District 1

Estella Blake

Victor of the 182nd Hunger Games

I sit at my table, slowing sipping the herbal tea Grey prepared for me. I typically need to drink some sort of tea to dull the aching of my joints in the morning, and Grey's kind enough to make it for me. He's tried to convince me to just use the Capitol-made medicine so many times, but I've always refused. I only trust my own concoctions, not the unnaturally colored Capitol stuff.

At the time of my Victory, I probably would have been fine swallowing anything the Capitol gave me, but I no longer trust anything with names I can't pronounce. Grey always says I'm being ridiculous, but I stick to my decisions.

I slowly set down my cup and stand up. Grey immediately notices this and rushes over to help me, but I wave him off.

"I'm eighty-four years old, Grey, not a mummy." Grey nods but still looks nervous as I make my way across the kitchen with the mug in my hands.

Grey's my grandson. He finds the compulsion to stay at my beck-and-call almost constantly, which begins to get a bit annoying. He continuously assures me that he doesn't have anything else to do, but I'm worried that his attention isn't allowing him to have his own life. He doesn't have a girlfriend or a job, or any hobbies besides taking care of me.

I always try to persuade him to take up some kind of skill, such as painting or music, but he is very critical of himself and refuses to do it if he doesn't exceed immediately. Which I think is a very stupid philosophy.

"I have to get to the training center soon. They're announcing this year's designated volunteers at noon."

"I still think they shouldn't make you mentor when you're this old," Grey says, nervously biting his nail.

"It's fine," I assure him, "I enjoy mentoring children. And don't bite your nails." Grey immediately stops.

"Even if you like mentoring, it can be dangerous. With the stress and all…"

"Gray, once again, I am not that fragile. Talking to some children isn't dangerous," I point out. Grey shrugs and drops the subject. "I really did like the Victor of last year, even if they weren't from District One."

"Yeah, they really deserved the win," Grey says, perking up.

"I just hope they're coping well with the Victory… they'll have to mentor this year, as well. That can be stressful for a lot of new Victors. I would help them out, but I'm sure someone else will."

"Shouldn't you focus on your own tribute?" Grey asks.

"Of course," I say, shrugging him off. "But it doesn't hurt to help a new Victor. You may not understand, but us Victors have to support each other. We've all been through a lot."

"Still, you should try to help whoever you're mentoring to the best of your ability. I know that my friend Luka is up for the position of the designated Volunteer. I'd really like him to make it back. Do you know if you're mentoring the male or female, yet?" Grey asks. I shake my head.

"Not until we know who the designated Volunteer is. I'm guessing female, though. That's how it tends to work."

"That's too bad. I know Luka would do really well under your tutelage."

Grey stands up and begins clearing his plate. He consumed a whole farm for breakfast this morning, unlike me. He quickly dunks all of his eating utensils and plates in the sink and runs a bit of water over them. Apparently, he'll clean them later because they have to 'soak'.

"We need to go to the training center about now," I point out, gathering my coat from a hook on the wall. District One is deceptively cold around this time of year. Grey nods and follows after me, sliding a jacket on and zipping it up.

We exit the giant Victor's Village house, ready to find out who I'll be mentoring this year.

With eight successful mentorships on my record, I'm preparing for this to be the ninth. I don't slack when it comes to helping my tributes, despite what a lot of people think. I do the best I can, and it generally pays off.

After all, how many other Victors can claim the same number of Victories?