Chapter Text
I had heard about movies where the boy and the girl weren't allowed to see each other because it's forbidden, but they do it anyway. I never thought that I would be living that way after one date with a boy I liked. It started 3 months ago when a boy from District 12 came to my home, District 2. He was attractive- that was the first thing I noticed. Stunning blond hair that fell in his eyes, muscles that had to be gained doing something worthwhile. I was walking to the training center, getting ready to work harder then I had ever worked before. There were only 5 more months until the 90th Annual Hunger Games. My family had a history of winning things. We were so good that my parents, Cato and Clove, had won the Games and gone down in history as the first people to have won the Games with two other tributes. The rule was that if you and your district partner were alive, you could win with another district. But no partials- you had to live the games through with your partner, and there could only be 4 winners.
My parents had killed the rest of their allies and found their way stunningly to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. They were both from District 12, and they proved to be pretty useful, so they were kept around. The four of them won and went back to their districts. Katniss and Peeta got married the same year, and so did my parents. And 16 years later, here I was getting ready to volunteer. I was eager, in my wildest daydreams, to see if District 12 would somehow make good on the promise I kept to my parents- kill the Mellark boy.
You are probably confused right now, thinking 'why would she care about her parents' ex-ally's kid'? Well, here's your answer- my parents hated them now. They had gotten their weddings over and done with, and the Capitol had insisted that the weddings be on the same day. They had a double ceremony, and they all hugged and kissed and made it look like they were all best friends. But in reality, all of them hated the victors across the aisle. Katniss and Peeta had their son born a few months after they were married, and I was born a month after. District 2 and District 12 would always be intricately tied thanks to the four of them- but I did not intend to continue the legacy, and my parents were all too pleased for that.
I had fostered hatred for the nameless Mellark heir since I was old enough to understand the Games. My parents had kept the information about him to a minimum, but I knew that if he got Reaped, I would kill them gladly and make my parents proud. Like that would be a challenge. I was an only child, and I'll admit it, I was spoiled rotten. Just like any other Victor's kid. I was their pride and joy because I had my mom's skill with knives, and a look to me that screamed 'Cato.' Deadly. Ice-cold. Beautiful and deadly. Yes, I just called my dad beautiful. Look at a picture of him and you'll think the same thing.
Anyway, back to the boy I met in 2. I'll take you right back to the start.
I am walking down the street, minding my own business, and of course, he runs into me while carrying something. I fall over and so does he. I get up and cuss him out with every word I know because now I need to figure out why he ran into me, which will make me late for training…again.
"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He sputters, blond hair falling in his eyes.
"Don't laugh at me. I'm not funny. I could kill you in a heartbeat, " I snap. I'm pretty used to needing to get to the point quickly around here.
"Well, I'm sorry; I'm not from this district. My name is Luke. I'm from District 12. I'm sorry," He replies, blushing.
I can't help but squint at him, trying to piece together if we have met. I have hardly seen a person from 1 or 3, let alone 12.
"Well, that's nice; I guess I forgive you, but now I need to go. I'm already late," I responded.
I had 20 minutes to get to the training center, and it would take 17 to get there.
"Wait, can I at least know your name?" He asked.
"My name is Elizabeth," I shouted over my shoulder.
Then I kept walking away faster. I didn't want some stupid creep following me.
I guess my opinion didn't matter because Luke followed me to the training center. I sprinted inside and to my locker, where I dropped my stuff in and ran out to the mats. I was the only one here right now. My trainer was my dad today, so I knew that I needed to rush. He'd pin me to the ground and scream about the merits of punctuality. Responsibility. And before you ask, yes, it is standard to be screamed at in 2. How else would we know we were loved?
"Don't shoot! I'm here and not late at all!" I shriek.
My dad looks over at me, rolling his eyes. "Come on, let's get sparring."
