'Ello, 'ello. I am here again. Thank you, thank you, too kind, too kind. ...I really don't have anything to say here. Hmn.
District 7
Tyler POV
Why can't I ever catch a break? I've stumbled through and tripped over pretty much everything in my life, both metaphol...metaphorac...whatever, and literally. And now I'm in the GAMES? WHY, MAN WHY? WHAT DO YOU HAVE AGAINST ME, LIFE, HUH? WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU? Man, life's not fair...nor was having to say goodbye to...my parents...I'm getting choked up just thinking about it!
The train is pretty cool though. I've only tripped over the doorstep, the rug, the piano, and that tiny crack in the floor! That's a record low of how many times I've tripped in one day! Woo! Hopefully I can keep that streak up...I mean...I don't want to die during the Games because I tripped over a pebble. Eeeeek...that would be horrifyingly embarassing...and I'd be dead. Yeah, that's bad too. I'm gonna have to do some exercises to prevent myself from screwing up. Okay! I can do this! I'd be unstoppable if I didn't have that tripping problem, AND I'M GONNA WIN! YEAH!
Or...or not...maybe...probably...okay, most likely. And I'm feeling really miserable about that...but...I have to win. I have to win for my family. They're rooting for me, even though the odds are against me. I can still do this...I just need to be smart about this. I'm gonna need a pen to write all this stuff down. Okay, what can I do to win...uh...um...eh...I could...um...
...
I dunno.
"Stupid! Stupid!" I smack my hand against my forehead each time I say the word.
"What's wrong?" Bridgette's concerned voice comes from the other side of the aisle. I sigh.
"I just don't know what to do! Man, I already have a bruise on my face and knees, and I'll probably just end up slicing my own head off in the Arena!"
Bridgette stands and sits down across from me. The makeup from the Reaping has been washed off her face, and she looks...normal. Calm. "Well, I'm not expecting to win, Tyler. I hope to go out dignified, without having murdered anyone for the Capitol's gain."
I sigh wearily. "How can you be so...accepting of it, though? Don't you want to try to win?"
"I'll survive as long as I can without killing anyone else. And I hope to convince some people that the Games are not the right thing to do. I'd be satisfied with convincing even just one person in the Capitol." She shrugs.
I nod. "Man...I wasn't even thinking about that...I was kinda just concerned with how I was going to win. I mean...I don't want to die."
"None do."
"Good point."
I try to relax my posture. "That's better," Bridgette smiles warmly. "Just relax. Go down fighting if you can, but would you rather die miserable or as a hero?"
"Uh, hero, I guess." I scratch the back of my head uncertainly. "But...how do I do that?"
Bridgette is about to respond when the compartment door opens. A slim, young man with curly brown hair and a narrow face strolls in. "Um...hi. Your mentor, at your service."
"You're our mentor?" I ask, but it must have sounded rude because Bridgette glares at me.
"I'm...the only qualified victor from District 7."
"What do you mean the only 'qualified' victor?" Bridgette asks, raising an eyebrow.
"The only two other victors we've ever had are both addicted to morphine."
The two of us nod, now understanding. He leans towards us. "I still have hope in the District. Although, I must stress that that, given time, I could end up as pitiful as they."
We're not really sure how to react to that statement. He leans forward. "I hope to see one of you as a fellow victor. But you need to remain strong. Sometimes I wonder whether or not I got the better end of the deal with the Games...it might have been better just to die."
"We'll do what we can," Bridgette says comfortingly.
He nods. "Okay. First things first. What are each of your strengths?"
"Nature. I can determine which plants are edible and I'm excellent at camouflage," Bridgette says easily.
"Um..." I scratch the back of my head uncertainly. "My strength, I guess."
"Okay..." our mentor says, leaning back and crossing his legs. "What about weaknesses?"
"I'm a pacifist," Bridgette replies.
"I'm clumsy," I admit.
Our mentor nods. "Okay...let us see, let us see...we'll be training some in the capital. I just need to evaluate you two, see what you need to improve on and what your strengths are. Most importantly, you need to get people to like you. What are your positive traits?"
