@lorata un-anon here to deliver a few musings on my 12yo 75QQ AU in thanks for your very helpful advice! Exams are coming up and I havenât much time to write, but hopefully I will soon.
* Her name is Alaina. It means âlittle rockâ, âchildâ, and âshining torchâ. Sheâs from the quarries, but her father is the manager and he wanted to name her something a little more ⊠upmarket.
* Her childhood is difficult. She has an older sister who is what we would call schizophrenic, although I doubt that anyone in District Two would know what that is. From an early age, Alaina has to help her, has to learn both to calm her down and to fight her down. Her parents are so preoccupied with what Yasmin needs that Alaina has always come second, all her life.
* Alaina isnât sure how she feels about school. She doesnât like being away from her sister, but⊠at school, thinks a part of her that she likes to keep buried down deep, thinks the nasty part, it isnât really her problem. Alaina is clever, and itâs easy to lose herself in the maths and the geology and the reading and writing and stop worrying about her sister for a little bit, even if she feels guilty at the end of the day when she starts to head home and isnât sure what state the house will be in.
* Eventually, people at school find out about Yasmin. And, in the way that kids do, they make fun. Alaina tries to ignore it, but the other side of her whispers in her ear - they donât get to make fun, no no no, they have no idea what itâs like, they have no right to make fun of Yasmin when theyâve never had to sit and listen to her animatedly relating the conversations that sheâs had with the foxes outside of her window, when theyâve never had to pin her down to her bed to stop her from throwing her lamp through the window to chase away the blood clouds.
* When Alaina comes to again, they are pulling her away from her classmate, whose face is a mess of red blood and snot. It coats her hands, and she turns them over, staring.
* They call her dad. He is furious. One of his little girls fighting at school? Itâs bad enough he has Yasmin to worry about, he tells her. Now sheâs being selfish, and going right ahead to make herself a problem as well.
* It keeps happening. They send her to the Centre. And that, Alaina loves. Dad is happy because at least she is contributing, whatever that means. And Alaina is happy because the ugly side of her can come out, and the other kids and the trainers donât flinch away. If the other kids make fun of Yasmin, sheâs allowed to smash their faces in, and they wonât even phone home to her dad. If she does it properly and stops when sheâs told, theyâll even give her a few orange slices. The trainers look her in the eyes when they speak to her, and for the first time in her life, she feels like her own person. She feels important.
* A bigger boy with two black strands around his wrist corners her once. He snarls in her face - her dad had fired his earlier in the week, apparently. And, the boy adds, flipping a knife out of his sleeve, heâs going to get even. Alaina hisses. He charges at her, but Alainaâs faster. She dodges and slams the knife out of his hand, grabbing hold of his wrist. She pushes, hard, and a deep satisfaction, ugly and primal, twists in her gut as she feels his bones give beneath her grip. The trainers give her a whole orange this time, and she licks the juice from her fingers.
* That summer, she gets a black strand. That means sheâs one of the best. Alaina thinks of herself getting Volunteer. Thinks of herself coming first, out of her entire cohort. She smiles.
* Alaina has four black strands around her wrist when the card for the 3rd Quarter Quell is announced. They watch the card reading in the Centre, and Alaina and the rest of her cohort learn that it will be one of them going into the arena that year. The other kids exchange whispers and glances, but Alain keeps still and silent.She looks down at her wrist, and imagines a golden bead. She could come first. She could be important, and everyone would have to pay attention to her all the time. Alaina sees out.
* She has to fight for it, and she does. Alaina fights for two weeks, constantly running suicides for excessive force and pulling hidden knives out of her sleeves in the middle of sparring matches, until one day the head trainer calls her into his office. It will be her, he tells her. And she is moving into Residential next week.
* Her dad is angry. He shouts. Yasmin cries. But Alaina doesnât care - at least, not the nasty side of her. And this nasty side is what will get her into the Games. So what does it matter?
* Oh, it matters, she soon learns. The first few days in Residential are alright - the eighteens have all been sent to detox already, and the other kids wonât be seen dead picking on the babies. But then, it turns out that the nasty side of Alaina, which has never had to be in play for more than a few hours each day, canât last. And the good side, the honourable side, canât do it. Yasmin needs her. Her family needs her. Besides, she isnât ready, and sheâs clever enough to know that she wonât be anywhere near ready in time. Sheâs as good as dead. And dead isnât first. Dead is forgotten.
