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65.
If Finnick had been energetic before, it’s nothing compared to how he is fresh out of the arena. He tells Callie with excitement that he’s finally been cleared to run, and Callie responds that she’d be happy to run with him anytime, as long as they wait until the tour of the village is over.
“This tradition has been around for a long time,” says Callie, standing with Finnick on the paved pathway that separates the two rows of houses before snaking around a corner to the communal gym and meeting hall. “I’m sure Mags would know how it started, but by the time I got here, it had been going on for decades.”
“What was even the point back then?” asks Finnick. He’s been full of questions ever since she picked him up from the train station. “I mean, it’s not like you need a tour when there’s only a handful of victors.”
Callie shrugs. “It’s more about what it represents, I think. Being a victor is a special thing. You should remember that.”
“I know,” he replies, in the way fourteen-year-olds do when they think they know everything. She knows she must have been that young once, but the memory feels far out of reach. Something twists painfully in her chest, and Callie starts walking forward.
“It’s women on the left and men on the right,” she begins, unswayed by Finnick’s attempts to drive her forward. “Look.”
She slows her steps as Finnick falls in line beside her. On the porches of all the houses, the victors are watching. They each wave in greeting as they pass. This, too, has been a tradition for as long as Callie remembers. It’s a way of welcoming the new victor into the community. It’s a gesture that says, you’re one of us now.
When she looks over at Finnick, his eyes are glassy. “I never thought I’d get here so soon.”
“You’re here now,” says Callie gently, because it may feel obvious but it’s all she can think to say. “It may take time to get used to it, but you belong here.”
He blinks rapidly a few times. “Can I see the gym? Mags never let me in there because it was victors-only.”
“Sure,” she replies, keeping her voice light.
He’s off in a flash. “Race you!”
Callie doesn’t waste another second. She’s not losing to a fourteen-year-old.
59.
“Okay,” says Coral, guiding their fresh victor Calliope to the Village gate. “Here’s what you have to know. Everyone’s pretty nice, usually, but if you’re looking to make friends, you should hang out with me and Dylan. You might think Dylan’s not cool anymore now that he has a kid, but he’s still fun. Calder’s nice, too, but since he’s your mentor, it’s not really the same dynamic as just being friends.”
Calliope takes in the Village with wide, perceptive eyes. There’s not much to see on this side of the gate, but she already looks like she’s having a hard time believing she’s here. She hasn’t said a word since the train station, but Coral is fine doing the talking.
“If you’re more of an introvert, you might like Nerissa or Mags,” Coral continues. “Nerissa mentored me, so I promise she’s cool. But either of them would be totally happy to, like, sit there in silence with you. If that’s what you want.”
Calliope gives a brief, flickering smile. “It’s hard to imagine asking Mags to hang out.”
“Oh, I get it,” says Coral ruefully. “She’s such a legend, right? Don’t worry. The victor mystique will wear off pretty fast. We’re all just people, once you get to know us. You ready to go inside?”
She nods.
Together they walk as Coral points out the houses and who they belong to. Mags and Kai, the two oldest, give Calliope solemn waves. Nerissa and Calder are clapping, which to Coral seems weird, but she’s not the one who trained at the Academy for ten years, so whatever. Dylan sits with his son Leander, both holding a homemade sign that says WELCOME HOME CALLIOPE. ‘Calliope’ is crossed out and respelled twice.
“Wow,” Calliope says breathlessly, eyes flickering from house to house. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and Coral’s not sure if she even notices all the tension she’s holding in her shoulders.
“And this is the gym,” says Coral as they round the corner. She swings open the door and lets Calliope have a look around. The volunteer victors seem to like that stuff. At least that’s what Calder told her when she asked for advice on giving this tour. “I won’t pretend like I use it, but a lot of us do. It’s open 24/7 if you ever want to work out in the middle of the night or something.”
Calliope’s arms uncross and she rests her hands on her hips. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah,” Coral replies. Then, cautiously, “You worked really hard to get here. You deserve this.”
Maybe it helps, maybe it doesn’t. Coral’s trying.
53.
“It’s okay that you didn’t volunteer,” says Calder. “You’re a victor just like the rest of us. Nobody’s going to think any less of you for that.”
Coral tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ear. Even though it’s summer, she’s wearing a thick sweater that’s buttoned all the way to the top. Calder has enough experience with victors to know not to comment on it.
“How many people live here again?” she asks. Her voice comes out raspy.
“Six, including you,” he answers. “But you can talk to as many or as few as you want. And don’t feel pressured to reach out to anyone right away. We all understand if you need some time alone.”
She huffs a laugh. “Didn’t you watch my Games? Time alone is the last thing I need.”
Fair enough. If he spent weeks hiding out alone in an arctic arena, he’d want company afterwards too. Calder leads her through the gate taking his time to show her the victors showing their support. Nerissa’s out with her two kids, and they all shout Coral’s name as she passes. Dylan’s son Leander sits in his lap, a handmade sign resting against his legs. Either five-year-old Leander is an artistic prodigy or Dylan helped with the sign.
It only takes a second for Nerissa’s seven-year-old daughter, Cordelia, to descend the porch steps and present Coral with a specially made sign, reading WELCOME HOME CORAL in huge letters. “We made this for you.”
Coral looks like she doesn’t know whether to be charmed or horrified, but she accepts it. “Thank you.”
“Come on Delia,” says Murphy, Nerissa’s son. “She probably just wants to chill out. Let’s not bother her.”
