My mentor hates me, I decide as he leaves.
"Well, he's just tired," Kevana answers my unspoken question. "He'll come to. Anyway, the tribute circle is tonight, and the interviews are tomorrow night, so I hope your ready."
"And the feast is tonight?" I ask, my stomach gurgling at the very thought.
The corners of Kevana's thin mouth twitch. "Yes," she nearly laughs. "Yes, Rue." I hear her high heels clop as she leaves the room.
"Vinci!" I hear her hiss on the other side of the door. Thresh and I get the same idea, tiptoeing over to press our eager ears to the door to hear what she has to say.
We hear glass clinking and I fizzy noise, so I guess Vinci opened a drink.
"Kevana," he replies coolly, "she's too young."
"So? She's a tribute, fair and square."
"No, Kevana. No. She's not a tribute, and it's certainly not fair," he retorts.
A pause develops, and Thresh and I press our ears closer to the door, scared of missing anything.
"Her name was chosen." Kevana says finally.
"Don't you see? The Capitol is using a child not even a teenager to compete for her life, because of a stupid piece of paper bearing her name!"
"So you'd rather I lied, Cerna?" Kevana hisses, "You'd rather I lie to everyone, all of Panem, and told them another name? I'm doing her a favor!"
"A favor?" Vinci roars. "Of what? She's going to die, you know that."
"Then help her," Kevana whispers. "Help her pull through."
"Oh, believe me, I will. I'll help her so much it will put you and your stupid Capitol friends to shame!"
"But you left—"
"Because I was mad!" he interrupts. "I don't care what you say, Kevana, that girl will die."
Another pause, longer this time, and so painful to me that I feel tears filling my eyes.
"I know."
I turn and run from my post, and I wipe tears from my eyes with my arm and don't see the step below me. I trip onto the hard cold floor, slamming on my chin. A flash of white comes, and then I feel hot, wet blood leaking out of the gash.
Tears sting my eyes and boil over, making a watery, bloody mess on the ground.
I can make out a pair of pale, yellow-tipped fingernails come around my shoulders and help me up.
"Let go of me!" I shriek. Kevana lets go and looks down at me, shocked.
"Rue, honey…your face…"
"I don't care!" I scream. "You hate me! You hate me!" I turn to run and she grabs my arms again. "Rue, please…"
"LET ME GO!" I scream. I'm out of control, and I know it. But right now, my world is collapsing around me. This isn't right, it never was right, never would be. No, no, no! This is the way I should have acted, right when I was chosen for the games. I can't go on, not like this, not ever. I can't go in to the hunger games.
Kevana looks absolutely horrified at my behavior. It makes me thrash harder and get even angrier, knowing that's all she cares about, always. Always manners and fashion and nobody's feelings. Well, then. I'll make her care!
"Rue Harmin!" Vinci's voice cuts through the tensed air, and I jerk out of Kevana's grasp.
He moves towards me, and I see him do something that makes my heart twinge.
He is crippled, and he slowly makes his way over to a wheelchair in the corner of the room, sighing as he shifts his weight. He wheels over to me and takes my hands.
"You're so young. I understand how this must be hard for you—"
My anger returns.
"Hard doesn't begin it!" I scream. Trying to free my grasp, but he has and iron grip.
"Listen kid," he says firmly. "I don't play around with kids. I have no family of my own. My wife died."
My heart pounds again with guilt. I'm figuring out all sorts of things today.
"So know I'm asking you to listen," he says. "Please."
I come to a standstill and look down. It's very uncomfortable now.
"Rue, I 'm sorry this has happened to you. So I'm asking you to be a dear and pull through. At least one twelve year old goes through this every year. You are not alone."
I nod silently.
Thankfully, my prep team rushing in saves me.
It's time for the tribute circle. I go to them, and Miranda must sense something's wrong. She pulls a tissue from her pocket, wraps an arm around me, and leads me away.
In less than fifteen minutes, I'll be on TV, where my family will see me,
I just hope they don't feel as miserable as I do.
My prep team scrubs me down, and fits me into a puff-sleeved blue shirt with overalls over it and some sort of tinsel in my hair, which is washed and parted again.
I'm led down to the rock-paved streets, where I hear roaring as the crowd sees the first tributes.
I shake, feeling more afraid than I've ever felt in my life.
Thresh unexpectedly reaches out and takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. My head goes back to the reaping, looking into his brown, sad eyes. That look comes back again, reminding me of so many things.
I smile up at him as the flashback fades.
He lets go of my hand as our door slides up. The prep teams pat the horses, and they trot off down the streets.
Roaring fills my ear and I look around with amazement.
"I PRESENT TO YOU, DISTRICT 11!" An announcer calls.
The Capitol, possibly all the Capitol, all in the thousands, smiles at me and cheer my name.
I wave.
We circle around and we end up beside District 12, and my heart pounds all over again.
"Welcome Tributes!" President Snow says as he appears over the balcony. He has a white beard and piercing, somewhat evil blue eyes. "We welcome you! I wish you the best in the Arena. May the odds be ever in your favor!"
The crowd roars, and he claps along.
I have no idea why the next feeling washes over me. It's odd; I've never felt this way. But there it is, right in my heart, and my mind spins. But I know what I feel towards him, the Capitol itself, this man.
Hatred.