[6]

Everyone’s looking at me, but it’s Jacob’s eyes that pop out. In them, surprise, fear, rebuke, but above everything else: gratitude. His eyes are the only reason that I don’t shout out that I take it back. That I don’t scream that I don’t want to die. That, I don’t want to kill.

Emily was halfway to the podium when I volunteered. Now she stands stock still, glancing back to the rafters desperately.

The walk to reach her is one of the longest of my life. My cheeks burn and whispers trail after me like smoke after fire.

When I reach her, I give her a shaky smile. “Come on,” I say, “you just have to go to the stage with me, that’s all.”

I think Jacob must have lied about her liking me, because she looks at me skeptically. Still, I have to admit she’s cute, even with her swollen nose and tear-stained cheeks.

She shakes her head from side to side, no doubt remembering the talk of duels, and when I pushed her down earlier today.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I promise,” I say. It’s true. I won’t be hurting her. I’ll be hurting other children instead.

I hold out a shaking hand. She looks at it for a long moment.

“Okay,” she whispers, “but I want to go to Jacob right afterwards.”

She takes it.

I nod, but I’m not sure how people are taking this. Do me holding her hand make me look like a hero? I almost feel like one; I almost don’t have to work to keep my neck elongated and gait rolling.

When we get to the stage, Tanya motions us to stand a few feet apart, but Emily doesn’t let go of my hand. I’m afraid Tanya’s going to break her fingers in trying to pry her away from me, but then Rosalie whispers harshly, “Just let them hold hands.”

But it’s not until the alabaster man, Edward, adroitly moves Tanya away from me that she stops. “Please, Tanya, you know how these things can drag.” Unlike Tanya, his capitol accent doesn’t sound affected, just smooth. Like the tailoring of his midnight suit hugging his lean thighs.

Even now, even facing the possibility of my own death, I can’t help the shiver that comes over me at the timbre of Edward’s voice. Almost against my own will, I turn to look at him.

I’m surprised to see him looking back at me intensely, not with sophisticated apathy, but with something else. He doesn’t smile or move his face; his eyes, as blood-red as every other vampire, just bore into me. It’s as if he’s trying to strip-mine my soul.

“And who are you?” he whispers, so soft I think only I’m supposed to hear it.

I can’t help but feel as if I am his prey. As if he is going to consume me. But the weird part is, I don’t want to run—no, my first instinct is to tip back my neck and offer him a sip.

Thankfully, my first instincts always come quick enough to be analyzed, and I’m able to stop myself and turn my frank staring into a glare.

“Edward, just read her thoughts for it,” says Tanya, waving a hand.

Read my thoughts? Oh no. All at once, my knees weaken. Now instead of Emily holding onto me out of fear, I’m leaning on her. She can’t support all of my weight and looks up at me, wide-eyed.

I know that vampires have powers. We learned about it in school, but never occurred to me that there might one who could read my mind. ( I imagine that they learn about basic powers like super-speed and tracking maybe. But the “special powers” they don’t actually learn about.)

His eyes don’t move from mine. I’m drowning in them, losing air. What has he heard inside my mind? Does he know how much I hate vamp—

I eliminate the thought as soon as it enters my brain, but it’s already too late. The moment he looked inside my head, he must have seen all the treasonous thoughts I have.

Will he report me? Can you disqualify a Prospective? Could he change me to Chattel status? Technically, I’m not even an official Prospective yet. Maybe, he’ll just deny my offer to volunteer. If Emily’s life wasn’t at stake I would—

Another thought I can’t afford to finish.

“I’d like to hear her say it.” He turns away from me.

Maybe I can run? It’s impossible of course; I’m on a stage with thousands of people watching my every move. Where would I even go? (Bella planning on running away is a something of a running gag in the next couple of chapters.

His eyes meet mine again. (as are staring contest between E/B. No lemons only staring contests lolol. In all seriousness. I don’t know if there ever will be a lemon in this story. I’m not quite sure the story calls for it, but we’ll see.)