Oh, how I hate sparring. My dad has always been vicious, always known as a killing machine. It's extremely hard to take him down. Only once has someone gotten him down while sparring, and it was my mom. But I don't think he was trying to get her off, truth be told. From the way the story has been told, my dad claims he let her win. My mom claims there was a bit too much rolling on the mats for her to think he was *trying* to win. Ever since no one has managed to beat him in a fight. No matter how hard I plan to, what strategy I try, it never quite works. He's always one move ahead of me.
I love my dad, but he is a brutal teacher. My mom is hardly better, but she doesn't make me spar as much as my dad. And neither one of them likes me to call them mom or dad during training, so I call them Cato and Clove. I stand on my edge of the mat and he stands on his. He makes the call and lunges at me. I slide between his legs and make a stab with a knife that has no blade in his lower shin. Also- we train with weapons that aren't weapons. The handles of knives, bows without arrows, stuff like that. When I am in official training sessions with Peacekeepers to monitor, there are real weapons, but somehow we are not trusted with real weapons before the ripe hour of 8AM. Anyway, I make the stab in a place I know is very fleshy. It would leave a gushing, bloody mess, and my dad reacts like such. He falls on the ground and lies there, and I put my knees on his shoulders like I saw my mom do to Katniss before they were allies. Before she realized she needed her. I take my fake knife and trace it around his lips, also something my mom did.
"You're dead," I call out.
"Were you watching the old Games again?" Cato asked. "I've told you that you need some semblance of normalcy, haven't I?"
"I've only watched a few times," I murmur.
"Uh-huh. You're copying your mother's movements again. You'll need to be unique if you get Reaped or volunteer. Stop watching those games." He pauses. "Why would you watch that again?"
"I need to get prepared for going up against vicious tributes like you and mom," I reply automatically.
My answer has been the same the last dozen he's asked me this question.
"You'll be the most vicious of any of them," He replies, his lips forming a little smile. "But you need to cool it a bit."
The story I was just using moves out of is one that should be told. Claudius Templesmith announced that there was going to be a feast to provide one supply for the remaining tributes that they desperately needed. For my parents, it had been body armor that saved them and kept them even more invincible. Anyway, my mom was at the feast, and my dad was in the surrounding woods keeping watch. My mom tackled Katniss and was now sitting on her with the same position I was doing with my dad during our sparring. She was going to kill Katniss slowly and painfully, like everyone in District 2 is trained to. She was taunting and making comments about how she had killed Katniss' ally, Rue. Rue had been a 12-year-old girl from District 11, the youngest in that year's Games. My mom was about to cut Katniss' lips off, and then the tribute boy from District 11, named Thresh, had come and yanked her off the ground.
He yelled at her and asked if she had killed Rue, and my mom said no. It was the truth. Another tribute named Marvel had killed her with a spear thrown through her stomach. My mom tried and tried to plead and escape, but Thresh was not letting up. He held a rock in his hand that he was going to smash her skull with. That is if Katniss hadn't saved her.
Katniss got up with the little strength she still had, and she stabbed Thresh with mom's knife, which had been still lying next to her. I imagine she didn't want to see anyone die, so she stabbed somewhere that hadn't been too deadly. Only enough to stun. But Thresh fell over and the cannon that signaled deaths shot. He was weaker than they thought, maybe. My mom declared at that moment that she and Peeta were now allied with her and my dad. And they called a truce. They had won.
I wanted to be as amazing as my mom was. I wanted to be like my dad too, but more like my mom, who wasn't so scary good at killing people. I didn't want to be known as the girl who killed people. If anything, I wanted to be known as the daughter of the great Cato and Clove Hirsch and the winner of the 90th Hunger Games.
"You can leave now. I'm having pains, so no more training today," My dad interrupts my thoughts. He gets pains now and again in his neck, right where a muttation almost got him during their last hurrah, the one last fight before they called the Games square. The Gamemakers are funny that way, letting the final four stall for a day and a half before finally letting them be done.
