A/N: I got exactly one more review since last chapter. *awkward silence in which crickets chirp in the background* But, this review made my day and inspired me to write faster! Thus, you all owe lilly - the person who reveiwed - because otherwise it would have been awhile before I update. You see, first of all, I had exactly two days to write an earth-shattering, ground-breaking, monumental speech for my graduating class. Then, I spent the two days leading up to graduation delivering this speech over. and over. and over again to my parent and all relatives who were foolish enough to come near, for I made them listen for ages to me reciting it a million times. I am sure that while I was actually delivering the speech up on stage, that my father - the only relative who came - was mouthing it along with me, and could have gotten up there and said it word for word, even without the print-out. Then, I spent that entire day celebrating graduation and the end of this school year, and then that afternoon my friends and I all rode a freind's bus, where her mom picked us up, and we had an awesome sleep-over. The next day, - Saturday - I was picked up around noon by my mom, and we went straight over to my aunt's house to watch the newborn puppies - so adorable! - because everyone else in my family besides my mom, me, and my dad had all gone camping for Father's Day, without bothering to invite us, of course. After puppy-sitting, we got home at noon for Sunday, and my dad was really mad because we had missed half of Father's Day, having slept-over at my aunt's, because her house is nicer. Then, after a hurried Father's DAy celebration, I got up at 6:30 on Monday - the first day of summer vacation! - to get ready for and drive over to this 12-day long summer school thing at my soon-to-be new school (because I had graduated from the old one). The summer school thing ends at noon, but do I get to ride the bus home, walk to my house, at chillax like the average person? No, of course not! My mom picks me up on her lunch break, and then drives back to work, sending me off to the library in the buliding where she works, for me to be used as free labor! Typically, I wouldn't mind much, as it's the library - and they have an amazing assortment of fiction - but the people there seem bent on giving me the tasks that require almost no energy, but a hell of a lot of time. Like shelving books, doing inventory, and scribbling out the barcodes with a MagicMarker on books that they're giving away. Not to mention that this whole summerschoolschedule will just repeat day after day - thankfully only on week days, but I'm sure something will pop up on the weekends - all the way up untill July 3rd! That's half my vacation, gone! IT'S A CONSPIRACY, I TELL YOU!

Well, thank you all so much for listening to my ranting, I feel much better now. If I haven't scared you away - yet - then please, on with the story!


