CHAPTER 2
The justice building is the most beautiful and breathtaking place i've ever been in. Not that i've really been anywhere other than my house in the seem, and occasionally the bakery. If I wasn't reaped this year, that's exactly where i'd be. The bakery. Buying our post-reaping meal, celebrating another year with my family.
Even though the room i'm in is extravagant, I don't feel extravagant. This room is the last place in District 12 i'll be in. Such a nice room, for such a sad moment. The leather couches, the fire place with brick walls, the chandler that hangs from the roof, the shiny wooden floors.
I stare at the tall wooden doors that are before me. I can hear muffled voices coming from the other side. The door swings open and i'm instantly engulfed by my family.
I stand up as mother clings onto me for dear life. Kale is gripping my so tightly that think the blood has stopped flowing in the lower half of my body. My fathers eyes are glazed over, from the tears that are so very close to streaming down his face.
Mother is the first to speak. "My darling, you didn't deserve this," she sobs into my shoulder and I cling her tightly "Of all people, not you."
"I guess the odds weren't in my favour, huh?" My mother smiles sadly, and her grey eyes meet mine, red rimmed and teary.
She runs her hand softly over my right cheek, her cold and fragile hands are cold against my skin.
I squat slightly, to get my head inline with Kales. His eyes are watery and red rimmed like mothers. His voice is pitchy and he struggles to get any words to escape his trembling lips. "W-what if you die, Darren?"
The corners of my lips tilt upwards into a small smile. "I won't. I'll come home in a few weeks and we'll be rich! I can buy you anything you want for the rest of your life, how does that sound?" I question him, and his frown transforms into a large smile, the only smile from him all day.
"That sounds awesome, Darren!" It's as if he's forgotten where i'm going all of a sudden.
I turn to my father, who has yet to let a tear escape his eyes. I lunge into him, burying my face into his chest, sobbing quietly and freely. His hand holds the back of my head gently as he softly rubs the back of my head.
"You're coming home, Darren, don't believe any different." He says, his voice still stern.
"Dad, we haven't had a victor in nine years," I say, almost yelling. "What makes you think me, of all people, will come home?" My voice is louder, but not steady.
"You're a fighter, Darren," My fathers voice is stern and steady. "Remember all the time we've spent, preparing you to enter the mines in a year from now? You've been swinging the pickaxe I took from the mines since you were fourteen!" He places his hand on my shoulder, his grey eyes staring directly into mine.
I look at him, feeling the anger boiling inside of me. "Do you think this is a joke, dad?" I question him, yet his face remains an impassive mask, "What the hell is a pickaxe is going to do in an arena full of children trying to kill each other?" I chuckle humorously, "I don't even think you can get a pickaxe! Unless by some miracle I get sponsors without a mentor!"
We stand in silence for a moment, before the doors swing open once again, and a man in a white peacekeeper uniform enters the room and strides towards my family.
"That's time." The mans voice is deep and forceful. He drags my family out of the room before I get the chance for one final goodbye.
"See you soon son! Get your hand on an Axe!" The door slams shut, and my fathers voice is cut off slightly.
I think about the final words from my father. Get your hands on an axe. I guess an axe is would be similar to using a pickaxe, just different swinging technique. Other than that, the weight would be roughly the same. I have become used to the weight of a pickaxe, swinging the one dad stole from the mines a few years back.
Using the pick in my spare time has built up the muscle in my shoulders and back considerably over the past few years. Even though i'm not extremely well fed, i'm better fed than many of the guys in my class at school, and much more muscular than most, if not all of the am kids. I'm sure i'd be stronger than some of those merchant guys too, who don't do a lot of physical activity.
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. Before I can respond, it opens and two peacekeepers have come escort me to the vehicle that will take me, along with Mazie and our escort, Sabrina, to the train station, where out journey to the Capitol will begin.
—-
The car i'm in, is the first i've ever been in. We drive along the dirt path that leads us to the train station. The crowd has died down outside, yet many families are lined up along the side of the road. They aren't waving or saying anything. They stand, their hands by their side, or clinging onto their family members that surround them. Their faces are impassive, and their eyes are trained on the two children, along with their escort, who sit inside a vehicle that brings them closer to their death every second.
The drive doesn't take long. No more than five minutes, but I cherished ever moment as if it was my last. They are my last, really.
We arrive at the platform, greeted not by our families and friends, but by cameras that flash in our face, and microphones shoved in front of us. Sabrina smiles and waves to the cameras, while Mazie and I stand with expressionless faces. Probably not too good for sponsors.
We spend five more minutes on the train station platform before Sabrina ushers us through the sliding doors on the side of the train.
A soon as we enter, multiple aromas flood the air and enter my nostrils. I can smell fresh pastry, sweet desserts, soups, breads, fruit. Any food I've ever imagined. I can smell it.
