Our Love Could Be Lethal Act I Re-Write

Act I: Mentor, Mentor

I feel mildly guilty, but the momentum Percy was building comes to a screeching halt. Thank goodness. "Oh. You couldn't have told—" he stops himself mid-sentence before apologizing. "I'm sorry. See. I knew you must have a good reason," he says happily, and the guilt starts back up again. But it's better this way. He's already on his way to the Games. The time for saving him is long passed.

The tenseness of the moment passes and Percy moves on to lighten the mood. "Is the whole dress-up thing mandatory after you win or...?" he says, pointing to the photo of me on the magazine. I roll the magazine and raise it to pretend to throw it at him. "Okay, okay, outfits non-negotiable," he laughs. I shake my head and return to reading my magazine.

I become enveloped in a tablet of gossip magazines as I snack on a stack of macarons until I notice a rather large body enter the room. I brace myself for him to make a comment about what I've eaten but instead he simply sits across from me and grabs one for himself. Despite not being on the best of terms, old habits within me die hard. "I'm sorry, I can't believe my eyes. Did the Brutus just have dessert?"

"Maybe. When I'm not being your trainer, you'll find I'm a lot more pleasant," he says.

I can see where he's going with this. "Brutus..."

"No, nope. Let's not talk about the Academy right now. You're here, you're on the train, and you have to be a Mentor. Listen, I know you aren't a fan of Magenta—I pay attention to all your schoolyard drama—so why don't you shadow me instead of Lyme?" The offer is tempting. Getting away from Magenta and instead getting to work with Percy would be much less of a headache. But it's a slippery slope back down the road to familiarity. "Or you and Lyme can take Perseus. It doesn't matter to me. I trained both of them."

"I'll think about it."

As our train nears the Capitol, everyone wanders out of their compartments and into the main seating area. It's bustling with victors and our escort Fallon is running around trying to coordinate things between us.

"Are we in the right place?" I hear Percy's voice interrupt. He and Magenta stand in the doorway.

"Yes of course we're in the right place, meathead," whispers Magenta harshly.

"Nice to see that the quitter is back," she says bitterly as she holds her hand out for me to shake. "In case you forgot while you were off on your little vacation, Magenta Grant. Future winner of the 69th Annual Hunger Games."

I don't return the empty handshake and instead shove my hands into my pocket for good measure. "Don't get ahead of yourself, kid. We aren't even in the Capitol yet."

"Oh, please. Drop it with the whole 'kid' act," she scoffs. "I'm older than you by a month."

My jaw tenses and I narrow my eyes. "Brutus, Lyme, can we talk for a second?"

It doesn't take long for me to accept the deal Brutus made before, allowing Lyme and I to take Percy instead of Magenta. I can see a bit of hurt on Brutus' face for not accepting the offer to shadow under him, but it's better this way. I need my distance from him.

Brutus walks over to announce to the tributes our plan—trying to make it sound as if it was his idea to kindly take the heat off of me. I can't hear what they're saying but the constant smug look on Magenta's face is infuriating.

I lean over to Lyme and say under my breath, "I can't believe she called herself the 'Future Winner'."

"You also introduced yourself like that... To Caesar... During your interview..." says Lyme.

"Yeah, but I was endearing when I did it...right?" The only reply I get is a clap on the shoulder as she walks away. "Right?" I ask again, this time weaker.