Too Clever

Chapter 2

My heart skips a beat. Fleta Riverwood echoes around in my skull. Me?! How can this be happening?! I feel like I am drowning. I have lost the ability to think, move, or even breathe. This can't be real. I was four slips of paper in thousands! My head begins to spin, and I'm not sure where I am, what I'm doing. My vision blurs, and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. My blood freezes, and pure terror shoots through my veins like fire, threatening to burn my insides to ash. There's a horribly loud ringing in my ears, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Fear ripples through me like a tsunami. I am able to form only one thought.
This can't be real.
Suddenly, I'm back in the square with the rest of the citizens of District 5. I hear Cordelia Delphias's voice ring out through the crowd.
"Fleta Riverwood?" she repeats.
This is real. My name was called.
     I start to walk slowly up to the stage. It feels like each of my feet have a heavy weight underneath them, preventing me from taking even a tiny step forward. When I finally make it to the stage, I look over at the group of twelve-year-olds where my sister should be standing, but I can't find her. Then I spot her with my parents off to the side, holding on to my mother and crying her little eyes out. The sight makes me want to cry, too, which I'm surprised that I haven't done already, so I look away. I can't cry right now. Everyone is watching and I don't want the other tributes to look at me as a weakling when they watch the recap of the reaping later at the Capitol.
     "Fabulous!" exclaims Cordelia enthusiastically. "We have our new female tribute of District 5!" She claps her hands for a second, and everybody joins her, but they are also staring at me with grieving looks on their faces, as if they are already mourning my death.
I can't help it anymore. I let out a single tear and wipe it on my arm. Seeing everyone's sorrowful faces is too much to handle.
"And now, for the boys," pipes up Cordelia. She struts over to the boys' reaping ball and chooses a slip of paper from near the bottom of the ball. She walks back to center stage and announces the name.
"Alec Denaro!" A boy with dark hair and brown eyes steps up onto the stage, his face screwed up in his attempt to avoid crying, which doesn't work.
"Well," says Cordelia, "here are our newest tributes of District 5!"
     Everyone claps, but no one yells our names. They all just look sorry for us, and now I really want to cry. But I don't.
     Cordelia and a pair of armed peacekeepers leads us into the Justice Building and shuts the doors tightly behind us. I've never actually been inside the Justice Building before. It has a lively, but claustrophobic, feel to it. The halls are dimly lit and too narrow for my liking, although maybe that's just because of the situation right now. The peacekeepers usher me into a room on the left, and Alec is sent into the room across from it.
     This is the final time I will—I mean, might—ever see my family and friends again. But maybe I could win. I'm extremely smart, and I guess I have decent speed. In many cases in the Games, being smart can sometimes be the most valuable weapon. One victor named Beetee Latier won his Games a while back by outsmarting the other tributes and setting up a trap of sorts. He electrocuted all the remaining tributes in one blow and the crown was his.
Maybe I really will come home, I think.
     Just then, the door whips open and Nora runs into the room, my parents on her heels.
     "Fleta, you can't go!" she says, tears streaming down her face.
     "I—I—maybe I'll come home," I sputter through my own tears. I really don't know what to say right now. All I know is that I better hurry up and say what I have to say fast, because we're only allowed a couple of minutes.
     "Please try!" cries Nora.
     "I will. Of course I will," I say. My parents slowly come over to the two of us and we all group hug, just like we did before the reaping.
     "We love you, Fleta," my mother says. "We know you can do it. You're so smart and brave..." My father just nods his head. I think he's still too shocked for words. The reality still hasn't sunk in yet.
     For the next five minutes, everyone's hugging, crying, and saying things like "I love you," and "Be brave." Then a peacekeeper comes in and tells my family they have to leave.
     "No!" Nora shrieks. "Fleta!" The peacekeeper has to pry Nora away from me, and then we're all screaming goodbyes and the door slams in my face like a huge barrier blocking me from the rest of the world. I throw myself onto the little velvet couch and bawl like a baby. I hope there aren't any cameras in this room.
     Soon, the door opens again and Calla and Aster come running in.