Bridgette shrugs. "I try to be nice to everyone."
I furrow my eyebrows in thought. "I'm very enthusiastic," I say finally.
"Negative traits?"
"I'm a pacifist."
"I'm clumsy."
"Right." Our mentor sighs. "I'm not going to promise you you're going to make it home. But it's my job to help get you home, and that's exactly what I plan to do. Just...enjoy yourselves, okay?" He sighs, and mutters something under his breath that I can't hear, and he exits the room.
"What do you think of him?" Bridgette inquires.
I shrug. "He seems kinda...calm for a guy who won the Games."
"It could be a facade."
"...what's a facade?"
"Oh, a mask." She smiles. "Sorry."
"It's all good. I'm gonna run around a little bit. I'm getting bored."
"Are you sure that's a good-" Bridgette begins as I start running down the hallway, and trip over a newly cleaned mahogany floor, landing on my face.
"I'm okay! I'm okay!" I quickly get up and continue running.
District 8
Sadie POV
I whimper to myself, lying on the couch. The train gently rocks me, and every time I go to sleep I either dream about the Arena or my mom and dad. Like, why? Why did I have to be chosen? I...I've always been the fat, unattractive one, right? How...how can I win? Expecially if I'm in District 8? Like...it's just so...unfair! Like, I know people say life's not fair, but...why can't we try to make it that way? Like, they're all hypocrites! But no one can do anything about it, I guess.
Geoff brings in a plate with a triangular food on it. "Hey, Sadie, brought you this. It's really good. Apparently it's called 'pizza.' Try it!"
"Thanks, Geoff," I sigh. I take the food and snarf it down quickly. Wow...it's really good...but kind of greasy, too. Well, who am I to complain?
"Did you like it?" he asks, sounding unsure of himself. I nod.
"Yeah, thanks for trying to make me feel better," I say, trying to smile for him. He's just such a good-natured guy...he was like, really sad when he got called, and it's possible his niceness might be partly to make himself feel better, as well as me. Like, I don't mean that in a selfish "make himself feel better" kind of way, but yeah, it's nice that he's trying.
"You're welcome." He laughs weakly, trying to keep a smile on his face. It doesn't work, but I don't tell him that. It would only make him feel worse.
"So..." I begin, trying to think of something to talk about. "What do you think the Capitol's gonna be like?"
"Well..." Geoff scrunches his eyebrows and scratches his chin, obviously in deep though. "I think that if it's anything like this train, it's gonna be awesome." He doesn't mention what happens after we have our stay in the Capitol.
I nod. "There's all this amazing food and drinks...I...I...we never had any of this in the District. It just seems so...uh, I dunno..."
"Strange?"
"Yeah, I guess that's a way of saying it. I mean, like, they have this stuff every day?"
Geoff shrugs. "It is weird to think about, but yeah. These guys live awesome lives." His face darkens a bit. "But I wouldn't want to be someone who watches twenty-four kids kill each other for entertainment. Man, it's so pretty...but so messed up."
"Like, it's been twenty-three years. It all started, like, seven years before we were born. It's really weird to think about," I say, nodding.
Geoff puts a hand to his forehead. "I...I don't really know, man. I'm not gonna live. And I really don't want to kill anyone. But, I'm thinking I'm not going to talk to any of the other tributes. I'd just end up liking them, and then I'd have to kill them...if I even survive the Bloodbath, that is."
"I don't know what to do, either," I whimper. "Nobody would want to ally with the fat girl."
Geoff leans over and comforts me. "That's not true! You're cool, and I think that if you tried, you could go far with the right alliance member."
"With the right alliance member?!" I ask, enraged. "You're saying I couldn't do it on my own?"
Geoff backs away. "No no, that's not what I-"
"Think I couldn't win without someone helping me get there, do you? Is that it, Geoff? Is that what you think?"
"Sadie, calm down," he says in this really irritating calm voice, holding his hands out in front of him.
