all aboard the toxic gossip train! georgie&sera!

sera keoch

Georgie talks far too much. It’s all I can really think about as she complains about her dad in a whiny voice that by all accounts really should be getting on my nerves. But I guess it’s hard to feel too pissed off at a girl who’s just days away from a grisly end. So I probably let her talk for longer than I usually would. I think that’s what a big sister would do. And at least I’m not the only person planted firmly in the “perpetually annoyed at Flynn Garner” club.

Georgie’s hesitant to cast a negative spotlight on any of her fellow tributes, which is a little disappointing for me. I think I secretly would have loved having someone to bitch about the other tributes with, but I guess it’s my own fault for thinking that the sweetest, most naïve tribute in the history of ever would have a bad bone in her body.

…Oh my god, she’s so screwed.

Coupled with the fact that she has definitely not been talking to enough people in the Training Centre to form a solid alliance with, and yeah, I’m not feeling too great about her chances. Maybe that training score could have come in handy after all.

“I bet you didn’t find it hard making allies…”

Um. Did she not watch the Games at all last year? I must have been the most unlikeable person in the Arena – save for Circe, I guess. It’s probably the only reason we ended up together in the end. I just end up blinking dumbly at Georgie for a few moments as her words short-circuit in my brain – an impossible thought to fathom.

“Oh yeah? What gave you that idea? My exceptional people skills?”

Me. Good at making friends. Ha ha.

“I like Umber though, from Twelve. I think he would make a good ally.”

Umber… from Twelve…

Oh great, the little kid Eulalie Blake declared a personal vendetta against in front of the entire nation last night on live television. Excellent.

I’m silent for a deliberately long amount of time, picking the best words to let Georgie down gently whilst also trying to uncover the root of why on earth I want to keep Eulalie Blake on my side.

“I think it’s a good idea to think about allies. Even if it’s just one other person to keep you company. It can be pretty scary in there on your own.” I’m not too proud to admit that. The days after Circe’s death were uncomfortable in a way I haven’t really sat down to think about – but the memory of trudging through the desert alone beckons an anxiety in my chest that spreads outwards. I clench my fists together to distract myself from its ascent. “If anything, they can be your meat shield.” A tip I picked up from Circe – I can still feel her metaphorical knife in my back, the scars of Carmen’s weapon creeping up my arms.

“The Careers this year seem… skilled.” Brutal, terrifying, bloodthirsty. Take your pick. “They know what they’re doing, so they could get you far. But they’re also the type to turn on you at the drop of a hat. Kids like Umber are safer. I think.”

I catch myself in the whiplash as Georgie ponders my words. One minute I’m sitting in the silence of a room intent on swallowing me whole, counting down the minutes until I can be back on familiar footing. The next I’m strategising with my mentee about her best chances of survival when all I’ve wanted was to keep my distance from the girls altogether. We all know I’m quite possibly the worst person alive to be giving out advice. I don’t want their deaths on my conscience.

Only it doesn’t feel like mentoring when I’m just telling the truth. That’s the problem.

“Are you really sure you want Umber on your team? I heard he’s making a name for himself already. It might put a target on your back if you’re around him.”

Or: it’ll mean he’s the one who gets attacked first. It’ll mean Georgie has an extra day or two that he doesn’t.

Or: it’ll mean she’s one of the first to be picked off, seen as an easy target without a big scary older kid around to scare off the other tributes. Umber’s not exactly the intimidating type, if you know what I mean.

Or: it’ll help us get sponsors off the back of his training score. It’ll mean Georgie won’t be as hopeless in the Arena, having to rely on just herself to find water, food, shelter.

God. My head is spinning. I need a drink. Probably shouldn’t have hidden the alcohol so far away.

“I could… talk to the Twelve Victors. If you wanted.”

And like I knew I would, I regret my words as soon as I’ve put them out into the universe. Regretted even thinking them, knowing that offering to help not only entangles me further in the sticky web of connections I wanted nothing to do with, but means I’m going to have to actually go out of my way to talk to more new people. Unbelievable. What am I doing.

Strangely, it feels like I’m doing a good deed. So why the fuck is my heart racing so fast it feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest?

I think: if this is being a good person, then I don’t want any part of it.