, Livingston. It’s something Victors have that pushes them to win and to live with their actions.’ Johanna’s eyes darkened and she shuddered, looking abruptly younger. ‘Call it survivor’s instinct, call it lack of conscience; I don’t know what it is. But let’s just hope Stanley’s got it.’
*
Stanley was woken by Pendanski knocking on his door. ‘Time to get up, Stanley! The early bird catches the worm!’ For a minute, he wondered whether Pendanski had any concept of life outside candy-land.
He pulled on yesterday’s clothes and checked that the tube was still in his pocket. His fingers traced the odd design on its bottom, and he thought of his parents, waking up back in District 7. He imagined his mother preparing breakfast, collecting eggs from the chicken run before starting work for the day. The thought sent a pang into his stomach. He hoped they were coping all right.
As he entered the dining carriage, he noticed that Pendanski looked slightly distressed. The reason became clear when he followed his gaze to Johanna Mason, tired and tousled looking and wolfing down bacon with an almost obscene enthusiasm.
When she spied Stanley she kicked out a chair and said, thickly, ‘Sit down. Food’s prime.’ Stanley obeyed and was immediately served with a huge platter of food: scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage and mushrooms. Needing no further encouragement, he started in on his hash browns.
When he had eaten his fill, he sat back and tried to decide which drink to try first. There was a pot of tea, a similar looking hot drink that smelled sharp and pungent, a cold orange glass of something and a rich mug of something that he didn’t recognise at all.
‘It’s called hot chocolate,’ Maeve offered, tentatively. ‘It’s really nice.’ Looking at her, Stanley noticed that she had a brown moustache from drinking it. Also, she was smiling. She looked better this morning, calmer and more collected – though he couldn’t help noticing that she still hadn’t touched her food.
‘Thanks,’ he smiled, taking a sip of hot chocolate. It was delicious. ‘The, um, food’s lovely. You should try some.’
‘Perhaps some fruit,’ volunteered Clyde, in a way that made Stanley think he had been fighting this battle for a while. ‘The strawberries are to die for.’
Still smiling, but tightly, Maeve just shook her head.
‘Well, if you’re not eating it –‘ Johanna reached across for Maeve’s plate, only to be slapped away by Clyde. ‘Ow!’
‘Serves you right. Show some sensitivity!’
Scowling, Johanna seized an apple from the tureen and took a huge bite, chewing messily. Pendanski winced. Clyde pointedly ignored her.
‘We’ll be arriving in the Capitol in less than an hour. The opening ceremony is tonight, so you’ll be taken straight to the Remake Centre to get ready. If I give you one piece of advice, it would be to cooperate with your stylists. How you look can increase or destroy your chances, and you want to be aiming for the former. Though it may not be evident from Captain Lightweight here,’ he nudged Johanna, ‘the prettier you are, the more sponsors you’ll get.’
Through her mouthful, Johanna mumbled something that sounded a lot like, ‘And don’t let them make you trees.’ It took Stanley a second to work out what she said. When he did, his stomach sank. Seriously?
Clyde looked embarrassed. ‘Erm, yes. You probably will be dressed as trees.’
Johanna gave a huge swallow and added, ‘’S’ not the end of the world. If it’s really bad, just strip – the Capitol likes a bit of skin!’ She leered at Pendanski, who flushed to his ears and then stared steadfastly at his knees. Clyde put his head in his hands. He seemed to be muttering ‘Why?’
Catching Maeve’s eye, Stanley saw mirrored on her face the same emotions that he was feeling: conflicting urges to laugh and cry. He tried to picture himself as a tree, and gave into the first with little difficulty. After a moment he heard Maeve join in.
It helped. After all, it was better to be laughed with than laughed at.