Scars That Never Fade- A New Generation of Hunger Games

Chapter 2

My entire body shook silently as Theo and I walked back home. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and the mockingjay's song quietly came to a stop. We walked up the rocky streets until we reached his house. The smell of baking bread wafted from inside.

"You can come in, if you'd like," said Theo.

"I'd better not," I replied, "especially since you told me what you did. I don't..."

"Come on," Theo begged, "you won't have to stay long."

"Fine."

We both walked inside, and I saw Theo's father in the kitchen, making bread. He smiled at me, a kind, genuine smile that couldn't come from any less of a man. Theo's mother sat on the floor with his 11-year-old sister Rosie playing cards. She looked up, and smiled as well. She always treated me with a sort of sympathy that I never truly understood. I had never bothered to ask. Rosie ran up to me and hugged me.

"Wow, Rosie, you're almost Fern's height now," Theo joked. Rosie rolled her eyes and stomped on Theo's foot. I was extraordinarily tall for 14, I must've taken after my father. Theo was plenty tall too (unlike his father) but Rosie was always more petite.

Mr. Mellark turned to me, taking a moment to look up from his constant baking.

"Care to stay for dinner, Fern? We have more than enough food to go around," he said generously.

"I'd like to, but I think my grandmother may get worried if I stay out much longer," I told him, "but maybe some other time." That was an odd thought. I doubted there would be another time.

A voice sounded from the other side of the room. "Do you need a ride home?" asked Theo's mother.

"No, don't worry, I'll walk."

Theo informed his parents, "I can go with her. I'll be back before you're done cooking, Dad." Mr. Mellark happily nodded at him and we both exited the house.

As we walked, Theo looked uneasy again. This time, I had to speak first.

"Theo, what's up with you?"

He stared off into the distance, massaging his forehead out of frustration.

"There's a couple things I never mentioned," he said as he tried to be tough, "but," he looked up, "just don't be mad okay?"

"Mad?" I wondered, "why would I be mad?"

"Well," said Theo, "my family is leaving tomorrow." I nodded, trying to believe it. Theo started full-fledged sobbing now, his fingers intertwined with his hair, fists tightly clenched, knuckles white.

"What?" I demanded. "What is it? Stop stalling and just tell me!"

He looked around, almost like someone was watching.

"Fern, they're bringing back the games."

If there was one thing I hated about the old Panem, it was the Games. My dad told me about them often, how 24 kids fought to the death, and one survived. Why not just shoot 23 and pick a random survivor? Why would anyone find children fighting to the death amusing? But I knew too well that hundreds of people had asked those questions before.

I stared into Theo's eyes, which were lit by streetlamps. I pulled him into a hug.

"What time are you supposed to leave tomorrow?" I asked him.

"When the sun goes down. A small hovercraft is meeting us in the woods." He paused, looking at me with intent. "Whatever you do, Fern, don't come. I'm serious, don't."

"But, what if I can't see you again? What if you have no choice but to go?" I asked.

"Well," he thought about my question, "then..." He kissed me cheek. I put my hand on the spot. My face must have been in some state of shock and I felt my cheeks heat up. He grinned sheepishly like before, and started walking off. But then he turned around and smiled again, this time with more conviction.

"But don't worry, you will," he said, and then suddenly dashed back home.