A Waking Nightmare (TNHID Book 2)

Chapter 9

Willow

"Listen closely." I am locked into my mother's embrace, forced to listen to the rushed words coming out of her mouth. I don't know why she feels the need to disguise this as a show of motherly affection, but I listen attentively, grasping her every word. "When you begin to train, I don't want you to show off your talents. Avoid archery and knife-throwing entirely, and try to learn how to use other weapons and skills. Make an effort to look decent and not completely hopeless, but don't make it seem like you're someone that needs to be taken out. The last thing you need is to put a target on your back.

"Try to avoid alliances. And when it is time for your private session, then you can begin to show your talent. But don't make a big deal of it. Make it look like you're decent at archery and with knives. Neither above-average nor below. If you show too much or too little skill, there won't be a weapon for you. Trust me." I want to ask why I wouldn't get a weapon if I showed above-average skill, but I can tell by my mother's imploring gaze that the answer is not something she wants to share. "And when it comes time for interviews, paint yourself as nothing more than an artist. That's what the president wants to hear. Don't try to be fierce or determined or brave. Act as if you got nothing from me other than your hair and small stature. When you get to the arena, run as fast as you can to the Cornucopia, take whatever you can get your hands on, and then try to hide and find water. I know that you are fast, so use that to your advantage."

My mom finally loosens her grip and pulls back. "Make sure you enjoy the food, Willow. That was always my favorite part." I let out a shaky laugh, knowing from her joke that this conversation is over.

She turns to my dad and beckons for him to leave the room with her. I assume they want to have their own private goodbye since she won't see him again for weeks.

I take a quick look in the mirror in the back corner of the room. My eyes look slightly puffy, but nothing too extreme. I pinch my cheeks to put some color into them, but my face still looks chalky. It's just the nerves. I scold myself and put on my straight face again, preparing myself for the painful hour of goodbyes.

The next person to walk in is Ash. She is crying and running forward to hug me. Her tears drop onto the fabric on the shoulder of my dress, but I don't care. I can barely hold back my own sobs. And I always hated the wretched thing anyway.

"Oh, Willow. I never thought it'd be you. We're too young to be in this thing anyway. How could the gamemakers be so mean?" She begins ranting. I know that this is one of her nervous habits. When she gets scared, she talks on and on and on. "But you have to survive. I know you can. I mean even now, you look so strong. If it were me I wouldn't be able to stop crying. They'd have to get everyone out of the building because there would be a literal flood of my tears."

I laugh and begin to talk while she is taking a breath. "Look, Ash, you know that I am going to be one of the youngest there, so I don't know how likely it is that I will survive. I'm going to fight it, but everyone will be bigger and stronger than me. No matter what happens, I want you to know that I am grateful for you." The words don't want to come out, because try as I may, I've never been good at expressing myself. But this might be my last chance to tell Ash all of this. "I know I don't have a lot of friends, but you have always stuck around. I will never forget that." A single tear runs down my cheek from the emotion of the moment. I don't trust myself to talk anymore so I lean my head down on her shoulder. I feel the weight of her own head on top of mine and we sit in silence until the peacekeeper comes in to usher her out.

"Good luck, Willow. I'm so happy that I've been able to be your friend. After all, I wouldn't even be alive right now if it weren't for you." I brush my hand against my scar and we both smile, remembering that scary moment. Ash gives a final wave and she's gone. I wipe my face, wishing that there was a sink or something for me to wash away the tears.