Hey guys! I'm glad you all liked Toboe. I'm really enjoying writing this SYOT, and can't wait for the Games. Then again, I'm going to have to kill off people. Great…now I'm sad! I actually enjoyed writing this chapter a lot, but that might just be because I'm on a writing high right now.
Answer to Question: District 6, baby!
Adonis "Ade" Yarrow, Age 16 District 9
The young girl is sitting on a stool, head bowed over her growing string of knots. She's nervous, her fingers shaking, but intent the task before her. She's afraid, of course - all she wants is to keep away, to hide in her little corner and be ignored. The tributes around her are fearsome and menacing, handling weapons that she didn't even know existed. She'll surely be dead by next week, no matter how hard she tries. Can you guess who it is? You know her name, don't you., Lupin? Jasmine? Will anyone remember me?
"Snap out of it," I find myself whispering to my own imagination. It just makes me more sad, knowing that I had told countless stories of underdog Tributes, heroically conquering and saving everyon, to my siblings Lupin and Jasmine at night. I knew that back home they'd be thinking I could do this - I could win. But I can't fool himself, no matter how much I can fool two little children. I'm might very well die, and thinking about them makes it so much worse.
For a moment, the shaking in my hand intensifies, and it slips over the rough rope, splintering the skin of my thumb. Clumsy Adie, I imagine Lupin saying.
I hold tears back as I shake my hand, sucking my thumb to alleviate the pain. For a moment, that's all I can think about - my thumb. It seems to hurt even more when I realize that my thumb doesn't really matter anymore. It and the rest of my body are doomed.
"That's very good."
I turn to see a boy - my District partner. Jendra is his name, I think. We hadn't really had time to talk on the train, partly because our attention had been monopolized by our intense mentors, and also because I had been doing my best to avoid him. He was incredibly intimidating.
"What?" I blurt, not thinking fast enough to know that he was referring to the large string of knots in front of me. I blush when I realize this.
But he still smiles kindly, sitting down on the stool next to me. "It's Ade, right?" he asks, snatching up his own rope and beginning to clumsily tie a knot.
I nod, not trusting my words. I was never one for small talk, as stupid as it sounds. It always seemed to be the simple things that got me.
He's silent for a moment, eyebrows raised as if he's waiting for me to speak. Finally, he sighs and says, "Look. I'm being kind of frank here, but I need allies. I think it would be best for both of our interests if we teamed up." He looks at me through narrowed eyes. "Of course, if you don't want to…"
I feel my mouth open, but no sound comes out for a moment. I finally manage "I-I have to think about it."
He looks disappointed. "No, no," he says, his voice a bit agitated. A slight crease appears as he furrows his brow. "It's obvious that you don't trust me," he looks a little frustrated at these words, "So I won't pressure you. Your lack of trust just makes me not trust you." He stands up with a slight smile. "Who knows? Maybe you have something up your sleeve that you don't want to share." He looks more than a little angry now, but doesn't do anything drastic. "That's fine by me."
Before I can tell him I've changed my mind, and beg my only possible ally to come back, he's disappeared. I check for him at all the immediate stations, but he's no where to be found.
What have I done? I've ruined my chances. I'm as good as dead now.
No Ade, a voice in my head says, It'll be fine. There'll be other chances. You just have to keep hoping.
I sit down on one of the uncomfortable hard chairs located in the middle of the Training Center, watching the other Tributes. None seem to notice me staring, thank goodness.
In my mind, I record my observations.
Some of the tributes seem as confused as me. I watch as the boy from District 8 holds his bow in the opposite direction, the arrow falling down. The man at the station kindly demonstrates the right way to do it, but the boy still looks sky lighted.
The girl from Twelve is trying her hand at everything, but doesn't seem to be getting very far. I watch for a moment as her skinny fingers try to clasp a sword, slipping down the hilt at its weight. She grumbles a bit, putting her foot forward and giving a grunt as she pulls it up above her head, and the girl from District 8 gives a shout before she can accidentally split her head open. The little girl's District partner shakes his head, rolling his eyes as if he knew that would happen.
