Chapter Three

So how do you all like it so far? I do apologize of the chapters are a teensy bit long ehe...anyway, enjoy chapter three! Please vote and comment :)

Chapter Three

Theodore's Story

We ride the glass elevator up to the fourth floor, a thin layer of silence hanging in the foreign air. With a ding, the doors part, revealing a prodigious room decked out with plush sea foam couches and floor to ceiling windows. After being led to the bedroom that I will be staying in for the next two weeks, I collapse on the lavishly decorated bed, staring up at the plain ceiling. I wonder what is going on back in District Four. Probably the same every year: People continuing on with their lives, maybe with a little extra bounce in their step; more chatter and gossip around town. The interesting things don't start to happen until the Games begin. But one thing's different this year. It's my family and it's my friends that are tangled in the giant tumble of nerves and false hope. And then I realize something. Lorem's friends and family are lucky. They don't have to worry about him; there is no doubt that he will at least reach it to the top four survivors. But with me, my friends and my family will be sitting on the edge of their seats, just waiting to see which battle or hunt will kill me off. And then there's my father. I wonder what is going through his head right now, happiness? Pain? Regret? But I will never know because now it is my turn to be the tribute, the one on the screen with no sponsors, hiding from a predator from her own district. Now it's my turn to be the meat.

 A loud knock at the door-- more like a pound-- pulls me from my dream. Somehow, through the mass of new thoughts, I fell asleep, curled up at the end of my bed. The knock came once more, Theodore's scratchy voice declaring that dinner is ready in the dining room. Slowly, I uncoil myself, stretch, rub my eyes, and leave my room, not even caring about my appearance.

"Ah. There you are," Theodore gestures to me, and, as casually as possible, I stroll over to my mentor.

"So, Mags, straight to the point. What is your special talent, now that Lorem isn't interrupting?" Theodore questions, glancing at Lorem who is staring deeply into his strangely decorated roast beef.

Special talent? Oh dear...

"Um...I don't really have one?" I bite my lip.

"Of course you have one!  Everybody does. I, for example, am surprisingly good at weaving. Who would have thought, huh?"

"Did that help you win the games?" I sit down across from Theodore.

After a brief rumination, he replies, "I suppose so...Majority of the days inside the arena were spent with my own group, or better known as the career pack. That was actually the first Games where tributes got together to kill, you know. Anyway, once there were only a few members left, I retreated and made my own camp." A dark shadow crosses his dry, aged face, eyebrows creased and accompanied by thin pursed lips. "I wound up at the base of the mountain, about a mile from the Cornucopia. Of course, because my Games was only the third, the Gamemakers were still experimenting with their ideas, so the landscape was basically a mountainous wasteland. But you see, young Mags, it was down to the last five tributes, and of course, people wanted action. More importantly, they wanted blood."

"And what better way to fulfill their needs? A storm." He stretches and pours himself a blue substance, and continues with a sigh. "So there I was, hiding behind my pathetic little shield of dead grass against the ghastly mountain, starving and weak—most of the food was either at the Cornucopia or suspected to be on the other side of the arena, although about...hmm.. I want to say seven tributes died over there, and I didn't dare to attempt that journey—anyways, when the storm finally came, it was like a miracle. Finally water! Something that I had been craving for a few days." He stops, curtly nodding his head towards the entering Basia who joins us at the table.

"What could you two possibly be talking about?" Basia leans in, peaking his thick Capitol accent.

"Theodore's telling me how he won his Games."

"Ooooh! Continue please!" With giddy, Basia crosses his fingers and gives a childish smile.

"Now where was I...ah, the water. And so, in the chilly, dark, wind howling, rain-drenched night, I used the wet, dead grass to weave myself a basket and collect the water! Let me tell you, it wasn't easy, but when you're that weak and that desperate, somehow you end up with a small board of stitched grass and call it a bowl!"

"But wasn't there any leaves or anything there that you could have used?"

