The Mentor. (Cato Hadley)

Chapter One.

Rewritten: 03.13.2023

To say I'm bitter towards the Capitol would be quite the understatement. Being from District Two, we were raised - brainwashed, even - to believe that being part of the nationwide, televised program known as The Hunger Games is a privilege. We were taught that we should be honored to participate, honored to potentially win the Games and bring home a victory to our District. There are no winners to The Hunger Games; not in the slightest. Standing here, at sixteen years old, two years after I myself had become a Victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, I'm absolutely astonished as to how naive I was back then.

Today, I have to go to the Training Center, where I'm headed right now. I'm the newest Victor of The Hunger Games here in District Two, which means that for five years - well, four more now if you don't count last year - I have to Mentor our Tributes. Unless, of course, someone new comes along, replacing me as the newest Victor in District Two. This usually is a rule, but sometimes you can get out of it. If one of the Victors older than me decides they want to be the Mentor, they can absolutely take that position. This, however, never happens, as I couldn't get that lucky. The Victor before me only had to Mentor for three years, the third being the year I won, effectively replacing her. For the male Mentors, however, it's almost always Brutus. He's obsessed with burying himself in the Games, doing whatever he can to help District Two bring home another Victory. After all, we have a reputation to uphold. District Two has more Victors than any other District in Panem.

I guess I should be grateful for only having to serve five years as a Mentor. The lesser Districts, such as Eleven and Twelve, have very few Mentors. Eleven only has three Victors, only two of which that are alive to Mentor. Twelve also has two Victors, but only one is alive; Haymitch Abernathy. My grandmother very clearly remembers a girl from District Twelve winning the Tenth Annual Hunger Games, and Haymitch - my fellow Mentor - won the Fiftieth, also known as the Second Quarter Quell. In Haymitch's Game, there was a special twist where twice the Tributes were sent to their deaths, a grand total of forty-eight. Ironically enough, with the Capitol streaming Hunger Games reruns on every platform, they never play any reruns of either of the District Twelve Victor's Games.

Most people in the other Districts don't strive to be chosen for the Games. Any normal person, one who isn't absolutely brainwashed by the Capitol, could tell you that going into The Hunger Games truly sounds like one of the most terrifying experiences possible. Here in District Two, we have dozens of teenagers thirsting for the chance to volunteer. So much so, that we as Victors have to have a meeting at the Training Center to see exactly which child has the most potential about bringing home a Victory. It's sickening, to me. Everybody else thinks it's the best thing. I don't dare voice my opinion or my thoughts about how absolutely barbaric and controlling the Capitol is, because I'm not willing to sign my death warrant.

I'm the last to arrive at the Training Center, our District's nine living Victors already seated around a long oak table, discussing on which child should have the 'honor' of entering the Capitol killing Games this year. Pathetic it is, absolutely pathetic.

"Marblyn, nice of you to finally join us," Sanai Rigurdson - Victor of the sixty-first Hunger Games - scoffs as I step into the room and take my designated seat. It's so easy for Sanai to be rude and jealous, because she is absolutely jealous. Before I came along, Sanai was the youngest Hunger Games Victor in District Two, winning the Games a month shy of turning sixteen. I won my Game at fourteen, stealing that title she cherished from her completely. Lucky for Sanai, she's not all that pretty, meaning she doesn't have to struggle with the things Snow puts Victors like Finnick Odair and I through. If only she knew the reality of where I just was, and why I am late.

Enobaria turns to Sanai, flashing her sharpened teeth at the girl who won her Games just a year before Enobaria did. She did it for show, for the Capitol, because she won her Games by ripping her final opponent's throat out with her teeth. Some may say she's barbaric, bloodthirsty even. But, her ripping that throat out, that was her last effort at survival. She clearly did not have the power to beat him. So, her teeth have two purposes; the first, to feed the Capitol's image of her, and second, the sharpened teeth keep her from being one of Snow's tributes. "If I could have been in the arena with you," Enobaria practically growls, a dark, murderous look in her eye.