“Announce it,” his eyes darken to crimson. “Announce your name.” (Small parady of the  “say it out loud bit. Was that even in the books.)

“I-sabella Swan,” I stutter.

I think, but I’m not sure, that Jasper Hale smothers a snicker.   (I think people’s love of Jasper is blinding them a bit to his true nature. But then again an important part of my Jasper is his charisma, he ability to decieve.)

Fuck him.

I can’t help but glance to Edward. For reasons I don’t—no, can’t afford to understand—my gaze seems to always get stuck on his face, like burs on cotton. He watches me patiently. (Have you ever had someone like that. I find it’s the first clue I “like” someone, when I can’t stop looking at them, for them. Rarely is it the people who I have some big inner monolougue about how hot they are that I end up with a serious crush on. It’s more subtle than that. For me at least. Also Bella is very naive about her sexuality. Despite being 20. She is a virgin in both my mind and  body.)

Fuck him too.

The crowd, ripples, outstretched, not stopping this. Not doing anything.

Fuck them all.

For the first time, I meet Edward’s steady gaze, unflinchingly. I am not that girl who tried to kill herself in the abandoned building because she felt was guilty. No longer. I will not be ashamed. (Already Edward’s having quite an effect on her, although very few readers seemed to percieve it that way.) If I’m going to do this? If I’m going to die, or worse live forever?

Then I’m going to do it right.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer still. If it wasn’t totally insane I would say there is something sad about the puckering of his brow.

“We still have to contend with the duel!” says Tanya.

“D-duel?” stutters Emily.

“You concede,” Jasper whispers hastily before I can.

He’s going to be a threat. I can tell already. But he’s the one person I won’t feel any guilt about killing, even if he tries to be helpful now. An eye for an eye, a family member for a family member. Right, Rosalie?

“I can read!” Emily yells.

Edward laughs, a dark, low, chuckle that turns my muscles inside out.

This isn’t funny. But I laugh too, because if I don’t I know I will cry.

“No, darling, you concede,” corrects Tanya, hurriedly.

Emily grips my hand even tighter. “I concede,” she says. I give her a little nudge and she looks up at me accusingly. “What?”

“You can go back now, Emily. Go back to Jacob.”

The smile she gives to me is the one that saved her life. It was the sparkle of teeth and earnestness that dimmed my resentment and paranoia.

She scurries down the steps and flutters through the crowd like a moth flying to light.

And I know.

(This is my favorite part of the chapter. There is a huge paralell here to Bella saying she just wants to fix anything in the previous chapter. Now she’s getting something of the oppertunity And while it’s a dark road, one probably with an unhappy end, it’s her first bit of purpose and self-actualization in a long time. Bella is sacrificing her life to save her life, her conception of herself as a good person.

Dying to redeem her own sins.This is what makes her a compelling character to me. She is  in some ways fundamentally selfish. But in other-ways the ultimate picture of self-lessness. Paradox and contrdiction appeal to me greatly.

This isn’t of course to say that Bella will die at the end of the story.

Though it’s certainly possible.)

Whatever the audience thinks, I’m not a hero. I’m not doing this for Emily or even Jacob. I’m doing this for myself. I’m doing this, because as Emily turns around the way she moves reminds me of summer nights outside of our old, big house near the water. Ben and I running in circles under the serenade of the cicadas. Picking weeds and calling them flowers, catching moths and pretending they’re lightening bugs.

Watching Emily run to her family is like watching myself, skipping. Soft, wet grass under-foot, laughing at nothing.

It is as if I have reversed time.

As if I’ve fixed things.

As if I’ve saved them.

Saved myself.

In my memory, my mother calls us in because it’s late. I can almost hear her voice now.

“Three lightening bugs!” She was the one who started the game of calling the moths lightening bugs, stories were Mom’s specialty. “I’m so proud of you, Isabella.”

“Isabella,” she says again, only it’s not her speaking.

I whirl, and come face to face with Edward. He’s closer than he’ ever been before, and for a moment I am enthralled by the riotous forest of hair growing from his scalp. I want to run my fingers through it.

