If I didn't own the Hunger Games last chapter, nothing has changed for this one.
The trip to my death is slow and painful. District 10 is one of the farthest away from the Capitol, and it will take a whole day to get there. Do you have any idea how much I could do in one day with Trey? No, I tell myself, you need to let go. Move on. Forget him; you're going to a better place. But my mind won't let me. My friends have become so much of my life that it seems empty with them gone. Although, it was empty with them here, too.
Two hours have passed of doing absolutely nothing. Since our Reaping takes place fairly early in the morning, we arrived on the train just after lunchtime. I haven't been in my room, or any room other than the one we stepped into. It was a normal room, with a couple booths with tables and windows taking up whole walls. But I was so bored. To make matters worse, Besia Turnvenus is a royal pain in the butt, and Greyson just hides in his room, crying. Chelah Liznie is trying to be comforting, but I don't want to listen to her in case I decide to change my current plan. My current plan is what, you ask? My plan is to not have a plan.
Besia shrieks something unintelligible in her stupid accent, and then goes running for Greyson. The two of them emerge together. Besia is pulling his arm while Greyson rubs his eyes with his free hand. Besia turns to me and says, "Look, you two are boring me to tears. Do something! Play a card game, watch TV, anything! All he does is cry, and all you do is sit and sulk. This is the only reason why my job gets boring!"
Ouch. It's true, but it's only because of her that I don't do anything. I scowl at her and turn away.
"Chelah, try to make conversation. I'm going to the kitchen," Besia says. She turns on her heels and stalks away. It's strange, I've never watched her walk before, but she looks unnatural because she trips on everything. Even when there's nothing to trip on, Besia manages to fall over. It would be hilarious if I wasn't in a terrible mood.
Both Chelah and Greyson begin speaking at once, and then both abruptly stop. This makes me laugh.
"I just realized that Greyson's last name is Chelah! So if you two got married, you would be Chelah Chelah! Please get married!" I burst out laughing again, but this time at my own ridiculous comment. Both Greyson and Chelah look at me, and then start laughing too.
Greyson's mentor, Peten, who has remained silent this whole time, suddenly stands up and chirps, "That's enough! You people are bipolar! It's time to talk about how you're going to survive."
I giggle to myself. "If one of us is going to survive, it should be Greyson. So he can marry Chelah." This brings on a new round of laughter that won't last, because Peten slams his fist down on the table.
"You are not one to decide who is going to win these Games, Seyrin. The sponsors make or break your Games, and we are going to impress them at the interviews by outshining all the other tributes! I suggest we begin by watching the videos of the other Reapings. Go sit in the second car of the train, while I get Besia."
"Aw man, do we have to? I was hoping I could just sleep all day," Greyson chimes in, purposely trying to annoy Peten. I have to admit, Peten angry was pretty funny.
"Don't start with me, boy. I won these Games too, remember," Peten retorts. He storms off to the kitchen car.
Greyson smirks and stands up to leave the room, followed closely by Chelah. "Aren't you coming, Seyrin? We wouldn't want Peten to have a hissy fit," she says with a smile, as she holds the door for me. I decide that these people aren't terrible after all, and walk through the open door to watch all my opponents get chosen to have the same fate as me.
As I enter the room, I am taken aback. Apparently, I should have been spending my sulking time in here, because everything is homely. The community home was a house, unwelcoming. This was a home, in the way that a household should be. Big, plush couches and pilliows, rich velvet curtains covering the windows and a huge TV are just the first things I see. Then I notice the deep maroon coloured carpets that are fluffy and warm, and the gold walls that reflect the light coming from the bulbs set in the ceilings tiles. In fact, everything in the room is that dark red with gold sparkled throughout. It was like walking into a cozy fire.
I look over at Greyson, who's having a similar reaction. His jaw has dropped through the floor. He shakes his head to return to reality, and then asks Chelah, "Are all of the Capitol trains this nice? When I win, I can sit in here again, right?"
She laughs and replies, "Of course, Greyson. Only the non-commercial trains are like this though. The transport trains have nice interiors, but aren't as luxurious. Just you wait until you see your room in the Training Centre. Then you will have experienced the best the Capitol has to offer, beside President Snow's mansion."
"Have you been inside the mansion, Chelah?" I ask, because now I was genuinely curious. We all take our seats, Chelah next to me and Greyson on a similarly designed reclining chair.
"Of course. All of the Victors go there on their Victory Tour, and there's a huge party. If you mentor a tribute that wins, you're also invited. So I've been twice, once for my tour, and once for Peten's."
Both Greyson and I are shocked. I manage to choke out, "You... You... You were Peten's mentor? But... you're so young! You can't be older than thirty, and he looks about fifty!"
"My dear Seyrin, he won the year after I did. It was bizarre that District Ten managed to win two years in a row, considering it was my first year as a Mentor. And Peten looking old is a result of his terrible drinking. Don't worry though, he should stay sober until you two are in the arena."
