A Perfect Storm (A Fanfiction for "The Hunger Games")

Chapter 5

When I get out of bed the next morning I realize that I overslept with one quick look at the clock. I'll only have twenty minutes to get dressed and eat before training starts. I know I'll need every second of preparation I can get.

For Mykael, of course. 

Jumping out of bed, I hurry over to the closet to grab a t-shirt and some pants... only to realize I don't have any. I should have known that all of my old clothes would be confiscated. Judging from the Capitol people I've seen, they probably assumed that anything from the districts was infested with fleas or something. 

What I find instead is a plain black jumpsuit. The material feels thick in my hands but surprisingly light. When I pull it over my body, it fits snug against my form as though it is designed specifically for me. But of course it is. I have to remember that nothing to do with the games are simply accidents.

The fabric is flexible and seemingly durable. Perfect for running from murderers and pulling arrows out of your chest, I think irritably as I walk into the kitchen. Everyone is already seated around the table and are finishing up their breakfasts. One look at the food makes my stomach churn and I gulp. Of course, I've already tasted the Capitol food on the train but it doesn't cease to amaze me again today. The orphanage just didn't have much variety of breakfast foods. Usually we would settle for some bland cereal or the occasional piece of wheat bread. Here, sitting before me, there are banana and bran muffins, complete with oats sprinkled on top; warm bagels that I can tell are fresh out of the oven -- even though I can't think of who, certainly not Lydia, would have made them; eggs and sausages; and every fresh fruit from papayas to pineapples to oranges. 

"Look who decided to bless us with her pretty face."

I am cut out of my reverie by Aaryn's comment and I turn my eyes up to glare at him. Coming from someone else it might have been a compliment, but not coming from Aaryn's mouth. I still don't really understand why he insistently jabs at me. It has to be more than revenge for my yelling at him -- he's much too rational to be stuck on that -- but I just don't know what he thinks he's achieving by ridiculing me every step of the way. Instead of answering, I sit down across from Michael and put a bagel on my plate... and a muffin. And some eggs and a little bit of fruit, too. 

"Don't get food like that back home or have you not eaten for a week?"

My fork stops still in my hand and my shoulders tense. No, Aaryn isn't allowed to bring our feud into my family life. Because he probably knows that I don't have one -- haven't for a while -- and I won't stand for his cruelty. 

"Yeah, well, my parents died six years ago so you can say whatever you want, but it's not like I haven't heard it from any one else before. So go ahead. Open-fire at me. I don't care." 

I raise my gaze to meet his but instead of the usual arrogant smirk, he isn't smiling at all. Right in this moment, his face seems so open, his green eyes young and innocent. A wave of deja vu washes over me but I can't place where I have seen the expression before. Nevertheless, it reminds me that the man I am looking at is still just a kid, one that was forced into a bad situation just like myself and, as a result, will live with battle scars across his heart and mind for the rest of his life. For the first time, I wonder about his story and who he used to be. I can't begin to imagine the things he's experienced, but I'm fairly certain I'll learn soon enough. Now, even more than before, I feel certain that I know him from somewhere, and it definitely isn't from the TV screen at the orphanage.

Clearing my throat I push my plate across the table despite my protesting stomach and stand up, the legs of my chair screeching against the stained wood floor. "I'm going to freshen up so I'm ready to go."