Rue's Story: Catch Me If You Can

Chapter 8

I rarely have a problem with adults, since most of the time experience brings with it maturity, but I feel the need to push Mayce into a ditch. She constantly finds something to bicker about; whether it's our "mishap" etiquette, our distaste in style, or even our rolling of the eyes when she says something ridiculous. Currently, she is scolding Thresh on his inability to hold a knife properly. I purposely didn't bother taking foods that needed cutting. It isn't worth it, even though the smell of those pancakes are making me drool...

"And you agree, I assume?" Mayce's chirp voice slashes me back into the moment.

"Huh?" I reply softly, having checked out for most of our breakfast conversation. Mayce took a deep breath and flared her nostrils.

"Well if you'd been listening," she emphasizes the last word, "Seeder was discussing your 'game plan' per say, for training. She says it's best not to ally up with other districts. Of course, she's not considering how powerful the Careers are and how helpful they could be to these two."

Seeder chuckles lightly at her ignorance. "I don't think you understand this. The careers ally with other careers. Not with any of the other districts. No, just with each other. If either of these two as much as attempted to approach one of them they'd slit their throats before they even opened their mouths."

"So, what happens in the end if the only people left are careers?" I ask, the question having crossed my mind many times in the past.

"Well," Seeder began, "that's a pretty brutal situation, and it's happened numerous times in the past. Their motto is pretty much, 'I'll stick with you until the end, and then I'll stick a knife in your back.' It's a literal example of 'backstabbing'," she said with a chuckle, biting an orange slice as she sputtered out the last word. Thresh and I laugh uncomfortably. The only humor that's been going around lately was pretty dark. As much as Mayce would try to bring up the mood, there was just that depressing aura that stuck around. In less than a week, I could be dead. The idea floated around my head constantly.

After about an hour of tired chit-chat and occasional silence, a purple-suited man opens the mahogany door to the dining cart and approaches Mayce. He whispers something into her ear before turning swiftly and exiting the cart. Mayce contorts her face into an oddly jubilant grin and claps her polished hands together.

"Guess what time it is?" She interrogates through a cheesy smile. No one responds; we just stare at her, hoping she'll quit this stupid guessing game. Rolling her glitter embellished eyes, she sighs and says ,"Get ready. Train's there in ten."