Author's Note: Here's chapter two! A big thanks to those who have reviewed; thank you for the encouragement!
. . .
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I can't believe what just happened. All morning I have been hoping and praying that I would not be called, and then I volunteer? How insane am I? I hear my mother gasp, and I know that what I have just done will deliver a terrible blow to my family. But I wasn't thinking about them when I volunteered; I was thinking of that poor little girl. And when I lock eyes with Rue, who stands on the stage with a mixed expression of relief and confusion, I don't regret my act.
With a boldness I cannot begin to understand or claim to have created, I walk through the crowd and towards the stage. The full realization of what I have done settles on little Rue, and she lets out a short sob and pulls her hands to her face. Then, in a move I would not have expected, she rushed down the stairs and wraps her thin arms around me, hugging my waist tightly. A peacekeeper steps forward and yanks my arm towards the stage, but Rue looks up at me before I'm dragged off.
"Thank you," she whispers, her face bearing a smile despite the tears running down it. She dashes away and ends up beside a woman who must be her mother and five other small children, all younger than her. I am comforted when I see that family together and know that it is what I have protected.
I reach the top of the stage feeling brave, not allowing myself to think about what the sacrifice I have just made will cost me in only a few short days. I face the crowd and try to keep an emotionless expression, which requires that I not look at my family. Instead, I stare off at a screen that now displays me and let all other thoughts melt away.
"What is your name?" the escort asks me from my right.
"Amaranth Gleaner," I reply.
"Very good," coos the escort. "You are now one of only three volunteers from District Eleven since the beginning of the Hunger Games! How exciting!" Snapping her head back to the audience, the escort returns to her reaping. "Now for the gentlemen."
While she dramatically digs her fingers through the pile of names, I take a chance and look slightly behind me to where the mentors sit. Chaff and Seeder are the only two living victors of District 11, and I know nothing about them. Both are eyeing me curiously, and Seeder even seems to have admiration in her gaze. I wonder what sort of people they are. I suppose I will find out soon enough.
"Thresh Messis," the escort declares loudly, and I look over to size up my fellow tribute. The boy who walks to the stage is massive and strong; I know immediately that he will pose a threat to even the Careers from the wealthier districts. He takes his place and we shake hands, but he keeps his eyes down.
"I give you the tributes from District Eleven!" the escort joyously says. "Amaranth Gleaner and Thresh Messis. We wish them both well. Happy Hunger Games!"
The next several hours pass by far too quickly for my liking. Thresh and I are taken into the justice building and then placed in separate rooms. My family comes, but they don't ask all the questions I thought they would. They simply say their goodbyes and give me lots of love and encouragement. As they are escorted out of the room, my father looks over his shoulder and says, "I am more proud than any parent of a victor," and winks at me. This makes me feel better than all the other nice comments about my bravery because it shows that he approves of what I've done. He knows that that little girl should live longer than me.
To my surprise, I receive another visit. Rue and her mother come briefly into my room and shower me with gratitude and promises to never forget me and to always be ready to help my family. I try to assure them that they don't owe me anything, but my attempts are in vain. And if I were in their position, I can't say that I would accept such a statement either.
Finally I am taken to the train station where Thresh and I wave goodbye to the only home we've ever known. Both of us try to keep from crying, but I can see pain in his eyes, and I am sure it is obvious in mine as well. Our escort hurries us onto the train, and as soon as we're secure in the car, the windows reveal that we are pulling away from District 11.
We are directed straight away to a dinning train car, and although I really want to go to my private room and cry myself out, the smell of the food is too much to resist. I am very hungry; in fact, I'm always hungry, so now that all the worrying surrounding the Reaping is over, I decide that I will eat a meal.
The food is beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I can hardly even understand what most of the dishes are; the only things which are familiar are the bread rolls and the soup, though of course even these two foods are far more delicious than what I've had at home. Thresh and I both stuff ourselves full of the rich stuff, ignoring the comments from our escort, who soon realizes that we don't care what she says and leaves the car.
When we are finishing our meal, our mentors make their first appearance. I think they know that we're not ready to start planning our strategy for the Games, because they only introduce themselves briefly and then tell us to meet them in this car at ten tomorrow. I am grateful that I've been given time to think things over; I don't even know what to think about the Games yet.
In the space of two minutes that the mentors are in our car, I am able to learn a bit about them. Chaff, the male victor, seems slightly drunk, and I suspect that this is his typical condition. I have always been under the impression that being a victor is a very hard life, one plagued with oppressive guilt and memories of death, and Chaff supports my assumption. Seeder is a little more like most women of 11, though I can see a deep sadness in her eyes. She is very kind, and she grins at me and makes a comment about how what I did was "really brave". I decide to trust her.
At last, Thresh and I are shown to our rooms after being told that we will be in the Capitol at about noon tomorrow. Mine is so large compared with the eight by eight space that I'm used to, and after the servant leaves me alone, I spend several minutes just walking around and around the huge space that is going to be mine for the night. I look into all the drawers and investigate all the automatic contraptions. Then, once my curiosity is satisfied, is sit on the soft quilts of the bed and cry.
I cry for a long time, wanting so badly to feel the loving arms of my family around me, to hear my father's voice telling me that everything is going to be okay. But instead there is silence and coldness. I feel utterly alone.
But that is not true, I know. I will never be alone. Those illegal thoughts I shoved aside while I stood at the Reaping reappear in my mind, and I realize how foolish I was to reject them earlier. I should embrace them; they give me hope, even in this terrible circumstance. I rock myself back and forth and wrap the sheets of my bed around me until I calm down. I have to get a hold of myself and prepare myself for what is coming. I need a strategy for the Hunger Games.
I think about it for a while, but there's no easy solution. Murder is wrong; I know this with certainty and can never change my mind about it. But what about killing when it's in self-defense? Is that a moral crime? I am not sure, and if there's anything I hate, it's when things aren't black and white.
I dwell on thoughts of the Games all evening. I consider what to do while I discover the great pleasure of the shower, while I get a late evening snack in the dining car, and when I snuggle underneath my sheets at night. I fall asleep still tossing and turning as I try to figure out how to approach the devilish Arena that awaits me.
I awake with a start, as if I just had a nightmare, though I don't remember what was in it. I am covered with sweat, but I can't seem to stop shaking. I see that it is still before nine in the morning, so I have plenty of time before I have to meet with Seeder and Chaff. I take a long, warm shower to force myself to relax, and as I wrap myself up in a plush towel, drying my hair and combing it out, everything suddenly comes together in my mind, and I know what I should do.
My strategy. It's so simple and obvious that I am ashamed not to have thought of it before. And while I'm pretty sure that it won't please the Gamemakers, I know it may be the only way for me to conquer the Games.
With all my worries melting away and a wonderfully peaceful calm settling over me, I dress in some comfortable clothes and head to the dining car, a pleasant smile on my face.
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