*Okay so this is the first chapter not dedicated to Lystra's POV. Most will be in her POV, although on the occasion she was not taking place in important parts of this story. This one is in the POV of (senior) President Snow's 12-year-old daughter, Nich.*
I hardly ever saw Poppa.
He saw Snow a lot, but never me.
I supposed it's because I didn't look like him – not like Snow, at least.
So I played around – normally by myself. I had plenty of friends, but I preferred to be alone.
Maybe it would have been different if my mother was still alive.
But she had died giving birth to Snow.
I like Snow.
I'm glad Momma gave him to me. He's my only real friend.
Father hired tutors for me and Snow. He said that Snow had to learn, as Snow would one day be President. He said I might as well learn too.
The tutors were kind, and I liked them. They were friends, too, I suppose.
But not children friends.
Although the tutors taught me much, there was much I didn't understand.
Why didn't father care more for me?
Whhy did the television show children dying?
Why did everyone enjoy watching it?
Why was it a celebration?
I questioned the purpose of the Hunger Games, and once I mentioned it to a tutor. He told me that we killed the children so that they would learn a lesson.
I thought it to be a bit overkill.
I told my tutor that, and he stared at me for a moment. "Good day," he finally said, packing up the books and leaving.
I thought more about the Hunger Games, and decided to approach my father about it.
Turns out, he really didn't want to talk about it. I fled, my face tear-stained after he threw a book at me and yelled. I ran to my room, and grabbed a coat. Then I fled onto a train, and hid there, savoring the wonderful taste of adventure and freedom and danger.
I got hungry on the train ride, and the cramps in my stomach dimmed the feeling of adventure. I was doubled over hugging my knees, and longing for home and Snow, when the train stopped.
I sat there a moment, thinking I'd just stay on until the train went back home, but my stomach changed my mind. I crept out of the train, trying to stay low, but froze when I saw the conditions of district four.
Most of the houses were broke down and poorly built, as though of driftwood. The people suffered harsh conditions, and wore little clothes. As I crouched by the train, I witnessed a man being beaten. Terrorized and hungry, I ran behind the houses, the terror driving me on.
Eventually I collapsed, the hunger overcoming me. That was when she found me.
She took me into her house, and sat me on a chair – one of their only pieces of furniture. She put a piece of raw fish into my hands, and, in my hunger, I ate it, not caring what it was. When I had finished, I looked at her for a moment, before saying.
"Thank you."
"Who are you?" was her immediate question. I then noticed that she was staring at me. I blushed, embarrassed. It was then that I realized that I must look very odd to her – with my unnatural-color of red hair worn in a bob, nails that continuously flashed different colors, and my bright red and blue clothes.
"I'm Nich," I said, avoiding the topic of my family. "and you are?"
"I'm Mazie Skiprose," she replied, and I studied her a moment, comparing her to me.
She wore her curly black hair in pigtails, and her brown eyes flashed rebelliously. Her nails were short, jagged, and uneven. Her blue shirt failed to cover her shoulders, but the sleeve ran to her wrist, and the shirt itself cut off at the mid-waist. Her skirt went to her knees, and her shoes were a piece of fabric that appeared to be waterproof, and didn't cover her toes or heels. She was incredibly skinny.
We made quite the pair.
"Thank you for feeding me," I said, fully aware that the girl needed the food for herself. Mazie gave a noncommunticational grunt. We sat there a moment.
"I should really go," I said quietly. Mazie nodded. "Which way to the trains?"
"Behind the house? It's right for about a mile." I nodded, and stood, going to the door. I looked behind me once, at the strange girl.
"Goodbye. And thank you again."
She did not reply 'goodbye' so I simply left.
Back in the capitol, I found that I couldn't stop thinking of the girl, Mazie, and I hopped on the train again one day, going back to four. To be honest, I think Mazie wasn't too thrilled to see me. When I knocked on the door, a little girl answered, about three or four years old. I immediately saw the resemblance between her and Mazie – they looked exactly alike, but this new girl had straight hair, instead of curly.
"Hello," I told her kindly, because she looked a little scared of me. "Is Mazie home?"
"You have food," the little girl ignored my question and pointed at the bundle of food in my hand.
"Yes, I do. Do you want some?" the girl wordlessly nodded her head, and allowed me to enter, calling, "MAZIE!"
Mazie came in, and I sat them down and made them eat the food I'd brought. Mazie introduced the little girl as Wallie, her sister. I stayed with them for awhile, and then left once more.
I went back and forth for quite a while, between the capitol and district 4. Once, the train had stopped by seven before going to four, and I had caught a glimpse of the conditions there, which certainly weren't good, but appeared to be much better. When I told Mazie of it later that day, she said,
"Sure sounds nice. I wish we were there, not here." When I hesitantly asked why, she said, "My father . . . he . . . was chosen for the Hunger Games . . . four years ago. He . . . he didn't make it out alive. And . . . well . . . it's been . . . incredibly hard . . . for us . . . afterwards . . ."
I had felt the pity inside of me for my new friend, and I patted her back for a moment. When I left that day, an idea was bubbling inside of me.
It took me two weeks to save up enough money, and find a train that fit my needs. Then I got on the train, and went to Mazie's house.
"Nich!" she cried, giving me a short hug "it's been too long."
"Too long," I agreed, and then I smiled. "is your mom and Wallie here?"
"Yes, Nich, but why?"
I grinned "You're being relocated."
"What?"
"Let me paint a picture for you," I said dramatically, spreading my hands wide "your house is empty, and everyone assumes that you've run off and been eaten by wild animals. But you really went on the train with me to seven, where I've already bought you a house. It's in a fairly empty part of town – no one will notice you've arrived."
"Nich, I . . ." she seemed at loss for words. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, Nich!"
And so I took them to seven, and into their new home, along with some money that should have paid for their food and other necessities to get them settled in. Then I'd left.
I rarely visited Mazie anymore. It was getting harder and harder to sneak around to seven. It had been four weeks since I had seen Mazie, and I was watching the reaping in my bedroom.
Imagine my surprise, shock, and horror when Mazie Skiprose from District Seven was chosen for the Hunger Games.