As she says this, Peten walks through the door with a reluctant Besia. "So you guys were talking about me, huh? I guess I didn't expect any better of you," he spat and took a seat on one of the other couches.
Besia was clutching a mug of some liquid that smelled sweet as if it were her lifeline. Hot chocolate, my mind reminds me. She got some as soon as we got on the train. We haven't even had a meal here yet, and she's had mug after mug of that stuff. I wonder if it's addicting.
She takes a seat next to me, and Peten turns on the TV, inserting the disk that will show me my fellow tributes. An idea pops into my head. Even though we should be watching this to know who will be hard to beat, I should watch to decide who I want to be killed by. Hopefully, I'll have the choice. I'm happy with this thought, and the tape begins to play.
We go through the districts in order. In the first there is a big boy with curly hair, and his partner is a girl who looks like a model. Both volunteered. I don't like either of them.
In District 2, both tributes volunteered. There is a huge boy (he could be one of the bulls from our district, based on build) and he is paired with a smaller girl (with an equal amount of muscle). I don't like them either, mostly because they scare me.
District Three provides a shrimp looking girl and boy, and neither look like they could kill me if they tried.
The district by the sea had volunteers too. They were yet another big boy and muscular girl. The Careers this year were pretty big, and terrifying. I think I'll die at someone else's hands.
In the fifth district, there was a boy who was nothing spectacular, and then a girl whose face looked like a fox. I immediately didn't like her, because a fox killed one of my chickens when I was little in the community home. Neither of them would have the honour of ending my life.
Districts 6 through 8 were nothing out of the ordinary, just the kind of kids who went every year. The ones who had been underfed their whole lives and probably couldn't even pick up most of the weapons.
In District 9, there was a girl who looked fierce, and probably wanted to come home. With the Careers, this was unlikely, but I had to hand it to her for planning on trying. The boy didn't catch my attention, just another shrimp.
As soon as they came to our district, I stopped breathing. I did not want to watch this. No one had said much the whole time other than to comment on the size of a tribute, but suddenly there was a tension in the room. Chelah put a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. But once the tape rolled through our Reaping, it didn't even look like me. I couldn't believe that I had been there. It was like watching a movie, or just like another district. If it hadn't been me, it would have felt the same. But as soon as Chelah commented on how I looked nice, I went numb, and put my face in my hands.
Trey had said the same thing while he was talking strategy.
"At least you look nice. The sponsors will like that. You're very pretty, you know," he said with a blush.
"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself," I had responded, winking.
I shuddered and tried to concentrate back on the screen. Our Reaping was finished, two more to go.
District 11 was interesting enough. There was a 12 year old girl, which always upsets people, but she looked smart. Not strong enough to kill me, though. The boy, on the other hand, could crush me with one hand. He was easily as big as the boy from Two, and likely just as strong. But that meant he scared me, so he would not get anywhere near me.
Finally, the tape showed us District 12. First, another 12 year old girl was reaped, but quickly her older sister had volunteered. Bizarre for such a poor district. This, I found honourable. Taking the place of someone you love is true compassion. I find myself wishing that someone had volunteered for me. No, I hiss in my head, you want to be here. Suck it up, you have no saviour. Except for Trey Drole. There isn't a doubt in my mind that if he could have, he would have volunteered for me. Stupid gender rules. I turn my attention back to the screen, where the tributes' only mentor falls off the stage. Besia is the only one who can manage to laugh, because the rest of us are in shock. Then the next tribute, a boy with blonde hair, is chosen. I decide I want one of them to kill me.
And then the screen goes black, because apparently Peten thinks we've seen all we need to, and there's no need to get attached to certain tributes. No, I think, because I won't know them for very long anyway.
We all leave the room, and I go back to sitting on the floor of the main room. The mentors head to their chambers, while Besia goes back to the kitchen for more hot chocolate. "Dinner is in an hour!" Besia calls to us as she leaves. Only Greyson follows me.
"So Seyrin, are you and Trey dating?"
I look at him, shocked. "No," I retort, "Why? Do you have an opinion on it?"
"No, not at all. I think that he likes you though; he came to visit me in the Justice Building. We were friends before he went to the community home. He asked me to do my best to keep you alive, even if neither of us wins. I just wanted to know if you were dating, because it didn't make sense to me."
"Oh," I said, now even more shocked. "Well, he's my best friend. Funny, he never mentioned you. Actually, he didn't mention anyone from before his life in the community home."
"I understand. You can't blame him though; his parents died. I assume the memories were not pleasant to talk about."
I thought about this. Trey's parents died in the same stampede that took my parents' memories. But they were killed by the animals themselves, not Peacekeepers. Greyson continues, "I bet you would give anything for him to be here with us right now."
"Yeah, I guess I would." I say this slowly, not really sure where Greyson is going with this conversation.
He looks around, then whispers, "Good thing he is, then."
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