A Perfect Storm (A Fanfiction for "The Hunger Games")

Chapter 2

        And yet here I am.

        I trace my fingers along the silky sheets of my bed and close my eyes. I know that everything here is a distraction, a strategic move on the Capitol's part. They wish to throw us into luxury and remove our focus from the real issues, especially targeting the poorer districts. Just when we've become used to being treated like kings and queens, they'll toss us into the arena like we're dolls that they're sick of playing with. Once we're caught off balance, all the more bloodshed. 

        I clench my fist and fight down my anger. I've never been great at containing my rage; I'm known for the occasional spat. The women who run the orphanage insist that it is my youth. I know they're wrong. It's years of labour and grief that has hardened me into who I am: a spiteful teen sitting on her deathbed. I'm sure it is only to get worse and worse.

        I'm interrupted by a light tap on my door. Without waiting for my invitation, the person on the other side opens the door and peeks in. I notice the pale pink hair before I can even think to wonder who it is. 

        "Dayta, your mentor is waiting to meet you in the dining car," she informs me, stifling a yawn. Even with such little to say, her voice still sounds meek, as though it is taking all of her strength to say it. It occurs to me that no matter how old Lydia is, it shouldn't take such a toll on her to speak simple sentences. If she can walk she can talk, so what's she hiding?

        Probably nothing, I think. Just Capitol pettiness.

        Lydia's responsible for touring us around everywhere and making sure we're on time, but right now I can't see it happening. I have a feeling that Mykael and I will be carrying ourselves for the next couple of weeks. That is, unless our mentor really does want to help us out. It's hard to tell. I've heard that mentors in the past have been cruel and uninterested or damaged. Perhaps ours will be the same. 

        Reluctantly, I softly pad out the door and follow Lydia like she is leading me to my destiny. I have to admit that I really don't know where I'm going yet. It's crazy how big the train is. We're preparing for our deaths, not our coronation. 

        Of course, to the Capitol, they're equally as exciting.

        When I step into the room, I am aware of Mykael seated at the table, his back to me. His head is turned down. By now I've learned to recognize his emotions. But he isn't sad, as I had expected he would be. He's angry and it will only be so long before he snaps, the feelings he's brewing boiling over like a pot overflowing.

        I'm vaguely surprised by the person across from him. Not because the boy looks strange, but because he is just that: a boy. I was expecting someone older with scars and a hardened face. Someone intimidating. The person I observe is only three, maybe four, years older than me. When he turns to face me my throat catches.

        He catches sight of me and his eyes are illuminated from the light breaking through the train windows, emeralds shining. He stands up when I walk forward slowly, revealing his tall stance and toned body. I blush despite myself, my cheeks turning to the colour of roses, and look away, hoping he didn't see. Unfortunately, his smug expression tells otherwise. When he grins, dimples appear on his cheeks.

        Despite his blatant attractiveness, I can already tell that he's absolutely self-centred and despicable. "Nice of you to join us... Dayta?" he says, tilting his head slightly, his voice dripping sarcasm. I can tell he's mocking me, but I'm not sure why.

        I nod and Lydia takes the lead, although clearly bored. If I were counting my days, I wouldn't want to be discussing battle strategies. Then I realize the irony of it; I am counting my days. "Meet Aaryn Digit, your mentor. I'm sure you remember his games two years ago. It was a great triumph for District 3 -- he was only sixteen." I'm sure Lydia is being paid to say this. Judging from the fluttering of her eyelids, she looks as though she's only half awake.