The car ride is uncomfortable to say the least, and I can't help noticing Kalya avoiding all eye contact or conversation with me for the rest of the ride to the station. I squirm in the -what I think are leather- seats as I look away from Milo and Kalya and turn to the window. The sun is still shining and burning out side the glass, a ball of bright fire and gas in my rather grey and miserable life at the moment. I watch the colourful fields through the pristine, clean glass, and as we drive past they blur with our speed. We pass the outhouses in the fields me and Milo work in. Worked in. Probably won't work in again. I feel tears burning in my eyes, but refuse to let them fall as I silently say goodbye to Sally Maize and the fields where I made such a good friend, one I dearly hope I wouldn't loose in the games. I can't feel sorry for myself, I know I can't, because if I do I won't be focused enough for the games. I turn away from district nine, taking one last look at the golden, amber hills before turning to look at Milo. By the unhappy look on his face, and his blatantly false smiles at Kalya, I think he's regretting her letting him do his make-up- his eye lids are shaded green, not at all suiting his blue eyes or his simple reaping clothes of khaki pants with his faded blue shirt. Also, his lips are dyed a deep blue hue, and I can't help but laugh a bit. He shoots me a death look which is so comical my laugh ups into a roar, earning me a disapproving look from Kalya and a faint smile from Milo. I smile back sympathetically, hoping he'll have a chance to wipe it off before any cameras see us at the station.
"So, Kalya." Milo starts, breaking the awkward silence between us, which I am using to joyfully return Kalya's stony glares. She wrinkles her nose at me before her face melts away and is replaced with a happy one.
"Yes, Milo?" She asks sweetly, battering her eyelashes. She must be doing it to annoy me, what with the joke about us being a couple on the stage. And I have to say, it is rather irritating. Wait a second; she said that on the stage, with all of Panem watching! I cover my face with my hands and groaned inwardly. I wonder if Kalya knows how ridiculous she looks, trying to flirt with Milo to spite me. I roll my eyes and decide to ignore it, as provoking a reaction out of me would mean she's beaten me, at that wouldn't happen any time soon.
"I was wondering, when do we get to meet our mentors?" I see a frown on his face as Kalya bats her long, almost guaranteed to be fake, lashes at him, the ends throwing off glimmers of blue, which must be the glitter on them.
"That's a good question, you shouldn't be afraid to ask any questions about the games. Feel free to ask anything, we really aren't that scary." She says in a girly voice.
"Urm…" Milo stutters. "I wasn't afraid to ask anyway, that's why I just did."
I laugh out loud, and it is obvious Kalya is trying extremely hard not to lash out at me. If she did, of course, that would mean she'll lose her job. Well, that'd be one plus for the next tributes! I am finally starting to see behind the fake, always smiling face of Kalya Shine.
"Well, don't be afraid to ask anything else, or about anything private, we can always help." She says in her high voice, smiling friendlily at me, and I feel a blush spreading over my face. A blush? Really? And suddenly that friend or mother like smile is gone, and replaced with an evil, smug grin as her eyes burned into mine. I am certain escorts are not supposed to be the enemy.
"Why don't you just answer his question, as that's obviously what you're saying you're here for?" I ask my first words in well over thirty minutes.
"You'll meet your mentors on the train, as they board just before you." She says, glaring for the one-thousandth time in the car. It felt like we have been driving for about an hour, and I hadn't realized before how big our district really is.
"Though dear old Melanie won't be mentoring this year, she's had to retire as she's ill and wants to be with the rest of her family."
Melanie is the oldest living victor in nine, though she might not even look or be living for all we've seen of her over the past couple of years. We watch her victory, and all the others winning at school sometimes, just to analyze how we've managed to win in the past and techniques we can use if we're ever reaped. Guess all that would come in handy over the next few days then.
