Piper McLean, District 1
The escort leads me and Jason into a plush room with white sofas and mahogany tables. A TV is in one corner, showing replays of all the reapings. Jason's eyes bright up and he nearly drops the water bottle he's holding. He practically dives in front of the TV. The District 1 reaping is almost over, but Jason is admiring himself. I'm focused on the wig our escort wears, since I couldn't see it during the time I was on stage. I sit down on a sofa, to see who the capitol is sending to their death. I try to spot any weakness on the tributes. The muscular girl from 2, has too much muscle. She won't fit through any small hole. Frank from 5 is self-conscious. The girl from 7 cares too much her make up. Grover, the boy from 10 cares too much about plants. "Who are we going to be allies with?" Jason asks, stroking his hair. "I don't know. Maybe the girl from 4?" I suggest. Jason shrugs. "I guess she seems vicious enough. Nyssa and Jake from 11 are strong, and the boy from 3 is smart. The tributes from 2 are fine, though we'll ditch them soon. I'm not very fond of the District 2 female" Jason says, and I nod. Our escort rises. "I'm going to find Octavian and Athena" the escort says in her capitalized accent. "Who?" Jason asks, his eyebrows scrunched up. "Our mentors" I say for our escort. "They teach us some facts about the games". A scrawny blonde guy and a wise-looking woman walk in. I get to my feet immediately. The scrawny guy pinches his lips together as if he sucked on a lemon. "I'm Octavian. I won last year's games. Don't talk to me." He says. The woman, supposedly Athena, walks over to Jason, her white dress swinging side to side. "I'll be your mentor" she tells him. "What's a mentor?" He asks. I sigh. Not because my ally is as dumb as a doorknob, but I'm stuck with the crabby mentor who won't let me talk to him. Octavian plops down on a sofa. "Tell me," he says, "what's your weapon?" I hesitate. I'm not good with weapons, though he loves 'em. I saw him slash off ten heads last year in a heartbeat. That's something I can't do. "Well, I don't really—." I say before he cuts me off. "You mean you don't use weapons?" He interrupts, shocked. I nod, he sighs, I clench my jaw. "There was this kid last year—from 5. He was killed in the worst way imaginable. And you know how that happened? His refusal to kill" Octavian points out. He traces his fingers on the handle of a butter knife, and picks it up. "Nobody good ever wins the games" he whispers in my ear. He throws the butter knife an inch from my head, and it lands a good stick in the wall. I gasp. Octavian's mouth curves upward, into a grin. Then he lets out a menacing laugh. My throat boils with anger. I slowly rise. A my fist lands in his jaw.