Deceived: The 500th Annual Hunger Games

Chapter 68 - Last Night at the Capitol

CORNELIA BARTLETT'S P.O.V

The President's long speech began to bore me. He was whining about how the weak will not like, how the strong will reign. I know I'm apart of the hearty handful. I'm more able than someone like Aloe.

I sat with Hazil and Struve on a large table, accompanied by some guy named Gregor. I'm not interested in his back story. Just sponsor me already!

"Cornelia, you're really determined to win, aren't you?" Gregor said, waving his fork in front of his face. The noodles covered in the luxurious sauce dangled from the shiny cutlery in his ageing hands.

"Of course I am!" I say, laughing slightly. "If I didn't want to win, I wouldn't have volunteered!"

"Your weapon?"

"Axes," I say, picking up a forkful of glistening noodles. Meat swims in the thick sauce coating my tangled noodles. Divine. "Throwing them is my thing, but I can swing them like they're lighter than newborn babies!"

"Hazil? Struve?" Gregor asked them what their weapon preference was. Maybe he wants to sponsor us! Even though Struve isn't in my alliance, I can't help but feel a sense of delight.

"Trident. For District Four!" Hazil cried out, raising her muscular arms into the air.

"The dagger," Struve said, sounding a lot more sophisticated than his usual stupid self. "No skill is required, but learning advanced techniques is an enormous advantage in fighting."

I stare at Struve, unable to understand why he's acting the way he is. Does he think he sounds intelligent? To me, he sounds stupid.

"So, Cornelia," Gregor turned to me; sauce dropped from his blue lips and down his stubbly chin. I shuddered. "You gonna win?"

"Is that a trick question?" I scoff, appalled that he even considered me losing. "There is no way I'm coming out of that arena dead."

"Me too," Hazil chirped. "Together, we will fight until it's just us two. Then we'll brutally fight to the death to decide who is going home alive and who returns in a coffin."

"I'll be the third one to leave alive," Struve insisted. "Look at me, I got a higher training score than either of these two girls. I'm more worthy of a sponsor."

"But I got a ten," I yell. "Ten is still consider extremely good, especially for a District Eight citizen."

"An eleven is better, Cornelia." Gregor wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "A ten or an eleven is the difference to making it out of these games alive."

So you're saying if I didn't get an eleven, I'm not leaving alive? I'll prove them wrong. The score doesn't matter; it's the game performance that's vital.

PLEIONE WREN'S P.O.V

Eunia kept staring over at Libo, desperate for the Career to glance over his shoulder and make eye contact with her. As per usual, I sat ad said nothing unless asked a direct question. What's the point in speaking when you have nothing to say?

We also sat with Felix and a sponsor named Kingsley. From the way he looked, he must be getting old. Minute grey roots started to spread over the turquoise colour he dyed into his hair. Some of his face was plastic, but other parts had wrinkles threatening to make an abrupt appearance.

"Why should I sponsor you?" Kingsley asked. His accent makes me want to shove my face into the beautifully prepared meal and drown in a puddle of sauce.

"I'm not your average tribute," I smirk. "I'm not a Career, but I'm certainly not weak. Like Aloe."

"Pleione and I will be the best pair of tributes in that arena, no doubt." Eunia wound up long strings of pasta onto her fork before elegantly biting into the food.