Survive the Night - Chapter 2

Alexander and I don’t talk as we devour our food. I’ve never had so much in my life! I’m eating so fast that I don’t even know what I’m eating. I think I had some lamb stew and fresh bread and strawberries. Those seem to stick out in my mind. Dessert was even better; cake, berry pie, and a drink I didn’t recognize that Keri called hot chocolate. The liquid soothed my throat as I swallowed.

I’m stuffed. I don’t think my stomach can hold anything else. I lean back in the chair and close my eyes, listening to Alexander talk about his family back home. I get a horrible feeling. My stomach aches for home and I feel like my food is about to come back up.

I never knew Alexander had a little brother or an older sister. Come to think of it, I don’t know much about my district partner. I watch him as he talks. His brown eyes are full of life. I watch as he runs a hand through his black hair several times. It must be a habit of his.

“So where did you work when you were younger?” Keri asks.

“I didn’t have to work,” he responds. “Well, not until a few years ago. You see, my father ran the Sundal power plant. He made a lot of money too so our family always had enough. It wasn’t enough for us to be considered part of the elite class though. My father got me a job at Sundal so I could help pay for meals and medicine and such.”

I hang my head. There was never enough money at the end of the month in my family. Come to think of it, there was never much money at the beginning of the month either. It must have been nice for Alexander to grow up with enough. Sure he had to go to work, but only a few years ago.

Crossing my arms, I slump down low in my chair. I’ve had to work everyday since I turned ten. Usually the power plants only higher twelve year olds, but I was a special case. I’m mature for my age. So when I was eleven, I acted like a thirteen year old. They took a chance on me.

“What about your family, Nova,” Keri asks. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No, that’s why I’m so mad about the fact that my parents didn’t say goodbye” is what I want to say, but I don’t. I politely tell Keri that I’m an only child. I don’t trust these people well enough to have them know my life story.

As a matter of fact, I don’t trust Keri at all. Or Wade, our mentor. They have been through this several years and have transported tributes to their death. They of all people should know how unfair the Games are. Why do they act so calm? Keri seems happy, even. I feel as if they just want to get rid of us. Throw us into the arena and leave us to die.

Wade will at least have to help out. If he doesn’t get us sponsors, the other mentors will give him a hard time. But Keri is free of us once we reach the Capitol. Unless one of us wins, of course. But I highly doubt that. I’m definitely not strong enough to win this and Alexander doesn’t look like he could kill people to keep himself alive.

Who knows, I may be wrong. Some tributes end up being a surprise. Some tributes who look to be timid and weak are the best fighters and, eventually, killers.

I am thinking of what other tributes might look like this year when Wade walks into the dining car. He’s a tall fellow with ruffled blonde hair. His green eyes are smiling, but his lips are closed in a tight line.

“Welcome, Nova, Alexander. Let’s go watch the recap of the reapings. It’s broadcasting live in a few minutes.”

We both get up and follow Wade to the next car. It’s the same as the dining car except there is no table or food. There are couches and padded chairs, however, and a large television hanging on the walls. I gape at it. The small projector at home does not compare to this.

“Remember,” Wade starts when he turns on the television. “No matter who is chosen, you still have a chance. Understand? You can come out of this alive. And I believe one of you will.” Does he say this to every tribute? It seems like a memorized monologue rather than kind words of advice.

Suddenly a wave of dizziness comes over me. I sink into the couch and grip my head as if I can squeeze it out. The room is spinning and I can’t seem to shake the feeling. My heart is beating uncontrollably, my breath coming in short gasps. Sweat drips from my palms, down my face, and lands in a puddle on the floor.

I don’t want to watch the recap of the reapings. I don’t want to know who the Capitol will force me to kill. The Games in a whole are horrible and inhumane. I’m not ready for this. I wouldn’t be ready next year either. I still wouldn’t be ready if someone had told me at the end of last year’s Hunger Games that I was going to be in this one.

Alexander nudges me and asks if I’m okay. I shake my head and pull myself together. I can’t let myself have a panic attack at every turn. If I keep this up, I’ll be too busy panicking in the arena and I’ll have zero chance of winning.

I tell Alexander I’m fine and I force myself to watch the television. The recap of the reapings begin in District One. Wade seems to know everything about the other tributes. I guess he makes it his business to know. The tributes from Districts One and Two are indeed Careers, like they always are. Careers spend their whole lives training for the Games, which means they usually end up dominating in the arena. Everyone knows they’re the ones to kill. They didn’t have to volunteer this year; their districts figured who the strongest Career was and voted them in. Each of them are seventeen, except for the boy from Two who is, in fact, eighteen.

They don’t stand out to me. In fact, none of the tributes really stand out. Besides the pair from Ten, the girl from Eight, the boy from Three, and the girl from Four. The tributes from District Ten are both fourteen according to Wade. That makes no sense to me. Why would a district vote in two fourteen year olds? Why not choose someone who’s older? It makes no sense to me. They’re going to be dead early on. The girl from Eight actually cried as she walked onto the stage. Hopefully she’ll be an emotional wreck in the arena. The boy from Three is small, really small. Even I will tower over him and I’m short for a fifteen year old. He looks like he could be quick.

And then there’s the girl from Four who looks like she could kill us all during the bloodbath by herself. The sight of her almost gives me another panic attack, no matter what Wade says about arrogance and overconfidence being a  disadvantage in the arena. She’s tall and has large muscles, determination etched across her face. When she looks at the camera, it seems like she is looking straight at me, sending me a message. And I get it loud and clear.

She is going to be the death of me.

*Ek, I don't really like this chapter, but I couldn't think of anything else to write. Next chapter will be better, I promise. Or maybe not. I don't know. Now I'm rambling...