Third Chapter :-)

I stare at the TV, watching the Reapings with a critical eye. District One is beautiful, District Two is bloodthirsty, District Three is scared, and so on. Overall, nothing noteworthy.

Then comes our District and I see how pathetic I look with my sister rushing up to the stage, the dazed confused look in my eyes. Knowing that I'm going to die.

No one says anything after the reapings are over. "I'm leaving." I mutter. I hate silence.

Once I'm safely in my room, I busy myself by trying every single button in the shower and mulling over Fivey's idea and whether or not it'll work. I doubt it. But since she wants me to so bad, I'm going to try it.

I hop out of the burning-hot water and grab some pajamas. They feel all soft and silky.

I wonder how Fivey's going to tell Father. She's so clever that she'll figure something out. She always does.

I slide into the bed. It's also made of silk. I grit my teeth. Why does the Capitol get everything? I grab the top blanket and a pillow and make a bed on the gorund. Much better. But still too comfortable.

The carpet is just so thick it's irritating.

Why can't it be scratchy, like my bed at home?

I bite my tongue telling myself I'll never be there again.

Even if I do escape, I swallow hard, through a hovercraft. I try to get some sleep but I'm too busy thinking about how Father and Fivey will escape.

I think of how beautiful Fivey is, she might try to seduce them. Or Father will bribe them. That or he'll kill them. No, don't think like that. Breathe...1...2...3 Good. Now, Pony, remember you might never see them again.

Oh no, what if Fivey brings all of our clothes. Since she loves clothes, when she was an only child, Mother and Father bought her clothes ALL THE TIME. So, we have way more clothes than anyone else does.

I swear, if she escapes and brings her clothes, I will KILL her.

I roll my eyes at her obsession then turn on my side, daydreaming about the arena.

Will it be cold? Hot? Dry? Wet? No, you know what? I am sick of my life revolving around the Hunger Games.

I'm better than this. I kick the dresser then curse when my foot bounces back with a bruise.

Argh! I have to get out of this good-for-nothing room. I leap up out of my makeshift bed and shove the door open.

As I walk down the hall, I see attendants quickly leave, not wanting to get hurt by this monster. I'm sure I look like a mess. Of course I do. When do I not, really?

Well, the day of the Reaping, I looked awesome. But that wasn't my doing. It was Fivey's.

I glare at anyone who dare be in my way, I even shove a small man who's shaking as he cleans the table.

I should feel bad. Go apologize. But why should I? They all come from the same place. Where everyone wants me to die. I hate them all.

And soon I'll be free of them. The more I think about Fivey's plan, the more it sounds like it'll work. I hope it does, if it doesn't...well, let's just say that it won't be pretty.

As I'm walking along, looking for a quiet room with a window, I see a room with a light in it. There must be someone there.

And there is. Plore. Ah. Maybe I should just-

"Hello Pony." Shoot she must've heard me. Why is her voice so cold? "Let's you and I have a chat."

I gulp, not really wanting to have a "chat" with her. She scares me. Not like I'll let her know about this.

"I'll be your mentor you know. So, we better be on good terms, or else I just might decide to kill you." She's looking at me now and I see that she isn't kidding.

I nod, and say, "I'll try to make an effor to be nice to you, better?"

She glares at me, "Not by much, no."

I roll my eyes, "You remind me of my sister. She's so...bossy." I think back to the morning of the reaping.

I close my eyes letting the sweet night air whisper through my hair, dance on my cheeks, tickle my ears before I open one and look at her.

Plore must have anger issues or something because, she looks really angry right now, "You listen to me little girl. I always listen in on my tributes goodbyes. And guess what? I know. So don't think you're fooling me."

I open my eyes, "Wait, no please don't tell anyone. Please. I swear I'll be kinder to you. I swear. Just don't...tell.." I trail off after seeing her expression.

"Tell?" She gives a short humorless laugh, "I hate the Capitol. If you respect me, I'll help you with it. It'll make them look foolish. And I'll try to help your family escape. But if you talk back to me one more time, I'm telling the president himself."

I stare at her, confused. Help me? "Why...Why do you want to help me?"

"Trust me, you don't want the life of a victor. And, You remind me of my daughter."

I look up surprised, "You have a daughter? Wouldn't she get picked for the Games then?"

She smiles sadly, "I married a very nice man, but then President Snow threatened to make sure all of our children go into the arena. I did...something...for him that made him pretend to forget about us, and we had a beautiful daughter but then, seven years later, I had another and he made the same threat, so I pretended she died, and to my family, I pretended to die."

I stare at her. Seven years is the time that Fivey and I have in age separation, and Plore is awfully pale with black hair and amber...eyes...something wierd's going on here.

"Did you...Did you name your first daughter...Fivey?"

She nods, looking shocked, "How'd you know?" Well, that explains why I'm so pessimistic.

I take a deep breath, "Plore, I'm your second daughter."

AN: Well that was retarded. Don't kill me!