While everything about him is hard, and cold, somehow his eye are gentle. Not earnest, because there is something sardonic about the way his lips turn slightly, but careful.

I’m not a complete idiot, I realize. There is a reason he said my name twice before I turned around. The first time he said it, there was such knowing in his voice, such utter understanding.

He looks at me the way I look at Emily, and says my name the way my mother used to say it.

I want to throw myself into his arms.

(The cornerstone of their Romance will be a deep similarity and understanding of each-other. As well as the contrast inherent in both of their characters. Both are going to sacrifice everything  to change the world–or at least try to–but only because they are trying to save their own souls, moral centers if you will.)

Then I remember where I am, who he is.

(And this is the second part that makes their romance appealing, the contrast. My Edward, as you will come to see, is calculating, cold, extremely sophisticated, in control, and even occasionally playfull.

Bella is his foil, in that she is emotionally voilatle, hasty, and extremely naive. Which is why the Romance hasn’t blossomed through her eyes. She isn’t aware of it.)

He is a monster who has just seen my most intimate, possibly treasonous thoughts. But the only courage I can summon comes from ignoring this fact. (Denial is Bella’s number one psychological fault. This will manifest itself in HUGE ways in the upcoming chapters. She really doesn’t like to plan ahead.) So I rip my gaze from his, and turn inwards and offer my hand to Jasper Hale.

Up close there is a strange flush to Jasper’s cheek and twinkle to his eye. His long, blond hair, flows in waves to his chin and his bright blue eyes almost twinkle at me. How can he be happy now?

We shake hands three times, but instead of breaking apart afterwards, we turn to the crowd and hold our joined hands above our heads. As if we’re a team. As if we’re not planning to kill each other the moment we enter the arena.

“May I present to you, your two Prospectives: Jasper Hale and Isabella Swan! May they die and become!”

The anthem plays one more time, but I am outside of time, outside of my body, outside of the room. In my mind, I am standing on thousands of nickels,(Remember the first chapter! I told you it was forshadowing lol! They put up the statues for a reason!) being faced with a child with a bloody dagger aimed at my heart. I am paralyzed.

Hopefully, it will come across as stoicism (I think Bella is different from Katniss in that she is a little more animated. My Bella owes a lot to Sarah from the movie Labryinth for her characterization to be honest.) to the cameras, because now my every move will be watched, evaluated by human racketeers and vampire sponsors.

As Tanya leads us from the front, through the crowd, the cameras’ heads swivel 360 degrees, following Jasper and I. Rosalie follows behind Tanya at heel, and Edward follows her, moving silently through the shadows. I glance back at him once, to see if he’s looking at me, to see if he really can read my thoughts, but he doesn’t look back.

Jasper’s smart, he’s looking at the crowd waving, not just in general, but picking specific people and making eye contact. I think a girl in the seventeen-pen swoons a little when he blows her a kiss. (Just a random girl. Jasper is kind of a playah.)

All around me, the dissonant screams of the national anthem mix with the shouts of the crowd, all for Jasper of course.

Thank God, I don’t have to worry about winning the sponsorship of District 2. If I did, I would be totally fucked.

After we exit the building, we’re in official custody. I don’t mean in handcuffs or anything, but from now until the Morphing Games, either Tanya, Rosalie or Edward will be present at our side at all times.

They lead us into a small holding room, not unlike the waiting room for the blood letting. It’s funny to imagine how nervous I was then at the thought of failing my quota.

What am I nervous about now? Dying? Or perhaps worse, not dying, being turned into a monster for eternity, becoming like Rosalie.

“Who should we gather for goodbyes?” asks Rosalie brusquely, not even looking at me.

I’m sure Jasper will have millions of friends that will take up most of the time so I blurt out, “Jacob, Ben and Charlie.”

Tanya raises a thin eyebrow at me. “Last names please.”

Rosalie still isn’t looking at me. What is she afraid of? Yes, I hate her. I’d do anything to get revenge for what she did to my family. But I can’t hurt her now. She may as well be one of the statues in the atrium for how vulnerable she is.

