(Chapter 8: James)

Sylvia crosses over to the boy's draw, sticks her arm in and swishes it around, taking her time, and building suspense once again. Everyone goes silent as she picks up one slip, and holds it up to the crowd.

More than half the boys want their name to be on that slip.

Sylvia carefully unfolds the paper, and takes a deep breath in. "James Lysander."

My heart almost stops, but then a couple of boys around me smack my back and shoulder in congratulations. A couple of them are clapping, like I'm not walking myself to my funeral.

I slowly walk to the stage, trying to look confident and not at all fazed about my younger sister stabbing herself in front of everyone.

I look at Lilly, and our eyes meet. She smirks and looks at the crowd, waving like a princess. I stand completely still and cross my arms.

Sylvia and the mayor speak a few more times, then Lilly and I shake hands. We then are escorted to the Justice Building by a couple of Peacekeepers. Lilly and I are taken to seperate rooms, which are luxuriously decorated, with red carpets and super comfy velvet couches. It's not the best I've ever seen, in fact it's pretty average. We've got a few velvet couches at home. I throw myself onto one, and close my eyes. I have an hour of visitors, yet I can't think of anyone who's going to come except my mother, who's just going to bombard me with game strategy, and ignore the topic of Cleo's death.

After about fifteen minutes of napping, the door creaks open and my mother strolls in, smiling profusely. She sits on a couch near me, and as I predicted, the first thing she says is about strategy.

"What's your game strategy? Do you think your better with a sword, bow and arrow, or an axe? I'd go with an axe, its the most entertaining…" she begins, but I cut her off.

"Do you not care what happened to Cleo?" I say, avoiding eye contact.

"James, now is not the time. So, arrows are best for dramatic endings, you know…"

"Cleo stabbed herself!" I yell at her, standing and clenching my fists. "You don't even care! She killed herself!"

My mother stands, and her red lips twist into a frown.

"Don't yell at me, it's not my fault. I always knew she was a lunatic…" she says, and I scream.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! POOR CLEO DIDN'T WANT TO DEAL WITH THE GAMES BECAUSE OF THE AMOUNT OF PRESSURE YOU PLACE ON OUR SHOULDERS, SO MUCH THAT SHE'D RATHER STAB HERSELF WITH A DINNER KNIFE IN PUBLIC INSTEAD OF FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE IN AN ARENA."

I heave heavy breaths, and I can feel my face going red with rage. My mother turns around, and leaves the room, no words spoken, leaving me standing, raging, alone.

I slump onto the couch, curl up and cry. I've got about 15 minutes left, so I allocate 5 minutes of crying before I get to the cameras at the train station. I run my fingers through my hair, and wipe my wet cheeks on my sleeves.

The Peacekeepers come, and I sigh. Took them long enough. They beckon for me to follow them and I exit the room, soon joined by Lilly and another two Peacekeepers. We get into a car, and are driven to the train station. It's beginning to rain. I stare gloomily out the window and watch the raindrops running down the cold glass.