Here's Chapter 2! Hope you enjoy! Also, I went back in fixed the formatting issues in Chapter 1. Let me know if you spot any more formatting errors!
After ten minutes, a Peacekeeper came and retrieved Maze from the concrete room. He led her into an inner corridor of the Stadium, where Philomena, Troy, and Beetee waited. Another Peacekeeper brought Alt along with him. Alt had visible red rings around his eyes, and he sniffled as he walked.
Flanked by even more Peacekeepers, the five of them marched out of the Stadium and to a road to the side of the building, where a car with the seal of District 3 on it awaited.
Philomena frowned when she saw the car. "That's not the right type of car that's supposed to pick us up."
She marched over to the car, heels clacking against the sidewalk, before knocking on the car's passenger side window. The driver of the car rolled down the window.
"Excuse me, but this isn't the right type of car to pick us up. It's too small for all five of us."
"The other car was out of order when we tried to drive it this morning," the driver said apologetically. "This is the only one that was available on such a short notice."
Philomena scoffed. "Well, how do you expect all five of us, including you, to fit into this car?"
"You all will just have to squeeze in," the driver replied.
"They will be squeezing in," Philomena replied, gesturing to the mentors and tributes. "I'm not sitting with them."
Rolling her eyes, she opened the car door and sat herself in the passenger seat.
Maze, Alt, Troy, and Beetee squeezed themselves into the back row of the car. There were only three seats available. Troy and Beetee, being grown men, took two of the seats, and Maze and Alt shared the middle one. Once everyone was seated, the driver began driving them to their next destination: the train station. There, they'd begin their journey to the Capitol.
The drive to the train station was extremely uncomfortable. Maze had one thigh strictly on the seat, while the other one was crossed on top. Her hips and the sides of her upper arms dug into Alt and Beetee's, and she felt as though her lungs scarcely had the room to expand in the cramped space. Not to mention, Alt stank. The sweating and the vomiting gave him a pungent aroma.
Philomena continued admonishing the driver, telling him that the Capitol would not be happy to hear about the car and to expect for his boss to hear from her boss. No one else spoke the entire trip.
Thankfully, the drive to the train station didn't take long. District 3's main train station was located on the outskirts of downtown Central City, not terribly far from the Stadium.
The driver pulled up, and everyone in the back row scrambled out, eager to be free from their cramped positions.
In front of them, Capitol camera crews lined the path leading up to the station. Cameras flashed and recorded, and a reporter somewhere jovially announced the arrival of the District 3 tributes to the station.
"Ignore them," Philomena instructed Alt and Maze, who both stared at the camera crews with bewildered expressions. "You'll have plenty of other opportunities to impress the cameras. Keep walking."
Maze nodded and kept walking. Philomena led the four of them into the train station and to one of the tracks, where a glossy train awaited them. The seal of the Capitol was emblazoned on each train car.
The doors opened, and they all stepped inside. Once the doors closed, Maze could not stop herself from letting out a small gasp.
The interior of the train was probably the most luxurious place Maze had seen in her life so far. Like the exterior of the train, everything had a nice glossy shine to it. The couches were plush, and the tables and chairs were carved out of rich wood. High-tech screens, manufactured there in District 3, hung on most of the walls. Where there weren't screens, there was artwork, paintings that showed bowls of fruit and beautiful landscapes.
Judging by his widened eyes, Alt was just as impressed.
Philomena chuckled at the teens' reactions. "Think this is fancy? Wait until we reach the Capitol."
She turned and began walking to one end of the train car. "Beetee, Troy, you know where the mentors' cars are. Maze and Alt, I'll show you to your cars, where you'll be sleeping tonight."
Philomena showed Maze and Alt to their personal train cars. Each one had its own bedroom and bathroom, which were equally as luxurious as the train car they had first entered.
If it weren't for the fact that she was being sent to her inevitable death, Maze would be thrilled to have such a nice place to herself. The whole death thing put a damper on her excitement.
Once she was completely alone in her car, the first thing she did was change clothes. Her clothes were sticky with sweat and Maze wanted them off. Her toes also ached from being crammed into ill-fitting boots.
Using the high-tech closet in the car, which included a touchscreen that showcased all the clothes that were in the closet, Maze changed into a green shirt and a pair of shorts. She decided to be shoeless for now, kicking off her boots and tossing them into a corner.
The train had begun moving by then, and judging by the way the landscape outside the windows flew by, it was moving fast. Central City's skyline became smaller and smaller as the train left the city and headed out across the flat, less-populated land that made up most of District 3.
Maze stood by the window and watched as her home receded in the distance until it was just a brown smudge on the horizon. Even though she hated Central City and its dull colors and people she never fit in with, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as it vanished.
The next time she came home, she would probably be in a box.