We enter a large carriage, even more beautiful than the room in the justice building where I said my goodbyes. This has plush sofas, long dining tables, silver platters of food, fine glasses, even cutlery, something I've never had the opportunity to use.
I look over to Mazie, whose sky blue eyes are wide in excitement and anticipation. Even for a merchant girl, i'm sure she's never seen or had anything like this in her thirteen years of life.
Sabrina's voice cuts through our thoughts and both Mazie and I jump at the sound of her high pitched voice.
"Everything here is for you. I know it's only for a short time, but while we're here, you should enjoy it!" Before she can finish speaking, Mazie and I are at the long table, filling our silver plates with stack of food, eating every second thing we grab.
I fill my plate until there's not room for a single thing, and dig in.
At first, I try and use the cutlery that has been neatly set out and folded nicely into a napkin. Mazie does the same, and she uses them with much more confidence that I do. I'm assuming she uses - used them at her home on a regular basis. We couldn't afford such things.
After five minutes, I give up and use my hands. My fingers are covered in sauces and drums when I'm finished devouring what was on my plate. Mazie looks at me for a split second, confusion spread across her face. Her expression quickly changes to a big smile, and she laughs, loud and clear. I'm glad I could make her happy, before she comes back to reality, and remembers where we are going, and why.
Sabrina has a very different opinion on me using my hands. She give me a lecture about table manners, telling me how the people in the capitol would be appalled with my behaviour. She even teaches me ho to use cutlery, and I listen. But just to annoy her, I wipe my hands on the table cloth. The face she makes is hilarious, I bite my tongue to hold back the lung that is climbing my throat. I glance over at Mazie to see she's doing the same.
no more than fifteen minutes after finishing the food I had devoured, I vomit it back up. Thankfully making it to my room in time. I guess my stomach isn't used to me having so much food, especially food that is this rich. I make note, not to eat as much orgs fast next time we have a meal.
The rooms Mazie and I have been given on the train are three times larger the my room at home in the seam. My bed here has silky blankets and is large enough to fit my entire family. The cupboards are filled with enough clothes to wear a different outfit every day of the month and still have not worn everything.
I eventually discover that my room has a shower and my own private bathroom. A shower is something even merchant families think is a luxury. Very few homes in District 12 have one.
After countless tries of working out how to use the different buttons in the shower, I eventually work it out. Sort of. With a few screams from the water being too hot, too cold or even too powerful. I'm finished, with the simple press of a button drying me off. I'm sure everyone on this train could hear my yelps after I set the water to a temperature that was for too cold for my liking.
I change into some comfortable pants and a silky shirt, which feels extremely nice against my skin. After a few minutes, Sabrina knocks on my door, telling me to come out to watch a recap of the readings.
The point of us watching the reapings from the other eleven Districts, is to get an idea of who we will be facing in the arena. Determining who the biggest threats will be, and which Tributes won't be much of a threat in the arena.
We each take a seat on the couch in front of the screen. Mazie on the left, me on the right, and Sabrina sits on between us.
The tributes from District 1 are the first to be shown. Both of them have blond hair and green eyes. The boy is tall, no less than six foot. He has broad shoulders and he's extremely muscular. The girl is shorter than him, but not by much. When she volunteers, she shoves another girl to the floor to beat her to the stage, and grins when she stands in the sincere facing the cheering crowd.
The pair from Two look just as strong as the pair from One. Both of them are volunteers, eager to get the games started. The boy has blond hair, the same as the boy from one, yet his eyes are blue. His build is the same as the boy from One, yet he is slightly taller.
The girl from two has hair that almost looks black. She's taller and more muscular than the girl from One. Her eyes are a dark shade of brown, and the way she stares into the camera scares me just watching her.
The pair from Three do not look threatening at all. Both sixteen years old, skinny, yet average in height. They defiantly don't look ready for any physical challenges, but I'm sure they'll be the smartest tributes in the arena.
The pair from Four are both extremely attractive. Both with perfectly tanned skin, bronze coloured hair and emerald coloured eyes. Their teeth are the whitest I have ever seen, and they looks though they may be I doubt they are.
Both of them are smaller than the Tributes from 1 and 2, and neither of them are volunteers, but I'm sure they'll join their pack.
No Tributes really stand out until District 7 is on the screen. Both of the Tributes are stocky and lean. They have clearly been using axes for a decent amount of time, and they aren't to be over looked.
The boy from Nine is tall and looks strong, yet he doesn't really seem like much of a fighter.
No other Tributes stand out after that, and i'm too horrified to watch the District 12 reaping. It would be like reliving it all over again.
By the time we're done, it's dark outside. Sabrina sends the two of us to our rooms after we say our goodnights.
Tomorrow, we arrive in the Capitol.
Reviews are appreciated! :)