     "Are you okay, Fleta?" Aster asks a little tentatively.
     "I—I—I don't know!" I cry. I can't explain my emotions right now. There are really no words to describe it.
     "It's gonna be okay," says Calla. "You do have a chance of winning. You're the smartest person I know."
     "The Hunger Games isn't an IQ test!" I counter.
"I know, but sometimes being smart can save your life in the arena," Calla tries to say with confidence, but her voice cracks on the last word. That is something I've considered earlier. Just ten minutes ago, in fact. But it doesn't seem to be true anymore. Brains can come in handy in the arena, but if you lack physical ability, chances are you probably won't win. The only physical ability I possess is running. But while I'm fast, I don't have much endurance.
     "Here," Calla says. "It can be your district token." She takes my hand and places a little, wilted orange flower between my fingers. "It was my good luck charm. I bring it to every reaping," she explains.
"Oh," I say, "thank you so much, Calla..."
     Suddenly I hear a gasp, and I turn around to see Aster sobbing into her hands, her nose running like crazy.
     "F-Fleta..." she starts. Then, unexpectedly, she throws herself into a hug, and Calla joins. The three of us just stand there until a peacekeeper calls them out.
     "You're such a great friend, Fleta, I know you can make it!" Calla cries urgently as the door slams shut.
     Now, I am truly alone.
I don't think. I don't cry. I just sit down on the velvet couch and sulk. For the first time in my life I don't have any thoughts on a situation as dire as this. My brain is completely blank, and I don't know how long I've been sitting in here when the door finally opens after what felt like forever.
Another pair of peacekeepers guides me out of the Justice Building to Cordelia. From there, she escorts Alec and I to the train, where we will stay for a few hours on our way to the Capitol.
When I step onto the train, I am blown away by the sight of it all. I can't believe what I'm looking at. The walls are bright and colorful, and they clash with the furniture in an elegant, rainbow mess. This single train car contains two plush, blue couches and several matching armchairs, a tiny, but decent, sized mahogany coffee table, and a buffet table that takes up the whole back wall. The buffet table is lined with pastries, soups, sandwiches, chicken, and many more delicious-looking dishes.
I almost run right over to the buffet when I realize why I'm here again. Suddenly I don't want to eat anything made in the Capitol's kitchens, or touch anything from the Capitol. I am so repulsed by this that I fight the urge to scream out. How can they possibly sit back and watch all the districts suffer and starve to death and do nothing about it while they've got all this food at their disposal? And why is being reaped to go fight in the Hunger Games the only way someone from the districts can possibly get this luxurious treatment?
     "You may do anything you want for the next four hours," says Cordelia. "You just need to be at dinner by 5:00. We will arrive today at the Capitol at exactly seven o'clock sharp tonight!"
     We got on the train at around 3 o'clock, and we're arriving at the Capitol at seven o'clock tonight, so that's only a four hour ride. Even though District 5 borders the Capitol, I still expected a longer ride, as the reaping took place on the opposite end of the district.
     "How fast does this train travel?" I ask. "It must travel extremely fast if—"
"Oh it does," says Cordelia. "In fact, it travels 250 miles per hour and you can't even feel a thing." She seems oddly proud about this. It's not like she constructed the train herself. She takes pride in everything about the Capitol, it seems.
"Wow, that's...fascinating," I reply.
Alec nods in agreement and says, "Does it run on gas or electricity?"
Cordelia just looks at us like we each have three heads and says, "It runs on gas."
"How long have these been in u—" Cordelia cuts me off.
"Oh, enough with the questions!"
What is it with this woman? Is she not aware that we're on this train to be shipped off to the Hunger Games?
     For the next four hours, I sit in my room and try to distract myself from the day's events by reading one of Cordelia's Capitol Fashion magazines. It doesn't work; I end up spilling tears all over the interior of the magazine. I even get quite a large amount of snot on one page. But I can't help it. I'm thinking of my family, whom I may never see again. I may never get advice and guidance from my father, work in the garden with my mother, or play with Nora ever again.
     I collapse into another round of weeping, unable to control myself. After another hour of that, I finally just end up crying myself into a restless sleep.