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THE NEXT MORNING as Vienna woke up, she recalled the events from the previous day, from the reaping ceremony to arriving home and having to explain why the Plinth Prize was not in her hand. Her parents did not like what she told them, having yelled at her for being so close and letting it slip through her fingers.
"What do you mean you got District 7?" Her mother yelled, after Vienna explained the guidelines for being a mentor.
"You have no chance; those lumberjacks are weak. He is gonna die the second the countdown hits zero." Her father snarled, his frustration shining through. She winced at their harsh words, once again feeling the weight of their disappointment.
Vienna's mother backed her husband's words. "District 7 tributes have a slim chance of winning, and now you have to mentor one. Better give up now; it's a waste of time and effort."
"Don't say that. He has a chance." Vienna retorted, her voice steadier than she felt inside. She was determined to prove her parents wrong and make the most out of her time with Treech. "I'll show you; I just need to make him presentable to the Capitol; it doesn't matter if he lives or dies. As long as he puts on a show, then the prize is mine."
She hadn't met Treech yet, but she couldn't help but have an overwhelming sense of urgency to help him survive. She found it strange, considering how she was brought up—her parents reminding her every day how she could never let herself become so low in life, like those in the districts.
As she left her home that morning, Vienna carried a newfound sense of purpose—to defy the odds and guide Treech to victory in the Hunger Games. Vienna had an early start to her day; having known the tributes would arrive that morning, she made her way to the station— sneaking out to avoid the confrontation with her parents.
Without her driver, Vienna was freezing, and the red Academy uniforms did absolutely nothing for the morning weather. Reaching the station, she took notice of how many peacekeepers were around—she knew there were twenty-four tributes in total, but was it necessary to have a peacekeeper standing guard every two feet? To her surprise, there was one other person waiting on the train: Coriolanus Snow.
"Snow, should've known you would be here." Vienna greeted the tall blonde as he turned to face her, switching the white rose he held from one hand to the other.
"Good morning, Miss Hawthorne." Anyone could hear the bitterness in his voice. It was a known fact that Coriolanus liked to be unique. He fully expected to be the only one coming to greet the tributes as they stepped off the train—well more like his tribute. But just as Vienna said before, she was going to beat him to it.
"What a lovely rose, for Lucy Gray, I presume?"
He nodded his head at her question before he motioned toward what was in her hand. "What about you? What have you brought for your tribute—what was his name? Tree?" Vienna rolled her eyes at his attempt to aggravate her.
