Nothing to do, so I also did Chapter 3. Here it is.

The train ride was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was so lush and elegant, and full of food. As a child who grew up in the Victors Village, I thought I wouldn't be seeing anything new. But this was so much more than I was used too! The people in the Capital must have it good.

Nothing happened on the train ride. Effie tried to get to know Melanie and I better, but our parents just told us to avoid her as often as we could. She was to naive to be around. This was the first time I heard my parents make a snarky remark about somebody like that. I ignored it, because from what I knew of Effie, my parents were right, and there was nothing good about her.

That night, we also had our tribute parade, and I never heard anything that loud! At first it excited me, seeing all these people, cheering for me! Then, I realized they weren't cheering for me, they were cheering for my blood. Melanie looked as if she had done these a million times before. She smiled and waved and blew kisses to the crowd. A side of her I had never seen before.

Maybe she was changing faster than I thought.

…

The next morning, I wake up and go for some of the delicious Capital breakfast. I knew training was to start later today, but I pretended that I wasn't thinking about it. Training was just one step closer to the games. Apparently, my parents had different thoughts than I, and wanted to talk about the games as much as possible before we got started.

"First things first," says Dad in a stern and serious voice. I see anger in his eyes, but anger that is being driven towards the will to win. Mom has that same look in her eyes. They are holding a box of CD's, not even bothering to look at the breakfast that was so nicely prepared for us. "We are going to watch the reaping's of the tributes from the other districts."

"What?" mumbles Melanie through a mouth stuffed with food.

"Reapings can tell you a lot about a tribute and their personality," Mom cuts in. "Example, if they volunteered, then you know they want to be here and that they came to play." She is talking quicker than usual.

"I don't want to be here!" I say, raising my voice with every word spoken and slamming my fork down. That shouldn't have gotten me angry, but everything has been getting me angry.

"Do you want help or not!" yells Dad. "If you do, cut the bullshit and listen to us! We don't have to help you!" Hearing those words from my own father cut me like a knife. He seemed stressed, and I forgot that he was not at all happy about this situation either.

Mom has kept the stern look on her face the entire time. She returns to what she was saying. "If you had let me finish, Jake," she says, which annoys me even more. "You would have heard that we are going to watch the reapings in their entirety, so we will know everybody's full story."

After an awkward breakfast, we get up and go to the couch to view the reapings. It is one of those things that I feel like is just pushing me closer to the games, but in my head, I know my parents are right and it will help me win. I try to keep track of who is who.

The first four districts have career tributes, and half of them are volunteers. In District 1, a 15-year-old girl named Felicia is reaped, and an 18-year-old named Aleks volunteers, cheering his way up to the stage. Felicia doesn't look very unhappy either, with a big smile on her face. I know this will change the higher the district number is.

From District 2, there are no volunteers, even though they are the district with the most wins. They get a 17-year-old girl named Aletha, who has a wicked smile, and an excited 14-year-old boy named Onix.

District 3 is the shocking surprise. Everyone considers them the least career-like of the 4 career districts. However, a 16 year old girl named Trinitee (great thing to name your District 3 child) steps right up and volunteers, running up to the stage, even more excited than the boy from District 1. The boy reaped is 11 years old, and his name is Jack. Nobody volunteers, and I think I even heard the audience laughing. As of now, I don't know much about this child, but I want to find out more. There is something about hi making me wonder…

In District 4, both Tributes are volunteers. The girl is named Diamonda (to which Melanie shares a sound of disgust), and she is 18, the oldest you can be. The boy is a 16-year-old named Riker. The District 4 tributes are seemingly the most excited of the careers, running up to the stage, high fiving, and bowing as the audience cheers.

After the careers, my mind begins to drift a little, for I don't think anyone else is a big threat. However, I do my best to keep track of names and if they volunteered.

District 5 gets a girl named Macie and a boy named Kaelib. The girl from District 6 makes me cringe, a small 9-year-old who is torn away from her family by peacekeepers. The boy, Frendo, is a little older. Sadly, I don't think either stand a chance.

District 7 gets a 14-year-old girl named Keesha, who shows no emotion whatsoever, and a 16-year-old boy named Dierks.