Fatigue — or perhaps sadness — suddenly weighed her body down. After everything, she was exhausted. She could use a nap.
She made her way over to the big bed that was the centerpiece of the bedroom. Without much further thought, she flopped onto it and fell asleep on top of the silk comforter.
The sound of someone knocking at the bedroom door awakened Maze.
For a moment, Maze thought that it was all a nightmare. She had had a bad dream that she was Reaped and the knocking was Mrs. Tapp waking everyone up for the actual Reaping. Her cot was just so comfortable, though. Much more comfortable than usual. Like a cloud. She didn't want to wake up just yet.
But Mrs. Tapp's voice never accompanied the knocking, and so Maze opened her eyes to the unfamiliar fancy train bedroom, and she realized that it was not a nightmare.
"Maze?" It was Beetee at the door.
Maze sighed, sitting up on the bed. "Come in."
Beetee opened the door and stuck his head in. "It's dinnertime. The Reaping recaps will be coming on in a few minutes. We'll watch them over dinner."
Dinnertime? Already? Maze glanced out the window. Sure enough, the sun was lower on the horizon than it was when Maze had fallen asleep.
"I'm coming. Give me a minute."
Beetee nodded and closed the door again. Maze went over to the closet and used the touch screen to get herself a pair of shoes. Surprisingly, the closet had a pair of black combat boots in her size. When Maze put them on, her toes didn't ache or cramp the way they did in her old ones.
Delectable scents immediately bombarded her when she entered the dining car, which was just as fancy as the rest of the train. Laid out on the dining table was some of the best-looking food Maze had ever seen. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten since that morning.
Alt was already seated at the table, and he looked at the food with the hunger of a person who hadn't eaten in days. He was probably hungrier than Maze, given that he had vomited up his breakfast earlier in the day.
Philomena, Beetee, and Troy were also seated at the table. They had been waiting on Maze.
"Ah! Maze!" Philomena's eyes lit up, and she gestured to an empty chair at the table. "Come sit! The recap's about to start! And we can get started on dinner!"
She nodded at a servant standing in the corner of the room that Maze didn't even notice upon first glance.
Maze sat down in the chair that Philomena had directed her to. The servant placed the greenest, freshest-looking salad she had ever seen in front of her. Maze dug in, devouring the salad. It tasted just as good as it looked. Maze wasn't normally a salad fan, but she was definitely a fan of that particular salad.
The screen in front of the dining table came to life. An upbeat, brassy song played. The familiar smiling faces of Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman appeared. This year, Caesar's hair was dyed apple green, and his makeup was done up to match.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Reaping recap of the 57thAnnual Hunger Games! I'm Caesar Flickerman, your host!"
"And I'm Claudius Templesmith, the co-host and official announcer of the 57thHunger Games."
Caesar and Claudius chatted for a while about the previous year's Games and what Capitol citizens were expecting from this year's batch of tributes. Maze paid them no mind, finishing her salad. As soon as she was finished, the servant whisked her empty bowl away and replaced it with a bowl of a savory-smelling soup, which Maze began to eat.
Finally, the actual recap began. District 1 was shown first, as usual. A strong-looking guy and a girl who looked like an older version of Cortana volunteered. Judging by the way they acted on stage, posing and blowing kisses to the audience, they were a pair of morons. Maze rolled her eyes at them.
Caesar and Claudius fawned over the pair from 1, then moved on to 2. The girl who volunteered didn't stand out in any way to Maze. The boy, on the other hand, wore sparkly eyeliner and a snazzy suit. He could have easily passed for a Capitol citizen. Caesar and Claudius noticed his attire and complimented it.
Then, it was time for District 3.
A video of Philomena walking over to the boys' Reaping bowl appeared on the screen.
Philomena beamed and squealed. "That's me!"
Alt's name was called, and the cameras showed him shuffling towards the stage.
"Goodness, look at his face," Claudius remarked. "Do they not have good skincare in District 3?"
"His prep team will have their work cut out for them," Caesar responded cheerily. "I'm sure it's nothing some heavy creams and laser treatments can't fix."
Troy let out a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. Alt looked down at his empty plate, ears red with embarrassment.
On screen, Philomena pulled Maze's chip from the orb and read it. The cameras showed various shots of the crowd in front of the stage looking around for her.
"Where could she be?" Caesar asked.
The cameras cut to the Peacekeeper dragging Maze by her arm to the stage. The words she yelled to Cortana were picked up clear as day.
"Oh my!" Claudius exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. "This one's got some fire to her! Unusual for District 3's female tributes."
Caesar let out a low whistle. "Those are some very damning words from Miss Donahue. I almost want to rush back to my house and make suremycurling iron is still intact." He laughed.
"There has to be a good story behind why she yelled that."
"Oh, I'll definitely have to ask her about it when I interview her."