"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! I'M PERFECTLY CALM!" I start crying again, lying down on the couch. Geoff sits there awkwardly, not really sure what to do. I wipe a tear from my eye and look at him. "Sorry, Geoff...I didn't mean to snap at you like that. You okay?"
"I...I'm good," he says, sounding a little choked up. "It's okay, I understand the yelling...I've yelled a lot today, at the Capitol, at the sky, at my parents...I dunno, man, something about the Games brings out the worst in us."
I clench my fists. "It sucks, that's for sure. But...I dunno. Do you think we'll be liked?"
"Of course!" He grins in that false way he uses to try to make me feel better. "I try to be nice to everyone, and you're nice too. I think we'll be fine until...until...you know."
I sigh wearily. "I think I'm going to go to sleep. Early. Where's the mentor again?"
"I think she doesn't even care about us and isn't trying."
"Oh. That's rude!"
"And potentially deadly," Geoff groans. "Everyone else but District 12 is going to get a mentor. Man, poor District 12! They've never had a victor before. Tough luck!"
I nod in agreement. "Yeah, it's pretty bizarre...I'm gonna go now. Thanks for talking, Geoff. I hope you win."
"Don't say that," he says, dead serious. "Don't say that, ever. Just try to come out on top. Don't feel like I deserve to win more than you. Be...a little selfish here, okay?" He smiles reassuringly.
"Yeah, okay Geoff," I say finally. I stand and walk to my bed, promptly lie down and fall asleep.
District 9
Gwen POV
I scowl. And not just my usual, innate scowl that I use to frighten away people who get too close. No, this scowl is a certified death glare. Anyone who comes near me is dead. Trent, our mentor, the waiters, that stupid fucking escort, they'll all get my temper if they don't just leave me in fucking peace. One of them had the audacity to joke that my temper about being thrown in the Games would make me win just by throttling all the other tributes' necks.
...but they may not be too far off. I hate everyone right now, except for my parents, and my brother. Trent...I hate him now. I hate him because I'm going to have to kill him in order to survive, or at least watch him die. He's been fucking miserable ever since his name was called, and hasn't been able to talk to me. The only time I've seen him on the train his eyes have been bloodshot from crying, and he quickly turned tail and fled. I sit, alone, in isolation, no one daring to even come near me.
And I'm okay with that.
They disgust me. The Capitol disgusts me. The Gamemakers disgust me. The President disgusts me. The Careers disgust me. They all think of this as a game, when it's fucking hell. I've been described as "badass" or "hardcore" by some of my friends, but as soon as I got picked for the Games, they lose all faith in me and my "badassery."
But...I've kind of lost faith too. I've trained in fighting, illegally, I might add, just in case. But no amount of training could have prepared me for the Games, especially with the Peacekeepers breathing down my back. My life was hard enough as it was, and now I get chosen for the fucking Games! What kind of bullshit is this? My family is miserable right now, and they're treating us like Reality TV stars! How the hell does that make sense? What kind of people could watch the Games with a clear conscience?
The door opens, and Trent enters, eyes still bloodshot. He's trembling. I almost decide to glare at him again, just to make him go away...but I decide not to. He falls into the chair opposite me, hand resting on his chin. There's silence between us for some time, the only noise being the rocking of the train. Neither of us can meet the other's eyes. I know he likes me, er, liked me. It's always been obvious who he was crushing on.
But I've never honestly been sure what my opinion of him was, and I certainly can't afford to get attached now. A couple in the Games?...terrible idea. It would never work.
The uncomfortable silence between us is broken by the sound of the door opening again. Billy, our escort, walks in in a surprisingly understated manner, sitting down between us.
"Your mentor is currently preoccupied. And by that I mean he vomited up his meal," Billy says calmly, kicking his legs back. "Also, he's intoxicated. So there's that." He plucks a marshmallow off a plate and chews it slowly.
"So?" I ask, voice biting and caustic.
"He asked me to relay some advice to you." Billy monotones. "First off, he'd like you to stop brooding."