Edward stands next to Tanya, looking lazy and indolent. It makes me furious. This is the last time we’ll ever see our families and he looks bored?

“Jasper?” Rosalie asks, and I know the way she looks at her brother, almost afraid.

Oh, of course. She must be worried that I’m going to kill Jasper. It’s a good thing I have Edward as my mentor, and not her. No doubt she would sabotage me.

“Nobody, thanks,” he says—cavalier.

“What? What about your parents?” I ask.

“Jasper,” Rosalie says warningly, “Mother and Father will want to say goodbye to you.”

He smiles coolly at her. “It will be easier for them if I don’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to soothe them as usual, dear Sister.”

Was it all an act, the kissing, manipulating the crowd? He’s as terrified as I am. But then why did he volunteer? No, there has to be another explanation for not wanting to see his parents.

(Jasper is a very layered character, we’ll learn more and more about him as time goes on. Him and Rosalie are key characters.)

Rosalie grits her teeth, “If you insist.”

She disappears, moving at vampire speed.

I can’t help but stare at the spot Rosalie just was at, as if she’ll simply reappear. And then, to my surprise, she does, not a hair out of place. Beside her are Ben, Jacob, Charlie and two other people I didn’t expect—Emily and Prim.

Charlie steps forward first. I hope that he’ll say something, but for a long time, he just stares at me, focused on the bow of my shirt.

“Charlie,” I begin, “I’m entering the Games just like you wanted.” Tears scrape at my eyes, trying to claw their way out—but I won’t let them. The moment I exit this room, the metal animal-cameras will be back in full force. Any show of weakness will be televised.

He grunts. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think he shakes his head a little. As if to say no, he never wanted this.

“Charlie.” He has to say something. This can’t be it. He’s the only person left who really knows me and doesn’t hate me.

But even he can’t look at me.

“Dad,” I say softly.

And finally, he looks at me.

But still he says nothing. Instead he outstretches one of his big hands, weathered and dirty from working and never washing.

As I put my hand in his, I am amazed by how little and pale my fingers look against his. Once, and so softly I can barely feel it, he squeezes my hand.

Before I can say thanks, or wait or anything, his hand falls away and he shuffling backwards with a quick, uneven gait.

For the first time since Mom died, I don’t want him to go.

Maybe it’s bad, but I don’t notice Prim and Ben, holding hands, until they stand in front of me.

“I didn’t want to come,” says Ben awkwardly, but I feel comforted by his uncertainty. Maybe he doesn’t want me dead after all.

“Ben,” says Prim softly, reprimanding. I expect her to say something pithy, about dying and becoming or my health being the best sacrifice to the empire, but instead she says, “Jasper Hale.”

He’s back to charming, as he gives her his full powered smile. “Can I help you, darling?” he asks adopting the Capitol affect.

Prim grips Ben’s hand tighter and gives Jasper an open smile in return. Hers is nice too, but not dazzling. “I just wanted to thank you, for volunteering.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Abruptly, she switches her gaze to me. “And you. I know what you did.”

The room goes silent.

I am going off to die, and this is my going away present? A reminder of my sins? Ben must have told her about his eye.

“I know,” she says. “It’s not my place to forgive you, that’s Ben’s burden, and that’s something he has to come to terms with.”

Next to her, Ben shifts uneasily.

“But I want you to know. I’m going to look after Ben, and Charlie too.” She reaches a hand out to touch Charlie, who surprisingly doesn’t move away from her.

“And, for what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

I let out a startled gasp. Anger, relief and sadness, wash through me. She’s not Ben; she can’t forgive me. And she’s possibly insane too, dating a boy young enough to be her nephew, but her gesture moves me all the same.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. It sounds as sincere as I feel it.

She grabs my hands between hers and brings them up to her mouth, kissing them lightly. “One shouldn’t hate their sisters. No matter what you’ve done, you’re my sister now.” (Prim is Good with a capitol G. Fun/really odd fact! Originally I had her pregnant with Ben’s kid and that’s why he didn’t volunteer. Now I just had them have a conversation.)