"Psh. Nope. Just bloody dead grass. Everywhere." he gives a slight shake of the head. "In the end, I wound up with a pathetic little grass shelter and about five bowls of water."

"But surely you couldn't have just won by collecting water.....and wouldn't someone else have the advantage of the Cornucopia?"

"Clever, but no. You see, being the third person in the group, leaving meant that there were only two left." I hear obviously muttered beside me. "About a day after hiding, I saw one of the remaining members race up the mountain with an armful of our supplies. Three minutes later, Dhat, the last one of the pack, was chasing behind him with a rather deadly spear in hand."

"Goodness me," Basia puts a hand on his chest, his odd purple eyes wide. "I remember watching that! Dhat and Logi ended up at the top of the mountain, wrestling to the death. What a bloody scene....Logi was only armed with a dagger, I believe, but let me tell you, he was Good. Unfortunately, he ended up with a decapitated head, but nothing to marvel about."

"How many were left, then?" I attempt to sip some of the peculiar blue drink, choking down its tart flavor. Even the lemon-like pies back in District Four aren't this exuberant.

"Dhat, oh what's her name....Blages...well, something like that-"

"Blade." Basia includes.

"Yes, her. It was just Dhat, Blade, and I. As chance may have it, she was electrocuted. Clearly, District Six has no knowledge of water. Psh. Typical. She was apparently treading through a rain stream trying to get to the mountain. Next thing you know, there's a flash of lighting, a scream, and the sound of the cannon."

I look around and notice everyone (at least I assume everyone) seated at the table, Lorem sulking at the end, head slightly tilted towards Theodore "Help yourself to any food, Mags." Theodore says after seeing me eye the mountainous food on the table. Piling my plate with whatever looked delicious, I swallow a little more of the tart blue beverage and give a short smile at Theodore, motioning for him to continue.

"That was the longest night of my life. You see, after Blabs-"

"Blades"

"-Blades died, it was just down to Dhat and I. I figured I might as well just wait for him to come to me, because I sure wasn't going to waste my energy climbing up that bloody thing." Theodore bites down on a thick piece of meat and takes a sip of his drink. "So eventually, Dhat decided to join my little fiesta and boogied down to my party hut, carrying his little stick he called a spear wrapped in Logi's fresh blood."

I look down at my half empty plate, craving for more even though I feel that my stomach will explode. And anyways, I'd rather have a stomach ache now then be starving in the first day of the Games.

"You didn't have any weapons, right?" Basia asks.

"Correct. So here he is, standing creepily outside my little homemade hut at One o'clock in the morning, actually believing that he is going to win. The wind was howling, the rain was pouring, and hunger for kill was starving. And so, because I was so bloody sick of the Games, I thought, you know what, I just want this to be over. So he came in uninvited, how rude, I know, and said, "Ready to die, Theodore?' and I think I said some snarky comment, like "Sorry, but I believe that your district has already ordered your casket-oh wait, they're just going to dump your body in their insurmountable pile of hideous Capitol clothing.'"

I hear a short gasp and look over at Basia, who is sheepishly clutching his designer jacket. "It is not hideous."

"Of course not, Basia, as I said, I can't even remember what I said." Theodore smiles and plops a glob of clear, jelly-like cubes on his plate. "So here he comes charging at me with his spear, attempting to look all manly, chest buffed, head high, etcetera, and I end up splashing one of my many bowls of rainwater on his face."

"Oh yes! Such a clever move, Theodore." Clearly Basia has recovered from the fashion comment.

"Hm. Yes I suppose it was. Temporarily blinded by my ninja skills, I swipe the spear from him and complete the job."

"A stab through the heart." Basia whispers.

"A stab through the heart." Theodore smiles.

I take a moment to absorb it all in. "Wow....so weaving really did save your life..."

"The Hunger Games doesn't always have to end with a battle of swords and angry tributes, you know. In the end it's not the brawn that counts, it's the brains." Theodore taps his temple and gives a small wink.

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Chapter Four then?