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She's family, Rodgers.
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Training was a lot harder than I had expected it to be.
I was used to having it be easy, like the games training had been. Training here, was like no other. People didn't give a shit who I was around here. They didn't care that I've won the games, they mostly cared about making me look weak. A lot of people were mean for absolutely no reason.
I think honestly being in the games has made it worse for me down here. People don't like that for some strange reason, and instead of acknowledging what a traumatic event I went through, they resent me for it.
I was dripping in sweat as I finished one of the drills. Roland was standing next to someone I didn't know the name of. The man looked at his stop watch and then back to me.
"Not fast enough," he snapped at me. I stood up with my hands on my hips. I was exhausted. This was the first training I've done in weeks. Maybe I was out of shape.
"It's my first day sir," I tell him, my tone low out of embarrassment.
"It's not good enough," he says. His piercing grey eyes looked creepy as they stared into my own. "If you want to be apart of my squad you need to do better. You need to want to do better."
"Yes sir," I say bitterly. I don't take orders well.
"Go to lunch, I expect more from you when you return soldier." He walked away, and I sighed while looking at Roland.
"He hates me," I say annoyedly.
"He doesn't hate you," he says. "He's just going to be hard on you. That's how he is with everyone new."
"I'm not used to this," I tell him. "We were expected to already have the training skills coming into the games."
"Time to learn some new ones, okay?" he says. I sigh but nod. "I'll help you."
"I'm not used to not being good at things," I say. He chuckles and nods. We walk into the elevator to go to the cafeteria. "You taught me everything I needed to know in ten years. Not a week."
"You'll get used to it don't worry," He reassures me.
"And why is everyone so mean? Why doesn't anyone want to be my friend?" We walk into the cafeteria and I follow Roland to the line to get lunch. I stare at the runny mashed potatoes and the oddly shiny corn. I scrunch my nose and look at Roland. I think I'd rather starve then eat this. What the hell is this place? Prison?
I follow Roland to a table, the table is full of people that I don't recognize. Why would I?
"Roland! Hey!"
Roland was always good at making friends. I was not.
"Who's this?" A boy asks. The two blondes that were sitting with them weren't happy that I had joined them.
