A/N: So... I have exactly one review! Yay! *read with sarcasm* I uploaded this chapter anyway, though, because I finished it and I was tired of waiting for more reviews. And, plus, I figured that the first chapter sucked and that this one was better, so I thought that maybe if my story was more interesting, that people would review. Anyway, I got a Fictionpress account yesterday! It's the same pen name, same everything. I do have a story I would like to upload... should I? But, enough of my personal stuff, and on with the story!


I Get Some Strange Ideas

I remember starting slightly at the sound of the bell. About five minutes after the bell, the wall dissolves and we're let out to line up in front of our compartments. On either side of me are 14-C and 16-C. 14-C is my best friend ever, but 16-C is my worst enemy, besides the government. But don't you dare ever tell them that I said that, okay? 14-C turns her head ever so slightly in my direction and winks. I nod slightly back. 16-C, loner that she is, glares at me. She's just jealous that I have friends and she doesn't, most likely. The only person that 16-C is friends with are the Capitol. Ugh. Don't get me started on the Capitol. They're the ones behind this government. "So, young ladies, the Inspectors are coming tomorrow." The Knower says, strolling down our aisle. No one dares to groan out loud, but I die a little on the inside.

Every year, the Inspectors come to see how we're doing, and if we're growing up to be the "fine young ladies" that they want us to be. And every year, I barely survive. Literally. See, I think that the Inspectors have it in for me or something, because they have tried to convince everyone that I need to be executed every year. "Do you have a problem, 15-C?" The Knower stops her walking and stares me down. She also seems to hate me. It seems to me like the Knower can read my mind sometimes. "No, ma'am." I say, trying to sound respectful. Using sass on The Knower is bound for trouble. Once, a girl, 10-B (this was back when we were in the B group, the girls.) was told by The Knower, "I can tell that you're lying to me, vermin. Although I can see how it would be an easy mistake to make, because of my young appearance, I was not born yesterday." 10-B replied, "'Young appearance'? Could have fooled me." She was there when we all went to sleep that night, but when everyone woke up, her compartment was cleaned out and it looked like the vacant ones. No one was inside. 11-B, in the glass compartment next to 10-B, swore that in the middle of the night, she heard some footsteps coming towards her compartment, but they passed and entered the next one, number 10. (Which belongs to 10-B) Then, 11-B heard struggling, but whoever it was collapsed and was dragged out. She didn't dare lift her head to look; however it was might have wanted to get rid of any witnesses, too. When we we were on the yearly field trip on a tour of the district, we all saw a girl who 7-B, 10-B's best friend, swore to be 10-B. 7-B said she could tell because when they were little, 7-B and 10-B had made up a code, and sometimes they used it as a kind of a language. They had picked it up from Mary, one of the women who took care of us. She called it, "Pig-Latin." Anyway, 7-B said that 10-B had mouthed a phrase in Pig-Latin, which translated to, "They sold me to slavery. Warn the others." But, back to the present (present in the story, anyway.)

The Knower, after my response, narrowed her eyes and, after a moment, said, "Fine, but don't expect to be as lucky this year as you normally are, girl." And she continued down the aisles, repeating the message that the Inspectors were coming at every turn. I exhaled only after she was two rows way. 16-C was still smirking at me. She just soaks it up whenever I get told off. I exchange my signature, "Please," glance with 14-C. We still have to be lined up in front of our compartments. Wait... Where's Casey? Typically, Casey and the Knower stagger their starting times so that the Knower comes through, then a few rows later comes Casey. Needless to say, 16-C hates Casey. "So, you may break your lines now, and go to Dining Hall C. As you may have noticed, Casey will not be with us today, as she is out sick. We are, of course, trying to get her up to top-shape, but she seems to have a rare, uncommon disease. The previous inhabitants of Panem, the ones who called it North America, have documented this illness as "Small Pox." Typically contagious, you don't need to worry, as we have her in confinement so as not to start an epidemic. Certified doctors from the Capitol are on their way now; they will arrive around tomorrow, with the Inspectors." Immediately, I began to worry. "Small Pox"? What's Small Pox? I, along with everyone else, make my way to Dining Hall C. 14-C comes up to me and asks, "Do you have any idea what Small Pox is?" I answer no. After a short pause, 14-C says, "I hope that you get through this Inspection unscathed. It would be hard to have to find another best friend in this place." She jokes. I just nod. As we make our way out the door in the back of the room, and down the twisting, concrete hallway, 16-C comes up to me, accompanied by 17-C and 18-C, her two lackeys that have, as far as I know, only started following 16-C around because they're scared of her. "So...if it isn't Little Miss Rebellious. Always has to have her way, always has to command her amount of respect, and always has to be saved from Inspection by Casey." My cheeks burn as I remember the events that 16-C is referring too. The first, when I insisted on getting my way over something stupid – in my defense, I was little. The second, when I – because of a dare, mind – managed to convince 17-C and 18-C that I was descended from royalty, a great-great-great times a million granddaughter of one of those Queens from before Panem. I think I used Queen Elizabeth's name. The third event was last year, when Casey somehow managed to beg for my life when the Inspectors were taunting me, and singing 16-C's praises. I look down at the floor, wishing that I hadn't put my ribbon in just yet, so that my hair would cover the fiery-red on my pale skin. 16-C sneers and flounces away, with 17-C and 18-C following her like lost little puppies. "Why do you let her embarrass you like that? No one else cares about what happened those times, except for you. It only matters to her because it bothers you. If you stop giving her a reaction, she'll leave you alone." 14-C says sagely. "I-I don't know why." I confess, still stung by 16-C's words. "I guess... I mean, she – and the stuff she talks about – don't bother me when she's not around, but when she brings stuff up right in front of me, I just – freeze up." "So you'd prefer it if she talks about these things behind your back?" 14-C counters. "What you need to do is stop giving her things to taunt you with." "Really? Well, 14-C, I'm not as perfect as you are. Who do you think you are, anyway, trying to act all high-and-mighty, giving me advice about how to stand up to 16-C after the fact, but whenever she's around, you don't say a word in my defense? Hmm?" I snap. Suddenly, 14-C is bugging me. I don't know why. "Hypocrite. That's exactly the sort of thing we're talking about with you. And, anyway, how do you except to ever learn to take care of yourself, when I keep doing it for you? Hmm?" She mocks. "Besides, what I meant was not to not make mistakes, but to not let them bother you. Just let it side right off." "It's not that easy, 14-C! What if I just told you to suck it up and to stop being terrified of the outside? What's that called, anyway? Agoraphobia? You can't just wake up one day and say to yourself, 'Oh, I'm not going to let this bother me anymore!' and except it to stop bothering you – just like that!" I shot back. "Well, if you can't get over it all together, then at least, in front of 16-C, pretend that it doesn't bother you." 14-C says reasonably. We walk in silence the rest of the way through the tunnel, her slightly offended, me silently fuming.

