The 55th Hunger Games

Chapter 4

        A minute later, the peacekeeper comes back in to escort me out of the building. I meet up again with Samantha (who again avoids my eyes) and we ride the elevator down to ground level and leave the building.

        Samantha walks beside me. I quickly glance up at her face, and in disbelief see that her eyes are not even slightly red, but clear, dry and white. I understand that you must appear composed and confident in front of the cameras, I really do, but how can it be that she has probably just said her final goodbyes to her family and friends, yet she looks as cold and calculating as this?

        Perhaps she is not sad because she plans on returning, I think. And if she wants to return, she must act like a Career. That is the only way to win.

        We get in a car, which I rarely see on the streets of District 7. It is dark and sleek and takes us to the station quickly. We get out and I am stunned by how many cameras are waiting for us. Hundreds of gadgets and lenses surround us at all sides, pushing greedily closer.

        We move through the crowd until we at last reach the sleek, silver Capitol train. I feel a little awkward at what I imagine I must look like. In the car I had attempted to get my eyes back to normal, but I feel as though I was unsuccessful.

        We must stand in the door of the train for a while, so the camera's can record us, and that's when I look around to the big TV screen lodged up on the wall and see myself on it, live to Panem. I do not look good. Beside Samantha, who is a fair bit taller and broader than me, I look measly, like a small child. Samantha, on the other hand, looks like a tribute any sponsor would go for, cool, strong and determined.

        I hope, as the doors close behind us, that I am not wrecking her chances. Sponsors sponsor a district, not a specific tribute. They have no say in what tribute their money will be put towards in the arena.

        The train seems to start immediately, and we speed away. I stagger a little and crash against Samantha who had not been slightly jolted by the train starting. I apologise immediately and she glares at me. Then she does something rather sudden. She sweeps around and grabs the front of my shirt.

        "Look," she says in a deadly whisper. "I don't want to be friendly with you, but I even less want you to ruin my chances of getting home, so stay out of my way. And for Panem's sake, stop crying!"

        I nod, but before she can let go of me we hear a drawling voice behind us.

        "Surely you can wait one more week for that?" says the voice.

        I turn around. Seamus is emerging from the carriage behind us. Samantha is alarmed enough that she lets go of my shirt.

        "You're our mentor." She says at once, standing up a little straighter as though to impress him with her size.

        "I am." He says, "But if it is all the same to you, I would prefer it if I still had two tributes with me when I arrive at the Capitol. It would be a terrible inconvenience for everyone if they had to find a replacement."

        Samantha looks shunned and a little embarrassed. Then Seamus looks at me.

        "But she is right boy. Cry the whole trip if you will, but certainly not when we reach the Capitol. Do you understand me?"

        I nod, but I can make no promises. I just said goodbye to my family, my friends and my home, and he expects me to wipe my face clean and shed not another tear when we arrive in what will probably be about a day? It seems completely unjust, but I say nothing.