Detention, however, didn't look too bad.
It was a normal classroom used to teach the truly unruly kids, the ones who, in a normal school, would've been expelled.
But this was District Thirteen, and that didn't happen.
It was an age of war. District eight suddenly struck up in rebellion and more districts followed. Then some genius in the Seam decided to harbour some wanted fugitives and they invited their friends along, and, after some convincing, took a large portion of 12 to the rebelling side. All hell broke loose. The Peacekeepers killed wildly, and so did the rebels. Gale and I - along with a few brave others – straggled up the remaining 800 or so survivors and took them to the woods, where we watched the rest of our world go up in smoke. After a few days, District 13's hovercrafts came and rescued us, where there was enough food and clean, white living spaces for everybody's needs. So, we came here, where the last few hundred or thousand people of the practically-destroyed Districts (1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 11 and of course 12) lived almost ordinary lives; a few bombs didn't stop people here. It was school as usual.
It would've been reaping day, I think. For the 75th Hunger Games. If eight didn't rebel.
I can't help but wonder what would occur if none of that happened. Would've it been a normal reaping day, clothes on, watch Effie Trinket pick two pitied kids, then to go home and celebrate? Or in a few years, would people fight back anyway? What if Pri-
"Miss Everdeen. Sit down."
Oh. I remember I'm still stood up in the hallway, looking over the detention room. A trio of girls eye me, unimpressed, and I catch a girl called Clove's comment as I walk away.
"Ew! Did you see her?" she sniggers.
"So frumpy! I think she's a lesbian!" says a blonde girl, giggling.
A gigantic boy from 2 speaks up. "I dunno, she looked hot to me. Ah, uhm, not at pretty as you though, Glimmer." Ugh. The District 1 – the blonde hair and overall perfect appearance gives it away – names are so stupid.
"Cato!" Glimmer wails.
I don't even bother rolling my eyes at the 'career' group. The thought makes me smile a little, that if they were in the Hunger Games, they would be allies, when they looked like the most useless bunch on earth. I perch myself on a table with Gale and he gives me a reassuring smile.
"Alright," says a male teacher. "You know the rules – no talking, get on with your work, no getting up unless impor-" a loud alarm interrupts him. "Fuck's sake. . ." he mutters under his breath. "Don't move! I'll be back later."
Although almost everybody disregards the rules immediately, reaching from storage tops and pulling out pillows from the backs of display boards. One guy even pulls out a hammock from a drawer in the desk. Even Gale makes himself comfy.
I can tell these people are regulars here.
I do shuffle around a bit, try to read or eavesdrop conversations, but it doesn't work and I end up bored out of my mind. It doesn't help when Gale leaves (his detention was only half an hour) and I find myself practically scratching my skin to shreds in boredom.
"There's an exit behind the whiteboard." A small voice says behind me. I look around, but see nothing. My mind must be deceiving me. "A vent," it clarifies. "The teacher has already done the register and won't be back for hours." I must still look lost, as the voice says, "Oh, I'm up here."
The voice turns out to be from a small, dark-skinned girl with deep brown eyes. She looks like a small bird, just about to take flight. She reminds me of Prim. How did she get up there, though, so stealthily? She must really have bird-like qualities.
"I'm Rue." She says, letting herself down from the vent. "Previously District 11."
That must be how she can dart around in places nobody else could touch.
I hesitate a little before replying, but I don't know why. Why should I be suspicious? There's no reason, so I speak up in the most of a kind voice I can manage. "Katniss," I say. "Previously District 12. Nice to meet you, Rue." She gives me a smile, and this time, I don't wait to return one. "What are you in for?" I ask. She said she released a stink bomb in class, and I give a sly grin.
"I taped it to the top of the vent and knew the system that controls it all would blow the stink bomb's smell to our classroom at a certain time – exactly in time, actually. It worked, but Levitt guessed the 'mastermind' behind the plan."
She's certainly incredibly sneaky. If we were in 12, I reckon she could be a fine hunter. The way she said she could swing from tree to tree while she worked in the orchards made her sound like a genius. So, we get talking. About her life, about my life, all before this rebellion business happened. She said she had a large family, and she was fiercely protective of them all. In some ways, Rue's family was exactly like Prim and I. We all valued our sibling's lives above ours.
"So, about this escape..." I trail off.
"Oh yes! Like I said, it's just behind the whiteboard. The bolts holding it to the wall come right off."
I'm intrigued. "Where does it lead? The hall?" She nods. "So what are we waiting for? Come on!" I race up to the front of the classroom, not caring about the looks people are giving. Sure enough, the board swings off its hinges, revealing that all-precious escape. The Careers – a nickname I've given them for my personal amusement – jump to their feet, shoving me out their way.
"There's no question, it takes us out of here." Says Cato.
"Well, congratulations Captain Obvious! Here, have a brain!" snorts Clove, peering inside the vent. She climbs in, but not before shooting a glare at Rue. "You, you spend hours in these places, and you'll know the way out. You're first, and we'll follow."
"Not without Katniss!" she says, stepping to my side.
"Fine," Clove relents. "Take your little lesbian friend with you if you need. We just need to get out of here." Rue rolls her eyes, but she knows I don't care about the remark.
"Wait... What do you mean, out of here? I know you don't just mean out of detention..." I gasp as I realise their plan. "You mean out of 13!" The Careers shift uneasily.
"Fine!" Glimmer snaps. "You know our idea. We hate this place! I'd rather starve out in the woods than in this hellhole!"
"So, we're going to escape." Cato cuts in. "We reckon we've got a few hours before 13 soldiers come looking for us, and then we're going to live out in the wilderness, until we reach an established district and catch an train that's importing goods to the Capitol."
Certainly, I'm impressed. They've got this down to the smallest flaw. But I look outside the window. (the classrooms are on the highest floors of 13) It's October; to execute this entire plan, it would take... what? 2, 3 months on foot? That would include winter, and Panem winters are incredibly unforgiving. Plus there's wild animals, finding food and water and weather to contend with. "You couldn't. You'd die in the wilderness before you'd even reach a mile."
"We'll take our chances." Shrugs a guy called Marvel, crawling inside the vent. A couple of others still sitting down look uneasily at each other. A particular red-haired girl whom I nickname Foxface is first to follow after the Careers, and everyone else soon joins. But not me. I just stand there motionlessly, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
"Katniss, right?" says someone called Peeta. Although, he's not just someone – he saved my life. I wonder if he still remembers. But more on that later. "Why aren't you leaving?" I shrug in answer.
Leave? How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world who I'm certain I love?
"It's just... my little sister... I can't take her. I can't leave her. She'd die so easily out there, and I can't think what'd happen if I left her... " I blurt out.
"Katniss, I'm sure that once this war is over, you'll cross paths again. It's a smaller world than you think, y'know." He smiles sympathetically. "At least you have Rue. Now. After you?" It's true. I do have Rue. And maybe, if I don't die out there, I truly will see my little sister again. Anyway, it's something to cling on to. I take a deep breath, stepping into the exit that changed my life forever – for the worse.