MPHFPC ➵ The Hunger Games AU (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 9

.☆ POV- Emma

I sat at the supper table, digging the dirt out from under my nails. My mind was occupied by far more important things than the large platter of foods before me.

"Aren't you going to eat?" asked a woman named Lorraine, who would serve as mine and Horace's mentor.

"No," I said, my voice dripping with bitterness. I'd stopped trying to hide my feelings long ago. If I felt like snapping, why shouldn't I snap? What was the reason in putting up a wall between my mind and my body?

Lorraine paused. "Hm." And she went on eating.

I noticed Horace kept sneaking nervous glances at me and I turned to meet his unsure gaze, which had now conveniently switched to his full plate. "What are you looking at?" I demanded. My patience was on its ends now, from the Games to the Capitol to all this stupid food that the Districts weren't offered.

"N-nothing," he stammered, and shoveled a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. He couldn't have been older than 13, with his lively blue eyes and light blond hair.

I didn't answer him, only dumped some admittedly delicious meat onto my tongue. I chewed aggressively, channeling my rage into every bite, and the next, and the next.

Lorraine let out an observant moan.

"What?" I hissed. Usually, I could hold myself back. But this recent turn of events... made me want to kill someone. Literally. Maybe I did have a chance in the Hunger Games.

"Your personality needs some work if you expect to get sponsors," she elaborated, swinging her fork around lazily as she spoke.

"Does it now?" I retorted gingerly. The heat of my words burned inside me, and it felt almost like a challenge that I had to win. The fire inside of me felt good. It made me whole.

"Spiteful one, aren't you?"

"You gotta problem with that?"

She laughed heartily. "Maybe, maybe not. But either way, that's up to the prep team. I'm here to keep you two alive." She stared me down. "And I order you to eat so that you don't completely waste away before you even get to the arena."

I scowled. "I'm perfectly fine," I said defensively. I was strong. I had to believe it. That I had enough muscle and fat to get me by. But the way Lorraine said it made me doubt myself, and I hated doubting myself.

"Eat," Lorraine repeated forcefully.

And so I did. I ripped into the food, tore piece after piece until I could've thrown up (which Lorraine forbid I ever do.) It made sense, to put on some weight if I ever wanted to win the Hunger Games. So I shoved aside all sour thoughts about eating the spoiled Capitol's endless food aside and chowed.

Horace was eating his food slowly and cautiously, as though he was scared it would be poisoned or some crap.

My plate was nearly emptied when Lorraine started to run her words again. "If we're to have District 9 win," she said, "you two will need to be strong and healthy. Training starts tomorrow, so get up early." Her voice had a sickening sweetness to it. But the words "If we're to have District 9 win," repeated in my head. As though we were just District 9, not human beings!

"Oh, you can bet your last spoonful of this bloody food that I'll be perfectly strong and healthy," I growled.

"Calm it," she warned. Something about her made me uneasy. But nonetheless, she was my mentor and had somehow won the games back in her day. So I bit back a witty reply and swallowed.

"What will the training consist of?" Horace spoke up after a short silence, as though his line was rehearsed.

Lorraine tapped her chin. "Knotting, strength, camouflage, other stuff."

The "other stuff" obviously was tugging at Horace as he pulled on the collar of his shirt. "Yes, Miss."

She seemed almost pleased at the fancy title. "Mm! Well, see you two in the morning." With no further words, she got up, turned on her heels, and walked down the hall. I looked at Horace quizzically, who shrugged.

And as he cleaned up his plate in silence, I couldn't help but think that maybe I could stand this kid.

.☆ POV- Jacob

Fiona didn't talk much. This was one of the many observations I had made about the strange girl who I was to train with. To fight with. For. Against. I couldn't tell anymore. I groaned in frustration, running my fingers through my dark hair and blinking my tired eyes open. Light peeked through the window and my warm blanket begged for me to stay and rest some more. But I could hear people moving about outside of my room, and I managed to drag myself out of bed.

After quickly sorting through several sets of clothes, I chose a more-than-simple combination of pants and shirt that were perhaps a size too big, along with basic socks and strangely crafted uncomfortable shoes.

I shoved the door aside, swallowing down a yawn while Fiona stared at me. Stared. Her piercing hazel eyes were fixated on my every movement. Bloodshot and puffy, her gaze implied that she hadn't gotten any sleep, and add that to the fact that her hands were shaking wildly at her sides and her eyebrows were twitching, you would think she didn't plan on getting any.

"Good morning," I greeted her, trying to hold back the note of uncertainty my tongue nearly slipped on.

She hesitated before nodding and hurrying off to meet Peregrine downstairs. Miss Peregrine. It did sort of annoy me that Fiona and I were expected to address our mentor as 'Miss' but the other tributes could just use their last name. But I moved my mind ahead from that and tried to focus.

Miss Peregrine was fully clothed and had already helped herself to breakfast when we stood to face her. "Ready, children?" the elderly woman asked.

Children. Were we really children, what with what we were about to face?

Fiona nodded again and I said, "Yeah."

Doubt snaked around my thoughts. Am I ready?

"Then let's go." She beckoned us outside to find where our ride to the training center would be.

I followed after Fiona, trying to surface the smallest shred of confidence. I'll have to be.