𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊 | 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡

three

Cordelia felt a growing anxiety as she thought about her parents watching the morning news. She could already envision her mother's reaction: a frantic insistence on dousing her in alcohol to sanitize her from any supposed contaminants picked up from the district tributes. Her mother harbored an irrational belief that the tributes were filthy, infested with germs, and Cordelia dreaded the impending tirade. She could almost hear her mother's voice now, lecturing her on the importance of cleanliness and disparaging the tributes, stripping them of their humanity with every word. Cordelia braced herself for the inevitable confrontation, mentally preparing for the harsh and demeaning rhetoric that was sure to come.

"What were you thinking?" Cordelia's voice cut through the tense air. "You do realize that we're in trouble now. You held her hand and talked to the camera." 

Coriolanus, unyielding, retorted, "You also talked to the cameras." His response silenced her protests.

"The weatherman barely got any information on him." Cordelia shot back, defiance in her tone.

The doors swung open as Coriolanus forcefully entered, both of them drawing attention as they navigated towards their seats. Eyes from their classmates followed their every move.

"Your little excursion was in violation of about five different academy rules." Dean Highbottom's stern voice interrupted, his attention still fixed on his papers "Chief amongst them, endangering capitol citizens."

"Who?" Coriolanus halted abruptly, his expression questioning.

"Yourself and Miss Sinclair." Highbottom declared, a stern tone underlying his words, "I'm moving the for the game maker to disqualify you two as mentors immediately."

"You said that we had to get our tributes to perform not that we had to stay away." Coriolanus argued.

"I'll add insubordination as well." Highbottom mumbled, his dissatisfaction evident.

"Holding their hand? Introducing them to people?" Arachne listed, "You make it look like as if we are one and the same as those animals." Cordelia sat down in her seat next to Palmyra, giving the girl a soft smile. 

"Coriolanus and Cordelia didn't show those people anything they didn't already know." Sejanus defended the two students.

"I don't need your help."

"Those tributes are human beings, just like us." Sejanus continued, "That's why nobody wants to watch the games. Because people know, deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn't justify starving people's children, taking away their freedom, their rights." Most of the student rolled their eyes, having enough of hearing the boy's opinions on the games and districts.

As the voice echoed behind her, Cordelia felt a chill creep down her spine, prompting everyone to turn and face Dr. Gaul.

"Snow fell down in a cage... it fell down in a cage... but it landed..." Dr. Gaul's voice trailed off, leaving a sense of foreboding in its wake.

"On stage." Coriolanus interjected, completing the cryptic phrase.

Dr. Gaul's turned and settled her gaze on Cordelia, sending shivers down her spine. "You're good at games," she remarked, her smile unsettling as she turned to Coriolanus. "Maybe one day you'll be a game maker like me."

Highbottom interjected, "If the games continue at all."

"Oh, they'll continue. With performances like young Mr. Snow and Miss Sinclair in that zoo," Dr. Gaul retorted confidently. "And I came to ask your star mentor a question."

All eyes turned to Coriolanus as Dr. Gaul posed the question, "What are the Hunger Games for?"

The million-dollar question lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken doubts and uncertainties. What were the Hunger Games truly for? Each time someone dared to ask, the response echoed back like a hollow promise: to punish the districts for their uprisings. But such a simplistic explanation failed to satisfy the gnawing curiosity that gripped every heart.