"Are you okay?" Marvel asks me, after I've finished speaking with my mom and sister.
We've just been escorted out of our goodbye rooms by peacekeepers and I'm thinking of my mother's last words. She really started me thinking of my future, or rather, thinking about if it'll happen or not. If I'm going to die, I want to die with honor, not as some pathetic tribute who couldn't make it two days. I have to die with pride and dignity, I have to die fighting or better yet, win. Those were my two options: kill or be killed.
Marvel interupts my thoughts with stupid and pointless banter. He's starting to get on my nerves, with his stupid smiles and friendship.
"Well," he pursues, "Did anything bad happen? You okay?"
"I'm fine. We didn't really say goodbye, it was more like a 'see you later' speech," I enjoy my implication of the fact that I'd be the victor. It's better to come off determined and confident, than week and feeble. We need sponsors and this idiot clearly didn't understand that.
"Oh," he replies, seeming stupid once again, "Well, that would only happen if they allowed two tributes. Seeing as how I'm going to win."
He gives a small wink and stalks away, smiling maliciously.
So maybe I misjudged him. He's actually quite confident, but he simply chooses to play on his popularity. This boy has an excellent strategy and I'll admit it, I envy him, I didn't have a strategy yet. I really need one, it's essential. So far, I'm just acting extremely confident, but any tribute could do that. I neede something special, something uniquely... me.
I thought about my qualities. I've never been excellent at anything in particular, except camouflage and identifying plants. But who cares? Those aren't exactly 'career-worthy' skills, so I don't distinguish myself by them.
I think even harder about and I can't come up with anything.
I hunch my shoulders and continue walking along silently. Our little group advances in the dark hallways and we walk past a dirty mirror. I catch sight of my slouching and am reminded of my mother telling me how terrible I look this way. She says when a lady slouches it's the most unnattractive thing, right after cryi-
That's it! That can be my strategy, beauty. I'm not sure if my looks were enough to carry the sponsors, because if this is your talent, you have to be absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. Kind of like that boy from a few years ago, what was his name? Flynn Nick? Flynnick? I forget and what does it matter anyways?
Unfortunately, my looks alone aren't enought, there has to be a personality too. Girly is the first thought that came to mind, but girly comes with an implication of naivety and vulnerability. Another trait I come up with is sexiness. That can be pulled off easily, just add a few saucy comments and mysterious winks. Also, it feels like it carries a sense of power too, which makes it seem like the best choice for me.
But, most of this is looks, my costumes had to be provocative and daring. I'll speak with Cashmere, she's an old friend of the District 1 stylist and I'm sure she'd be able to help me. Although, it'll be a bit awkward telling my older sister that I want to appear luscious, sexy, mysterious, dark, provocative and powerful. Oh well, whatever it takes to get sponsors.
Our group arrives at the train platform and I walk on, trying to flaunt my curvy hips by swaying them. Marvel steps on after me and raises an eyebrow. I reciprocate, trying my best to seem provocative.
"What are you doing?" Gloss whispers, elbowing me.
"Getting sponsors," I reply vaguely.
"We're not even in Capitol yet," he answers, with a cutting tone.
I find that slightly mean of him, but I don't let it show. I shrug and move swiftly to the refreshment station. I pour myself a glass of rose water and sip it, eyeing everybody over the edge of my glass. Marvel is being very friendly, talking up a storm and shaking hands. He's telling a story and everybody in proximity seems very interested. As much as I hate to admit, he has a pretty good charm.
I sip down the rest of my drink and empty the royal blue ice cubes into the nearby sink. Then, without a word, I leave the compartment and look for my room.
I can't find my room, but I do find a brunette avox boy. I approach him and bat my eyelashes.
"Could you show me to my room?" I ask, sounding like I'm trying to seduce him. He seems alarmed by my apparent romantic interest in him. He makes a deep-throated coughing noise and points down the hall.
"Thanks!" I say with a wink, before disappearing through my door.
I can pull this seductive thing off. I think confidently to myself.
I don't have much time to speculate, because I'm too impressed by my room. The windows are the most fascinating, the views zoomed by. Occasionally, I get a glimpse of some ruins from the ancient country, North America.
The train ride doesn't take long at all, since District 1 is so close to the Capitol. I have enough time to change into tight-fitting royal blue pants and white blouse, before the train comes to a quick halt.
I walk slowly back to the main compartment and find Marvel had also changed clothes. He's wearing black pants and a black shirt. It looks too dark on him, he's more of a bright personality. He'd look better in light colors, which would also compliment his light hair and eyes.
"You look nice," he offers, stopping the silence that followed my entrance. I guess he'd been discussing strategies with his mentors.
"I know," I reply. I'm not going to play nice with him. I know he'll be my ally, but I still have to kill him in the end.
"Well, you're nice," he informs me sarcastically.
"I'm not here to be nice," I respond. My words are heavy with implications of bloodshed and death.
_________________________________
So, here's chapter 3. I don't like it that much, but tell me what you think. I'm not sure about continuing the story. Convince me.
Vote and comment, pwease :)