I clench my fist, the pain of my nails into my flesh distracting me from tears that will flow over my eyes if I don’t stem the tide.   (Again bella does this all the time. Bad writer’s tic on my part.)

I look over towards Ben, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. “Ben,” I whisper.

“Don’t fuck up, Bella.” He gives a tight expression that could almost be called a grin.

My heart swells with pride and love. I’m not forgiven. But he doesn’t want me dead at least. Then again maybe wishing me dead at this point would be a kindness.

He takes Prim’s small hand and they step out of the room, following the lumbering form of Charlie.

Once they’re gone, they reveal the well-muscled form of my best and only friend.

“Jacob,” I sigh, giving a watery smile as if this is graduation and not the day I’m shipped off to the Capitol to kill or be killed.

He rushes to me so fast I can’t stop him, enveloping me in a tight, warm hug. Emily hangs back.

“I told you not to volunteer, and you do it anyway,” he says, but he doesn’t sound angry at all.

When he releases me from the hug, I can see that he’s crying, thick, wet tears. He doesn’t try to wipe them away or hide them. I envy the luxury. “One of my sisters would’ve taken your place.”

“One of your sisters almost did,” I say wryly.

He rolls his eyes. “No, I mean Leah. She’s strong. Not as strong as you, but she could’ve done alright.”

“Maybe,” I say. But we both know the truth: in the Morphing Games, doing ‘alright’ is synonymous with death. There is no second place.

And I know Leah; most of her fighting ability is intimidation. No one would be afraid of her in the arena, at least not until she showed her self worthy at the Proving.

“Jacob, I need to thank you,” I say, because I realize I never have thanked him, not for saving my life that day, not for showing me the secret beach, not for giving me friendship when I thought I was unworthy of it. I always kind of assumed he was stupid for all of it.

“Fuck it, Bella, don’t say that. Don’t make it sound like you’re not coming back.”

“Pardon,” Edward says from the corner.

We both whirl to glare at him. I hate that something in my stomach drops at his frank look of disapproval.

He raises an eyebrow. “You have five minutes left.”

Jacob’s eyes meet Edward’s, and Jacob shrinks a little.

“Fine,” I say coldly, not backing down. Or maybe I just can’t stop looking at him.

From the corner of my eye, I see his expression shift to surprise. Very few vampires stand up to him, I imagine, and no humans. He has the older look of an original, a vampire made before the change.

One of Jacob’s calloused hands comes up to fiddle with the bow on my chest. “This is pretty. I’m glad you look nice.”

“Jacob,” I warn. “You’re not going to distract me with compliments.”

“Distract you from what?”

“Thanking you. For everything.”

His expression darkens. For a second, I wonder if he’s going to call in my debt and ask for another kiss. I’m not sure how I’d feel about this. Instead he says, “So, if you owe me then I can ask a favor, right?”

“In theory,” I say hesitantly. Will he ask for something more than a kiss? The idea makes me squirm.

“You’ve gotta win.” There he is. The boy from the beach. The boy with the sister. The boy who believes. In things. In me.

“What?”

“You can do it. You said yourself, this is what you’ve spent your whole life training for.”

I haven’t even honestly thought of trying to win. Without realizing it, I guess I just figured that I would lose, if not out of lack of skill, than out of weakness, an inability to kill. And even if I do win. Then what? Then I become like them? A monster? I kill people and as a reward I get to be a parasite forever? I become subsumed into the system that killed my mother.

But I can’t say this. They can still hurt the people I love.

“Of course I’ll win,” I say unconvincingly. To say anything else in front of the vampires would be foolish.

“No. I don’t care, Bella, about anyone else, even if they’re just . . . kids. You have to come home.” His eyes are bereft of tears, and his voice is husky. He’s never looked more like a child. He’s never hurt anyone, not an innocent. He’s asking me to do things he doesn’t comprehend.

(Of course Jacob wants her to survive, but he’s asking her to do really awful things. In the upcoming chapters we’ll explore the motivation for Bella not just giving up in the games.)