Another surprise comes with District 8. A 17-year-old girl named Sahara volunteers, and she looks like she could be a career! She has the evil look in her eye, and anyone could tell she is out for blood. Next, an 18-year-old boy named Kenny volunteers. He goes right on stage to hug Sahara, who looks even angrier now. They don't look alike, her with her pale skin and blonde hair and him with his darker skin. I don't know what kind of history they have together.

District 9 has two young, timid teenagers reaped and forced away against their will. The girl is Sofiya and the boy is Aaron.

In District 10, we get an 18-year-old girl named Emilia and a 15-year-old boy named Jonas. In District 11, a frigid 13-year-old girl named Jaqueline, and another 13-year-old boy named Dax.

"That's enough," I say as Mom gets up to put in the tape for District 12.

She turns around. "Your father and I think every tribute should watch their own reaping to see how they-"

"I said I don't want to watch it!" I shout standing up. The last thing I want to do is relive the awful moment that brought me here. The last thing I want to do is relive the pain I feel when my sister gets reaped and when my brother gets reaped.

Dad stands up and storms over to me, raises his hand, and gives me a painful slap across my face, leaving a red mark on my cheek. "Listen Jake, I don't know what the HELL your problem is, but you need to shut up and let us coach you if you, OR YOUR SISTER, wants any chance of winning! We are helping you, get that through your thick head! Now stop being selfish, because your outbursts and interruptions are hurting not only you, but also Melanie! Understand?"

I stopped listening in the middle of what he had to say. I can't see my parents as my mentors, I can only see them as my parents. Without thinking I open my mouth and say the worst thing I could've said at that moment. "You couldn't help Dylan."

Everyone sits in silence. Mom's mouth opens a little bit, but no words come out. Dad stands there, motionless. Not knowing what to do, I run away to my room, shutting the door behind me. I lay down on my bed after punching my pillow a few times. Laying on my bead doesn't do me well enough, so I throw a pillow so that it shatters a lamp on the shelf next to my desk. The room is amazing, with a giant bed and a window taking up an entire wall. That doesn't stop me from wanting to destroy everything in it.

After my rampage, tears start to swell in my eyes. I go back to my bed and begin to cry, feeling so out of control for the first time in my life. After about ten minutes, I stop, having lost the rush of emotion that has been building up inside of me since the reaping. There is a knock on my door.

"Jake, can I come in?" It's Melanie. I want to say no, but I also need to talk to someone. And if there is anyone I can talk to, it's Melanie.

I get the door, and she walks over to the bed and sits down. Melanie doesn't like to waste time. I feel like most people would lighten the mood, commenting on the beauty of the room and the city we are in. Not Melanie. It's a subtle trait, the do-now attitude, that I think will help her in the arena.

"Mom and Dad are doing their best, you know that. You know hos stressed they must be? Both of us in the Hunger Games, and the most that can make it out is one? You have to do better to understand." This is not what I wanted to hear from her, but I know it's the truth. I hug her and start to cry again.

"I can't do this, Melanie," I whisper.

"I don't think anybody truly can. I just think some people are better at hiding that." Yeah, and you're one of those people, I think. Melanie continues to talk. "I think we just need to listen to Mom and Dad. Don't think about the fact that they have never led a winner, or that they mentored Dylan. The tribute decides if they win or lose." I let go of Melanie, who starts putting her blonde hair up in a pony tail. I decide I am going to listen to her.

"Get some sleep if you need to," she says as she begins leaving the room. "We have training later, and I want to make sure they know we are the killers," she says wickedly, another side of Melanie I have never seen. "Especially Sahara."

The last part confuses me. Sahara was the evil looking girl from District 8 who volunteered, but here were a lot of careers just like her. "Why specifically her?" I ask Melanie.

This causes Melanie's jaw to drop to the floor. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN? SHARAH GRIVESON? MOJAVE GRIVESON?" she screams.

The realization hits me as soon as the words exit her mouth. I wasn't paying attention to the last names of the tributes when they were announced.

Mojave Griveson was the boy who killed Dylan.

Sarah Griveson must be his sister.

And she is back for more of my family blood.