I hugged my dad, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and went home towards the rows of houses in the Victor's Village.
And guess who greeted me at the gate? Luke the creeper! The problem was that my boyfriend at the time, Marcus, was there, too.
He wrapped his arms tightly around my neck, squeezing ever so slightly to make sure I am aware of it. Even after training, my training wasn't finished. Marcus made sure of that. I was tired of it today.
"You better get me off, or I'll kill you."
He chuckles. How I hate being laughed at...
As I said, I was pissed off. He usually won these things, getting to the movement where he could kill me, but didn't. Each time he did though, I got a little less doubtful he'd spare me. Typical boyfriend stuff, right?
I put my hands on his wrists, and ducked down, flipping him over my shoulders and pushing him to the ground. I put my foot on his chest.
"Stop trying to kill me. You're my boyfriend, not a tribute," I snap.
"Not yet, anyway, but I will be a tribute. And you can bet that the first person I kill will be a scrawny little girl like you," He smirks.
"Hey, you're the one on the ground beaten by a girl," I replied. I offer him a hand up even though I know I shouldn't.
"We're over! Go home!" I shouted.
"Sure, baby. Sure," Marcus coos before disappearing down the street.
"You're amazing," Luke breathes. I should question how he knows where I live, but I am too stunned, or maybe too oxygen deprived, to ask.
"I know. It's why I train every day." When he remains quiet, I continue: "I've trained since I turned 3," I point out.
"Um…I was wondering, I'm going to be here for a few days. So, do you want to get some dinner with me tonight?" Luke asks.
I thought about the plans I had tonight. My parents were having a date tonight, so I could go wherever I wanted really, and I did not want to stay home with them once they got home...nobody deserves that fate.
"Sure. I'd love to go to dinner with you tonight," I reply.
We agreed to meet that night at 6:30 right we were standing, so I walked home feeling pretty satisfied.
I walked through the front door of my house and right into our living room, plopping down on the couch. I flipped on the TV, but nothing good was on. I flipped it off and went upstairs to my huge bedroom looking through my closet to figure out what to wear tonight on my date.
I settled on a sparkly black tank top and a pair of my mom's old army green capri pants. They're the same pair that she wore to her Reaping, a feat I find fascinating, considering tributes are often returned in the clothes they left in upon their death these days. I suppose it should make sense my mom got hers back, fully intact, upon her homecoming. I paused a moment, looking at the other things in my room. I had a lot of useless crap that I didn't need. I had a lot of weaponry in case someone broke in. Even though it was against the rules of the Hunger Games to have a weapon, I had my mom's special curved knife on my dresser ready to be shoved into my bra and taken into the arena with me.
"Liz, is that you?" My mother calls from the hall.
"Yes, it is. Can you come to my room for a second?" I reply.
My mom walks into my room and hugs me a minute.
"What's up, kiddo?" She asks.
"Well, I have plans tonight, and I picked out an outfit that I think will work-" I show her my outfit. "Opinion?"
She thinks for a second, then rifles through my closet to pull out a pair of black sequined flats that look perfect with the top. "Now you have an outfit." She smiles.
I love my mom's smile. She looks even more youthful when she smiles. Anyone who's seen my mom says she looks exactly the way she looked in the Games, and for once, I agree. She has the same jet black hair and almond-shaped deep grey eyes. And even though the Games were 16 years ago, she still looks like she did then.
I check my watch for the time: 6pm already. I go to my bathroom and shower quickly. Then I dry my hair and braid it down my back like I've seen Katniss Everdeen's. I wonder if my mom will notice. Then I pull on my clothes and stand in front of my mirror.
I look wonderful, as suspected.
I apply my green eye shadow and black mascara and my red lipstick, and then I'm out and down the steps. 15 minutes until my date. I can make it if I speed up a touch.
I try and shuffle out the door, but my mom catches me.
"Elizabeth Rue Hirsch, what did you do to your hair?" My mom demands.
