Author's Note: Well, I hope all of you readers like this! I'm actually trying...
Reviews are my Mockingjay pin! :)
Chapter 3 The Train Ride (Part 1)
Marcus opened the door and I wiped my eyes, even though nothing was there.
"Times up—Cleo, are you alright?" He asked me.
"I can't read." I told him, even though I knew he already knew that. "I can't read and my grandmother gave me this, but I don't understand it."
He came over and took the letter from me. It wasn't in the harsh way I always thought people from the Capitol would act. It was tender as he did it, and his eyes scanned over the paper. "Cub, I'll read this to you later. We have to go now, alright?"He told me. "You can sleep a bit on the train, relax yourself before the Capitol."He handed the letter back to me, and I put it in the box.
I got up from the couch, and he put his arm around my shoulder. "I saw your grandmother leave. I don't blame you for wanting to leave." He said to me as we walked down the hall we'd come in. He opened one door with the tipoff his boot; it apparently had no lock. The door opened and Nixon had his hands tangled in blonde hair. He jerked up when Marcus cleared his throat.
"Win for me, okay?" The girl told him.
He smiled; a completely different smile then Marcus's, because Nixon had imperfect teeth and his face seemed completely different then our escort's. "I'll do my best, babe."
"Tick tock Nixon, the Capitol doesn't have much patience." He told the younger man—boy.
We left the Justice building. Peacekeepers tried to follow, but Marcus dismissed them with a wave of his hand. It was like…they were afraid of him.
Even though Marcus had long since let go of me, I was closer to him that I probably had to be. I didn't care. What was somebody going to do about me standing next to my escort?
That sounded way better in my head…
There wasn't a lot of buzz around the train station, just a couple people that were not my grandmother. She knows I can't read. She knew and still gave me the letter. My hands balled up into fists. She hates me. Then again, I hate her, too.
The train was warm, which was welcomed as I was still wearing the sleeveless silk dress.
"You two should eat. You look starving, Cleo, what did you eat this morning?" Marcus asked me, his eyes flicking up and down my body.
"Eggs, and I'm not starving." I told him.
Nixon made a sound from the back of his throat. "And here I thought you were mute." He said, "Shame."
Marcus gave him dagger eyes. I didn't really catch whatever was going on between them—I'm rather sure I didn't want to.
We walked into the dining cart. A guy with long black hair sat at the end of the table. He was reading a book. I felt a pang of jealousy.
Marcus stopped short, staring at the man. "Crap, and here I thought we'd be meeting you at the training center."
The man closed the book and his eyes flicked up to us. I instantly noticed one eye was cloudy, and there was a scar from the upper left corner of his right eye to the opposite corner.
"You're Orpheus," I heard myself say. He's the victor of the first Hunger Games. He's the one who came back from the dead.
And then I realized I was screwed when Nixon said: "Who's Orpheus?"
The man chuckled. This living legend was in the dining car of the train that was taking me to the Capitol which would be where I trained for the Hunger Games. But I was still stuck on the fact that Orpheus was in the dining car, chuckling.
"Nixon, this is Orpheus. He's the first victor and your mentor." Marcus said, after taking a deep breath.
"My what?" He asked, dumbfounded. I was still staring at Orpheus. Why would he be mentoring District 8? He's from District 7!
He looked at me with his one eye. Both still moved at the same time, but it was common information that he was partially blind in his right eye after his Game. Even the Capitol's fancy machines couldn't fix it completely.
"It's the 13th Hunger Games. There are finally enough previous victors that they can mentor the new tributes." Marcus explained.
"Why are you mentoring us, and not District 7?" I asked him, looking at him. I couldn't tear my eyes off him.
"I owe someone." He answered me, standing up. He was taller than Nixon by at least five inches. He had on a plain black u-shirt and black corduroys.
I stared at him, still dumb found. This was…amazing, and shocking. And utterly thrilling. My blood hummed with excitement. This was Orpheus!
"You look hungry," he observed.
"The cub says she's not." Marcus mentioned, rather casual in his tone. "Maybe you can convince her to eat."
He smiled at me. "Cleopatra, is it?" I nodded. He pulled out a chair for me. "Come, enjoy this food while you can." He told me. I sat down and he pushed the chair in for me. The food I was looking at was nothing that I had seen before.
"Something simple, perhaps? You look like you'd enjoy sweet potato casserole." Orpheus took a plate and loaded food on to it. He also poured me a glass of a drink that tasted like black berries.
During our meal, we (Nixon and I) were casually asked questions by both Marcus and Orpheus. Not surprisingly, both were becoming annoyed with Nixon.
Apparently, Nixon's parents had been well off enough that he'd gone to school. It was rare, but it could still happen in District 8. He was supposed to have become a factory manager, not that much unlike Samuel. Except factories were more dangerous than warehouses. He moped about not being able to marry his girlfriend. He whined about how it wasn't fair that he—apparently a 'good citizen'—had gotten picked over his brother, an apparent trouble maker.
Neither looked amused by the last comment. Orpheus's left eye seemed to dilate as his thumb ran along the rim of his glass. Marcus stared at a serving knife next to a pie plate. I wondered how sharp that was.
"The cub is now well fed…will she sleep now, I wonder?" Marcus said to Orpheus.
"She looks as if she'll fall asleep in her chair." Orpheus replied, smiling. He did not seem like the cruel man from the first Game, as all the reruns seemed to focus on. He got up and pulled my chair out for me, and extended his hand to help me up.
Marcus watched. I knew he had watched because when I looked at him, his eyes were on the spot where I'd been seconds before.
"I'll show you to your room, Cleo." He told me.
"Orpheus! I'm her escort!" He jumped up, knocking his chair back. "I'll show her."
I smiled, my back to Marcus. That was cute, and it was kind of fun. He touched my shoulder, and I glanced back. My eyes met his, and he stayed in the dining car.
Orpheus and I walked through two more carts to reach the bedroom car. Whatever had been in that drink had me leaning on my new mentor. He put his arm around my waist, keeping me up. It felt…protective. That made me feel safe and I put my head against his chest as we walked.
Orpheus opened the door to my room. "You should sleep these next few hours. We'll wake you up before we get to the Capitol." He told me as he helped me onto the bed. He walked over to the drawers against one wall of the room and got out a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a camisole. "These will be a bit more comfortable to sleep in. Sleep well," he placed the clothing on top of the drawers and walked out.
I changed quickly, taking off my sandals. I just collapsed on my bed, sleep taking me over quickly.