Gatem's P.O.V.
Sea's voice-the scream, the pained yet complacent tone-rings in my ears well after she's cried out the fateful words. I'm frozen by fear and hurt-Sea, my best friend for years, has sentenced herself to the tortuous Hunger Games. And its my fault-the stupid, incredibly thoughtless promise I made with her. I need Sea, and Sea's family needs her. I can't give up on Sea-not yet, not ever. I'm going to make another promise-one that could only hurt me.
Stingray is coming home. Alive.
Sea's P.O.V.
I want to scream and cry and kick the Peacekeepers that now escort me to the stage. But I can't do any of that. I've made myself a pawn for the Capitol and I cannot take back what I said, and a suicide before the Games is unthinkable. An outburst now would surely result in death, and if not death, then a lack of sponsors.
I am Sea Crystyn Rayette, and I am District Four's female volunteer.
"A volunteer, how delightful. Ja'dore the heart on your cheek," the voice of a Capitol citizen snaps me back to reality,"Now tell me..."
"Sea Rayette."
"Sea, are you a Career? You certainly don't...look like one."
"No," I manage to reply to the insult-doesn't the Capitol exalt good manners?-smoothly,"I am not a Career."
The whole district seems to gasp. A few utter very unkind, rude words. Being a volunteer from a Career district, I'm expected to be one of the bred-to-kill, desensitized, unlikeable students from the Academy. But really, I'm a little girl who wasn't accepted because her extremely kind-okay, not that kind-and merciful conscious prevented her humanity from being stripped away little by little. And this little girl would represent District Four, seeing as whoever the Academy had picked wasn't brave enough, and therefore not good enough. I knew enough about the Academy to know that the female they had chosen would not hear the end of it. And whatever punishment the Academy saw fit for her would be painful. District Four will be represented by a reject, and the Academy staff knew it. I should have waited-waited until after the overly cheerful escort stopped trying to communicate with Emerald, until the Academy's stellar female killer broke out of her cowardice. But I didn't, so now I'm knee-deep in this mess. This is not a mistake I can fix.
But even if I had waited, would the intended volunteer have overcome her supposed-supposed by me, at least-fear? I assume I am never to know. Maybe she would have-maybe she'll curse my name forever. But that isn't my problem-I have much worse to think about. I know I am powerless and of no assistance to her, and she will likely live. As selfish as that seems, you still have to consider that, if I would like to survive, I have to focus and take this seriously. I would have to fight. I would fight for Gatem, the darling boy I consider a brother. I would fight for my young, unknowing little sisters, Ashtyn and Aalistyn. I would fight for my father, Dacluss, because, while he was the one that believed that I should go to the Academy, he only wanted to protect me. Every day, he trained me, saying, "I never had anyone to train me-cademy or otherwise. I was terribly afraid when I was reaped, but as a victor, I learned some things. I know they will be of use to you." And lastly, I would fight for my mother, Talia. A strong woman was she-brave enough to defy the Capitol. Punished dearly for it-suffered torture after torture, until her heart finally gave up. I would honor her, and President Snow will remember the awfulness he sentenced my mother to. He must remember-remember my mother and the other executed ones, the Avoxes, the 23 mandatory deaths of children year after year. I do not intend to make him care. I intend to make him remember all he's done. I may not be nearly as beautiful as my mother was, but I do have her spark. And her spark is all I need.
"Very well, then," the unimpressed escort announces,"Allow me to draw the name of our male tribute..." She daintily plucks a name out of the bowl.
"Destluck O'Myla!" The escorts shouts happily.
Just my luck, I think as a tall, muscular, and tanned boy departs from the fifteen-year-old section. He has sea green eyes and sandy, curly hair that reaches his earlobes. A knowing, confident smirk is on his face. As his sea green eyes meet mine, I can tell right off that he isn't very fond of me. His unspoken threat haunts me.
Destluck's P.O.V.
My district partner isn't very good-looking. She won't be able to use a flirtatious angle, that's for sure. But with eyes like that, she could come off as very cunning. The heart on her cheek is a nice touch, too. When we meet eyes, I can tell she's a bit ruffled. But I see something else-a spark.
Oohh...do we see some Sealuck happenin'? Hey, disregard the Seyette romance. They're just friends now! Okay, yes, Destluck said Sea was ugly, but just think of it as a Tris and Tobias-type relationship, okay?