Ocean Tide, Chapter 4

This is chapter FOUR. Remember to read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3 first!

Sorry for the lag in chapters, I’m back in school for the summer! Also, I had to finish working on Chapter 6 first. My poor editor is editing the entire thing via phone, because her computer is broken! I told her it can wait, but she is REALLY determined! If you want to show her some love, you can look at her writing here. 

Please review! 

 

I arrive home just in time for dinner, the smell of my mother’s chowder filling the air of our hut. My serving is presented to me in the woven basket I had received the night before. “It’s absolutely watertight,” explains my mother as I examine the bottom of it for leaks. “I checked. It’s brilliant craftsmanship! You got another, by the way,” she adds as she sets the carved mug down beside my meal. She gestures to the counter. A smaller basket, about the size of my fist. She brings it over to me, and sets it next to me, expectantly waiting for me to open it. I take the basket and undo the clasp to find it crammed full of bone and metal fishing hooks. I pull one out. It pricks my finger, leaving a teeny hole. These are good quality, but from the looks of them, handmade.

Father peers over from his seat on the other side of the table, takes a hook, examining it and attempts to break it between his fingers. “Pretty strong. These will be excellent next time we go out.”

“You can take a few, if you want. There are a lot in here.” I say, offering him the basket. Indeed, as he pulls more of the hooks from the basket, they all come out in a huge tangle. Hooks for a year, at least. Father crams them back in the basket, saving a few by his plate to take out on the boat with him tomorrow. I hook the clasp again, wondering who could possibly be leaving them for me. Not that I didn’t appreciate the gifts, but…no card, no sign of anyone around.

The gossip of the evening was the upcoming parade of tributes. We weren’t really fond of the Games themselves, but watching the costumes by Capitol designers was always entertaining. Sometimes they were hilarious, over the top and extravagant. And others just downright ugly.

Tonight was not a disappointment. The parade was started with District One per usual. The two beautiful tributes I had noticed the night before were decked out like two mythological characters; kings and queens, I think they were called. The boy was wearing long robes made of fur, and a wreath of gold on his head. The girl was wearing a long, flowing dress absolutely coated with glistening, multicolored gemstones. The gems cast little circles of light over the chariot , horses, and any walls they get close enough to. In the girls hair is a circlet made of metal, twisted into spiral shapes and encrusted with more gems. Both of the tributes have gold makeup on, that makes them absolutely glow. They are stunning.

District Two comes out next in heavy metal plates, stained with fake blood. They carry tall, curved metal weapons. “They must have had a hard time getting those past the rules,” says my mother, sounding shocked. “Are you actually allowed to have weapons before the games?”

I squint at the television screen. “They look rounded. They must be safe. Besides, they can’t kill or hurt anyone before the Games. I’m sure the tributes aren’t stupid enough to try anything either. They’re Careers!”

District Three’s outfits were plain. Dressed in an all black unitard, with some electronic square glowing in the center of their chests. The square sent out thin lines of light that wove down their arms and legs, and even in their hair. Not the most interesting costumes they’ve ever had.

Our district is up next. As soon as the chariot appears, I yell out “HORRIBLE!” Ariel and Callan are dressed from head to toe in greenish grey scales. They have rubber caps on their head that hide their hair, with spikes that vaguely resemble protruding fins, and more trailing down their backs. On their hands are gloves of the same greenish tint, that give their fingers a webbed appearance. Their faces have small sparkly scales on them, finishing off the overall sea creature look. The costumes would be nice looking if they weren’t actually the color of fish.

District Five’s costumes are pretty neat. They’re full of wires that send out lightning-like electrical webs and shoot out teeny sparks. The two tributes hair have been spiked and highlighted with yellow, and a few of the wires run through and dance with blue currents, giving them the overall appearance of being shocked. The lightning casts flashes of light across everything it passes, bright and attention-grabbing.

District Six appears, dressed in blue and white striped overalls with a red hankerchief hanging from their front pockets. They have matching striped caps on their heads. “What are they supposed to be? “ I ask.

“Old fashioned train drivers,” explains my mother. “They’re called “conductmen”, I think. Something like that. It’s such a silly idea, really. Not many people would understand it. It’s from back before trains could hover. They used to run off of coal and steam. That’s what the stories say, anyways. Those “conductmen” used to drive them.”

