A/N: It's been awhile. For this reason, I will shut up and go ahead and let you read.

Chapter Four

Once we had stepped on the train, the girls and Icarius were dumbfounded by the elegance of it. Of course, I was too but I refused to practically drool over the sparkling chandeliers and velvet furniture. While it was very nice, it was not built for four tributes plus their escort and mentor so Sierra and Maysilee had to share a room. So did me and Icarius, who has corrected me every time I call him that, saying that he likes to be called "Ic." It fits him very well.

"And whenever I'm crowned victor, I'm going to be so rich, I'm going to laugh in the face of every single kid who has ever made fun of me," he babbles on even though I have not responded once since we came to explore the room.

I sigh and turn to him. I point to my face. "Okay, 'Ic,'" I begin, getting his attention. "Do you see this?"

He squints his eyes as if examing it closely. Then, they widen and I can tell he is trying to surpress a grin. "Yeah," he says, flopping down on a bed. "Looks pretty ugly if you ask me."

I mentally roll my eyes and continue as if I didn't hear him. "Well, this is my not caring face," I tell him harshly, hoping to pound it into his mind. "Whenever you see this face, that means don't talk to me, don't mess with me, don't even look at me because I am not in the mood."

He shakes his head and our similar grey eyes meet, his a little darker than mine. "But, Mitchy, that's the face you wear all the time. Doesn't suit you very much."

I clench my fists to restrain myself from punching him (preferably in the face). "Rule number two," I say slowly as if he's stupid, "no stupid nicknames. Not Mitchy, Hay, Hay of Mitch, or anything of the like. Do we have an understanding?"

He snorts and stands up. "Yes, Father," he says sarcastically. He pushes past me into the bathroom. "I'll see you at supper." As he closes the door, I vaguely hear him mumble, "Fun-wrecker."

I let out a huff and stomp out of the room into the hallway. As I start walking, I almost collide with someone as they step out of their room. I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh frustratedly. "Watch where you're going," I growl, the stress starting to get to me. I look down to see who it is and see Maysilee looking at her shoes sheepishly.

"Sorry, Haymitch," she mumbles, fingers fumbling with fringe of her dress. "I'll get out of your way."

I grab her by the arm. "No, I'm sorry," I say, hating the feeling because I never apologize. "I'm just frustrated. You know..." I trail off, unsure of what to say next.

She nods slightly. "Yeah," she says. "I know." We begin to walk, both seeming to have no set destination. I watch out the window as everything zips by, my eyes barely able to register it since the train is going about two hundred miles per hour. "How's Icarius holding?" Maysilee asks me, looking up at me calmly.

I keep myself from hissing in a breath and shrug. "Fine, surpisingly. Almost happy," I tell her cautiously. "Like he wants to be here or something. What about the other girl? Sierra, right?"

"Yeah. Sierra. That's right. Not so good. She hasn't said a word since we stepped on the train. Won't talk, won't stop crying, won't even look at me." She scratches her hand as if out of habit. "Poor girl. She's only twelve. I just hope she'll pull up a bit before we make it to the arena."

I nod, knowing what she meant, hoping that maybe a twelve-year-old would be able to go home this year. It didn't seem likely. Especially not with the number of Careers in the arena this year. In fact, there wasn't much of a chance any of us from Twelve would make it. I stare out the windows as we pass them, my mind worlds away, in District Twelve with Annalee, her lips brushing mine tauntingly, with Jacks and the late night wrestling matches we would despite our mother's protest... my mother, the sensation of her fingers tugging through my hair though usually the only time I allowed her to do it is whenever she would cut it and would never admit that I enjoyed the feeling because everyone thinks that I'm Haymitch Abernathy, emotionless young man with no tolerance for affection.

Maysilee, however, did not seem to get that vibe. She touches my arm lightly. I yank it away automatically, feeling a bit guilty after I did. "Haymitch," she says quietly, not flirtatiously like most girls, "what are you thinking about?" Her blue eyes are wide, friendly, and trusting as they search my face for some sort of fault, some weakness.

I shrug one shoulder and run a hand through my hair. "Strategies," I lie smoothly. "Ways to stay alive during the Games. Because God knows that the old mentor won't be of much help."

She nods, agreeing with me. District Twelve's only victor was not completely sane. Nigel had been fifteen when he won the third Hunger Games, making him the youngest victor so far. I have never met him, just seen him at the Reapings, but everyone tells me that he has become mute since his victory and whenever he is seated on the stage in the middle of District Twelve, he just sits quietly in his seat, staring into the distance, a blank look on his face as if he is daydreaming the whole time or has literally fallen asleep with his eyes open.

"I think that you could teach us, though," she says, now staring out the window, her eyes darting to register every little thing. "I mean, you seem smart, is what I'm saying. And in school you never talked hardly, but would correct a teacher in a heart beat." The corners of her lips pulled up a bit as mine did. "You're such a smart-aleck, Haymitch. But the key word there is smart. And surely, you know a thing or two about plants and growing food. Isn't your mother the one who plants the garden every year and sells her plants to the citizens."

I sigh and lean back against the wall. "Well, it's not the getting the seed part that's hard. It's getting it grown that's the hard part what with our limited resources. We can't afford fertilizer, plant food, water in the dry season, fencing to keep the animals out. So if we don't have it in District Twelve, I highly doubt that there's going to be plant seeds lying around the Cornucopia with a shovel and hoe for me to plant them with. I'll just have to do with what resources there are waiting for us." I scoff a little at a thought that I had. "I mean, it's not like they're going poison everything, right? What fun would it be to watch all the tributes die of a self-induced poisoning, starvation, or thirst? No. What they want to see is all of us killing each other." I shake my head, pushing the hair on my forehead back just to have it fall back in place. "So my 'gardening skills' will be completely futile in there."

She takes a deep breath, fingering the light gold mockingjay pin on her dress. "I just we all come out okay," she says, doubt in her voice. "But that's not going to be the case, I guess."

I shrug. "Maybe one day someone will change all that. Maybe someone will be brave enough to stand up and say, 'I'm not killing these people. I'm letting all of us live.'"

She smiles a bit, her eyes distance and soft, glazing over with a new sheen of tears. "We can only hope, can't we?" she says almost to herself before lightly brushing past me, her hand lingering on my shoulder before sliding off, leaving a bit of warmth there.

A/N: I know, I know! You're all mad at me because it's been so long! Well, here's Chapter Four! I was stuck for a while! But don't blame me! I haven't read the books in a while and I need reference! My friend STILL has my copy of Catching Fire, and the last time I asked her about it she said, "It's on my floor," and then ran away and hid before I had the chance to yell at her. This may be because she is a ginger (not RM for those of you who know about her [I seem to have a lot of ginger friends]). So it's quite hard for me to write this without some kind of direct reference for the story. So it will probably take me a while until she decides she's finished with it and that it is not her book and I get it back.
But anyway... I also wrote a new Twilight fanfic... Please don't kill me! Yes, I do like Twilight! It's a good story, whether you think so or not! It's called Caged Bird's Melody. So for those of you who aren't completely revolted by the beautiful romance story of a vampire and a human, go check it out! Also, I will try to get The Next Generation updated.
And please don't forget to review!

-AGEless :)