District 11 girl looks way more deadly then they usually are - she's handling these little pointy things that the nice man at the station had told me were "throwing stars". A look of simmering anger lights her face as she flings each one at a moving target, hitting it again and again.
I get a funny look from the woman at the knot tying station, so I decide its time to move. I wonder what I would be best at - I was always creative. Why not disguises?
I slip silently through the other tributes, settling down at the Disguise Station. I pick up the paintbrush and grab the pot of green. For just a second, some long forgotten memory of my mother flashes in my mind, humming some song I didn't remember the words to and painting a field of daisies. She had always loved to paint - she taught me everything I know about the subject, even if I wasn't even as half as good as her. It was still relaxing - it brought back so many good memories of me and her, side by side on a sunny day with paint on our shirts and smiles on our faces.
Nothing has been the same since she died - Dad's more distant, my siblings aren't around as much. Everyone has had to change - even Lupin and Jasmine, who weren't even old enough to be entered in the Reaping, had to grow up. It makes me wonder what my life would be like if she was still alive - happier, probably.
My train of thought is interrupted by the low squeal of a chair being pulled back. I look next to me, and a boy that I had seen from a distance was now sitting next to me. He was the one from Twelve, I think. The one who as rolling his eyes at his partner.
"Sorry," he says, picking up a red pot of paint and a brush without looking very sorry at all. "Just trying to escape the idiots."
I blush a deep red - what was it, with all these people coming near me? Couldn't they see that I wanted - needed - to be alone? This was not how I operated, surrounded by people. I was never the talkative one, and I'm not so sure I'll start now.
Will I ever be able to start?
Yes, a weak voice says from the back of my mind, Keep hoping, Ade. Anything is possible in the Games.
"It's okay," I murmur, keeping my head down and eyes focused on the doodle on my arm. Daises - yellow and white and beautiful. At least, they would've been beautiful if my mother drew them.
"She's awful," the boy says, and I glance up to see him glaring at his District partner. "She doesn't understand anything about these damn Games, thinks everything'll just be butterflies and daises and that it'll all be about her." His tired-looking eyes flickered over to me. "You don't believe that, do you? You look like you know what'll happen."
Did I? I think of my body, wrapped in a blanket of crimson, limbs twisted and eyes pale, lifeless orbs. Did I know what it would be like? Did I know what it was like to die?
I can feel tears starting to sting the corner of my eyes, and push the chair back abruptly. The boy looks up at me in confusion.
"S-sorry," I manage to choke out before turning around, "I just…I just can't."
I can feel everyone's eyes on me as I walk quickly, holding a hand under my eyes to catch any stupid tears, then go outside the room. I try to pass the Avox guards, but they just shake their heads. I settle for sitting down next to one - he looked to be in his twenties, with curly golden hair and sad eyes. The brown-haired one looks at me angrily, motioning for me to return back inside.
The blonde guard rolls his eyes at him, making an exasperated sound in the back of his throat. Gently, he reaches down to me and uncurls my hand from the paintbrush I had forgotten I was still holding. He paints green words all the way down his pale forearm with surprising skill.
It's okay. You can stay and watch with me.
I nod, leaning against the golden walls at his feet, and he slinks down exhaustedly next to me. The other guard shoots him a dirty look, but doesn't do anything else.
We don't try to communicate - why should we? We just sit there, quietly observing the other Tributes - their struggles and triumphs, their terror and confusion. The way they all seem to be on the verge of giving up, realizing that there is a one in twenty four chance that this will give them any help. We watch it all unfold as if it is just a television program (And I guess it is).
That's what I am - a watcher. Just an observer.
But though it may not the most interesting thing to be, you never know where paying attention can get you.
You never know what'll cause you to live another day.
Sorry about kinda weird ending, but I wanted to write more, then realized it would be super long if I added what I wanted to. So I'm gonna save it for Jendra's chapter. Anyways, review! You know you want to…. : )
Question: How did Maysilee Donner die?
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