DIVESTED: A Hunger Games Story

CHAPTER 2

"What the hell were you thinking, Persephone?" My Dad says to me; you can hear the anger in his tone, but not because he is mad at me. But because he is scared for me. His daughter got picked for the games.

"I just needed to see her, Dad." I hug him back, tightly.

"Woah, the escort's daughter got picked. That's a first," Arvel says. I can't quite pick up the tone he is talking in. I sit down at the table across from Arvel. I look around the table. My mentor is a young man. He looks to be in his 20s. I notice he is bone thin, with sagging yellowish skin and overlarge eyes. That must be why everyone calls him the morphling. There is a girl who won a few years before him who is also called a morphling; you see them on television sometimes. Truthfully, if I won the games, It wouldn't surprise me if something like that happened to me; they have to be so traumatized, It's not too crazy for a victor to turn to drugs or alcohol.

"So... Mentor. How'd you win your games?" Arvel says.

"Camouflage. And it's Chase," He replies. "My mentor was Mercedes; she won her game from hiding, so I took her advice. I never was much of a fighter." He sighs. I'm sure this is hard on him, especially because he has to pick between me and my fellow tribute. Who he thinks will survive and who to sponsor. I am not a hider, at least not in a camouflaged sort of way, anyway. No matter my options, the result seems to be death.

"What if I don't want to hide? Any advice?" I reiterate.

"Know your limits. It would be stupid to try and go hand-to-hand with a man much bigger than you. Allies are also a nice thing to have." Chase actually seems genuine and smart. I mean, you do have to be smart to win. Arvel and I look at each other. He would be nice to have on my side; he is well-built. He also doesn't look starved, although a perk of not always having enough food in the arena is that we are used to the feeling of starvation. We can go on longer than most.

"We keep each other alive until the careers are dead, then we split." He advised.

"Deal. Are we going together to the cornucopia?" I ask.

"It will be a blood bath," Chase intervenes. "Half of the tributes die there."

"I guess we will have to be ready." Arvel acknowledged. We sit at the table for the next few hours, everyone talking about a plan. I am happy to be going in with an ally, and it is perfect that he also doesn't want to get close. There is no point in getting attached to any tribute. Arvel and I will train together, strictly just training. He tells me about how he has trained in combat for a few years now, just in case someone in his family gets reaped. Arvel has 6 brothers, so the chances of one getting called were decently high. He tells me he is 18 and considers himself lucky because the year his brother got called was his last year entered-- and he is his strongest yet. I'm definitely thankful he's my ally.

The next couple of days on the train, Arvel shows me self-defense in hand-to-hand combat. How to evade punches and such; I don't think I have more knowledge than the careers... but definitely more than most of the tributes. We will be participating in the bloodbath at the cornucopia. I enter my bedroom and change into a tight tank top and shorts. I walk into the living room area and sit down on the couch. Caesar Flickerman comes on the screen and starts talking about the Reaping. Showing replays of every district. 1 & 2 are all volunteers, along with the girl from 3. I watch as District 4 appears on the television in front of me. I notice the male tribute's name is Lucian Atterbury; he looks different than the others; he is the only one who really stood out to me. He didn't volunteer, but he had a sense of confidence walking on the stage, his shoulder-length dark hair blowing in the wind... I always did hear it was windy near oceans. Then comes District 6; watching myself walk up to the stage doesn't seem like me. It feels like I'm just watching a show, not living in it. The girl on the screen looks emotionless. I did an awful job at hiding it, but at least I wasn't crying. At least I don't look weak. Arvel sits down next to me.

"This is probably my least favorite part," he says as he looks at the television. "The cameras, I mean. My death won't even be private," He sighs. He isn't wrong; no matter what happens, it is recorded. The winner will watch a compilation of everyone's death and the tribute's best moments. Each year, everyone reacts to this differently; careers usually start to chant or cheer-- while other districts stare regretfully at the videos in front of them.

"It's a game. You just have to know how to play it." I Advised.

"I'm just glad it's me and not my brother," He frowns. "I hope he never has to go through this." He pauses for a minute, thinking of what else to say. After, he speaks,

"I'd want it to be you if it's not me. The winner's district gets showered in extra food and gifts. My family deserves that. If it's not me, it will be you. I haven't known you for very long, but you are smarter than you think." He stands up and walks back to his room. Why does everyone keep telling me that? Do they actually think that, or are they trying to trick me into arrogance? It's hard to believe anyone going into the games; I don't know if they will betray me or if they want us to be on good terms when I'm dead. Everything feels fake. I feel like I'm in a simulation or a walking dreamland. I can't think about any of that right now. All I can think of is how to survive. After watching Flickerman talk for a little longer, I notice It's getting dark outside; I walk to the back of the train. The room has complete windows, so you can see everything pristinely. Arvel is here. I thought he went into his room.

"Sunsets are my favorite," I tell him, sitting across from him. We both look outside the window to watch.

"This is better than watching the games. Just the authentic sky. It's more beautiful than people realize." He adds, still looking out the window. There's a sense of comfort in the room, in the silence. We both know our fate. We both know not to get close. It's nice to relate to someone, even if it's the last thing you do. We sit together in the room until the sun fully sets, and then we both go to our rooms after exchanging goodnights. This is our last night on the train. I jump into bed and quickly fall asleep, dreading the morning we arrive at the training center.