The Mentors

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Day Three; Part Three

Clubb Paige (D2)

I open one of my eyes to a squeaking sound. The door.

It glides forward and Hazel walks in with a worried expression. She looks pathetic now- her eyes red-rimmed, face tired and distraught. She looks like she's lost everything that made me respect her before.

"I just wanted to tell you something," she says quietly. Not at all like the Hazel I saw before. She was never quiet. "Everything that happened was a mistake. Understand? A mistake." She looks at me, hoping that I'll get it.

I laugh. "You act like I care."

Her eyebrows pull together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I had sex with you. And it didn't mean a thing. I couldn't care less about you or if it ever happened again."

"It's not like I care either! You're everything that I hate."

"Didn't seem like you hated me much last night," I say, while chuckling.

Her face pales. "Just shut up, Clubb."

"You know, maybe I did kind of take advantage of you. But that's not my fault. It's yours for being so in love with a guy that's getting married that you'd do anything to feel wanted. You know, I respected you. And look where you are now. Pathetic."

Her eyes water. "Shut. Up."

I grin. "Are you going to cry now, Hazel? Are you going to cry because the guy that screwed you out of pity doesn't care? Or are you going to cry about the guy you love that doesn't give a fuck about you?"

She seems frozen in place. Her brain saying to leave, but her legs refusing to cooperate. "Stop it."

"No wonder he doesn't care about you. I mean look at you. You're a mess. I wonder if Birch is having fun with his girl right now. I wonder if he can't even remember your name," I say with a sneer.

"Fuck you," she whispers, eyes flashing.

"What did you say?" I ask with a hand cupped to my ear.

"I said, fuck you!" she screams. "You know what, Clubb? If anyone is pathetic, you are! I wonder who made you like this. Did your parents not love you? Because I can't imagine anyone loving a piece of shit like you."

"Have you finally found your voice? Are you done crying? Are you taking a stand?" I mock.

"I'm done stooping down to your level. Have fun living what you call a life." She walks out of the room with a calm expression and I stare at the door after she leaves.

Maybe since she's found her voice with me, she'll finally be able to tell Birch how she feels.

That's good, since it's what I've wanted all along.


Damon Marx (D9)

"Quinn? Are you okay?" I ask quietly.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes." Quinn's red-rimmed eyes follow me around the room as I pace. "What's the matter?"

"My dad's sick. Dawn sent me a letter this morning. I think they said he's got the flu. It's not responding to the medicine."

Quinn's eyes soften. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But what if he's not? What if he dies? What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, if that happens, you'll mourn his loss and keep his memory alive."

"Is that what you're going to do about Clay and Scout?" I ask quietly.

"I hope so," she whispers. "I just want to do them justice. I don't want them to be forgotten."

I hug her, like I have so many times in the past twenty-four hours. "They won't be forgotten as long as you remember."

"Are you sure?" she whispers.

"I'm very sure."

The tables have turned, I see. She went from comforting me to the other way around in minutes. I hold her for the longest time. I only let go when my arms begin to cramp.

"I don't want to talk to about them anymore. Let's talk about something completely shallow, okay?" she says with a strained smile.

I grin. "Sure."

"Well, I have these two friends that are dating. Finch and Linsey. Well before I left, Finch kissed me. And then Frieze- you know Frieze- kissed me. I'm confused about what I should do."

"How long have Linsey and Finch been dating?" I ask. Of course, Quinn would have two men pining for her at the same. I mean, who wouldn't want to be with the girl?

Quinn flinches. "Four years."

"Damn. Frieze would be a better choice, though, you know? You can relate better to each other. And Finch sounds like an idiot."

Quinn chuckles. "I guess I see your point."

"Are you as tired as I am?" I ask, yawning.

"I guess that's my cue to go," she says with a smile.

I enjoy Quinn's company; a kind of craving to be with her always is there when I come to mentor. She's like a ray of sunshine- most of the time- that can break through the Capitol's darkness. I like that. And when she's sad, it seems like my job to be there for her.

If it was up to me, I wouldn't want her to be with either of them. Finch seems like an ass and I didn't think Quinn and Frieze got along that well.

I watch Quinn go with sleepy eyes, wishing she'd come back and shine on me some more.


Dara Valentine (D4)

I can't bring myself to get up and find food. Barnie's death is still dampening my mood and I don't want to eat or sleep. I'm pretty sure I look like shit. I need beauty sleep and when I don't get it, ugly bags appear under my eyes.

Pearl has really pissed me off by killing Barnie. She needs water and has enough money for a small canteen, but I'm hesitating to send it to her. Why would she do that? I thought Barnie was like a brother to her.

I guess I was wrong, though. She was just using Barnie, just luring him into a false sense of security, when really all she wanted to do was kill him.

I've just decided to send it to her when the screen changes to the Eleven tributes. They haven't spoken to each other since what the Capitolites are calling "The Incident."

They left their camp hours ago and are now deep in the forest. Olive almost ran into them thirty minutes ago, but they ultimately didn't meet.

I send Pearl a canteen of water. It switches to her seeing the silver parachute. She grins.

That's all I see before it switches back to the Eleven tributes. Laurel is looking through the trees and sees the parachute falling. She taps Zale's shoulder to get his attention before directing his gaze towards the parachute. Zale's face goes stiff at the sight.

They hurry forward, Laurel nocking an arrow. They stop in the bushes just in time to see my tribute take a gulp.

"We need water," Laurel whispers, biting her bottom lip.

She doesn't want to kill Pearl. But it's my tribute or her and I can already tell that Laurel's not the type of person to sacrifice herself for someone else to live.

She pulls the bowstring tight and releases. The arrow hits Pearl in the neck. She falls backwards, blood gushing from the wound. I'm pretty sure the arrow severed the jugular. She'll be dead in minutes.

Laurel and Zale come through the bushes warily. They take the backpack, which has a few pieces of bread and jerky inside of it. They grab the canteen from Pearl's shaking hands. Laurel watches her with a blank expression until the cannon fires. Then she walks away, leaving Zale jogging to keep up.

I just killed my tribute. Yes, it was by accident, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that a thirteen-year old girl is dead and it is completely my fault. I should have waited a few more minutes to send it.

When I was younger and in training for the Games, I adored watching them every year. All I could imagine was myself winning. It was so easy to see passed the deaths on the screen.

I was ruthless in my Games. So different from what I really am. I might be a bitch, but I don't want to kill if I don't have to. I killed eight people that year.

I comfort myself with the fact that I've done much worse than accidentally kill my tribute.