Just a Game - Chapter Nine

         My fingers release their grip on the metal handle of the sword and it hits the floor with a thud. I look down as blood begins to flow from my nostrils, falling through the holographic blade of the sword to the mat below.

         "Oh God," Sonia lets out as she grasps my shoulder and back, helping me off the mat. I glare at Victor, who doesn't look fazed at all, and I'm helped through the crowd of other tributes as they all stare at me—they probably think I'm a little wimp. Sonia helps me toward the exit, when I see Domni at the knife throwing station, her attention on me. I look at her as I hold my face, blood drenching my arm, my training shirt, and the floor. Sonia glances at my nose, offering her sympathies as she escorts me into the elevator. "He wasn't supposed to do that to you!" she says frantically, then looks away, saying something to the wall. "Yeah, I'm going to make sure Justin's all right, and I'll be back down… Sir, I'm sorry, but the tributes' health is the priority. I'm gonna need that doctor right away in apartment eleven."

         I look at her with a strange look. She notices and covers her ear. "Don't worry, I'm not talking to myself… I've got Lupus Crane, the Head Gamemaker in my ear," she whispers. Just like I expected. But I can't focus on that or anything else, the pain getting more overwhelming as the seconds click by.

         As we get to the eleventh floor, the elevator doors open with a ding and Rose and Valient jump up from the couch. "Oh, my God," Valient says when he sees my bloody face walk through the apartment.

         Rose gasps when she takes her first look. "What happened?" she exclaims.

         "That asshole from District One broke my nose," I respond.

         "Oh no!" Valient exclaims. "What will this do to your Sponsors?"

         "If anything, it'll boost his popularity," Rose says, then quickly shakes her head. "Never mind about that! What are we gonna do about this?"

         "I've got the best doctor in the city coming to see if it's broken or not. In the meantime, Justin needs to lie down before he falls down," says Sonia and the two of them help me to my room. They lay me on my bed, instructing me to tilt my head back on the pillow as Sonia wets a washcloth in the sink. She dabs the dried blood under my nose with the soft moist cloth; I watch it get more saturated with red as she wipes down my arms, my elbows, and my hands. I'm somewhat happy she's not squeamish when it comes to seeing blood. I suppose that's a good thing, being on the Hunger Games staff and all.

         Sonia puts the bloody ball against my face, placing my hand on it as she walks into the bathroom, running the sink again. Rose speaks again, this time a bit calmer. "I'm going to get Claude," she begins, heading for the door. "He should probably know about this." She steps out of the room as Sonia hands me a fresh rag. Not a minute later, in walks Claude. Rose follows, putting her hand on the doorframe, resting her head against it somberly as Claude steps beside me. I lift the wet balled cloth from my nose as he takes a good look at my face. He lets out a sigh.

         "Boy, you need to stop getting yourself beaten up," he jokes, making me laugh slightly, reluctantly crinkling my nose. My smile turns to a frown as I'm reminded of the pain. "Oh, poor thing," he mutters, and turns to Sonia. "When is this doctor expected to arrive?"

         "Very soon. Tribute health is a high priority," Sonia says, sounding like a broken record. "Doctor Yuma has been called and should be on his way."

         "I hope it's soon," I grumble quietly, when I hear a voice from outside the room. Looking to the door, I see Rose step out of the doorway and a man with gelled back snow-white hair and a white, well-kept beard. Valiant steps in behind him.

         "Ah! Doctor Yuma!" Sonia exclaims, moving toward him and shaking his hand. "Thanks for getting here so quickly."

         The man smiles at her, then looks at me in my bed. Walking over, he says with a low voice, "You must be the young man I'm here to see."

         I let out a sarcastic laugh, the others laughing too—probably to cover up my obviously fake one—as I glare at the wall, annoyed. Well aren't you fucking hilarious, I think. Yes, I'm obviously the person you're here to see, since I'm the one with the fucking bloody face. What an absolutely annoying thing someone whom I've never met could say… As I take a deep breath, I calm myself, and return my gaze this old man above me.

         He says, "Now, let me see." I move the rag away and the doctor examines my nose. For some reason, he presses his finger into it, making me cringe with pain. I let out a small wail and glare at him as he stands up. "Well, from what I can tell, you have definitely damaged the cartilage in your nose."

         No shit.

         "Oh, good God," Rose lets out, putting her hand to her head.

         "Until I can take x-rays, that's as far as I can tell you," the doctor adds as I put the rag back on my face. He looks back to me and smiles. "Lucky for you, I've brought all my equipment with me. Valient?" My eyebrows furrow at the statement, when Valient opens up a silver case, which I assume belongs to the doctor; the old man removes a pair of black-lensed glasses, putting them on, and wields some sort of cylindrical tool. Stepping toward me, he pushes the pen-like object in my face. I move away from the foreign device, glaring at him.

