The plush chair engulfs me; it feels like sinking slowly into a cloud. Back at home we only have wooden furniture, all angles and edges. I share my seat with Thresh; it seems like we share everything these days, from couches to food to fate. A screen looms before us, and it flickers to life when Aqua presses a button.
"Ah, just in time," she says happily, "Perfect timing everyone."
The program has just started, with Caesar Flickerman welcoming viewers to the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Game reapings. Minutes later we cross over to District One, or rather watch a replay of their reaping because it all happened this afternoon. I watch a glamorous girl step up on stage to volunteer before any names are even called. I think I'll never understand their eagerness to put themselves forward to die.
"I'm Glimmer Ross, seventeen," she says in reply to her escort's question, flashing the crowd a winning smile, "I'm so glad to be going."
Not long after a boy joins her on stage, another volunteer. They shake hands and I could see an excited gleam in the male tribute, Marvel's, eyes as the camera zooms in. They are both bigger than me, age-wise and body-wise. I'm beginning to think that I'll have to rely solely on my wits if I want to survive.
District Two produces two more volunteers, a lean girl called Clove and a giant of a boy named Cato. District Three is much more normal, where the girl reaped looks terrified to be on stage. More volunteers are taken in District Four, one of the three districts that train a couple to enter in the Hunger Games each year. In Five, a redheaded girl is chosen. She is quite small, perhaps only a couple of years older than me, but the calculating looks in her eyes warn me that she will be a worthy opponent too. As the poorer districts are covered, the tributes look less and less intimidating. They will be the ones dead within the first few days, because that is the unavoidable fate of poorer tributes.
"You're up next," says Aqua excitedly as we watch the couple from District Ten walk off stage.
I don't share her excitement. And from the look on Thresh's face, he doesn't either. Neither of us wants to relive that awful moment. But before I know it my name is called out, and then I am on stage, and I can hear my mother's breaking sob all over again. I lower my head and sink further into the sofa, silently humming to try and block out the pain of my own reaping.
"Another twelve-year-old?" whispers Thresh incredulously, and his voice has me straightening up with interest.
Someone my own age. She's built lightly with a pale complexion and blonde hair, her small stature just like mine. As I watch her step out from the twelve-year-old area, it is like watching my own reaping. But the moment does not last long. Instead of suffering the silent walk up on stage, this girl, Primrose Everdeen, is saved.
"NO! PRIM!" screams another voice, and the crowd parts to reveal a girl with dark hair and anguished eyes, "I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute!"
The seventh volunteer for the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, from none other than District Twelve. The parting of Prim and the girl who loves her more than life makes me want to cry. They must be sisters, soul sisters, for the dark-haired girl to give herself in. I wish I have someone like that in my life, someone who cares enough to take me from this hell.
"What's your name?" says District Twelve's escort, a woman who could be Aqua's twin for their love of wigs and bright colours.
"Katniss Everdeen," answers the girl, confirming my thoughts that they are sisters.
I miss the boy's reaping from District Twelve because of Katniss and Primrose. I can't help but be jealous of that blonde girl whose big sister who loves her more than life. Not for the first time, I wish that I wasn't born the eldest.
"Quite a few bulky tributes this year," comments Chaff after the whole thing is over, "None as big as you, Thresh, so you've got a good chance."
"And so do you, Rue," adds Seeder after a awkward silence from Chaff, "No one's as small and agile as you, and us District Eleven tributes are great at hiding and surviving."
I smile at her because I don't know what else to do; I am grateful of her kind words but at the same time I just cannot fully believe them. I am the youngest, but I'm not foolish and I do know my chances. Hiding will keep me in the Game for a while, but how long will that be? Chaff is right about Thresh. He could probably take down three of the other tributes at once and make it home alive as the longed-for Victor from District Eleven.
"None of them can climb like you do," Thresh tells me, his voice quiet, "And none of them knows how to forage for food like you do. If anyone will survive, it's you Rue."
The room goes silent after his remark. It's not usual for tributes to encourage on another, even ones from the same District. In past Games, the tributes try to get as detached from each other as they can. Especially the ones from the same District. It's much harder to kill someone you know, or to even be glad about their death.
"If I have it my way," I tell him softly, "We all will survive. Or at least both of us will."
"If only the Gamemakers think like you, Rue," Thresh says, standing up and, after some hesitation, ruffles my hair, "I think I'll go back to my room for the moment. We won't be at the Capitol for a while, yeah?"
"No, there's been some delays," says Aqua to Thresh's receding back, "I expect it will be a good two hours until we get there."
"Could I go to my compartment too, then?" I ask, feeling suddenly timid without Thresh's solid presence beside me.
"Sure, dear," says Seeder.
I take off after Thresh right after those words left Seeder's mouth. There's a strange urge in me to catch up to him. I need to say thank you.
"Thresh," I say, touching his arm lightly as I reach him.
"This light-footed sneaking here is exactly how you're going to win the Games," he tells me, grinning down, "You're going to give them all heart attacks if you keep doing that!"
"Thanks for everything," I stammer as he continue to smile at me.
"No need, little sister," he says, ruffling my hair again, "Well, I'm off. See you in a couple of hours?"
He's gone before I can reply, and I slip back into my compartment. The lights turn on by themselves as my door shuts. The glow of the electricity is much brighter than that at home. Not wanting to ruin the smooth cover of the bed, I sit cross-legged on the carpet in the middle of the room. Across from me is a huge mirror. I can see that my hair's still ruffled from Thresh's hand, with strands sticking out at random angles. He's the third person to take a liking to ruffling my hair. Father had been doing it since I was born, and ruffling hair was Raven's way of greeting me.
"The star!" I say out loud, suddenly reminded by the thought of Raven.
Scrambling up, I run into the bathroom, hoping fervently that they haven't taken my reaping clothes away. They were there, still neatly hanging from the shiny hook. Rummaging the pockets, I take out the wooden star that Raven gave me just a few short hours ago. Under the bright light of the bathroom, I finally see that the wooden thing is not a star after all. It's an unfinished flower, the petals half-carved and details partly etched in. But I can tell that it's a rue flower.