Two Sides of a Coin

Chapter 3:

We make our way to the train in a luxurious Capitol car, surrounded by swarms of peacekeepers. I suppose tributes have tried to escape in the past. Xanthe fills the silence with her obligatory, incessant chatter, oblivious to the fact that Jakob is sobbing gently in the corner, and I am blocking out every word. Ignorance is bliss.

Eventually, we reach the transparent station, where we catch a last glimpse of our home, split into two opposite halves; one half never-ending fields, the other harsh urban enforcement. I watch as it slowly slips out of my sight.

Only for a while, though. I intend on coming back.

Tearing myself away from the huge glass window, I take in the vehicle for the first time, and am bewildered by the simple vastness of the train. In length, it is about the size of Victors Village, and half as wide. Shiny, navy leather lines the walls, and a spotless cream carpet supports my weight. It is so soft, I sink into the floor 5 centimetres with every step. Plush chocolate brown sofas complete with fluffy, lime green cushions take up the middle of the main gathering car, and a hologram set sits in between. This is where we will watch the recap of the reapings.

And finally, what really makes me feel overwhelmed, is the food. Carts, trolleys and tables lie in wait groaning under everything from steaming stews to dainty cupcakes to eye-watering spirits. I have not consumed this much food in all 18 years of my life. And, despite my initial shock, it disgusts me. People, children, babies are starving and they waste food like air. Like it isn't even a necessity.

"This is where you will be staying for the duration of your journey! Isn't it just wonderful?! Take whatever you require, and the Avox are at your every need. Now, let's see your very own compartments! Of course, they aren't as big as your mentors, but I am confident they will satisfy your desires....."

Does this woman ever shut up? I feel for my father and Lydia, who have to suffer this tedious babbling every year. Then I realize that this will be my job if I end up victorious.

"Adelaide, this is your room!"

I cannot help but give a small gasp.

"I know, I know..... It's so lovely to see beauty again after the hideous sights of your District!" Xanthe continues to prattle on throughout the icy glare I give her.

My compartment is about the same size as my room back home, but is stacked with luxuries I couldn't even dream of. It is all I can do not to face plant the bed, it looks so soft. A small pile of delicacies lay on a mahogany table, and I try one, because when I'm starving in the arena, this will be all but a distant memory.

As soon as I bite into a small, brown cupcake, a million different flavours light up in my mouth, making my tastebuds sing opera with delight. The rich taste is familiar, but doesn't have a name. Suddenly, a word forms into existence in my brain. Chocolate. I have only tried it once, when my father brought it home from one games. The confectionary shop in 9 is limited.

I take a short shower in a mango-smelling soap, and slip on a black, silk shirt and blue pants. At least my clothes are somewhat normal. I have just enough time to brush out my damp copper curls, and tie them up in a messy bun, before I am called for dinner. My earlier reservations dissipating, I cannot wait to taste the food.

****

This evenings meal comes in three courses. We only have one standard meal at home, so I am constantly reminded to leave room for more. This is almost an impossible task. First, the brightly coloured soup that tastes of all the seasons combined. Then the pork and noodles in a mint sauce. Finally, when I can barely force myself to take another bite, we feast on a lavender soufle that is strangely green. By the time we have finished, my stomach is representing the volume of a beach ball, and I wonder how Xanthe stays so thin. Lydia suggests we watch the reapings, and we all agree sleepily.

I slump on the chocolate brown sofas, snuggling into the crook of my father's shoulder, while Jakob sits awkwardly to my right. It is obvious that he won't last a day in the arena, with his skinny limbs and malnourished body. His crying won't gain him any sponsors.

An Avox comes into the room, and places a hot drink before each of us. She switches on the hologram, and prepares it for our use.

I perk up a little as the Panem nation starts up, and intently watch the hovering screen. I take mental notes of each of the tributes, and organize them into three categories: Ally, Enemy and Easy Target.

Both from District 1 have ridiculous names, all to do with beauty.

District 2's male looks formidable,but the female looks scared out of her wits. Obviously the District have some sort of unanimous hate against her, or stupidly think she could handle the games. I wouldn't bet on it.

District 3 washes over my head, although I do register that neither are threats.

District 4 offers up two typical Careers; arrogant, confident and pretty deadly.

District 5 fit nicely into the 'Easy Target' box.

District 6 produces two tributes I immediately like. Both have muscles protruding from their outfits, and are about the same age as me. They remind me of myself.

District 7 I consider, before the male is called up, and he is a weedy 12-year-old.

I nudge Jakob, "Hey, it turns out your not the unluckiest after all."

He rolls his eyes, but has to bite his lip to choke back another sob.

District 8 has a small, 14-year-old girl that melts my heart. Her jet black hair blows around her heart-shaped face in the silence that follows when volunteers are asked for. A boy that volunteers for a pudgy male could probably be a good ally but a scary enemy.

At last, the District 9 reaping rolls around. You can see the petrified look on Kristyna's petite face, as she tremulously stumbles to the stage, before I step out to volunteer. My face, on the other hand, is defiant and angry.

The commentators are excited about the fact that a Victors child is going into the arena, and they muse aloud about how they wonder if I'll take after my father. For some reason, this rubs me up the wrong way.

Because when I'm in that arena, I'll be fighting to the death. And they're wondering if I'll take after my father by killing people? The Capitol is even more sick than I previously thought.

My fury is building and building, until all my other senses are  blocked out. I feel like a fuse, waiting for a flame, before I blow up like a pressurised bomb.

Shaking violently, I barely manage to hear the final competitor. But when I do, I realize I have found my fire, and am about to explode.

The District 12 male has a speech impairment and brain damage. His family, after dealing with the fact that they will never truly know their son, are about to loose him for good. They are shot when the shout the crime the Capitol have just committed is disgusting. They are shot for telling the truth.

I stalk out of the car, ignoring the stares of others, and state my anger my breaking things in my compartment. I imagine each smash is the face of a Gamemaker, each crack is a crack in our Presidents bones.

Somehow, I will bring my imagination into reality.

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Here is Chapter 3, a little different than I originally planned, although I think it turned out better.

Sorry for the longer delay between Chapters 2 and 3, but i was enjoying my newfound freedom (i.e summer) by reading City of Lost Souls. If you haven't already read those books, I suggest you do. They are highly addictive.

This Chapter is dedicated to @samduffy for commenting as voting on my chapters. I am extremely grateful ;)

And thank you for everyone who takes the time to read this. I give you all virtual vegetarian cookies.

-Izzie :)