"Him and everyone else on this train."
Billy shrugs. "Touche. But seriously. He says that..." He pulls out a notebook. "...that behaving in a sulky manner will only push away sponsors and allies. I quote. His exact words."
I clench my fists. "Has something about my behavior just screamed wanting sponsors? Or friends, for that matter?"
"Well," he yawns, "if you expect to survive-"
"I don't expect to survive this!" I shout, slamming my hands on the table. "I'm fucking toast! I'm dead! There's no way I'm getting out of this hellhole alive!"
"Certainly not with that attitude," he deadpans, and leans forward. Trent looks around uncomfortably, scratching his arm. Billy turns to him.
"Sorry, Trent. Perhaps we could talk privately?"
Trent shakes his head no. Billy sighs. "Alright. Can you leave so I can talk to the lady."
He sighs. "Fine." He stands and stiffly marches out of the room. Billy narrows his eyes and turns to me.
"I'm sympathetic towards your situation."
For once, I'm speechless. "Really?" I scoff. "You're sympathetic? Wow. Guess your heart isn't black, cold, and shriveled after all."
"Nor is yours," he replies coolly. "I can't do anything about it just yet. I have friends, though. Important friends. I can't guarantee your total safety, but I can definitely make it easier for you and Trent. Now, your mentor would not approve of this. And I will understand if you decline."
"Would you...really...there'd be nothing in return?"
He shrugs. "I don't work that way."
"But...why? Why would you do this?"
"We don't agree with Panem," he says simply. "With any luck, given years, decades, our sympathetic movement will grow inside the Capitol, and then we will perform our coup. Our leader-" He stops, apparently catching himself. "I've said too much. Will you take the deal?"
I glare at him. "This isn't about me. This isn't about sympathizing with me. This is about your own interest. You'd just as soon kill me, escort."
He sighs. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He stands, and throws the notebook down onto the table. "So long. Oh, and don't tell anyone about this. Kay?" He exits, and I slump, pondering the information he gave me. He wants to...help me, huh? How bizarre...and this movement...where are they? Who are they?
What is going on here?
District 10
Ezekiel POV
Well, this pretty much sucks. I've lived my whole life in the livestock district. I'm just a poor boy from a poor family, this ain't fair. I always thought I'd live to be really old, and be able to pass on all the wisdom I've collected over the years. And now...I'm in the Games. I'm not strong. I'm...kinda smart. I think. Possibly. I dunno, man, but this sucks. I've never learned how to use a weapon before? Apart from gutting livestock, that is. I don't really think gutting people is the same. God, I hope not.
What also sucks is that we're one of two Districts to never have won the Games before. Poor District 12, man...sucks to be them. Sucks to be us too, really. We have no support, no help. Just ourselves, and whoever is willing to help us. Do we get a mentor that didn't compete in the Games? It would be unfair if we had to go in there alone. Then again, Careers train even though it's SUPPOSED to be illegal. I...I miss my dad...my mom...my cat...
I'm not gonna make it. I'm not gonna make it. Nope, nope, nada. No way...oh, God, why do I keep doing this to myself? Why do I only make things worse when I think about this? This...this train is so pretty, so...nice, but I'm terrified out of my wits. Beth is terrified out of her wits. WE'RE ALL TERRIFIED OUT OF OUR WITS, EH? Man...it just sucks. I already said that. Heh heh heh...heh...heh. I'm not funny. One bit. Heh heh...no. Am I okay right now? Eh, probably not...completely stable.
I stand, walking over to the food. That should distract me, I guess. I move over, looking for something that looks good. Plenty of it looks amazing, but I'm not entirely sure...hmn, there's some steak. So that's where all that cow meat goes...mmn, looks good. Some pork. Meh. Mashed potatoes. This weird sauce thing. I pick up a fluffy bread roll, and eat it. Oh my God...that is amazing. I take about five of them. I've never had bread this good before! The few times I've ever had bread it's been cold and stale.
