HungerGames72

Chapter fourteen is upon us!

After sitting for a while at the breakfast table, crunching cereal with fancy fruit and buttering toast, the train starts to slow down slightly. Tall, colourful buildings speed past the windows, each one getting more extravagant than the last. Amongst the strange, colourful buildings are the strange, colourful people, some with green skin, some with blue. I even saw a lady with pink, glittery skin.
"We may have arrived slightly before schedule but that's fine. More time to get you looking good. Which would take a while anyway so it's better to get there early." Cinnamon says, eyes glittering.
"Why does she keep on going on about that?" Mutters Drayton.
"We're getting off the train in ten minutes. Go to the bathroom and freshen up."
I make my way to the bathroom, and splash water on my face. Outside the city gets thicker and more bright, lights flashing and people chattering. Necks craning, all trying to get a sighting of the tributes. It's hard to stop the hatred I feel towards them. They couldn't help that they were born here. They're almost as much of a victim of the system as the districts are.
Almost.
Before I even have time to psych myself up, Cinnamon dashes into the room and grabs my arm, yanking me through to the dining room.
"No time- no time." She cries hurriedly, taking a last frantic sip of coffee. The train begins to stutter and pulls into a station.
"Already?"
"No, we're stopping for a little tap-dancing break. Of course we're here you stupid girl! Hurry up!"
Cinnamon's hurried footsteps disappear into Drayton's room. Seconds later she appears, a tight grip on Drayton. He rolls his eyes.
"Come on now, we're here!" She does a quick check. "DAYA! ARCHIMEDES! Oh never mind. They're grown adults."
Drayton squeals as Cinnamon tries to wipe of the crumbs off his face. "I can do it myself!"
"Clearly not." She mutters. "Ok, the cameras are outside. Smile, wave, and most of all, look like winners."
The train stops. People are crowed outside, the chatter of harsh capitol voices and the snap of giant cameras gets louder and louder.
Squeaking, the doors open.
All at once, a million and one questions are flung at us.
"District ten! The Capitol Times here, how do you feel about your competition?"
"Clementine! How do you feel about being the second in your fam-"
"Drayton! Over here! The Daily Metro! Do you think being from Dist-"
"The Capitol Sun! Why did no one volunteer?"
Cinnamon firmly places her hand on my back. "Smile and wave."
She shoves us through the crowd, flashes of cameras burning into my eyeballs. I try to force a smile onto my face but I'm afraid it looks more like a grimace.
"The Capitol Mail on Sunday, what do you have to say about the games?"
"Miss Hardcastle, do you have a love interest?"
The reporters get louder and louder, each question getting more and more personal.
"How does you dad feel now that his second child has gone into the games?"
"Drayton! What did you say to your mother when you saw her for the last time?"
Drayton's neck whips round to the reporter. "What did you just say?"
The reporter hold out his microphone. "What did you say to your mother before you left?"
He lunges, shoving the microphone on the hard cement floor. Chaos erupts, the reporter scrambling away, Drayton pushing people out the way, trying to find the man.
"What would you say? Huh? Knowing that might be the last time you ever see her? Getting everything ripped away!?"
The other cameras flash even quicker than before, trying to capture the footage of the tribute gone wild.
Security guards infiltrate the crowd, trying to find Drayton.
One grabs my arm, and escorts me inside the station. I stand on my tip-toes, trying to see where he is.
Yells come from a corner. They must have found him.
All the reporters scurry to the place where the yells came from, each trying to get the best shot for tomorrow's newspaper.
I spot Daya a few feet away from me, wincing. Archimedes stand with her, his arm around her shoulder. I'd never noticed they were a couple before. They go quite well together. I suppose when you've been through a lot it's nice to find someone that understands. A fellow broken soul.
She spots me, and waves to come over.
"Can I?" I timidly ask the security guard.
He shrugs. "As long as you don't go rabid like the boy did."
I smile. "Thank you."
I speed over to them, darting through the camera crew and security.
"Are you ok?" Whispers Daya, brushing the loose strands of hair away from my face. It's oddly comforting.
"I'm ok. I hope he is, too."
She sighs. "Oh, Drayton. Those reporters always ask the most insensitive questions. Especially to the most sensitive people. I've always said they shouldn't be around here. Not a very first good impression of the capitol."
"No. I'm not very impressed so far." I try for a smile.
She smiles back. A weak one, but still a smile.
"I've never been so humiliated!" Cries a shrill voice behind us.
Cinnamon wobbles in her heels, a hand over her anguished face.
"Now that's saying something after those cow suits last year." Archimedes mutters.
I try to restrain my laughter as Cinnamon starts ranting and wailing that her reputation has been tarnished.
"Never again will I be taken seriously! It's all cow suits and station riots!"
"It was hardly a riot."
Cinnamon sniffs at Archie.
"How d'you think I feel? The boy was under my mentorship! How will I get him sponsors now?"
I shift from foot to foot. "They like the ones with spark. Gives them an edge."
"Good point, love." Says Daya, resting her hands on my shoulders. "He'll just have to play it up. If he acts the right way in the interviews, you could use this for the better."
Archimedes mulls over this for a moment. "They do love a mummy's boy. A poor, sensitive soul, ripped away from his mother. Seems only a natural response to a prying reporter, doesn't it?"
"He might have even given himself an advantage." I pipe up. "Play this the right way and he'll get all the rich maternal ladies sponsoring him."
"Good call. Now, let's get a-going. The stylists will be getting their knickers in a twist."

We get escorted by a strange lady with lime green hair and gold rimmed-spectacles through shiny corridors full of excited Capitol people, waving and cheering as they spot me and the mentors. I wave feebly.
A large woman with an even larger bag barges past. A small boy, who I assume is her son scurries after her, apologising to all the people she's pushed past.
He catches my eye and mouths "I'm sorry."
Something about his face made me think he wasn't just apologising for his mother. I think he felt bad for me.
"It's ok" I whisper, watching his purple hair disappear into the crowd.