The Fandom Games

PART II: Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 – TRAIN CAR TEN TO THE CAPITOL

The rest of the week flew by without so much as a word to anyone at home. We were on the ride back to say our final words to them, and I wondered who all would be there. We only got so much time to spend with each other. For that reason I started thinking over what I wanted to say to them. Surely my parents and Martyn would be there. Maybe Dan would be, too. I missed them all.

I glanced over at Christine, who had somehow gotten her hands on a book and was sitting in a seat opposite me, reading it. I thought about starting a conversation with her, but she looked invested in her book and I didn't want to rudely disturb her if she was happy. I returned to staring at my hands and letting my mind wander. All the research I hadn't done, the minimal knowledge of any of the Games previous, all the training I'd tried out but never picked one to focus on...

It didn't have a chance to wander much further. The train slowed to a stop and jerked us slightly. Christine looked up curiously from her book. Entering the train car was our mentor, Chad, motioning for us to follow him back out.

Normally I'd be happy to have cameras around – it was something familiar to how I'd lived before the Games had plucked me out of the comfort of it. Yet all of these cameras flashing from the second the other tributes and I stepped off of the train were more stressful than stress-relieving. Despite all this, I tried to smile and wave at everyone and throw out a few answers to questions they were shouting at me. Chad pushed me along, which felt a bit rude to the reporters who had probably waited a long time for at least a couple of quotes for their stories, but I didn't have much of a choice to stay.

I only caught a small glimpse of the other tributes before we were all pushed into separate rooms to wait for visitors. After all the rushing around, it was strange to suddenly be enveloped in stillness, silence, and solitude.

The first thing I noticed about the room was the blankness of the walls; they were barren of any art or writing or anything at all. A dulled silver colour made them appear grey and not at all as shiny as they may have been at another time.

The room wasn't huge – like a conference room without enough space for a table, so there were just chairs around in no particular order. For some sense of organization and sanity, I pushed them all to have their backs to a wall, symmetrically lined up. There was still plenty of space in the centre of the room. I sat in one chair toward the back and waited for someone to visit me in the lonely room. From the almost-cold temperature, it was clear that the room's only purpose was to hold the tears and goodbyes of former tributes to their families. No one had been in here for a very long time. The chill was similar to what someone would expect a room with a ghost would feel like.

After some time had passed – minutes? Hours? The room didn't have a clock nor a window – the door opened and my mother half-ran into our room. She made a beeline toward me and wrapped me in a tight hug. I gladly returned it; I missed her hugs already and I knew I'd miss them again. My brother was right behind him.

Martyn gave me a short, tense hug as well. I smiled up at him, hoping it seemed reassuring to how nervous he seemed.

"You'll be great, Phil. I know you will," my mom said kindly.

"Mom, he's not going to kill anyone. You know that, right?" Martyn told her.

She ignored him. "I still remember when you were a little boy... trying on all the clothes in the girls' section of the store..."

"Mum!" I giggled. She laughed with me. Martyn rolled his eyes, but still looked amused. "Where's Dad?"

"He couldn't make it. I'm sorry. He sends his good luck and says he's proud of you."