The Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games

Percy

I nervously bounce my leg up and down as I wait for my stylist to arrive. Even though I'm from District 4 I never really liked all the attention and wealth that we got. District 4 was known for being one of the better off districts but that didn't mean we didn't have problems. My mom could barely sustain us. And my father according to my mother had gone out to sea and never come back. "Lost at sea." She always told me, "Not drowned, lost at sea."

The door bangs open with an extravagant flair. Startled I quickly got up and out of the cushy velvet armchair I was sitting in. I bang my foot on the silver plated metal table in front of me and hop around cursing.

I look up after I finish my rage and see a beaming man who's practically 6 foot nothing.

He speaks in a deceptively cheerful voice that makes him sound like a chipmunk. Do Capitol people do something to their voices that make them sound that way? Or are their voices naturally made to defy the laws of nature.

"Why hello Perseus Jackson!" I resist the urge to scowl, "it's Percy."

He laughs, "alright Percy! I see we are going to have so much fun together!"

I instantly hate him.

I stand awkwardly in the chariot next to Gwen, the other tribute. We're dressed as fishermen but something like a fisherman who decided to take a dip in wealth. The outfit shines so brightly I feel as if I'm wearing the sun. But I guess they like that here. To avoid the silence next to me and tune out of the commotion around me, I look around to the other tributes. It's the first time I can look around at all of them properly.

There's a girl and boy tribute from 11 who seemed to be having a somewhat natural conversation. A boy from 9 catches my eye. From the little I know of it, it harvests wheat and typically they have a tan from staying in the sun for so long. But the boy has raven black hair similar to my own and skin so pale he looks like a ghost. His eyes are as black as his hair and there's a strange look in them, like glass about to be shattered.

The girl seems to be talking animatedly to him about something that he seems to be disinterested in. He picks at a neon orange band on his wrist and looks around and catches my eye. I'm about to raise my hand to wave but he quickly turns the other direction. I look around once more and a blonde haired girl who I assume is from 3 is having a serious looking conversation with her fellow tribute. He nods and turns straight again, A faint shade of green on his face. I wonder if it's from the prospect of the chariot ride or talking to that girl. If it's the latter I don't blame him, she turns around and looks at me as if sensing someone watching her, i'm a bit taken aback by her eyes, they're the color of storm clouds.

Unlike the boy who looked away she stares me straight in the eye as if analyzing me. Those grey eyes seem to be like soft clouds warning a storm. This time I looked away, and wished not for the first time that I had a name to the face. A soft whisper in my ear makes me jump, "Annabeth Chase." I turn around quickly and almost knock over Gwen, "what?" She nods to the blonde haired girl, "Her name, Annabeth Chase." I mouth the words getting a feel for them, "How do you know that?" She shrugs, "I rewatched the reapings on the train."

I should have done that, it would have given me an understanding of everyone.

I point toward the boy but hastily put it back down, remembering the scolding my mom had always given me when I was younger.

"It's rude to point." she would always tell me.

The sudden memory made my eyes sting. I shake my head, I can't afford to think about the past. I need to win.

Gwen looks over to where I had pointed, "The boy? That's Nico di Angelo. The girl is Leila Gardner (A/N, I didn't know Leila's last name so I put Gardner) He's pretty different from everyone in his district, I wonder where he got the orange band." I shrug. The chariot had started moving and I was focusing more on not falling off of it.

We tumble out of the enclosed area where we just were and into the roaring crowd. Hordes of Capitol citizens are standing in raised boxes on either side of us. The effect of them all screaming is disorienting. They seem to love the better off districts more in general. We have a tendency to win. I acknowledge the fact that I said we. I am a favorite. I should feel happy about that fact, but I don't.

I make up my mind to be solo, I won't join the pack of tributes that tends to be 1,2,and 4. Even if it kills me. I wince when I realize how literal those words are.

I plaster a smile on my face and wave to the crowd. They instantly respond, cheering and waving. It sickens me, this is just a game to them.

I run my hand over the smooth slick fabric my suit is made of. It's sea green, like my eyes. My stylist told me it would bring them out. The fabric ripples as I shift on my chair. Shifting through blues like sea water. I wipe my hands on my pants, nervous. A chorus of laughter sounds from outside where the interviews are going on.

My mentor chiron told me that I should just be myself. I remember his face, he was rather old but had keen intelligent eyes, his eyes were heavy with sorrow when he first saw me, I wonder how many tributes he's seen die.

The district 3 girl. Annabeth I think is her name, walks back toward us from the stage. Her dress is dove grey and looks soft and elegant but when I see it up close I see that it's made of delicate layers of metal. I wonder how it can be comfortable but she walks in it with ease.

I think that I feel her eyes flick to mine, but the next second she's sitting next to me in her seat staring straight ahead.

I try not to stare but I see a wisp of hair has become untucked from her otherwize immaculate bun and I have to resist the urge to tuck it behind her ear.

I hear a buzzer that means that it's my turn to get interviewed. I get up and breath shakily and walk up the stage. The bright lights momentarily blind me and I see Caesar Flickerman sitting on a plush white chair among two. I walk over to them and sit down. Caesar smiles at me, his color is purple this year and he looks garish, "Now, let's get started."

This one was written by my friend, @marsh_meowllow.

-Toodles!