District 3: Shiloh McCarthy's POV

I've never been on a boat before. District 3 isn't the place for them. I don't see the appeal either. Yes, they can travel over the ocean, but I feel sick every time the boat rocks even slightly. Boats are nothing special in my opinion.

Miles and I have been exploring the boat deck for hours. I don't know what he wants to find, but we haven't quite found it. I think he wants supplies since we barely got any. You would think that such a big boat would have more stuff on it. That is another reason why boats aren't that great. Between the rocking and lack of supplies, I hope we can get off this boat as soon as possible.

"Miles," I whine. "I want to leave." It is a shallow request, even I know that. If we leave, that means everyone else has to die. But if we don't leave or can't leave, that means we die while one or two other kids leave. I wish it didn't make so much sense. Then it would be easier to handle. I think. Maybe it is a little complex.

"We can go under the deck in a few minutes," Miles says. I hear the impatience in his voice. After years of it, I thought he would be use to my occasional whining nature. I guess not. Or he is just impatient with the game. We aren't doing so well. The kids who took this one girl's supplies are though. District 2 can be very tricky or so I've heard. I tried to suggest acting more like them a little while ago, but Miles wouldn't have it. He said they are just leeches who don't know how to find things for themselves. Still, I would rather be a leech than die of hunger like…a not leech.

"I mean of the boat," I whine again. By his heavy sigh, I see Miles does not like my request at all. I think he already knows the thing that I don't really know: we have to let everyone else die to get off the boat. I think that means we have to kill people. Miles won't tell me about that part. Maybe that is why I am having trouble understanding.

Miles kneels down in front of me. He does this when he has to example serious things to me. I usually hate it because he acts like I am a child when he does this little talk, but I want him to explain at least one thing to me today. "Listen, Shiloh, in order to get off this boat, we need to win the game. In order to win the game, we need to find supplies. That is why we are looking around the deck. Do you understand?"

I scoff at the answer. "I understand that part because it is the only part you will tell me. I want to know what happens past the supplies. I don't think getting supplies is on everyone's to do list at the moment. I think I can handle it. I am a part of this game too, you know."

Miles sighs a heavy sigh again. "You're right. You are part of this game. But I don't want you playing. If it were up to me, you wouldn't even be watching from the sidelines. I know you know how this game is played. This is kill or be killed. And you're right about the fact that people are trying to do that right now. Once we get the supplies, we will figure out how we will play from there. Is that enough explaining for you?"

I nod. "We don't want to end up like Transdetta."

"Miles, you're hurting me," I complain as I try to squeeze my hand out of Miles death grip. We are sitting on our shabby couch, eyes glued to the TV set. The Hunger Games has consumed our lives at the moment. My sister, Transdetta, is playing and is currently on the screen now. I am silently cheering for her in my head. Miles won't let my cheer out loud. He says it will annoy the neighbors. It is really because he wants to hear every word out of everyone's lips.

"Miles," Belinda says quietly. "Let go of Shiloh's hand." Miles release my hand and I smile gratefully at Belinda. She is the granddaughter of the old lady we live with. Miles and I treat her like a sister. Transdetta did. Or still does. I think the better word at the moment is did. Transdetta is being corner by the Careers.

Belinda puts her arm around me and tries to cover my eyes, but I resist. "Climb," Miles yells at the TV. It is almost like she can hear him because she begins climbing fast up the large tree she had been pinned too. Miles is on the edge of his seat now as the Transdetta climbs.

The girl from 4 is one her tail. She scales the tree almost as fast as Transdetta with a knife in her hand. My eyes widen as she closes in on Transdetta, but my sister manages to hoist herself up a little higher and out of the knife's reach. Belinda hasn't been breathing and Miles is about to drop on the floor. I remain optimistic. Nobody is a better climber than my sister.

Then, she falls.

She falls and she falls, slamming into branch after branch. The camera gets every crash and every crack as Transdetta makes her possibly deadly descent to the ground. Belinda tries to cover my eyes yet again, but I block the gesture as I had done last time. I watch as my sister meets the earth with an ear shattering thud. "Transdetta," I whisper.

Like with Miles, Transdetta seems to hear me. Her eyes flutter open as the flood with tears of pain. That fact that she is alive is not lost on the Careers. The girl from 2 picks up her sword and does not delay in plunging it into my sister's heart. Her hyena laugh fills my ears along with the sound of the cannon. More tears of pain our pouring out. They are mine.

"No," I whisper. "No, no, no, no!"

"Belinda," Miles says in an eerily calm voice. "Take Shiloh to bed, please." I look into his eyes to see them filled with tears like mine. I look to Belinda and see the tears again. We have all felt the blow.

"No!" I scream. Belinda tugs on my arm to get me up, but I resist. I feel my body jerk at even her slightest touch and my mind feels as if it is on fire. Never have I felt so much pain. I continue to scream, but not with words, but with shrieking sounds to match the laughter and cannon noise. I twist and jerk away from Belinda until Miles has to hoist me up and over his shoulder.