In the town square, district nine waits in dread for the reapings of the 127th annual hunger games. It has been fifty years since the last victor, and the residents are ready to break this long run with no wins, but don't want to see two, helpless, untrained children being forced into the hunger games arena. A loud bell sounds, and a very young, very luminous green escort emerges from the justice building. It's the same reaping as usual, and as the escort reads out the unfortunate female's name, the town falls silent. A twelve year old steps up on to the stage, but when she asks for volunteers, instead of the continued silence, a hand from the older area shoots up. "I volunteer."
Eighteen year old Melanie Parks makes her way to the stage, a strong looking, well built girl with flowing brown hair tucked carelessly behind her ear. Her bright blue eyes captivate the audience, and she knows she is unforgettable, as she's the first of district nine tributes in over thirty years. Then it's the men's turn, and eighteen year old is reaped, and takes his place on the stage.
In training she gets a hugely impressive score of nine, and no one doubts her interview isn't her just being herself, being steely, cold and deadly silent. It's a miracle she even speaks at all, and she answers two questions in a few words and the capitol isn't sure how to respond to her hatred for them and their stupid games.
She stands, waiting, on her pedestal, no expression on her face though she's poised to run for supplies. The strong and tall district seven tributes try to catch her eye, but she's not focusing on anything but the pile of weapons at the heart of the circle, loaded into the cornucopia's glinting gold mouth. As the gong sounds, she's off like a gun shot, sprinting extraordinarily fast, faster than the careers. She reaches the weapons and grabs an axe and pivots around, smashing the base of it into the skull of a tribute from district two, and then chucking gently to the boy from seven, who catches it easily with one hand whilst hoisting two packs onto his shoulders and grabbing a spare axe, promptly smashing one into another tribute. The girl from seven, Melanie's district partner and the pair from ten run strategically round, gathering packs and smaller weapons to defend Melanie whilst she gathered the bigger weapons. A knife flies from an unknown hand, striking through the male from four, and shreds though his skin, somehow still on its flight, and the blade sinks into Melanie's shoulder. The alliance of seven, nine and ten quickly get away, Melanie holding numerous weapons with a fatal looking injury to her shoulder and a gash down her calf from where she collided with the boy from one. The group bandages up Melanie's wounds and their own, minor ones, and the blood has clotted and the wound healed within the first three days.
It's the twelfth day in the arena, and Melanie is camped with the boy from seven on the edge of the forest, watching the final two careers. They are in the final four, with their allies dead from the career attack that wiped out all four of the outlying district allies at the cost of two of their own career pack.
"You know, we can take them." The boy from seven mutters under his breath. "The girl from one is injured from their attack on us and that leaves the boy from four, so if we can get close enough I can put an axe through the girl whilst you get the boy."
Melanie nods, and picks up her throwing knives and sword from the floor, leaving the supplies there. The pair sneaks behind the cornucopia, before the boy gives Melanie a boost and she climbs up onto the golden sculpture. She stays low on the hot surface, wielding some throwing knifes. What the boy from seven doesn't know is that she'll kill him in a heartbeat to get home to her family, and that this height was just an advantage further for her. She could take out everyone from up here with her knives easily if she has a clear shot.
Melanie watches, eyes on the dark haired boy from seven brutally attacking the blonde girl who had played sexy at the interviews, from district one, who was giving him a run for his money. He knocks her to the ground eventually, just as district four arrives on the scene. Her blood pours into a pool from her cracked skull, his own blood soaking through his t-shirt.
BOOM! The cannon sounds.
The boy from four attacks him promptly, and she watches the boy from seven fall, and can't help feeling a pang of guilt.
BOOM!
That vanishes in an instant when the last career sees her. He starts to scale the cornucopia, avoiding three knives Melanie throws. Maybe she should've waited until the career was dead, and then killed the boy from seven? The boy from two towers over her cowering figure, and he raises his sword to strike. Melanie blocks with her own sword and kicks out wildly, knocking him off the side of the cornucopia. He hits the ground hard, but can't be dead, for there is no cannon. She strikes him in the heart with her knife from the top of the cornucopia. His body is spread outwards, bronze hair messed and tangled in the long grass. His bright blue dead eyes burn wordlessly into Melanie's own, his chest wound leaking dark blood, which stains the green grass red.