“Jacob,” I begin tenderly, smoothing back his hair. “I’m not coming home. Even if I win. That’s just the way it works.”

He shakes his head, escaping from my almost mothering touch and glaring. “You can come visit there’s no rule against visiting your family and friends. She’s here isn’t she?” He throws out a hand to point to Rosalie.

“You’re right,” I say, rubbing my hands over his biceps, trying to calm him, or to be honest, myself.

It doesn’t matter. Even though I saved him from losing his sister, he’s still going to lose me. And now he’s asking me to kill kids just so I can see him one more time. I may have just gouged out one of his eyes for all the damage I’ve done to him.

Except this time, it’s not my fault. I can’t control who I fight or how I die. I may have volunteered, but I didn’t choose to do this. The fact that he’s asking me to kill children, a child that could have been his sister, there’s no one else to blame for that except for the vampires.

“Bella,” he says weakly, “come back from worry-land. (I like this little Jacob-ism. He says it often.) Tell me you’ll do it. Tell me.”

“I’ll tr—”

“No. Tell me you’ll do it. Tell me you’ll win.”

“Enough,” I say so sharply Jacob’s eyes widen. He takes a step back away from me, as if seeing me for the first time. In some ways he is. I imagine I have the same expression I used to when I was on the sparring mat or mixing poisons.

The fear in his eyes hurts, but I’m not going to kill kids. Not for Jacob, not for anyone. My life isn’t worth that.

“I just want you to . . .” he chokes swallowing a sob, looking to me for reassurance that everything is going to be okay.

I shouldn’t be mad at him. This is the last time I’m ever going to see him. And he doesn’t know how damaging violence is—to everyone.

“Let’s not ruin our goodbye, Jacob,” I say softly, grabbing his hand before he can turn around.

“One minute,” says Edward. And I have to stop myself from turning around just to look at his face again.

Jacob draws back, and for a second, I think he’s about to leave. But he only bends down, and whispers something very quickly to Emily, who scampers forward.

“B-bella,” she says, her voice still racked with nervousness. She looks towards Tanya, the clock, and clears her throat. “I’ve got a present for you.” She holds out her hand, much like I had held out my hand to her earlier that night.

Something bright and silver flashes up at me: a pin, an expensive one at that. Is that real silver? It can’t be? “That’s not what you scavenged from the beach today.”

“I know,” she says brightly. “I traded an old woman for it. She really seemed to want that bottle cap pin from the beach.”

Whoever traded a bottle-cap for this pin needs to be hidden in away in the attic or risk being changed to Chattel status on grounds of insanity. The pin is beautiful, an interlocking set of bull horns cast in silver. I bend over closer to get a better look. The silver seems real.

“She said to tell you that Greasy Ol Sae wanted you to have it.” Emily gives a giggle. “What kind of a name is Greasy Ol Sae? Do you think she eats too many Fatty blood bars?” It’s good to see that Emily is able to recover easily from the fright of the Reaping. She will have nightmares though. I’m sure.

“I’d love to have this as my token,” I say gently, as I take the silver pin and fasten it onto my dress.

“Time,” says Edward coolly.

“Wait!” Jacob pleads.

This time, it’s Tanya who speaks, “The rules are strict on this, we can’t dither around here all day. This isn’t even the fun part!” (Oh sadisitic Tanya.)

Emily lunges towards Jacob, grabbing the edge of his gray-jumpsuit, afraid of the two beautiful, deadly creatures moving towards us.

“Bella,” says Jacob, and I can’t help but admire his bravery, defying a vampire. “F-forever,” he chokes, “I’ll— “

(Is he saying I love you? This line is taken verbatim from Hunger Games. Answer yes. Especially because I’ll love you forever; like you for always is the song B’s mom sang to her in Chapter 2.)

But the vampires must have grabbed him, because before he can finish he just disappears. A few seconds later, Edward, Tanya and Rosalie are back and after a few seconds more, they are leading Jasper and I out of the Blood Bank.