At the Dining Hall, I plunk down at a table next to 14-C. I notice that 16-C, 17-C, and 18-C are scurrying from table to table, gossiping to all who will listen. God, doesn't she have anything better to do? "So... Where do you think we're going today?" 14-C asks as an attempt to break the ice. Once a month this year, we go on a field trip to one of the Districts. The order is different every time, but sometimes you can guess it. "Maybe... District 11? We haven't gone there this year." "Ooh, I hope so! I'd love to go see the fields and the fresh air and the farms, and meet some of the farmers, and..." 14-C continues to ramble on. She loves farming and agriculture and such, but it's a shame that she can never try it. Once, she put a few handfuls of dirt into her pocket and brought it back to her compartment, hiding it under her sleeping bag. Then, when they served us apples, she kept one of the seeds, planting it into her little pile of dirt, in a cup she had smuggled back from the Dinging Hall. Every day she would bring some water back for it, and eventually she had a green sprout, about 5 inches high. This made it harder to hide, and when Casey came by during rounds, she gave 14-C a warning look and mouthed, "They're not going to like that." Then, when the Knower came by, she started making fun of 14-C and generally yelling at her. 14-C didn't get any food for two days after that, but I would always save a little for her.

Actually, we did end up going to District 11, but it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. The people there were half-starved, like at home. I remember being surprised at that, because if they grow food, shouldn't they be fat and happy? My confusion was answered when the Knower insisted that we watch a whipping, and before hand, the Mayor read off the charges, "This farm-hand, Sprout Greenfield, was caught both smuggling and eating plums, peaches, grapes, apples, and a variety of fruits and vegetables, and also wheat. It is known that he is only a small link in a bigger circle to get food to various families in this district, but the other people involved are unknown, as Greenfield refuses to speak, or to defend himself. This monstrosity will be quelled and put to an end. These greedy people who are already very lucky need to be punished. Let Sprout Greenfield be an example of how we will punish the others." Then the whipping started. The Knower, 16-C, 17-C, 18-C, the Mayor, and all peace-keepers attending were – not literally, as we weren't sitting – on the edges of their seats, drinking it up. The citizens of District 11 in general looked uncomfortable, but no one did anything. I, 14-C, Casey, and a few others looked away. Throughout the whipping, Sprout never made a sound, until they were taking him away. Then he lifted his face to the onlookers, and said, "Is feeding starving people a crime? Is punishing people who are trying to do good in a world of evil a crime? Here is a message to my accomplices; 'Do not be discouraged. Continue with your defiance. Banish your cowardice.'" Sprout looked like he was going to say more, but the peace-keepers responsible for transporting him hit Greenfield on the jaw, and the sharp twist of his head caused by it knocked him out. The Knower, and everyone else who was excited about the whipping now looked a little off-putted after Sprout Greenfield spoke. Then one of the peace-keepers shouted, "He's got no pulse!" Another said, "The blow with the whipping musta done 'im in. Combonation, ya know?" A boy in the crowd cried out, "No!" And another person told him, "I'm so sorry about your father." Oh. So the boy, around 7-ish, was Sprout's son. The peace-keepers were arguing now, trying to pin the blame on each other. Apparently, Greenfield wasn't supposted to die, just be tourtured, and then interrigated some more. No... wait,... "They're trying to claim the blame!" I gasped. Beside me, 14-C nodded. "They think it's an hounr, killing a man." She said disgustedly. The Knower looked overjoyed, ang the Head Peace-keeper stepped forward and said, "Let that be a message to all of you." I thought about Sprout's last words. Do not be discouraged. Continue with your defiance. Banish your cowardice. Those were pretty good last words. They meant something. Oh, yes, that sent a message, all right, Head Peace-keeper. Just not in the way you want.


So... 15-C is getting some rebellious ideas... but she's not quite sure what to do with them yet. Same review rules as last chapter, and the various prizes as mentioned last chapter are still hiding as a review button! Tell me which one you picked to see the button as in your review, please!

Till the Kitchen Sinks,

Proud Voracious Reader

a.k.a

Cami (no, that's not my real name.)