         He looks at me with a perplexed expression, then lets out a low, bellowing laugh. "Oh my, I forgot you're from the districts, so you must not know what this is!" Pointing to it, he explains, "This is a personal x-ray machine. X-ray means I can see straight though your skin and muscle to your bones right here in these glasses!"

         "It'll be fine, Justin. It won't hurt," Claude announces as I look at him; he nods his head.

         "Yes! It's completely painless! You won't feel a thing!" the doctor adds. I look at him, then back at Claude, and lie back on the bed once again. If Claude says it'll be okay, then it will be. The strange doctor moves in with the even stranger device, holding it inches from my face. My eyes focus on the tip of it—I can see an aperture in the very small lens. The strange thing makes noises and the doctor finally exclaims, "Aha! I was right! It is indeed a nasal fracture." Straightening up, he turns to the others and takes off the glasses. "And that seems to be the extent of it. No broken bones, just severed cartilage." They take a big collective sigh.

         "That's good, right?" I ask, gulping. I've never had a broken bone before, let alone broken cartilage, but I've had plenty of sprains. And we certainly don't have any of those x-ray machines in District 11.

         "Yes, that's good. It means you'll recover faster," the doctor explains and I let out a sigh of relief. "But," he adds, "It's so swollen that it'd be unwise to start surgery. It'll be best to wait at least three months and see how it heals."

         I close my eyes at the news. That means I'm going to be in pain while in the arena, from the very start of the Games. That will put me at a major disadvantage to the other tributes. I already have an image problem, with Victor making me look like I can't defend myself. I throw out the thoughts as Rose says, "This isn’t good. This is not good." I open my eyes to her yelling at the doctor, holding her hand out me. "He can't go into the arena with a broken nose! That's completely unfair!"

         Sonia intervenes, stepping between them and saying to Rose, "Don't worry, I'll bring this up to Lupus, see if he can talk to President Snow about it." She puts her hand on Rose's shoulder, consoling her. "You're right, it's unfair for him to feel pain from the hand of another tribute—pain inflicted outside of the arena, that is. There are strict rules already laid out, but…I'm sure there's a loophole. I'll talk to them. They'll have to do something."

         Rose lets out a sigh, and looks to the doctor. "Can he at least get some sort of pain medication?"

         "Ah, yes," the doctor says, "I thought you would ask that. And I am allowed to prescribe a basic analgesic, you know, in case this kind of thing were to happen. Luckily, I brought some with me." He reaches into the case he brought with him, then quickly glances back at me. "Would you prefer taking it by injection or by mouth?"
         I quickly reply, "Which one will work faster?" I want the pain to go away as soon as possible.

         "The injection, most definitely," Doctor Yuma says with the flick of his finger, and digs through the silver case. I gulp, remembering how much I hate shots. After his loud rummaging, the old man pulls out a large needle and a glass bottle of liquid, handing them to Rose. "I'm assuming you're his mentor."

         "How could you tell?" she answers sarcastically, then quickly adds, "Thank you, Doctor." As she looks at the bottle, her expression changes, the wrinkles in her brow showing. "Morphling?"

         "Yes, that's the best thing for him," he replies, then mumbles something to Rose about cc's, whatever that stands for I don't know, and starts toward the door as everyone else in the room thanks him. I quickly prop myself up in the bed with my elbows.

         "Thank you, Doctor," I say loudly over the rest of them.

         "You're welcome, Justin," he replies with a smile. "Good luck on Monday." As I nod, he steps out of the room. I'm again reminded that in two days is the start of the Games.

         The Head Trainingmaster heads for the door, saying, "Do any of you need anything before I go back down…? Justin?" I shake my head, and she smiles, nods, and leaves the room. Sighing, I realize I forgot to thank her for helping me.

         "All right, Justin, let's get some of this in you," Rose says, walking over. She sticks the long needle in the lid of the bottle and pulls the pump of the syringe, the thick light brown liquid sucking up into it. I take a gulp and close my eyes as she sticks my arm, the drug coursing through my veins.


         I wake up sometime later in my bed, light shining through the large windows of my room. It must be just a few hours later. I look around, noticing Claude's sitting in a chair beside me. He's sketching something in a notebook, his pencil scribbling loudly against the page. "Are you ever gonna show me my interview outfit?" I ask him, unable to lift my head from the pillow.

         Claude just looks at me, smiling. "I don't think so. Not till tomorrow night, at least."

         "What about Domni's?" I ask curiously. "What did you make hers look like?"

         "Alise designed Domni's dress. Alise is Domni's stylist, remember?" says Claude playfully.

         "Oh yeah, I forgot," I reply between giddy chuckles. The Morphling has made me a little loopy. Makes my vision go haywire. Claude turns into three right before my eyes, then joins back to one. I shake my head, dismissing it. At least my nose doesn't hurt anymore.