I grab some steak, more rolls, and salad, and start eating. Wow...if I'd had food this good at home, I'd be fat right now! I chomp, slurp, snarf it all down. One of the waiters looks disgusted, and I grin at her, lettuce in my teeth. I continue eating like an animal, and Beth walks in, sniffling, and eyes bloodshot. I don't care about table manners in front of Capitol people, but in front of people from my own district, I'm a bit meeker. More sensitive. I wipe my mouth with a napkin and eat more normally.
"Hey Zeke," she says weakly, sitting down and taking a bite out of a roll.
"Hi," I say with my mouth full, waving at her. I swallow. "Hi," I say again.
She sighs. "You like the food?"
"Yeah, eh! It's awesome! You should try some."
She takes another bite of a roll. "I just did. Not feeling any better...I miss Bertha."
"Who's Bertha?"
"My pig."
"Ohhhh," I say, nodding and grinning. I don't know Beth that well. Nice, I guess, but we weren't really good friends. I feel bad for her, though.
She half smiles, and takes another bite. "I-I'm sorry, it's just...this is all a lot to take in, and I-I miss my parents, a-and my pig, a-and...a-and..." She starts sniffling and I sit there awkwardly, steak juice running down my shirt.
"Um, there there?" I say confusedly, hesitantly patting her on the shoulder. "Am I doing this right?"
"You're fine."
"Oh, okay, good." I sigh in relief, and sit back. "I was getting kinda worried there, I don't really know how to comfort people."
She shrugs. "It's okay. Aren't...aren't you scared right now?"
"Are you kidding?" I try to shout, but my voice cracks while I'm talking. "I'm terrified!"
She giggles out of nervousness. "Aren't you miserable?"
"Yeah, that too, eh."
She tears up again. "I'm miserable. I'm going to die...I'm going to die without seeing my family again."
"Um...I don't know what to say to that."
She sighs again. "I'm sorry, Zeke. It's just...I...I dunno. I feel kind of empty, hollow, you know?"
I nod in agreement. "Like I'm not here. And this isn't happening. Right?"
She nods. "Yeah...it doesn't feel real. It feels like a dream, and I'll just wake up, and poof, everything will be better...I know that's not true though. I'm doomed."
"Well, this may not be a dream, eh," I say, trying to sound comforting. "But you aren't doomed yet. Only if you say you are."
She smiles. "That's surprisingly...deep. Thanks."
"Any time." I try to smile, but I don't really know if it works. And I can still feel lettuce in my teeth. So there's that. Beth stands and takes some food. She leaves, leaving me to me, myself, and I. And my thoughts. I'm going to die...I gulp, shivering and whimpering. We're screwed (am I using this word in the correct context?) no matter what we do. I'm dead...I'm dead...I'm dead. So is Beth, although I won't let her know that. There's no way I'm going to live...
...oh God, why do I do this to myself?
Well, it's not me. It's the Capitol, all the way.
District 11
DJ POV
Two sides of me are conflicting right now. There's the noble side that volunteered in the place of that poor, poor toothpick kid, Cameron. Then, there's the side that wants to remain with my mama, just stay home and not have to worry about the Games, not have to worry about leaving her. I feel like I should be...confident that I did the right thing. But I'm not too sure if I made a noble sacrifice, or just threw my life away. Maybe...there's no difference. Just maybe.
I rub the scar on my arm from when I tried to stop a six-year old boy from being whipped. I've always tried to help people as much as I could in the tightly controlled District 11. Any form of rebellion will get you whipped. I've been whipped three times. I'm kind of considered a threat. It sickens me that I have to keep my head low when other people are in pain. I guess that's what I get for being born in District 11...I sigh, holding my head in my hands. Stupid, stupid...
I...I have a chance of winning. I'm strong. I'm fast. All from years of working, laboring. But...I couldn't hurt anyone. I had a dream last night, a nightmare, really. I was in the Games. But I wasn't dying...I was winning. I beat in a tribute's skull, and then stabbed him in the chest. It was...very vivid...I don't want to become that! I don't want to become a monster! Not even to win. I am only here to save Cameron...I am fully prepared to die. I will not submit.
