calm {Thomas & Vallen}

I'm starting to wish they had just killed me on the reaping day or thrown me into the arena a lot sooner. After Xaa's philosophical quandaries and the digital makeover with Elise, I was starting to prefer death over needing to interact with anyone else. The only place I had found a second of rest away from the stylists and menacing-looking tributes was a small room in the training center away from the weapons. It's a small library, shelves stuffed with a short collection of books on mutt history, plants, weapon design.

There are a few padded chairs in the room, so when I made my way into it, I sank deep into one of them. The stress melted off my bones and I finally had a second of silence. The clanging of weapons faded into nothingness behind the solid walls of the library, and no trainers were going to make their way into the room to teach tributes. Reading is not at the top of their priorities right now.

After basking in the quiet room, I grab the most interesting book I can find off the shelf, High in the Hunger Games, a History of Hallucinogenic Plants, and flip it open. All it really tells me is that tributes really do the weirdest things when they're stuck in an arena with nothing going on. I would honestly love to see Xaa tripping, though. It might take the edge off her.

As soon as I truly felt I had the space to myself, though, my stress skyrocketed once again as the door swung open. With a sinking feeling, I thought it was going to be Xaa coming to have another chat about murder. But it's not.

Instead, it's a short boy who must be a few years younger than me. I think it's the one from three, but I can't keep anyone together in my head anymore. I'm not sure what to say. I could try to kick him out, but that would probably be rude. We both only have a few more days left to live anyways.

""Oh, sorry. I just... I just needed some peace and quiet. I hope I didn't disturb you."

His voice is soft and overwhelmed. I understand it too well. I can't kick him out now, it would just be a dick move.

I motion to one of the seats with my book.

"No, you're all good," I say, my voice is as quiet as if I had just been hushed by the school librarian. "We all need a break, honestly."

I want to stay in silence, but this guy seems like he's been really thrown off. My dad used to tell me to talk to stressed patients to keep them calm, and it seems like something this kid needs right now.

"What was the last straw? Did one of the careers throw a spear too close to your head? That's happened to me twice now."