         "Besides, I've already finished your interview outfit." He smiles. "I'm designing your victor's outfit."

         "You're designing Victor's outfit?" I ask, genuinely confused, and Claude lets out a laugh for a reason I don't quite grasp. "I thought you were my stylist, Claude… Why are you drawing Victor's…? I thought you were…my…stylist…" My sentence trails off as I drift to sleep.


         I'm suddenly roused by a loud voice as something takes hold of my arm, shaking it violently. It digs its sharp claws into me as a voice yells, "Justy!" I quickly look at Domni as I'm expelled from the dreamy state, wide-eyed and breathing heavily. "It's all right," she says with a gentle smile. Quickly glancing around, I realize I'm still in my bed in my room. Lying my head back down, I let out a sigh. "Are you okay?

         "Yeah," I reply when I catch my breath. "This doctor gave me Morphling and it's giving me nightmares." I roll my head on the pillow, looking at her. "Maybe it's just me."

         "How's your nose?"

         "Fine," I mutter, and focus my eyes on the bridge of my nose when I notice a white piece of fabric or something covering it. Oh great, another battle scar. Like the staples in my temple weren't enough. Touching my forehead, I feel a warm, wet cloth.

         "Here, let me re-soak that," Domni says with a smile, taking the washcloth and running it under the sink in the bathroom. She returns to me, folding the square cloth, and places it on my hot forehead. I sigh as the cold rag brings instantaneous relief.

         Smiling, I look at her. "I'm so lucky to have you with me." She smiles as well.

         As I look deeply into her brown eyes, I place my hand on her cheek, caressing it with my thumb. She seems to be taken back by the gesture, but accepts it as I start to gently pull her lips toward mine. Until our lips meet. After a few seconds, she quickly steps back, saying, "I'm sorry, Justin. I can't— I have to get back downstairs before lunch is over." I furrow my brows as she scurries out the room. What did I do? I thought we were supposed to be dating…?

         I'm about to close my eyes when I hear Rose walk in. Looking up at her, I see a silver four-legged tray in her hands. She places it down over my stomach after I sit up. "What's this?" I ask curiously.

         "It's called lunch in bed," she says sweetly.

         "Is that what I think it is?" I reply, gawking at what's on the tray—a thick hamburger patty with melted cheese, lettuce, tomato, what looks like fried onion slices, and a brown sauce all between two pieces of a bun. Beside it is a bowl of colorful fruit.

         "That's right," she says with a giggle.

         I shake my head, saying. "I really can't eat this, Rose." I've always been under the assumption that this kind of food is bad for you. In District 11, this would be considered a luxury. Something you can only eat once in a while. That's for the more wealthy. My family was wealthier than others but we didn't eat this kind of stuff. We ate pretty healthy.

         "Oh, come on. Live a little," insists Rose as I continue to stare at the plate, my mouth salivating at the look and smell of the large burger. "Besides, you could use a good meal before the Games. It's much better than what they're serving downstairs."

         "Fine," I pronounce as I pick up the unusually heavy burger, examining it in my hands. As I take a giant bite, all kinds of juices from the meat patty fill my mouth. "Oh, my God," I say with ecstasy as I put the burger down, savoring the pleasant flavor.

         "I knew you'd like it," Rose says with a laugh.


         My mentor insists that I finish the burger and the fruit, and when I do, she finally lets me sleep again. It's strange; the Morphling makes me extremely tired. I probably get a few more hours of sleep when I'm roused again, this time by my escort, Valient, who tells me, "Justin, wake up! They're showing your scores on television!"

         I rise from the bed, wiping my eyes. The room is a lot darker now. I look out the windows to see the orange dusk sky. "What the hell are you talking about?" I mutter as I kick my feet over the bed, the sheet flying to the floor. Getting up, Valient hurries me into the living area, where Domni, Rose, Claude, and Alise sit in front of the television. I hear Caesar Flickerman's iconic voice emanate from its speakers.

         "Turn it up!" Valient exclaims as he claims a separate chair. I plop down on the couch next to Domni, who keeps her gaze with the screen.

         "From District Three, Rupert Finch, with a score of seven," Caesar enunciates, a moving picture of a fifteen-year old boy and the number 7 flashing on the screen.

         "Will someone please explain this to me?" I grumble, still groggy from sleep.

         I hear a sigh from Rose, and I look at her sitting in a chair to the right of the sofa. "Lupus Crane and the other members of the Gamemaking council rated all of you tributes on a scale from one to twelve—one being the least deadly and twelve being the most deadly. That's why they've been watching you during training. They've been carefully studying you."

         I pronounce, "Ah." It all makes sense now.

         "And that sparring crap we did today was just a clever way for them to see how well we can defend ourselves," Domni adds crudely. "We don't know for sure, but we think it has a lot to do with our final score.