I pop a marshmallow in my mouth. These things...they are amazing. Unlike anything they ever give us in District 11. Sometimes I wonder whether our district was the worst off, whether the others are any better. They never let us know what the other districts are like. I know why. To keep us separated. To keep us isolated, alone, disconnected. Maybe I'm waxing philosophical, maybe I should be more concerned about my probable death. Yet...strangely...I don't feel too afraid. Just confused. I did the right thing, right? I'm here...and I have a chance of winning. Right?
Leshawna enters the room, looking enraged as usual. Her face seems to lighten up a little bit as she sits down, but places a hand to her stomach, as if she's feeling queasy. "Hey DJ."
"What's going on, Leshawna?" I wave to her, smiling.
"I...I dunno. I'm scared...scared about what's going to happen. But I know that I'm not gonna let them just run me over."
I sigh. "My mama was confused about my decision. Said that she'd never thought I'd be self-righteous enough to give my life away."
She winces. "And how did you respond?"
"I hugged her," I whimper, starting to tear up. "And told her that if I won, she'd never have to work again...and that I'd win, not just for her, but for our whole district, for Cameron."
She looks strangely...guilty. "I...I've never thought about winning this for the district. Just for myself. How would you win...for the district?"
"I'd do my best from the Victor's Village to help the others out in any way I possibly can," I say simply.
It's quiet for a time, and after about thirty seconds Leshawna responds. "Does it seem weird to you that at least one of us is going to die in a week?"
I wait a couple of seconds before responding. "Yes. And in case I die..." I hold out my hand for her to shake. "I wish you well."
She tears up. Not like the sassy, attitude-filled Leshawna I knew in the district. "Thanks, DJ. I wish you well too." We shake hands, and we sit back. The silence lies between us once again. The train bumps slightly.
"What do you think about all this food? This luxury the Capitol has every day of their lives...it just seems strange to me, you know?" I ask her, trying to keep conversation up so I don't think about Mama.
"It sickens me," she declares confidently, much to my shock and surprise.
"Why?"
"They live like this, while we live in poverty and desolation? Hell, I've got scars from trying to find stale bread, and I know you have some scars too, DJ. And they've been living like this all this time...like I said, it sickens me."
"I...I understand that. But I don't hate them. It's all they know. I only hate the ones who made them so ignorant and shallow."
"You mean the President?"
"Yes...I guess I do hate him. Weird. I don't think I've ever really hated anybody before. Not even the Peacekeepers."
She laughs. "I guess it's just not in your blood to hate people. Man, I sometimes wish I could be like that."
"No. Now, you probably should hate people," I sigh regretfully. "What with going into the Arena and all. But I'm not. I'm not going to kill anyone. I...I would never forgive myself. Do you think you're going to kill people?"
She looks around hesitantly. "I don't know, DJ. I don't know." She stands. "See ya," she says, holding out a hand in farewell before moving to a different car.
I slump in a heap. I'm not as confident about this as I'd like to think I am. I'm not fit to be in the Games. I couldn't and wouldn't hurt a fly. But in the end, will I end up killing?
Dear God, I hope not.
District 12
Sierra POV
THIS CAN'T BE! CODY'S GOING INTO THE ARENA! WITH...WITH...WITH ME! HE'S SO SMALL! HE'S TOO YOUNG! HE'LL DIE! HE CAN'T GO INTO THE ARENA! I WON'T ALLOW IT! I WON'T ALLOW IT! NO! NO! NOT HAPPENING ON MY WATCH! NO! NO!
Heh heh heh...heh heh...heh...
I should probably calm down now. They already had to subdue me once, no reason why they wouldn't do it again. Well, at the very least it wasn't out loud that time. But poor Cody...he's so small, and fragile! If he doesn't get help, he'll be toast in the Arena! And...he knows I'm in love with him now, of course. That would be kind of obvious. He hasn't really responded though. I don't blame him! Two lovers in the Arena? From District 12? IT WOULD NEVER WORK, AND HE'S GONNA DIE!
