The First Annual Hunger Games: Denver Quillam

i. The Mentor

When I arrived in the main compartment, I was stunned by its immensity. It looked like a dining room that doubled as a lounge, of sorts. It was simultaneously extravagant and modern, matching the respective women sitting in the lounge area of the car.

It would be hard to forget Laena Madrich, as she was the one who drew my name from the bowl and started this mess. The other woman was who I assumed to be District Ten's mentor. She was reserved in comparison to Laena, though she still had the Capitol look about her with the metallic accessories and makeup.

"Hello, my name is Scout Keyes." She had dark, natural looking hair that framed her thin face and was all business as she offered me her outstretched hand.

"Denver Quillam," I told her. The woman was intense and a little scary, if I'm being honest, but I got a feeling that she would be helpful when it came down to it. "What exactly is your role in this, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I will be your mentor for the first annual Hunger Games." I noted that she didn't talk about the Games in reverent awe as everyone else from the Capitol did. "I'll be responsible for helping you and your fellow Tribute--" Keyes nodded towards the short girl with curly dark hair that I hadn't noticed in the compartment, "--with strategies and advising you along the way. My hope is that I'll see both of you off fully equipped and knowledgeable about how to stay alive in any arena."

"Like hell you will."

Keyes turned to the girl and I followed her gaze warily. Our mentor's voice was reserved and steady as she asked, "And what is your name?" though I was certain she already knew it. I liked that she gave people a chance to make their own introductions and impressions, although this girl seemed intent on making a poor impression.

I looked over at her, curious. Yes, I had been there when she was called but I had been a bit preoccupied.

The girl stared back at me, her mouth pressed firmly together in a line. Her green eyes glinted with anger before they flashed back to our mentor.

"My name is Robin Vence," she said, her chin lifting. When Robin spoke, she sounded much older than I originally thought; she couldn't have been any older than Lauri though. "Honestly, I'm not sure why I'm or here or what I'm doing, but I do know it's the Capitol's fault. So don't screw this up for me because it's my life on the line here."

Her eyes never left our mentor's, and her face never changed. Robin turned on her heel and without looking back, she pushed her way back to the white doors at the end of the train car.

A bit ballsy, I thought, considering the woman in front of us was supposed to keep us alive. But I could understand where she was coming from, being animals in the same slaughter house together and all.

Throughout Robin's little spiel, Laena had been watching, absolutely riveted by the drama. She started to say something insensitive and I cut her off; I was already at the end of my leash when it came to my patience.

"What sorts of strategies are we talking here?" I asked Keyes, my eyes avoiding Laena Madrich at all costs. Her blue, well, everything was distracting and I didn't feel like hearing her talk. "Do you know what the Games will be?"

Laena, however, had different plans. "Of course, they aren't any normal games, silly!" The way she said it made me feel like a puppy that had made an oopsie on the carpet rather than a competent human being wondering how he might be able to escape his untimely and impending demise.

"Miss Madrich is right," Keyes said, eyeing the blue monstrosity before looking back at me. "However, the details have yet to be revealed."

"Isn't it just so exciting?" Laena said, clapping her hands. Did she really expect an honest answer to that?

"Yes!" I said, my voice matching her enthusiasm. I couldn't keep it in anymore. "Children slaughtering one another will always be my favorite pastime. I can't wait to get in there and behead some little freaks."

"Why, Denver! I never!" Hearing my name in Laena's mouth again made me cringe but it was worth her leaving the room.

Keyes had a disapproving set to her mouth and I raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't wise," she told me, not unkindly.

"Maybe not," I shrugged off her concern. But it was worth it to see Laena wobbling around in her extra high, electric blue high-heels in her hurry to get away from the reasonably upset teenage boy. And to think that in her demented mind, I was the monster for reminding her of the awful truth. Did human life have no value in these peoples' eyes? Or were they too twisted to understand how wrong children slaughtering each other for entertainment was?

"There have been punishments for less," my mentor pointed out. She didn't sound repremanding; she sounded like she actually cared for my welfare.

"If you haven't noticed," I said lightly, "playing a 'game' with twenty-three other kids where only one of us is supposed to come out alive seems punishment enough."

"It could be worse." Scout Keyes didn't sound like she thought I was ungrateful or that I should count myself lucky; she sounded bitter. The Games didn't sit well with her any more than they did with myself and I respected her for that.

"How do you mean?" Despite looking to be around twenty, my mentor seemed wise beyond her years. I wanted to hear her input.

She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. "They could have decreed there be no survivors," she offered.

I shook my head. "No, they couldn't have," I tried reasoning. "One is just enough to keep everyone in the Districts hoping." And hope is the cruelest thing you can give someone.

"True enough," Scout allowed. Our attention was diverted by the newscaster excitedly talking about the thrilling surprises the Head Gamemaker alluded to having up their sleeves for the Hunger Games.

"You mentioned something about an arena," I said, once I'd heard enough. "Is that what the Head Gamemaker is in charge of... designing?"

"Yes," Scout said thoughtfully, "I think designing is a good term for it."

"Will it be like a gladiator arena?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them but Scout only took them at face value.

"I doubt it will be much different," Scout said, a nearly undetectable hint of bitterness in her voice. "I'm sorry; I just don't have many answers about this. The mentors have hardly been let in on a lot of the technicalities. But I would imagine that the gladiators have inspired the Hunger Games."

A shiver danced along my spine. If we were being recorded at all times, which I could only assume we were after what Renner had said, the fact that I knew what gladiators were must have been suspicious to anyone watching. I could only hope that my knowledge would be attributed to the lax rules instilled in school when I was younger, as I was one of the older tributes at seventeen.

When I was in school, our instructors were allowed to only briefly review the major roles in history; the Captiol was afraid of the old world's ideals. Even the thought of democracy bouncing around in someone's mind was enough for them to worry themselves sick over Panem's future. So when the Capitol noticed how many fresh minds they had in their hands, they realized they didn't have to tell their students everything. Soon enough, the children's parents' and grandparents' stories of the old world would fade into the past and become purely fictitious.

The people watching me might believe I had heard about gladiators when I was in school. But in actuality, I had discovered my mother's history books in her closet when I was young. Someone in our family's past had been a record keeper, something they called a librarian, and the books had been handed down to my mother. When she discovered me reading through them one day, she said that I could read as much as I wanted as long as I didn't tell anyone.

I promised not to and I kept that promise.

Realizing it then, my heart stuttered. After these Games, I could easily be dead; no one would know there were even books to remember the old world by. Not much of humankind's history was good, but there was so much to learn from the bad.

And watching as history repeated itself only showed how much we still had to learn.