I punch at his back as he takes me down the hall. I hear the old lady trying to yell at Miles over my screaming. She wants me to stop immediately. I won't. I can't. It won't make Transdetta come back, but I can't stop trying. I scream until my lungs collapse. When that happens, my mind is forced to submit to the echoing of hyena like laughter.

I blink away a little tear at the memory and shake the sound of distant laughter from my head. Miles isn't looking at me anymore, but at the wooden deck of the ship. When he finally looks up, he can't meet my eyes. "No, we don't want to end up like…" He tries so hard to say. But I respect the fact that he can't.

"I think I understand," I admit quietly and try to pull my brother to his feet. He nods and stands up unassisted by me. "Let's look for supplies." I let Miles go ahead as I drag my feet behind me. Play the game, play the game, play the game. You have to do it until your life gives out.

District 3: Miles McCarthy's POV

I make a mental note to never let what happened on the deck happen again. It is dangerous to look back at the past. And now I know it is dangerous to look into the future as well. I have to keep Shiloh grounded in the present as much as I can. The present can't hurt her if I don't let it.

We have been walking inside now for about two hours. We explore mainly first class since I know it will please Shiloh. However, after two hours, Shiloh is getting restless again. I can tell by her continuing little sighs and louder footsteps. Finally, she begins to protest again. "First class has nothing. We should explore farther down."

I need to think of an excuse. I can't let her know I am afraid of the lower levels. The passages are too narrow. The rooms are too small. There is no likely escape down there, nowhere to run. It is safer up here, I am sure of it. "Um, I think we should stay up here. The supplies will be better up here and it is so much nicer as well."

"I think you mean the supplies would be better if there were supplies," Shiloh points out with a huff. "I think it will be better if we…" Shiloh trails off with a loud and delighted gasp. I hope I can take this as a good sign. "Look at the tea room!" Before I can stop her, she is running into a small parlor with a supreme view of the ocean. Inside is a small table with every square inch covered in fine foods and place settings. It looks like it was designed with the Capitol in mind.

"It is so beautiful," Shiloh says in awe. I nod, but I am a bit skeptical. Nothing this nice can be bought by a sponsor and the Capitol never sends things themselves without a catch. Shiloh is already at the table, not seated, but looking about ready to do so. First, she picks up the card on the plate awaiting food to heap on to it. She lets out a tiny squeal again. "This seat is reserved for me."

This can't be right. I walk cautiously over to the side of the table opposite Shiloh and pick up the white card. There, in delicate script, was the name Miles McCarthy. I drop the card carelessly back on the plate and observe the table more closely. "We should serve the tea first then pick out little desserts…" Shiloh has already gotten lost in planning a whole event for us. That is when I notice what is definitely off.

"There are three place settings," I mutter, looking over at the other setting of china. It was a perfect tea table. A tea table for three. Though a bit afraid to look, I step in front of the other set of china and pick up the white card.

"I believe that is my place setting." I drop the card back on to the plate and grab the first thing in my reach, a tiny saucer meant for the tea. I turn around and almost drop the saucer I grabbed. It is Transdetta. She looks exactly how I remembered, but something in her eyes isn't right, like they aren't even her eyes at all.

Shiloh doesn't run to hug our supposedly dead sister with a gleeful shriek. She runs to hug me with a terrified scream. I put my free hand on her shoulder and look Transdetta straight in her foreign eyes. "What are you-how are you here?" I ask as I try to remain calm for Shiloh.

"I've come back to help you," Transdetta says with a smile. Her voice is wrong too. It is too low, too raspy for Transdetta. "Can I help my own siblings?"

"You aren't my sister," Shiloh blurts out, tears brimming in her eyes. I nod along with her. "We don't need your help," she continues, stealing the words right out of my mouth.

"Fine," Transdetta says and the lets out a high-pitched cackle. "Why would I help District 3 losers anyway?" I pray that she will disappear, but she only grows closer. I hear the rattle behind me, but I refuse to look back. The rattling only gets worse and I feel the side of the table bang into my leg. I hear a cup shatter and I feel hot tea splash the back of my pants. It burns against my skin, but I hold in a scream.

More things behind us burst and shatter. Tea and cookies go here and there. I can feel the legs of the table beginning to give out. Before I can even yell anything, I push Shiloh away from me just as the table completely explodes and the saucer in my hand shatters into my skin in a million tiny pieces. The last thing I see is my dead sister's wicked grin before a large chair part sends me into darkness.

…..

There you go! So, somebody pointed out that a message isn't really a gift. The note will be explained in later chapters, but it wasn't necessarily a gift. Kantix and Camille are on deck.

Capitol Question of the Day: What other surprises do you think the ship will hold?

Reviews would be wonderful. Peace, Love, and All That Jazz.
-Emma