BOOM!
Melanie Parks is the winner of the 127th Hunger Games, district nine's first winner in fifty years.
I make a note in my head. Always kick out if in a situation where it seems likely the outcome is to be you will die.
"Shame." I say, generally meaning it. "I would've liked to meet her."
"No you wouldn't have; she's a stupid old, ugly bag who refuses to let the capitol make her up a bit." Kalya brushes my comment away, and goes back to filing her nails.
"She's won the games, and way cleverer than you. And maybe that might have been because she hates the capitol?" I say, louder than meaning to. "And she was extremely beautiful when she won the games, and you're all clowned up, so don't you dare say she's not pretty and you're more gorgeous!"
"You're so mean, Sienna!" Kalya cries, tears falling down her face.
"Yeah, well, you were mean to Melanie, so get over it. You are horrible to someone I like and have respect for, don't expect me to not retaliate." I say, spitting out my words firmly.
"Ma'am, sorry for interrupting, but we're here, we're at the station." The driver says, turning round to look at us. Milo's eyes widen dramatically, and his mouth falls open, and he begins scrubbing at the make-up on his face with his hands, smudging the green down his face. He looks like he's been crying, with all the smears of green down over his angular face and blue lip paint around his mouth. I feel sorry for him, though I am definitely hiding a smirk. I pull a wipe from the table and hold his chin and tilt it towards me. "Don't move, okay, I have a feeling it might sting if you get it in your eyes." I dap at his face, feeling much like a mother. Sliding the soft wipe over his face, the blue and green hues vanish, and his skin is left a baby pink, shiny and glowing in the car interior lights. Kalya's crying stops suddenly, and she tops up her make-up, hiding any lines from her tear tracks.
Fake. I think to myself. She's obviously trying to make me feel bad. Or maybe she's doing it on purpose to see how I will fare in different situations, or seeing how I relate to people, or finding me an angle for the games. Could Kalya from the capitol be that clever?
The doors of our car open from the outside, and Kalya emerges first, tottering out in her high heels, striking a pose whilst cameras flashed. I never thought many were interested in district nine; we have a habit of being the quietest in the games. I guess I am wrong, as Milo gets out next, and is swamped by the people clutching cameras or shouting his name for them to look at him. Everyone wanted to see the tributes up close, especially when there could be a love story involved. The clicks start to die down as Milo walks away from the door, allowing me space to hop out, being wary not to catch my skirt on anything on the floor. Lights flash before my eyes as the cameras see me materializing from the car, and I smile blindly, and wave my hand, spots of multi-colours dancing round my vision. I make sure not to seem unpleasant in anyway, and latch onto Milo on request for photos, our hands lacing together, the grip feeling natural. Only the tiniest part of my body flutters on contact, as I am fully focusing on not falling over and navigating my way through the rowdy crowd to the train. Milo pushes apart a path, clutching my hand and dragging me through, making sure I don't get swallowed up by the photographers. I know he is the one holding me together through everything.
A sudden thought pops into my head, in a moment where I am not completely overwhelmed by all the people and flashes. Someone must have got pictures of me and Milo holding hands. I gulp. Now they'll think what Kalya said at the reapings is true, and what if Milo figures out I love him too. Do I love him? Or is he just a great, close friend? But what if he does feel the same way for me, if I feel that for him? The games aren't fit for a romance, and if we're not in the same group, the odds are we'll die. I don't want to die without him knowing.
I feel very light headed abruptly, a pain beating in my head, black spots covering my sight. Milo's hand slips out of my grasp, and I feel the impact of the cold station floor on my face.
"Sienna?!"
I don't want to die without him knowing. The same thought enters my head and bounces in my brain before the voice lures me to sleep before I fully lose consciousness.
A/N thanks for all the reviews on my story! It means a lot! I have a second story up now too, 'The 78th Hunger Games', so go check that out, it has a different type of format from this story. Also have a read of InsaneXBexX24's stories, they're amazing!