District 4's Reaping flashed onto the screen, and Caesar and Claudius moved on.
"You left an impression on them," Philomena remarked, sending an impressed glance in Maze's direction. "That might be advantageous in gaining sponsors. And you—"
Her eyes narrowed as she turned towards Alt. "Well, you still have a few chances to leave a better impression. Like Caesar said, your prep team should be able to remedy your skin problem with no issue."
Alt mumbled something Maze couldn't make out. His face was still cast downwards towards his plate.
The recap went on. The tributes from Districts 4, 5, and 6 were all unremarkable. Another pair of idiots from 4. Some weak, plain-looking kids from 5 and 6, including a thirteen-year-old boy from 5 and a twelve-year-old girl from 6.
Sometime during their Reapings, another plate appeared in front of Maze. This one had a meat dish with some sort of herb garnishing on it. She was getting full, but she started eating it anyways.
The District 7 Reaping started. The escort pulled and read a girl's name. A red-headed girl that looked about sixteen shuffled to the stage with clenched fists and a look of absolute horror on her face.
A little girl's screaming rang out.
"Willow! WILLOW! NOOOOOO!"
The cameras cut to the little girl in the spectator's area. She looked around seven or eight years old, with short dark hair. Tears streamed down her face.
She screamed again, and a woman — red-headed like the girl being Reaped — picked the girl up and carried her away.
The cameras cut back to Willow — Maze assumed that was her name. She looked in the direction of the screaming with such a mournful expression that Maze immediately felt sorry for her.
"That must be Miss McCullough's younger sister," Caesar commented.
Claudius made a phony-looking sad face. "Poor thing."
"But hey, it's been a while since District 7 had a Victor, right?" Caesar asked, becoming upbeat. "Maybe Willow will get to come home to her sister."
The escort called the name of the male tribute, a Sorbus Blythe. Immediately, many sixteen-year-olds started stirring on both the boys' and girls' sides. There were lots of looks of disbelief and whispers that didn't quite reach the microphones.
A sturdy-looking brunette boy walked up to the stage with a somber face. As he walked, a group of boys began chanting.
"Sorb! Sorb! Sorb!"
The boys reached for him as he walked, and the boy — Sorb, Maze was guessing — touched some of their hands. Some of the girls watched him with sad expressions, and Maze swore she saw one of the girls crying.
When Sorb reached the stage, he gave a weak smile and waved to the crowd. The same group of boys who were chanting his name cheered for him.
"He's very popular in District 7, it seems," Claudius noted.
Sorb smiled at Willow, and she gave a tentative smile back. He offered his hand to her, and she took it. The two raised their joined hands up in the air. District 7 applauded them half-heartedly.
"Could Mr. Blythe especially be popular with the ladies?" Caesar asked with a sly smile. "He's awfully good-looking. I bet he'll be popular with the young Capitol ladies as well. That's a smile worth a hundred sponsors."
Caesar and Claudius moved on to District 8's Reaping. By this point, Maze's stomach bulged with food, and it hurt a bit to breathe. Judging by the shallow breaths Alt was breathing, he felt the same way.
The servant, who hadn't spoken a single word in the time they'd been there, brought a slice of cake to Maze, but she pushed it away. She usually loved dessert, but just looking at the cake made her nauseous.
"Maybe later?" She asked the servant. They nodded and took the cake away.
Districts 8 through 11's tributes, as well as the male tribute from 12, were just as unremarkable as the other Districts' tributes. Caesar and Claudius didn't think so. They found something on every tribute to comment on. Apparently, they thought the girl from 9 wore a hideous dress (it looked like an ancient hand-me-down to Maze, and she had seen and worn quite a few of those) and that the boy from 10 looked scary (he did — something about his facial expression unnerved Maze).
The female tribute from District 12 stood out. She had a blood-red streak in her otherwise black hair, which was pulled back in a bun.
"I didn't know District 12 even had hair dye!" Caesar exclaimed. "Color me surprised!"
Claudius chuckled at Caesar's pun. "You know, I think this is the first tribute in recent history that I remember having a non-natural hair color. I do wonder how someone in District 12 got their hands on hair dye, though. And bleach. With hair that dark, there's no way she achieved that look without bleach."
The recap ended with Caesar and Claudius making some closing statements about how excited they were to see all the tributes during the chariot parade and to learn more about them during the interviews. Philomena turned the screen off at that point, plunging the dining car into silence.
"Let's talk preliminary strategy," Troy said, breaking the silence. He looked back and forth between Maze and Alt. "First off, do you two want to be allies? It would greatly increase both of your chances of survival. And the Capitol likes alliances. They didn't seem to like you, Alt. This might save your ass."
"Fuck no!" Alt didn't even hesitate.
Maze raised an eyebrow. She didn't think the idea of allying with her warranted that strong of a reaction.