* They notice how sheâs thinking. Itâs obvious. Itâs just so easy to let herself slip a little bit, to not give that final push on the obstacle course, to not run just that bit faster to reach the mock Cornucopia first, to not fight quite as hard as everyone else. They try to convince her - they let her overhear brief snippets of conversation about how itâs such a shame, such a waste, and part of Alaina bristles and that powers her through the next exercise, but, like always, she canât keep it up.
* One day the head trainer calls her to his office again, where his door has been left conveniently ajar, just enough for her to overhear a conversation about what the board plans to do with the girl. Itâs too late to switch her out for someone else with the Reaping two weeks away, as it turns out. She stands in the hallway and listens, and watches as the senior trainers leave with someone that she recognises in tow - Devon. He must be her mentor, she realises. He stops and levels her with a searching look. Alaina canât meet his eyes, not when she knows she isnât really planning to make it out like he did. After a moment, he clicks his tongue against his teeth and turns to leave without saying a word.
* They still havenât given her the gold bead.
* A week before the Reaping, they call her into one of the smaller sparring gyms. She walks in and is met with the head trainer, two of her sparring trainers, and, most surprisingly, Enobaria.
* Alaina has always admired Enobaria - she embraces her nasty side in a way that Alaina canât quite, she makes blood and flesh and gore her whole personality and forces everyone to love her for it with an unapologetic grin and flash of her golden fangs. If only Alaina could find out the secret to that, then there wouldnât be a problem, would there.
* They stand there in the gym, silent, for a few minutes. Eventually, someone speaks. Everyone knows she isnât trying, says the head trainer, and is she going to tell them why that is? Alaina canât move, canât say anything at all. She barely has time to throw herself out of the way as Enobaria lunges at her.
* They fight - it doesnât take Enobaria long to get Alaina pinned under her on the ground, and she snarls into her face. You gonna fight me properly, she asks. Alaina says nothing in return. Fine, Enobaria hisses, then wraps her hands around Alainaâs neck and pushes down.
* That gets her fighting. She kicks and hits and claws and scratches, desperate to get Enobariaâs hands away from her neck. Nothing even begins to make any difference. You want it, you have to fight a thousand times harder, Enobaria hisses, bearing down. Something primal stirs inside of Alaina as her vision begins to blur. She strikes out, hard, aiming for Enobariaâs face. She doesnât quite get her, of course she doesnât, but Enobaria very deliberately lets her break free of her grip, and the rush of blood back to her head might as well be victory trumpets and the hum of a descending hovercraft.
* They grapple on the floor for what feels like an eternity, and Alaina fights mean and dirty and desperate, aiming for every weak spot that she can think of. Eventually, she manages to land a genuine hit on Enobaria, a fist hard and fast into her gut. Enobariaâs face contorts into something ugly, and Alaina knows that she isnât the type just to take hits from kids who arenât even through transition yet. One second, two, then a blow so hard to the back of Alainaâs head that she sees stars. It sends her reeling - she hits the mats. She hears the head trainer hiss Enobariaâs name through the ringing in her ears. Thereâs the low murmur of a conversation that she canât make out, although she canât suppose itâs for her benefit.
* A figure stalks towards her, and Alaina tenses, but her muscles wonât obey her commands and she canât get up. Her eyes still cloud and refuse to focus, but as the person kneels down beside her, she manages to see who it is. Enobaria grabs her by the wrist and squeezes, forcing her fist to open. She presses something small, hard, and cold into Alainaâs palm. Alaina glances over and catches a flash of gold. Enobaria closes her fist around it and moves her hand down to Alainaâs pulse, letting Alaina feel it thrumming steadily and soothingly against her fingers. Alainaâs head swirls, and she finally passes out.
* The day of the Reaping, Alaina doesnât hesitate. She calls out, strides forward and takes the stage with the confidence of a girl twice her size and six years her senior. Somehow, despite her age, she still drips blood and gore and entertainment - she wants it, she wants it bad, sheâd realised the day in the sparring gym. She will maintain this persona - nice Alaina wouldnât survive the Games, so she isnât allowed to come. Sheâs been packed into a small box and put away. She can figure all of that out when she comes back, can work to unite the two parts of her that rage and scream and plea and cry for control. For now, itâs her, a bloodthirsty smile, and the gleam of sunlight on a sharpened blade. Itâs her and the crown.