Calder’s not watching the kids as they depart. He’s watching their newest victor, who gazes down at the sign like she’s having trouble deciphering what it means.
“There are kids here?” Coral asks.
“Not many, but yeah, we have a few. Nerissa and Dylan are our only parents so far.”
She shudders, as if she’s cold. “I’m never having kids.”
Calder shrugs. “That’s your decision to make.” He lets a pause linger before saying, “There’s not too much else to see. Nerissa’s working on getting a communal gym built, but it’s not done yet. Are you ready to see your house? I promise there won’t be any kids in there.”
He actually manages to coax a smile out of her. “Yeah, okay.”
46.
Dylan has no idea what he’s doing, which is a feeling he should be accustomed to by now.
He’s never mentored before, and for good reason; unlike Nerissa and Kai, he didn’t train at the Academy or volunteer. The Village’s newest addition, Calder, won the Games by doing both of those things. He killed with efficiency and charmed Capitol and district audiences alike. What could Dylan possibly have to offer him?
But tradition is tradition, and as the most recent victor before Calder’s win, it’s Dylan’s job to give him the tour.
“You probably know everyone already,” says Dylan as they enter the gate. If Calder has been attending the Academy since childhood, he must know Mags and Nerissa, and Kai mentored him.
“I don’t know you,” Calder points out.
“Oh, I don’t mentor or anything,” Dylan explains. “Never went to the Academy either, so I definitely can’t teach there like the others do.”
He hums in acknowledgement. “Yours are the first Games I remember where Four actually won.”
Dylan fights the urge to apologize. Nerissa would tell him that he has nothing to apologize for. “I know it wasn’t the most inspiring thing to watch,” he says, laughing a little.
“I think you were brave,” says Calder with a shrug. “Everyone thinks volunteering is brave, but when I volunteered, I didn’t even fully know what I was getting into. When you’re reaped, it’s a lot harder to fight your way out, especially without the training.”
“It’s hard no matter what,” says Dylan eventually, and they leave it at that.
When they walk through the gate, they’re equals.
38.
In getting Dylan out, Nerissa has set a record.
She has mentored a tribute to victory faster than either of District Four’s previous victors. And one who was reaped, no less. She can review all the data she wants, thanks to the Capitol’s recordkeeping. Sponsorship logs, interviews, the breakdown of the final eight tributes. But all she’s concerned about now is the boy standing next to her, one hand on the Village gate and one hand in hers.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” says Nerissa, once she knows Dylan won’t open the gate on his own. “We’re going to walk in. The other victors will welcome you, but we don’t have to stay and chat. I’ll show you to your new house, we’ll go inside, then we’ll decide what to do from there.”
Dylan inhales deeply. “Are you sure I belong here?”
“I’m sure,” says Nerissa, and he’s asked her this before but she’ll answer for as long as he needs to hear it. “Nobody in there cares whether you trained or not. Nobody cares how you grew up or what you did in the arena. We look out for each other here, no matter what.”
Dylan nods, reassured enough to open the gate. They’re greeted immediately by Mags and Kai on their porches. They each give Dylan a wave, and he waves hesitantly back, like he’s not sure they’re waving at him.
Nerissa will never tell Dylan that she asked her fellow victors to do that so he would feel supported upon entering the Village. Some things are only for the mentor to know.
30.
“Congratulations,” says Kai as he watches Nerissa take in the empty Village with hungry eyes. “I know it’s not much, but Mags says it’ll fill up.”
“You think all these houses will be full someday?” Nerissa asks.
“I don’t know,” Kai responds. “But we’re off to a good start.”
“Three victors in thirty-years?” she asks doubtfully. They climb the steps to her new house, right next to where Mags lives.
“It’s not just that,” he counters. It’s hard for the tributes to see it, but Four has been steadily doing better in the Games, even in the years they don’t pull a victor. “We’re sending in more volunteers. Our tributes are lasting longer. The sponsors are remembering us.”
Nerissa gazes out at the barren houses. “So how do we use all that to actually produce victors?”
“That’s for you to learn later,” Kai replies, opening Nerissa’s door. “Go get some sleep, kid.”
21.
“You live here alone?”
“Not anymore,” says Mags, leading Kai into Victor’s Village. It’s surreal to have somebody else around after ten years. He’s her first victor, the first indication that the training school she set up is actually doing anything to help the people of Four. To her, he’s something of a miracle.
“It’s so empty,” Kai marvels.
“It’ll fill up,” she replies. “Just wait. We have something going here, Kai. We can make a difference.”
“I hope you’re right,” he mutters. “Which house is mine?”
“You can pick any house you’d like,” says Mags. Kai stares down the street of barren houses, jaw clenched tight. Eventually he picks the one right across the street from her.
“Now you’re facing my front door,” he says. His mouth twitches into a smile.
“I’ll fight off any intruders before they ever reach your porch,” Mags promises.
11.
When she arrives back at the train station, depleted and empty, the Peacekeepers don’t take her home. Instead they take her to a neighborhood lined with big houses, six on each side, separated by a paved walkway.
One of the Peacekeepers swings open the gate. “Here you go. Take your pick.”
Mags blinks. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s your reward for winning,” says the Peacekeeper on her other side. “Pick any house you want. It’s not like you’re fighting anyone else for them.”
“What about Gillian?” asks Mags, once she’s recovered from her shock.
The Peacekeepers exchange glances. “Who?”
“The girl who won a few years ago.”
“Oh. Only victors from here on out get a house. President’s orders.”
Then they make their way back through the gate, leaving Mags in an empty neighborhood. She picks the first house on the left.