"I braided it," I reply.
"You know how we feel about you braiding your hair like that. People will think you're with District 12, and then we'll all get in trouble," My dad says, coming in next to my mom.
"Fine, I'll fix it." I sigh.
My dad smirks. It's his trademark thing. My mom said he did it all the time in the Capitol and the games in general. He thought he was so hot back when he was 17. He still does. And I never argue with him when he says it.
I undo my hair and pull it into a messy high ponytail.
"I don't understand why I can't wear my hair like Katniss', but I have a middle name for a tribute from District 11."
"Katniss and I agreed that we would use the name of the tribute we felt most remorseful over. I chose Rue. Katniss chose Thresh," My mom replies.
I walk out the door before my parents start an argument (dad doesn't feel that bad about Rue at all, and would have had me named Glimmer) and soon enough, I am standing in front of Luke.
"Sorry, I'm late. My parents were giving me a hard time." I smile at him.
He looks good. He's wearing a white shirt and black pants, looking like he also stood in front of a mirror and agonized. But maybe I am projecting. He looks like someone I've seen over and over again.
He looks like Peeta Mellark. Sixteen years ago at least.
Though I have allegiance to my parents, I can admit that Peeta Mellark is cute. Probably not too inappropriate for me to like. You know...let's just say it for what it is. If someone were to ask, I wouldn't own up to this, but people looking like Peeta could bake me a bun anytime.
"Ready to go?" Luke asks.
"Yeah. Do you know where we're going?"
"No," He says, blushing again. This time it's kind of cute. "I should probably have done some research."
"I'll lead the way to somewhere. " I laugh.
I take his hand and guide him down into the town square and to the left, to a little restaurant I always come to. It's a sort of hangout for all the training tributes, otherwise known as the kids of all the Victors, some of which aren't kids anymore.
A waiter takes us to our table and I order for both of us immediately, because I know what's good here. Luke doesn't seem to mind. We make some small talk and talk about our home districts, him being originally from District 12 and then moving to District 13 after 12 was destroyed, then back to 12 when it was rebuilt after the last rebellion was squashed.
"How old are you?" I ask.
"I'm 16. How about you?" He replied.
"I'm 16, too. I was born on August 13th." I reply, glad that we have something in common.
"I was born on July 13th!" He exclaims.
"That's cool!"
We fall into a contented silence. At that point, alarm bells should have started to ring. I should have remembered how my parents told me how our lives were connected to the Mellarks. I should have thought a lot of things, but really...I was too head over heels staring at him, listening to him talk about hunting and observing nature, comparing the lives we lived, to be concerned.
"So, here's a weird question. I never found out your last name. What is it?" Luke asks.
"My last name is Hirsch," I reply.
"Like….Cato and Clove Hirsch?" He responded.
"Yes. They are my parents."
It's always funny when people first find out Cato and Clove are my parents.
Luke bites his lip.
"What's wrong? Oh, I know, you're starstruck from meeting a victor's child, right?" I say calmly.
"No. That's not it at all. I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I have to go," He says, jumping up from his chair like it's on fire.
"Why?" I ask, worried that I did something wrong. I had decided I like Luke, and that I wanted him to be my boyfriend.
"We…we can't see each other anymore." He gasps; he's at a loss for words.
We're now in front of the restaurant talking.
"Why can't we?" I ask angrily.
"We run in different circles," He says simply.
"Just because I'm famous does not mean we can't date," I add.
"Oh yeah, okay. Well I'm pretty famous myself. My full name is Luke Thresh Mellark," Luke whispers to me. He looks so sad. So absolutely devastated.
I take a moment to register this. He is 16 years old, like me. He is one month older than me, just like Peeta and Katniss' son. He has the same last name as Peeta and Katniss. His middle name is Thresh, like their son. He looks like Peeta. It all fits now.
Luke is supposed to be my worst enemy. He doesn't just *look* like Peeta….he's his son.