I scowl. At the very least, I can help him in any way I can. I haven't really even seen him after we got on the train, though. Where is he? Could he be hiding from me? Nah, he'd never do that. I think. I sigh overdramatically, plucking a french fry and putting it in my mouth. I don't feel like I'm going to die. I feel...normal? Is that weird, or what? I said goodbye to my parents. I'm really sad about that...and that Cody's here. What are the odds, really?
Seriously, what are the odds? Like, come on! I plop another piece of food in my mouth. There are no mentors for us that have been in the Games before. There'll probably be someone who helps us, but they won't have the same experience as the mentors who have already been out there in the Arena. There'll be no first hand knowledge, and in order to do things, I need to have a first-hand knowledge.
Okay, let me think. Cody needs to live. He's too nice. I'll offer to be in an alliance with him. I'm strong, and very, very, very persistent. My mom said it was one of my most prominent traits! ...that's a good thing, right? He's smart, so he could call the shots, and I would protect him to the best of my ability. And in the end, I'd make sure he gets out of the Arena alive, at any cost. NO MATTER WHAT! Yes, I have my strategy now! I'm NOT going to live, I know that I'm dead, but Cody needs to live. He's nice, smart, and is really adorable when he tries to get the ladies but fails.
I stand. Okay. I've got my strategy. Maybe my mom wouldn't approve of me throwing away my life for a boy, but I feel that this is the right thing to do. I've been trained in the bow, the sword, and a whole bunch of other really useful stuff! I'd be unstoppable as an ally! Okay, now to find Cody and convince him that this really is the best option, and that he needs to do this in order to win. I move from car to car, looking around for him.
"Cody? Cody? Cooooddddyyyy?"
He opens the door to the bathroom, and lets out a startled yelp when he sees me. "Gah! Oh, hey Sierra. What's going on?"
I take a deep breath. "I have a proposition for you."
He nods, crossing his arms, looking really cute...GAH, I'm only making it worse! "Okay, go ahead. I'm listening. For now."
I take another breath, and he raises an incredulous eyebrow. "Would you like to be in an alliance?" I ask breathlessly.
"Um, an alliance?" he asks nervously, scratching the back of his neck like he always does when he's nervous. "I thought that you...um, would just stay away from me to avoid seeing me die."
I cross my arms indignantly. "Um, no. I'd like to get you out of this Arena alive, Cody"
"Why not yourself? I mean, I saw you going through my stuff, and I guess that means you like me, but...keeping me alive in a life or death situation? Isn't that a little extreme?"
"You're a better person than me. You deserve it." I sniffle a little bit. He looks a little uncomfortable.
"Well...okay. What can you do?"
I brighten up. "Ooh, I can shoot the bow and arrow, I can use a sword, I'm super strong, and I have purple in my hair." I giggle. "I could die it to blend in more if necessary."
He glances at me quizzically. "Um...how did you...um, do that again?"
I shrug. "I'm kind of crazy-prepared."
"I can tell. Um, I've got to go now. I'll think about the alliance. We'll see, okay, Sierra?" He smiles, and I stare at the gap in his teeth. I'm still staring at the same spot after he's left the room. I snap out of my trance. There he goes...always so nice, and polite...he deserves to win more than I do. That's fact, and nothing will change my mind. Mom, I'm sorry. Dad, I'm sorry.
But most of all, if I fail, Cody, I'm sorry
Sierra's a bit of a parody of how Katniss was trying to protect Peeta in Catching Fire. And it seems as though there's something big going on...we'll see. So far, we've met all the tributes, and it seems we've gotten attached to a lot of them. Sadly, only one will come out alive. At the end of every chapter while we're actually in the Games, I will provide the rankings and provide the reasonings for why I killed off a certain character at a certain time.
But for now, we still have to arrive in the Capitol, have the parade, have some training, see the Gamemakers, and meet Blaineley for interviews.
Ciao.