         Oh no, I immediately think. If our scores do have anything to do with the sparring matches, mine's gonna be pretty low. I barely blocked Victor's attacks, and couldn't even get some of my own in. Not to mention letting him break my nose, but I try not to think about that.

         My attention goes back to Caesar on the screen, who says, "Marcus Fischman, from District Four…" I see the picture of the twelve-year old boy behind Caesar. I instantly remember him and his sister, Opal, the two Callum's sister played with yesterday at training. The number 4 appears beside him as Caesar finishes, "With a score of four." His sister gets a score of three.

         "God, they are so screwed," Domni mutters to herself. I can tell she didn't mean to say it too loud, but I still heard it.

         Looking to her, I say, "Why don't we add them to our alliance with Callum and Ginger?"

         She glances at me with a look that makes it seem like she agrees. But before she can reply, Rose firmly says, "No."

         I glare at our mentor, my voice rising. "Why the hell not?"

         "Language," Valient chimes gaily without taking his eyes off the screen.

         "They're kids for Christ's sake," I yell to Rose after getting up from the couch. I don't know why, but it struck a nerve in me and made me incredibly mad. Valient clears his throat at my derogatory language and I glare at him again; he's still looking at the television, an image of the girl from 5, the number 6 appearing beside her.

         "I know they are, Justin. Do you think I'm blind? I can see that they're kids," Rose retaliates, making Valient sigh loudly. She ignores him, adding, "But you're not going to babysit those two. That's not your responsibility. They'd only slow you down… So drop it."

         I let out a loud, exasperated sigh, walking out of the living area. I contemplate going back to my room, but there's no television in there, and I kinda wanna hear other tributes' scores including my own, so I walk up the few steps to the dining table, sitting down. I bury my face in my arms on the glass and let Caesar's voice calm me. He says, "From District Six, Cali Holwel, with a score of seven." The news is interesting to me. I didn't think the annoying girl Domni and I met on the first day of training would get that high of a score. She must've really impressed Lupus.

         Next, I hear Caesar say, "From District Seven, Callum Willow…" I quickly look at the screen from across the apartment to see the moving picture of his face behind Caesar. "With a score of nine." I nod. Okay, that's the best score I've heard so far. I'm now pretty happy we made that alliance with Callum. I wonder what scores the tributes from the Career Districts got, and if Callum scored higher or lower than them.

         "Ginger Willow," Caesar says, "also from District Seven…" He seems to be taken back, probably just now realizing that there are two pairs of siblings in the Games, and quickly returns to his usual self. "With a score of five." I wonder what she did to get a higher score than Marcus and Opal.

         The next six—all nobodies, tributes I haven't even met—get pretty low scores. The young, probably twelve or thirteen-year old boy from 8 gets a 3; the girl, who's a little older, gets a 5; the boy from 9 gets a 4 and the girl gets a 5; and both the boy and girl from 10, both about my age, get 6's.

         That's when I hear my name, taking me completely off guard. Hearing your name on television is a tad weird. "Justin Park," Caesar starts with a smile, "from District Eleven…" I get up for the dining table and walk down to the living area, standing behind the couch as Caesar reveals my score—8.

         My mouth drops as I say, "Wait, what?" Looking at Domni and the others, who are all smiling at me, I say, "That can't be right." I can't think of any reason why I would get such a high score. But then, it dawns on me—it must have something to do with when Lupus saw me throw a spear at that bullseye twice in a row. And I suppose I did block a few of Victor's attacks when we sparred.

         "Oh, quit being modest," Claude finally says to me. "You earned that score."

         Looking at him, I smile. I suppose he's right. They must've given me that score for a reason, so, whatever it is, I take it with pride. I look back at the television as Domni's face appears. My smile slowly dissipates as I start to get nervous. What if her score is a lot lower than mine?

         Caesar interrupts my thoughts again. "From District Eleven as well, Domni Yoder, with a score of…" He pauses for a while, and I gulp as the wait kills me. Finally, he finishes. "Nine." My jaw drops in shock and wonder. Did she really just get a higher score than me?

         "Honey, you got the same score as Glinda and Veronica!" Rose exclaims as she hugs Domni whilst they sit on the couch.

         "So what did the two guys from One and Two get?" I ask as they all congratulate Domni—her stylist, Alise next, Valient, even Claude. None of them seem to hear what I asked. I glare at the television as the boy from 12 appears, a 7 next to his face as he blinks on screen. It doesn't even register, though. All I feel is jealousy, even though I hate to admit it, I do—that's all I feel. No. I also feel Domni's stare as I continue to glare at Caesar's face, trying to distract myself from the group's continued praise for Domni. Until, I can't take it anymore, and run to my room, closing the electronic doors with the press of a button. It's not nearly as satisfying as slamming a door, but it'll have to do. In that respect, I wish I were back home.