I am so sorry for the mix up! I found out that the wrong chapter has been uploaded from my other story! So, now, I'm sure this is the right one!

Chapter 3

"So, Talon, did you understand the quell idea?"

"Well yes and no, the explained it—not so complex so I was wondering if you could explain it better for me?"

"Maybe some other time—Talon, it's not easy for me to tell you this but—you've been put up for the tesserae."

"Yes, and about that, I was thinking hard about that and I decided that I shouldn't care, I mean why I should care?" I exclaim trying to keep my cool; even though I'm not.

Clayten gives and heavy sigh: Youmightgetchosen." His words are quick and seem to be all jumbled into one.

"Maybe not, it's a one in a thousand chance, you know. Maybe I'll be lucky and remain safe forever that is unless I have children of my own and they get reaped themselves, but I'm not planning on having children so I can live my life in tranquility. Plus, you're too old to be reaped, you see, maybe I can be like you and I will never be reaped."

"Ah, one problem with that."

"No there's not, no problem intended, I don't want to know, we ought to "get useful" now don't you think? I need to do some shopping at the seam now. So if you'd excuse me…"

I whisk right past him and think of black magic spells that the old men and women who stand in the back; betting on which child will be picked and how they use their black magic to make sure that happens.

I'd expect Clayten to follow me and tug at my arm—therefore pulling me away from the seam—a place where a small child like me should ever go, but when Mum is brought into this, you know we have to do what we're told.

Instead, he walks past me, almost leading me into the seam.

Right away, the wind starts to blow intensely and rain falls from the dark sky.

Clayten sharply turns around and jesters his arm to come to him. His hand searches his pocket and he lifts out a small piece of plastic with some type of water –proof fabric onto it. He tells me to get under it; even though I don't understand why—it doesn't look a bit useful. In a click of a button, the fabric pops open into a circular motion and small metal pegs poking out from the sides.

The thunder rumbles as soon as he talks. It seems his mouth moves but no words come out. This time he screams; "Get under!" I jump right under the fabric and start to shiver.

Once we get into the seam, the rain falls to the roof tops more than on the people so we cower to stay from getting wet, plus the buildings are so close together, the umbrella couldn't possibly fit. He takes in down and it slowly closes with another button to its right.

"Clayten, what is that?" I drain the water out of my hair and I watch him spin it around in the palm of his hand.

"It's called an umbrella, you know how I went to the Capitol to study; this was something they gave out saying it will protect you from the rain."

"That is so cool!"

"Sure, I guess you can say that. Hey, guess what?"

"What?"

"The Capitol said that they're making these small microchips that can fit into the palm of your hand, and they hold precious memories like pictures."

"Wow, what do they call it?"

"They don't have a name for it yet, something like memory stick."

"Ah,"

We walk into one of the buildings where Clayten and I used to play when we were once young. It hasn't changed one bit, the windows are still extremely clouded with dust, and smoke is popping from small test tubes and dripping with dangerous chemicals they use to make muttations.

Something about them makes me want to hurl but it's just a very wondrous place that I won't to be bothered.

That's not why we go in there, in this poisonous place, far in the back—an old lady sits and begs for money. She offers rotten food like peaches and apples that no one would buy because that's all the plant outside offers her, but what no one but our family knows is, those are great for remedies.

"Hey Margola." Clayten says timidly to her—for some reason she always gets tricked into thinking he's her grandson.

"Clayten?" her eyes stick out from under her hat to look at the speaker. Her eyes squint and I'm guessing she's going blind; it doesn't help she's almost seventy years old. "Clayten, it's been so long, where you have gone, grandma has missed you."

"I went to the Capitol, to school. I would like to buy a basket of peaches and apples please."

It just so happens that there is a hand-woven basket right between her legs' so I pick it up and put a small amount of coins in her hand.

There is a giant hole at the side but I don't bother to tell her. Clayten looks at me and he places the umbrella in her hand when we walk off.

~*~

"Shh, don't tell mom I'm home okay? She's not my business anymore, if you need me—which you probably will—I'll be at Black Stone hotel, okay?"

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, you're going to help me pick out my reaping dress, am I right?"

"I will now go, before she starts to worry."

I give him one last glance and run off to my house while Clayten turns towards victor's village.