The Mentor. (Cato Hadley)

Chapter Three.

"Is Mom okay with you spending every single second of every single day with me?" I ask my brother, Marc, who's been at my house for the past week or so. I'm still a social pariah when it comes to my family - everyone except Marc.

He shrugs, sipping at his glass of water as we watch the big Capitol special - voting for Katniss Everdeen's wedding dress. Shots of Katniss is the final six wedding gowns come across the screen, Caesar Flickerman's audience cheering and booing for the dresses they like and don't like. "She's got a lot of kids, it's easy to get lost." He's right, him and I have always been the kids that haven't really gotten any attention.

"Stay tuned for our next big event!" Caesar's voice booms loudly to the crowd full of standing room only Capitol citizens. "That's right, this year will be the 75th anniversary of The Hunger Games! That means, it's time for the Quarter Quell!"

"I thought that wasn't for months," Marc asks, staring into the television in confusion. "What could they possibly be doing?"

I shrug, thinking of the times I had to rewatch the Hunger Games for my mentoring status. They were all available to rewatch, with the exception of the tenth and the fiftieth - conveniently the only two Games District Twelve has won, before the 74th, of course. But, something tells me that the Capitol won't allow the 74th Hunger Games to be televised publicly again, either. I can't be the only person in this world who sees that President Snow has this strange vendetta against District Twelve. "They're probably just pulling the card, you know each Quarter Quell is something with a weird twist."

"What do you think the twist is going to be this year?" He asks, a small smirk forming on his face. "Probably former Victor's siblings?"

I smack his arm, glaring in his direction. "You're not funny, Marcus," I scoff, rolling my eyes at him. "That's the one thing I hope it's not, anything else I can deal with."

The anthem of Panem plays through the speakers as President Snow takes the stage, a little boy dressed in all white following behind him. He holds a simple wooden box, standing silently as Snow begins his speech, reminding us of the Dark Days - and why the Hunger Games began. When the laws of the Hunger Games were laid out, they stated that every twenty-five years - each quarter - would be marked a Quarter Quell. It's basically a glorified version of the Games, with each one having a sickening twist to it.

President Snow continues his speech, recapping what had happened during the last two Quarter Quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who represent it." From what I've heard, this game was bad. Most Districts voted for the mayors children, and you were done for if your parents were disliked. You were forced to vote, you didn't have a choice in the matter. I feel as though it was worse to be voted in by your neighbors, then have your name pulled from the Reaping Ball. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

I take a gulp from my whiskey bottle, staring at the screen in utter disgust. My brother, although he won't admit it, feels the same way I do about the Hunger Games. He still lives at home, with my loyalist father and my mother who won't stand up to him. He can't speak freely.

"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," the President announces, gesturing for the boy to step forward. There's an upright row of yellowed envelopes, ones that have been sitting in this box since the start of the Games, seventy-five years ago. The system of the Quarter Quell has been prepared for centuries, at least thirty envelopes packed neatly in that box. He removes an envelope, labeled neatly with the number '75'.

I feel my palms begin to sweat, the hair on my arms beginning to prickle upwards. I couldn't help but rub my palms against my jeans, the nervousness bubbling in my stomach almost reaching a boiling point. What if Marc is right? What if Katniss and I have pissed off President Snow so much, that he decided to make my siblings as well as Katniss' sister Primrose into the Reaping pool? What if that's what this year's Quell twist is? Lord knows I've pissed off Snow well enough, as his other target has too. I may be at a breaking point with my family, but I would do anything for my siblings.

I watch anxiously as President Snow runs his finger under the envelope flap, pulling out a small, white square of paper. The possibilities of what could be written on that page are endless. It could be older tributes, younger tributes, two arenas - one filled with girls, the other with boys.. it could be a tribute and a parent, Panem's worst criminals..

I do notice one thing, though. The envelope he pulls, isn't yellowed like the rest of them. It's sleek, pure white, clearly brand new. This Quarter Quell is no doubt fixed, and Snow has a plan for it. "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors."

The bottle of whiskey drops from my hands as the words hit my ears. I was worried about Marc, worried about my siblings, worried about everyone - except myself. And Snow decided to come after me and Katniss directly - the best way he knew how.

I don't break out of my trance until I hear the sound of the bottle clashing against the hardwood floors, my brother's sullen face staring in my direction.