"I'm just saying," Sanai scoffs, crossing her arms as she stares over at me. "Marblyn's tribute is the reason we lost The Hunger Games last year. She should get to these meetings in time and pay attention to ensure something like that doesn't happen again."

I glare at her, unwilling to speak of what happened at the end of last year's Games. The tribute I mentored - Janelle, her name was, made it to the final two by striking up a romance with the District Four male, Rhindan. When it came down to just the two of them, Janelle killed herself so Rhindan could become the Victor.

"Need I remind you, Sanai," I spit, keeping my eyes fixated on her. "In the first Game I ever mentored, I got a tribute into the final two. Your five years as a mentor ended with none of your tributes even entering the top ten."

Sanai goes to speak, but Enobaria holds up her hand. "I may have been in the Games after you, but you weren't my Mentor, so you can't even use that." Enobaria's right; Gavel, the Victor of the 52nd Hunger Games was her Mentor.

"I'm over this," Brutus grunts, rolling his eyes at the antics of Sanai. "I'm the male mentor, this we already know. Let's get on with it, who are we sending into the arena?" Brutus loves anything and everything Hunger Games related. He volunteers to Mentor every year, and his Victory is his only personality trait. In his Games, he volunteered and his girlfriend was reaped, the person supposed to volunteer for her chickening out. It came down to them at the final two, and he killed her to win. He doesn't have any family, and he never moved on. The Hunger Games is ironically how he copes.

Picking out who could volunteer this year is extremely important for District Two. The past two Hunger Games, at least one tribute made our District look ridiculous. Last year, it was Janelle, killing herself for the male tribute of District Four. During my Hunger Games, it was my District partner. He stepped off the pedestal before the countdown even ended, killing himself before the Games even started. I used to think he was pathetic for that, a coward even, but now I wish that's what I had done.

Romulus McGee, the top trainer in our entire District, awaits for us as we file out of the conference room. McGee usually figures out who is the strongest, most promising volunteer we could possibly have. Then, we agree to allow them to volunteer and ultimately die in an arena with thousands of people watching.

"I'd like you all to meet Cato Hadley," I recognize the male volunteer McGee is proposing to us. His father, who served his twenty years as a Peacekeeper, has a high position at The Nut, where my father also works. I've never spoken to him, as he's two years my senior, but I've seen him in passing. He's tall, towering over me at six foot two. I'm not sure how much he weighs, but he has no lack of muscle. I've seen him fight; there's a good chance he could bring home a District Two win.

"And Clove Kentwell," McGee continues, introducing us to his pick for a girl tribute. She's much smaller than Cato, and younger too. I know her, as she's friends with my little brother. The same little brother who had been trying to volunteer this year, but I'm luckily on McGee's good side and put a stop to that.

"Who else was trying to volunteer this year?" I ask McGee, just curious as to his other contenders were. I like to know how stupid somebody is before I associate myself with them.

"Brick Howard and Fianna Lewis," I almost laugh at McGee's revelation, because of him mentioning Brick Howard. The Howard family are somewhat outcasts here in District Two. He has - well, had - two brothers and a sister. His parents both had high quality government jobs here in Two, but that came to a brutal end. His oldest brother was Enobaria's District partner, his sister died in the 67th Games. And, his other brother was my District partner who killed himself before the Games even started. I'm sure the Howard family thinks that if Brick volunteers, and wins, the cloud of shame surrounding their family will dissipate. But, that will never happen.

"So," I smirk, ready to get my Year Two as a mentor done and over with. "Are you ready to win the 74th Hunger Games?"

Clove's face brightens at the news, she's going to be the female tribute. Cato, however, just sends me a sly smirk. I'm confused as to why he's here, because it wasn't all that long ago when my father had mentioned that Cato Hadley began his Peacekeeper training. In that same sentence, my father was saying about how it's a shame Cato is signing twenty years of his life away. Apparently, he believes that if Cato and I got together, we'd create strong-gened children who would bring home lots of victories for District Two. I will never have children as long as this psychotic Game goes on, and I certainly will not be having kids with someone as dedicated to the Capitol as Cato Hadley is.

Happy 74th Hunger Games, may the odds be ever in your favor.