preview

Essay on Meet the Mentors

Good Essays

"Isn't this such a treat?" Semmia marvels as she pulls apart the platinum doors and escorts us into a dining room filled with beautiful cakes and snacks that even District one hadn't the pleasure of seeing. I bite my lip and she motions to the two center seats and we automatically adopt a nervous pose in them. I had never felt so frightened in my life. "I am going to ask the driver how long it shall take to get to the capitol - we had to change course because of a little animal outbreak on the tracks," she smiles with glee before stepping out of our line of sight and leaving us in an awkward silence. "Don't worry, Althea and Magnar will be with you shortly." I hear the door close and Renee looks to me with an analytical gaze. "You're …show more content…

"That's it? You really are dead." she chuckles and I frown, and feel already isolated in this hollow box thats speeding towards my death - even if it's not responsible. "How did your Mother take the news then?" she smiles cockily before raising an eyebrow at my silence. "She expects me to die." I say silently and she stops - she just stops her talking and goes quiet, and I leave her to that. I never was very good at simple conversations. The buddy tactic seemed to be shot out the water as she'd already pointed out she knew my flaw. I had already begun to gnaw on my lips to the point they were red raw when Renee nudged my arm and brought me back to reality. My eyes adjusted to the lights that seemed to be flaring and I took in our mentors. They didn't seem the most friendly to me, infact they seemed to possess the ability to chew off our heads. "Chin up, no need to look so glum Mitch. Congratulations!" Althea gushes towards me with the same glee that Semmia possessed. Magnar glares at me, with an element of pity in his eyes - he knows I'll die too. It's the same look my mother had. "Right, tell us what you can do." Magnar demands, barking at Renee who stays composed before rolling her eyes, "I can shoot, I

Get Access