Dark Corners • [Squad Ghouls]

At school, the cafeteria we ate our lunches in had long, identical gray tables arranged in rows, and everyone knew the table in the middle was reserved for the popular girls.

Hell, I used to be one of them. Being from town and looking reasonably free of coal dust went a long way towards getting a spot at that table. But as my belly grew so did the glances; the kinder ones offered me moon-tea and when I turned them down their courtesy became spiteful barbs and hissed whispers. No one would have told me I was not welcome to sit there, but it was clear I was no longer wanted among them.

But all of that was worth it. ...wasn't it? I try to recall my children's innocent faces and tiny smiles, but the images seem to float away, replaced by the clanging of weapons and the chemical stench of the training dummies.

Despite the sleek metal furniture and trays of food, the cafeteria in the Training Center is no different than at home. The Careers, the ones who seemed the most confident in the reaping videos - and the greatest threat - are already beginning to band together, but the young boys from One and Four are not among them.

Twelve has never been popular with the Capitol. It was harder for us straight out of the gate.

I turn back to the display of food. There's meat and vegetables and colorful sauces I can't even begin to recognize. I surreptitiously dip a finger into a mysterious bright green sauce studded with bits of onion and herbs, and it is overwhelmingly creamy, reminiscent of pats of butter we spread on bread for special occasions. Taking a big scoop and slathering it on a slice of dark toast, I look around to find a seat.

As I turn around, I notice the One boy alone in a corner, staring at us. It's a bit unnerving, but in a way that reminds me of a skittish animal, not at all similar to the glares his district partner is throwing out at us.

It's almost instinct that carries me to sit down at that table. "Hey, y'all right?" I ask, not knowing if the response will be a no or a yes or a get away, you dirty Twelve.

But even if we've been told District One is our enemies, it's hard to look at him now and see an enemy. And we all deserve better than to spend the last days of our lives scared and alone in a sterile room full of strangers.

One cautious hand reaches out and grabs a muffin from the lineup of strange foods. It was the only thing I recognized, but this muffin was different than the bland ones made from Tesserae back home. It was large, fluffy, sweet. The smell was appetizing, it was calling for me to eat it. I place it gently onto my tray. My plate was full of exotic fruits and sweets that had been mostly ignored by my fellow tributes. I don't understand. If you are probably going to not be able to eat again, might as well eat something worthwhile.

I scoop up some delectable smelling cold substance into a little bowl onto my tray.

The lineup was nothing like I had ever seen in district six. Nothing. Now I understand why my brother chose to be carted off by peacekeepers to the detention center than stay in district six. It's not worth staying somewhere like six.

A sigh escapes my lips as I pick up my plate leaden with sweets and delights that I could have only dreamed of dreaming of devouring just a few short days ago. A few short days before Teddy told me just you or them. I wish it hadn't been so black and white, but as I surveyed my fellow tributes in the training center I knew it was true. That they all took it to heart with each arm falling off a fake dummy. With every punch. With every trap made.

I make my way out into the row of tables. My eyes fall onto a group, two girls making small talk with one snorting as she eats a potato, and one boy sitting quietly with a plate as lifeless as I will probably be in a few more short days.

The snorting potato girl makes an introduction to the other as I reach the table.

"Hey three," I say with a grin, walking up to them and placing my tray on the table.

"Hope you don't mind me jumping in here. We'll probably be dead in a few days so it doesn't really matter anyways." I say jokingly, picking up my spoon and gently poking the freezing cold substance, scooping up a little bit into my mouth. I resist the urge to widen my eyes as the sweet flavor fills my mouth.

"You can either call me Serena or six or whatever you want. 'My worst nightmare' would work. Not too true unless you're really scared that easily, but I'm not picky." I place the spoon back down, grinning.