A/N: Here is the third chapter, as always please review, if you don't like it please tell me what to fix. Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games, then this story would not be on Fanfiction!:)
I cannot believe what just came out of my mouth. District Twelve has as much chance of winning this year as I have of becoming an avox. They have only won the games twice before, so the odds of me keeping my fifteen coins are pretty slim this year. This is a real bummer, knowing already that I am losing all the money I am betting with, I can tell you. The only reason I had even betted on her is because she was the first person I had thought of, I was going to bet on Cato, but when I got mad at Octavian all reasonable thoughts were driven from my mind, and now I am stuck with the girl tribute from District Twelve because of it. I am such an idiot! Now Octavian and Minerva are looking at me, and clearly wondering when their friend had gone so insane, as to bet on something so weak. Sadly I agree with them that I have gone insane.
It is a couple of minutes before Octavian speaks. "I'll be happy to take you up on that bet. It's a stupid bet, but then I would happily gain fifteen coins any day." He then smiles like he's won the lottery, and the worst part is that unless my tribute has secret ninja skills, he really has won a lottery. Suddenly I am reminded why I have never really liked Octavian as a person or a friend.
Minerva saves the day by saying " I'll bet ten coins that the boy from District One, Cato, will win this year. He seems like the type who wins." Minerva is as awesome as her cat alterations, she is the only person I know who can totally and completely ignore or pretend that something embarrassing had happened. Right now I don't think I should hate her but I can't help it, she betted on who I really wanted to bet on, Cato.
We say good bye to Octavian, and then a small group of people, Minerva and I included in this group, headed over to Octavian's over the top entertainment room. We are going to watch the tributes depart for the capitol, and at this point I just hope it is not too late and it is still being broadcasted. Fate is not very kind to me, we had turned it on too late, but it was not as bad as I had feared, we could still watch District Twelve. District Twelve, the one I had betted would win this year. I take a good long look at the girl I'm betting will win. Smaller than average, that is not in her favor, unless she is stronger than she looks, which I doubt. She has straight black hair and gray eyes and with a stylist she'll be pretty enough. Yet this girl will not be as pretty as, say, the girl from District One. Overall, the odds are not in this girl's favor. I think the only thing about her that doesn't make me want to run off and cry is that as she gets on the train, she appears bored. Not like the blond boy right next to her, who has clearly been crying his eyes out. Appearing bored does not make her look strong, but it does not make her look weak either. For just a moment, I respect this girl. Then that moment ends.
All of my supposed friends that are in this room seem to think that me betting fifteen coins on this girl is hilarious. They cat-call, and say rude things to me like "Aeliana, you think this bit of trash is worth fifteen coins?" Even Minerva is shaking her head at the idea that someone would bet that much money on a tribute from District Twelve. Or that ten of those coins would be that she kills a specific tribute, and five that she wins. Apparently when faced with better seeming tributes, this girl, whose name I clearly need to learn, doesn't appear to be as grand as she seemed in the moment when she volunteered for Twelve.
I want to get away from these people who laugh at me, I want to go home. "I loved watching my tribute get on the train, it's a shame you did not get to see yours." With that I walk off and leave them all in the Entertainment room. That has got to be my least favorite party I have attended to date, hopefully the next one I attend will be better.
When I get home I don't want to have to talk to my younger brother, so I walk in the back door. I hate how embarrassed I feel right now, and my ten year old brother will only make me feel worse. My brother is the kind of person who embodies his name of Brutus. He is the kid always running around wrestling with people. He has dyed his skin a vomit green and has tattoos that make him look like he has scales. Because they are tattoos and not alterations, Brutus came have them.
After I'm sure that Brutus is not at home I remember that my dad has gone through a similar problem, and I am resolved to try and find him to talk about it.