Chapter Four

After walking through the rest of the Outer Edge, we finally get to as far as I have ever gone. Which happens to be the tailor's. I stop short in front of the tailor's, and the body guard behind me has to stop too. "Well, what are you waiting for?" The body guard growls. I stutter, "T-T-This is as far as I been." The president notices that I'm frozen and turns around. "What's wrong?" The smile fades from his face as he glances at me. The body guard shoves me forward, and I catch up with the rest. "Nothing, I just tripped, that's all." "Well, we're almost at the common train station, but we don't want to go there, do we? No no no, we'll be leaving from the Weaths train station, and the train that I came on is waiting! Let's go!" He continues walking quickly, and I do too. Passing the tailor's shop, I start avidly paying attention, as I don't want to miss a thing. Finally, we enter the Middle. I am surprised at how similar it is to the Outer Edge; except that it is slightly better kept, and slightly cleaner. The people here seem to have ever so slightly better manners, or maybe they're acting that way because the president is strolling through the streets, and the people here know and are affected by his power of dictatorship. Sure, his title is "president", but it's basically his way or the highway. Only in Panem, the saying should be, "It's his way or death." After the Middle, we entered the Wealths. The unnerving part was that no one was there. Not a single living thing was in the streets or anywhere else – that I could see -, except for the four body guards (the other two with Babs had joined up with us by now) me, Babs, and the president, still walking briskly through the streets. This area seems so much smaller than the others, and we reach the train station in no time. I gasp as I notice the huge, sparkling, perfect train in front of our little group. "Beautiful, isn't it?" The president remarks when seeing my expression. I just nod silently, still in awe. "Well, we'd best be going!" The president knocked in a pattern on the train door. Knock. Knock. Knock-knock-knock. Knock. Knock. Knock-knock-knock. Then, a thin, frail, young woman opened it. "Hello." She greeted the president sadly. "How many times have I told you, Belinda, don't open the door yourself! Don't do a thing yourself! That's what the slaves – I mean, servants, no, no, I mean workers - are for!" The president admonished. Belinda is obviously from the Capitol, as she is not in regulation. Her hair is a neon shade of orange, and her eyes are a clear, piercing shade of blue that remind me of ice. Her gaze is foggy, though, and my guess is that Belinda has been infected with some deadly disease. Belinda also looks distant, like she's in a different world, attached to ours only by a thin thread. In response to the president she just nods slightly, and mutters what I assume to be consent. The president and I stand there awkwardly, waiting for Belinda to move aside and let us through. Still she stands there, leaning slightly on the door, staring into the distance. After a minute or so, her gaze snaps onto me. "So, you go by the name 15-C, correct?" Her tone is decisive and sharp, to the point. Her orange hair is frizzy, and wisps of is fly around in the breeze, giving her a supernatural look, with her detached gaze and pale skin, and her puffy, bright orange hair floating around her face. "H-How did you know?" I ask, bewildered. "I can see the dead people, the people whose lives have been ruined by my husband. On occasion, if they have something important to say, I am able to converse with them, but I can always see them. They are quite chilly around my husband, but strangely, they seem to like me well enough. We are useful to each other, nothing more. I am their connection to the world of the living, and they are my connection to the world of the deceased. The spirits are also able to tell the future, as you mortals are actually quite limited. You think that you're so high-and-mighty, but no, the departed are much more advanced, due to not being tied to life and this dimension. You are, you see, quite anchored. For example –" She is cut off by the president, who had left, along with his body guards, prior to the beginning of her speech. "Well, Belinda, I leave you alone with the new-comer for a few minutes, and already you are beginning to try and impress your mumbo-jumbo on her! I am ashamed!" He exclaims, dragging both of us inside. As we follow him down the hallway, I whisper, "I'd like to hear more of your 'mumbo-jumbo' later." Much to my surprise, I actually mean that. Not because I can "see them" too, it's just that I feel sorry for the lady, plagued as she was by these hallucinations and having no one to humor her. Belinda continues to stare off into the distance – she seems to do that a lot – and after a minute or so, she looks at me and whispers back, "I have been informed that you are being honest. If you come to my suite – number 14 – at 10:30, I will explain more, and perhaps we will test your perception of the departed." I nod. The president starts talking. "So, when we get to your suite, 15-C, you will find a daily schedule on your dresser. Please keep this, as it will be the schedule until we get to the Capitol, which is a long ways off from here. Five, maybe six days and nights? And that's if we don't stop at all, continuing at a break-neck speed constantly. No, losing the paper that tells you where you're supposed to be wouldn't do at all." We've stopped now, in front of a door matching all the others we have passed, except that the plaque on it said, "Suite 15". To the left, the door is marked, "Suite 14", with a slightly smaller plaque that says, "Belinda Snow, First Lady of Panem". I give a start as I realize that Belinda must be the president's wife. We had only been standing there for about a second – literally – and the president suddenly raises his voice and shouts, "Imbecile! I told you to have the door ready before we got here! Do you have a problem with that, Tenya?" A little child, no more than 8, comes running up the hallway, balancing two trays on either hand. "So sorry, sir, so, so, so, so, sorry, sir!" She begs. "Do not speak! I haven't given you permission to speck!" The president reprimands. The little girl, who I assume is Tenya, is wearing nice clothes, and then I notice her name on the door to the right, the door labeled, "Suite 16". The name on the door is this; "Tenya Snow, daughter of President Rodney Snow and First Lady Belinda Snow". The president continues his ranting. "And how many times have I told you not to run in the halls? It's unseemly! It's something that a common person would do!" He says, obviously disgusted with his daughter. Tenya wordlessly hands over the tray with a little plaque on it toward the President. "Do you really expect me to do that? Really?" He laughs mockingly. Tenya retracts the tray and, picking up the plaque and the tube of superglue sitting by it, begins to mount the plaque on my door. When Tenya's finished, I notice that it has a large blank space before saying, "adopted daughter of President Rodney Snow and First Lady Belinda Snow".

