CHAPTER TWO

MAYSILEE

The inside of the Justice Building is probably one of the most decadent places I've ever been in. Rich velvets of deep burgundy and navy blue carpet the chairs and the floor. Absentmindedly I stroke the chair beneath me, feeling the velvet ripple under my palm. I don't know how long I've been doing this when Maybelle and Lillian burst into the room. Maybelle is sobbing as she rushes into my arms. Lillian quietly holds my hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Maybelle weeps into my shoulder. "I should have stepped forward, I should have volunteered."

Even in my numbness this shocks me, "No! I would have never expected you to," I say soothingly. "You're my sister, I need you alive."

This only elicits a wail from Maybelle, "But I need you alive too," she chokes.

"You're smart Maysilee," says Lillian quietly, "Maybe you can win." I nod slowly not really believing it. There's forty-eight of us this year.

"Yeah, maybe," I say weakly. "But just in case I don't… will you take Indigo?" I know how Maybelle hates him and I can't stand the thought of something so beautiful going to waste.

"Of course," she murmurs softly.

"I love you May," Maybelle tells me. I smile sadly. It's a joke we've had since we were little, because both our nicknames are May. I have to swallow the huge lump that's formed in the back of my throat before I can respond.

"I love you too May."

We hold each other until the Peacekeepers drag them out.

Minutes later my parents enter. My mother is only slightly more composed than Maybelle and my father looks as though he's aged 50 years.

"Oh Maysilee," my mother says, holding me and stroking my hair. For the first time I feel a sob break through my lips. I wonder if this will be the last time my mother ever holds me.

"I'm going to die," I tell her through tears.

She looks at me with an intense expression. "Maysilee Donner don't you give up. You don't know that," she says fiercely.

"Yes, I do. Everyone's bigger than me, stronger than me, faster than me. I have no special talents to speak of. I can't hunt or use a knife and I certainly can't kill anyone!" The second I say it I know it's true. I really am going to die – I'll be shocked if I make it past the Cornucopia.

"I want you to have this," she says pressing a gold pin into my palm. I stare at the ornament as it refracts light onto the wall. It's a circular pin with a small bird taking flight in the center.

"It looks like Indigo," I say softly.

"It's a mockingjay," my father says, speaking for the first time.

"It's been in our family for a very long time," my mother adds. She hesitates and lowers her voice so much even I struggle to hear her. "Before the Hunger Games even began." I gasp as I begin to understand the implication of her words. The pin she is giving me is not just a family heirloom but a token from…. the rebellion. All those years ago my family was on the fighting side of the revolution.

"It will give you strength," says my father. "The same strength our family had so many years ago."

"Thank you," I breathe, pushing back a wave of fresh tears.

"You were always my favourite," my father says softly.

I'm surprised, "Dad, you're not allowed to say that."

He gives me a gentle smile, "But it's true," he says kissing my forehead. Too soon the Peacekeepers come to take my parents away.

My mother throws me a backward glance, "Give them a good fight, Maysilee. It's in your blood." And with that they're gone.

HAYMITCH

"Well aren't you all in for a treat," chirps Eustacia Cashew excitedly. "You're very first time on a Capitol train!" And most likely our last, I think darkly. Just like the how the kiss I'd shared in the Justice Building with Grey had been our last. She had immediately buried her face in my chest and sobbed. For the entire visit she clung wordlessly to me, and when it was time for her to leave she kissed me sweetly and told me she loved me. My mind couldn't stop playing the endless loop of things I would never have again. Like the sight of Silver's eyes flashing when she'd done something mischievous. Sage's wise advice when I was having a bad day. Or my mothers smooth hand on my brow. I shake these thoughts from my head and try and ground myself in the present. It's dinnertime on the train and we've been provided with more food than I think I've ever even seen. Roasted duck in a rich brown sauce garnished with orange slices, thick creamy soups peppered with herbs, lavish desserts slathered in chocolate. I feel almost sick just looking at it.

Fir looks delighted and immediately loads his plate with a mountain of food. The dark haired tribute seems completely overcome with the sight of so much food she quickly digs in with her hands. Eustacia slaps her hand lightly, "Where are your manners Poppy! You are not an animal," she admonishes.

Poppy looks abashed, "Sorry," she says through a mouth full of food. This elicits another grimace from Eustacia.

"Honestly why do I even bother," she titters, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Here watch Maysilee – look at how she delicately holds her fork and knife." Maysilee turns bright red. From the look of her she's a merchants daughter, with her delicate blonde hair, round face and red cheeks it's unlikely she's ever missed a meal.

I feel a flash of irritation, "Yeah well some of us weren't born with silver spoons in our mouths," I say coldly. Blondie looks stung even though the dig was meant for Eustacia and I push away a small pang of guilt. From then on I make a show of spooning cranberry jelly and lemon chicken onto my plate with my hands.

"Honestly Haymitch," cries Eustacia in revulsion. The horror on Eustacia's face is so comical I even throw in a couple slurping noises. She lets out a disgusted snort and turns towards our mentor. "You have your work cut out for you I'll say!" she tells him. Not that our mentor is really listening. In all 50 years of the Hunger Games we've had exactly one victor. As victor of the 21st Hunger Games, Grandis Roxon had won before I was even born. His eyes gaze without really seeing and he regards Eustacia blankly. After a beat he simply nods at her and turns back to his dinner. His hands shake dangerously as he spears a piece of broccoli smothered in cheese.

"Morphling," I hear Fir whisper to Blondie. "He's addicted to morphling." Great, as if we didn't have it rough enough being from District Twelve our only mentor was a morphling addict. No wonder we never stood a chance, part of the game was racking up sponsors. Our mentor was too busy shooting up to help us out. From the baleful look on Maysilee's face she's thinking something similar.

Eustacia seems put out by our mentor and gives a loud sigh. No doubt she's frustrated being stuck with District Twelve. She's been our district escort for more than five years and I'm sure she thinks she deserves to be bumped up to a better district by now. She smoothes back a rogue orange curl on her forehead. "I should go double check our schedules for tomorrow. We want to make sure everything runs smoothly now don't we," she trills, excusing herself for the time being.

More likely she needed to adjust her make up and cry over her broken dream to become escort to one of the Career districts. I suddenly feel a deep disgust for this charade. The way they're bringing out dishes of deserts and decadent food like we should be celebrating the good fortune of being chosen to die. The whole thing is a circus.

I watch the raven-haired Avox serving our meal pour Grandis a glass of wine. I wave her over to me and lower my voice, "Listen, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed," I flash her a smile I hope is charming. "Do you have anything that might… ease the pressure," I ask gesturing to the bottle in her hand. She blushes but seems to pick up my hint. Moments later she's back with a bottle of wine and brandy, neither of which I've ever tasted. Back in the Seam brandy was used to dull the pain of injured men from mining accidents. Wine I'd only ever seen at weddings. I pour myself a glass anyways as if I've done so a hundred times. Blondie slips me a curious look before politely returning to her dinner. The taste of the wine is bitter but pleasant and it makes my brain feel like its been stuffed with cotton balls. I try the brandy and find while it's not as good as the wine it's much more effective.