Love is Just a Distraction: A Hunger Games Fan-fiction (Temp. On Hold)

When on a train... What to do? - 2 -

When on a train... What to do?

- 2 -

I looked back and forth between the other two people in the room. Michael, of course, was sitting on one side of the long table, and our mentor, Mystik Tyrn, sat on the other. They glared at each other. Talk about an awkward situation!

Mystik had won the one hundred twenty-second Hunger Games, the same year of my... Incident. She was twenty years old, almost never smiled, and hated a lot of people. In other words, she wasn't easy to get along with. Not to mention the fact that she had killed almost every one of her other opponents. Eighteen of them, to be exact. But that was two years ago, and, luckily, she hadn't killed anyone since then. Not that I would put it past her.

But anyways, Mystik had an amazingly in-control look on her face, whilst Michael's was a look of pure anger. What had she done to get his panties in a twist?

I cleared my throat, hoping to break the tension. "What do you wa-" Michael started to snarl, but then he turned to look at me and stopped himself, his gaze softening. I smiled, pretending nothing had happened. "So, what's for dinner? Anything decent?" I said, trying to lighten the mood. Michael shrugged, and Mystik just stared out a window, her eye twitching. Why, out of the other five possible choices, did they have to choose her?

I took a seat in the middle of them just as the doors on the side where I presumed the kitchen lay swung open. Two chefs came in, carrying our meals. One of them stopped in front of me, setting down a bowl and a large plate. The other man did the same for Mystik and Michael, then an avox, which surprised me (I had thought they were only in the Capitol, but this one must have been assigned to the train), came out carrying utensils in one hand, and in the other carried a tray with our drinks. He set them in front of us, then quietly exited out the door from which he had come.

I looked down at my food. The bowl contained what looked like a salad, except the "lettuce" was blue and it was topped with some sort of dressing that appeared to be clear. What I assumed was the main course, on the plate, looked like something I had seen in a picture once. Meatloaf. I knew that a few of the other districts this strange food, but since District Eleven wasn't the wealthiest, or the one that traded most with the Capitol, we didn't have such a thing. The meatloaf, however, was also discolored. It was a pale orange color, surrounded by small rings of green onions.

After I was done inspecting my food, I picked up a fork and cautiously took a bite of my "salad". Instantly my brain went into a flurry, trying to decipher all the flavors running over my taste buds. The blue lettuce tasted almost like my French toast from earlier this morning, and was somehow even sweeter, while the dressing was very salty. But when combined, they tasted like nothing I had ever eaten before. I swallowed, then gasped, nearly choking on my food, as it melted into a savory substance as it traveled down my esophagus.

Now knowing a little about what to expect, I turned to my plate and pulled a small piece from the meatloaf. I eased it into my mouth and again was surprised at the immense power of the strange food. I had once had a well-cooked steak, a rarity, and even that did not compare to the savoriness of this succulent meal.

Still chewing, I looked over to Michael, who seemed just as shocked as me. I almost laughed at his expression, and I probably would have, if I had not been eating.  I swallowed as he noticed me watching him, and mouthed "Wow". He nodded and smiled back, then we continued eating.

We ate in silence, which was fine with me, for about another ten to fifteen minutes before a gagging, almost choking, like sound came from my right. I looked over to see our mentor's face swollen to a dark purple color, and her clutching at her throat. My eyes widened in shock, and I stood up hurriedly, rushing over to her. "Help, someone help! Something's wrong with Mystik!" I screamed. Almost immediately the escort walked in the room, only to rush back out, hopefully to get help.

Sure enough, a medical team came in a few seconds later, and I was shoved out of the way as they lifted her onto a small stretcher and carried her away. I cast a worried glance at Michael, who seemed almost... triumphant. I stared blankly at him. Our mentor had just been carried away by medics and he was happy? I narrowed my eyes at him. I mean, sure, Mystik wasn't the best mentor, but I didn't want her to die! I stormed out of the room, earning a baffled look from my fellow tribute.

Back in my room, I lay on my bed and turned the TV on. The Reapings from District One was on, which meant I would be able to watch them all. I picked up a piece of paper and a pencil, taking notes as the reruns played. After watching all of them, I had a pretty good list going:

Caprice (1)- Career X

Saber (1)- Career X

Lunette (2)- Undecided

Tucker (2)- Career X

Oceane (3)- Undecided

Obren (3)- X

Jovianne (4)- Career; possible

Talon (4)- Career X

Gesille (5)- possible

Caolan (5)- possible

Avian (6)- X

Farrel (6)- possible

Dorielle (7)- Undecided

Ram (7)- Career? X

Cascade (8)- X

Aimon (8)- X

Brielle (9)- possible

Eldon (9)- possible

Angelique (10)- Undecided

Bayard (10)- X

Michael (11)- Definitely!

Amya (12)- possible

Dalton (12)- Undecided

I put a large X next to those who seemed too brutal or too weak. Some looked decent, which I left marked as possible, and those who I wasn't able to read very well i left as Undecided. I left space in between them in case I got to know them more for the better or worse. All in all, it seemed like a pretty good bunch this year, which made it more difficult for me to win. That thought made me wince.

If I won, that meant Michael would be dead.

Then I would go into depression. I might commit suicide.

Then my father would follow suit in the depression department, maybe not as far a suicide, but close.

Then they mayor would be without an assistant, since my father wouldn't be able to concentrate. And since no one else was trained for what my father did, the Mayor would have to do it, which would add even more stress to his already troubled mind, which could cause a stroke. Which would cause the district to panic. Which would be bad altogether.

I mentally slapped myself. Stop thinking like that! I don't have a choice in participating, and I don't want to live if Michael doesn't, so I will just have to protect him! I told myself. That was that, my mind was set. Michael would win this. If it came down to me and him, I would take my own life to save his. No stopping me now!

I put the paper and pencil on the night stand next to my bed and switched the TV off. Walking over to my dresser, I picked up the silk pajamas that had been left for me and slipped into them, then turned off the lights, go into bed, and fell asleep, one goal in mind: Save Michael.

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Woo-hoo! Chapter two!

So, hopefully anyone reading this has read the Hunger Games, otherwise you might be confused... If anyone is even reading this... Anyways! Any thoughts about what's going to happen? What was with Mystik? Will Rashelle really die trying to save Michael? What was up with Michael's attitude?

I love comments, don't be shy! :)