I remember thinking, Oh my god. No. I don't want to be the daughter of this wretched man... even if his wife is okay.

I think, at this point, I fainted.

This is an official line break. This is an official line break. This is an official lie break.

I awoke in a large, fluffy bed, with enough room in it for at the very least, five people. The room was mostly modest; it had what it needed to have, some more, but it wasn't over-the-top. A big window was to my right, but a thick curtain concealed it. To my left, a door. I heard a ticking sound, like a clock. Turning my head, I notice that there is in fact a clock, on the dresser. 6:30. Oh, wow, it's that late already? It might have been about 3:00 when I left the apothecary...maybe 3:30 when I got on the train...add a few minutes for the time it took to get to my room... in short, I had been sleeping for at least two hours. Sitting up, I consult the schedule on my dresser. Currently, I am supposed to be having dinner, but I'm not really hungry right now, so I explore my room. I have a dresser, an ornate mirror, a closet, a nice bathroom, and an equipped kitchen. Nothing much to see, really, except for the fact that I'm marveling at how much room I have – all to myself. My excitement is short-lived, however, when I realize the reason that I passed out in the first place. No, no, no. I must have been hallucinating, or something. Maybe I did pass out, but it certainly wasn't in the hallway or a brand-new Capitol train, the president's family around me, on my way to – officailly – come of age at the Capitol. Ha! The idea is laughable. But, the ever-present contrary bit of my brain says, if none of that happened, then where are you and what's happening now?

Sometimes, I hate myself. This is one of those times.

Well, there's only one way to find out weather this part of my life is a lie, or weather – god forbid – everything really happened today. I pad lightly over to the door, my actions eeriely silent. Putting my ear to the door, I stop breathing for a second to listen.

Nothing. Easing open the door, I marvel at the percise engeinering it must have taken to create it, as it is ghostly silent and light as a feather, even though it is very thick, dark wood. Peeking out the door, I find the hallway empty. To my despair, I find that upon stepping out into the hall, my faint footsteps hushed by the lush carpet, that I am indeed on the Capitol train. Suddenly, a new idea gives me a slight shimmer of hope. Inspecting the plaque on the door, I take careful note of the blank space. It isn't blank anymore, though. On it is an engraved name, Willow Snow. Now, the plaque reads, "Willow Snow, adopted daughter of President Rodney Snow and First Lady Belinda Snow". I sigh, relieved. This room could belong to anyone! Well, I mean, anyone who's an adopted daughter of Belinda and the president. I just ovverreacted, made a ridiculous assumption, and passed out from it.

I am ashamed.

I am so distracted an busy berating myself, I don't notice the muffled footsteps approaching, maybe because they are quiet and seem to fade into the rocking of the train in motion. "Do you need anything, Miss?" A small, timid voice that I recognize as Tenya's, says. Whirling around, I blurt out, as I am dying to know, maybe out of suspicion, maybe out of curiousity, maybe out of the need to apoliguise for taking their room, "Who's Willow Snow?" Tenya seems surprised with my question. "Don't you know?" She asked, increduoly. "No," I say slowly. "Why, should I?" Tenya replies with, "Well, typically, someone can be excpeted to remember their own name." I feel an urge to faint again, but instad chide myself. What is this with losing conciousness lately? I'm going soft!


A/N: review, my minions! oh, yeah, and for those of you that had/have a tumblr, I used to be artificialfacebook. Remember me? Well, I never got to say goodbye, but you see, my parents discovered my tumblr, and they didn't like the sort of stuff all the people I was following posted. You know, typical kid stuff, cursing, joking, but they didn't like it. If only they saw how everyone acts at school... so, if you want proof that I am the all-knowing, beautiful, and witty artificialfacebook, then PM me - or review - with a question or memeroy, and I shall answer, proving to all you non-believers that I truly am the all-knowning, beautiful, and witty artificialfacebook. God, that sounded concieted! Sorry.

REVIEW!

Till the kitchen sinks, the bed spreads, and the butter flies,

Proud Voracious Reader aka Cami