District Seven are dressed as trees, like every year for as long as I can remember. We roll our eyes, and wait for the next district. Eight’s costumes are unusual. Their designer seemed to be at a loss at how to best represent textiles, so their costumes were bits of fabric sewn together and knotted through their hair. Patchwork people. Claudius and Caesar were at a loss for words, not even sure how they could make these sound better. They didn’t look glamorous in the slightest. This would probably be the last time we heard from these two designers.

The tributes from Nine came out in a flash of pink light. It took a moment to process what they were-pigs. Livestock, right. The girl had a pink frock on, and the boy had a pink suit. Both of their outfits were encrusted with pink gems. They had tiny headpieces with pig ears on them, little pink pig snouts on their faces, and cute little curly tails on the back of their costumes. Much better than last year, where they had been dressed almost identical to the horses pulling the chariots.

At first glance, Ten’s costumes look like woven mats. Upon closer examination, we see they’re woven from grain stalks. Very cleverly done, too. The girl’s dress is just as extravagant as any other Capitol gown I’ve seen. The boy is in a tuxedo, complete with woven bowtie. Claudius is joking about how the woven style will soon be a new fashion trend. My father chuckles, but I don’t laugh. I’m sure those words have set off a flurry of orders for outfits like those, to wear in “support of the Games”.

Eleven’s theme this year is pretty corny- they carry baskets of flowers and have fruit on their hats. The Capitol touch is that the flowers and fruits seem to be carved from gems. I wonder how long it took them to carve- the detail is fantastic, especially the flowers. Each petal stands out individually, making it seem like a real flower had suddenly frozen and crystallized.

District twelve is up last, and my mother immediately covers my eyes. I twist away. “Mom! I’m thirteen. It’s nothing new!” The costumes have been completely forgone. The tributes from twelve are wearing nothing more than a plastic miners hat with a headlamp. The rest of their bodies are completely obscured in a fine dark substance. Must be the glamorous version of coal dust, I think. It’s a memorable idea, but not fun to look at. The tributes are clearly not happy with it. They look incredibly embarrassed, slouched over in their chariots, fighting the urge to cover themselves up. They’re still incredibly malnourished, and looking at their ribs sticking out is sickening. I feel a pang of sympathy- we’ve always the sea to provide us with extra food; but out there, they live and breathe coal. Twelve never lasts long in the games- the tributes can’t run for long without stopping for breaks, so they’re easy to catch. I’ve heard the announcers say it’s because their lungs are coated with the dust from the coal mines.

The chariots circle around and gather at the base of City Circle. President Snow steps up and begins his speech, welcoming the Tributes to the Capitol, and thanking them for their generous sacrifice. He reminds them that foul play before the games is absolutely not allowed, and ends with the traditional “May the odds be ever in your favor!” It seems kind of pointless now…only one of them will come out alive. Snow seems practically gleeful as he shouts the old phrase into the dozens of microphones. It’s sick, and I can see a flicker of fear and disgust cross some of the tributes faces. The Careers however grin and preen for the cameras even more. I’d bet a week’s worth of fish they already have alliances formed.

 

The television flicks of, and my parents and I sit there in the dark and silence. My father finally breaks it.

 

“Those tributes from District Eleven must have serious neck muscles. Did you see the size of those rocks on their heads?” We all break down laughing at this.

 

“They did look incredibly heavy,” agrees my mother.

 

“Maybe they’ve had practice. Maybe they actually balance baskets on their heads with fruit? For extra carrying space.” My father stands up and snags the basket from earlier, scoops up one of the kittens running ‘round, and places it on my head. “There you go. Walk for us!”

 

I wobble around the living room, trying to keep the basket on my head, the kitten within mewing pitifully at the new height. I do a few circles, before setting the kitten free. It darts under the couch. My father laughs. “That wasn’t so bad,” I tell him, looking smug. “I’d be a great member of Eleven. I could carry baskets on my head all day.”

 

My father laughs, a bit evilly. “I’m going to hold you to that. You’ll put on a show next time you go out on the boat with me. Show the other men your skills. You can start carrying all the fish of the boat for us.”

 

“You’re going to have a neck like a mast, soon enough,” adds my mother.

 

We all start laughing again, then mother sends me up to bed. I’m exhausted from getting up so early that day, so I fall asleep almost instantly. I dream of being stood in front of all of Panem, lacking clothes, and coated in glittering sand. The crowd starts to laugh and toss fish at me, as President Snow stands behind me, laughing and telling me the odds were not in my favor that day.