Troy's eyes narrowed. "Watch your mouth, boy. Why not?"
"She's like what, twelve?" Alt asked, gesturing to Maze. "I'm not allying with a twelve-year-old girl! She's weak, she'll just bog me down!"
"For your information, I'm thirteen, and I actually turn fourteen on the 16th," Maze retorted, crossing her arms. "And you don't look much stronger than me."
It was true. Alt was scrawny. He towered several inches over Maze, but just by looks, Maze guessed she and him weighed about the same. Even though she got a decent amount of food at the community home, she had always remained skinny.
"Okay." Troy shrugged. "Suit yourself. But an alliance could be beneficial to you. If not with her, then with someone else."
"What would you know about alliances?" Alt asked. "Didn't you kill all of yours?"
Alt went too far. Something dangerous flashed in Troy's eyes. Before anyone could react, Troy stood up, swung his muscular arm back and slapped Alt across the face.
"Ow!"
"Troy!" Philomena scolded, putting her hands on her hips and standing up from the table. "We've discussed this! Don't hit the tributes!"
"If he can't handle a little slap, then there's no way he'll be able to withstand anything in the arena," Troy crossed his arms. "He seems like a little wuss to me. They're gonna eat you alive in the arena, boy."
"I'm not a wuss!" Alt defended. He held his hand over his cheek, which was red and starting to swell.
"Prove it, then." Troy swung his arm back again, presumably to give Alt another smack. At the same moment, Maze reached for her water glass and accidentally knocked Philomena's glass of champagne to the floor. It shattered upon impact.
Everyone went still, staring at the broken glass, then at Maze.
"Sorry," Maze said sheepishly.
Troy pivoted and slapped Maze instead.
Pain dashed across her face, and she yelped. Tears involuntarily sprung into her eyes. The entire left side of her face stung.
"Are you stupid, girl?" Troy yelled. "Shit like that could get you killed in the arena!"
"Troy!" Philomena glared daggers at him. "It's not a big deal. I was nearly finished with that anyway."
Beetee spoke up for the first time. "Please don't hit my mentee."
The pain turned to anger. Against her best judgment, Maze yelled back at Troy.
"Well, we're not in the arena!"
Wrong choice. Troy slapped her again, harder this time. Maze couldn't contain the scream of pain that burst out of her.
"So, you are stupid, then! With your clumsiness and that mouth of yours, you'll be lucky if you make it past the bloodbath! I wouldn't blame anyone for killing you as soon as the Games start! You're annoying!"
Beetee raised his voice. "Enough!"
"What is WRONG with you?" Philomena sounded absolutely appalled. "Stop that!"
It hurt. Both physically and emotionally. Before Maze could stop herself, she started to cry.
Everyone turned to stare at her again.
"See?" Alt said. "Weak. I'm not allying with that."
Maze just let out a sob and stood up from the table, chair flying out from under her. Not bothering to see how anyone reacted, she turned and fled the car.
It wasn't until it was too late that Maze realized that she had run in the wrong direction of her car. Thankfully for her, the end car of the train was deserted and had a small lounge.
She collapsed onto a couch and for the first time that day, let herself cry. She shoved her face into a cushion and for a good ten minutes, sobbed. She let out all the bad emotions of the day. Fear. Anger. Humiliation. Pain. They all flowed out in her tears.
Alt's words rang true. She was a weak little girl. A weak little girl who could do nothing but cry over her situation instead of facing it like an adult. A weak little girl, incapable of making any friends or being loved by a family. A weak little girl who could only pull sad little pranks on people as her only means of any kind of connection.
Maze hoped that her eventual death in the arena would be quick and painless. A miserable end to a miserable life.
Once her tears ran out, she rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. The portion of the car at the very end of the train was one massive window, creating a transparent bubble. The violet evening sky stretched out above her, a few stars beginning to peek out.
Maze looked around the car. Her eye caught a blinking panel on one of the walls. Curious, she got up and examined it, sniffling.
The panel appeared to control the window. There was a button to darken it, to completely shutter it, and to open it.
Open it. She could open it.
An idea began to take shape in Maze's head. She realized she didn't want to die, but to escape. And now she had the opportunity.
If she opened the window and jumped out of the train, she could escape. Sure, she might die in the wilderness or wherever the train was, but her chances of survival were better than the arena, which meant almost certain death. But most importantly, she would be free. If she died, it would be of her own volition.
Maze pushed the button that opened the window. Slowly, it receded, exposing the car to the open air. The cool wind ruffled her hair.
Taking a deep breath, she climbed over the couch, perching on the side edge of the car. In the falling twilight, she could see a stretch of meadow by the track that looked clear enough for her to fall into without too much injury.
She took another deep breath. And jumped.
The last thing she felt before everything went black was an uncomfortable zapping sensation.