The 53rd Hunger Games- Two Words

3.Piece of Home

There is no one else that comes to say goodbye. From the sounds of it, Gladius has plenty of visitors. Because he was a merchant, he must have been rather popular.

I wait, twisting my dress. It belonged to my mother, and is a nice cream with a bodice embroided with blue flowers. All the dresses for the reaping are rather elaborate in Eight. After all, we are the textiles district. We also produce buttons, ribbons, pins, thread and all sorts of other sewing supplies.

I don’t know how many minutes past, but after a while, Velia opens up the door. She seems to have a smile permanently plastered onto her face.

"Come on, Eunia," she says, "we're ready to take you to the station."

I'm mildly impressed that she remembers my name. No one usually is able to repeat it after I tell them.

She ushers me through the doorway, and for a brief, crazy moment, I consider making a run for it. I've never seen any tribute do it, but that doesn't mean they didn't try.

Then I think what it would be like if I miraculously won the Games. My family would never struggle again. I'd have to become a mentor, but I could live with it. Barely. Most importantly, the whole district would have it easy for a year, as I told my eldest brother. And maybe Eight would be favoured, even if it was only for a year, even if it was only because I was victor.

I am snapped out my daydream when I reach the end of the hallway. Gladius is leaning against a wall, waiting. I am struck by the size difference. He's almost a foot taller than I am, and much stockier. He's only from an outline district too. I don't want to think about what the Careers will look like. The girls will be at least twenty pounds heavier than I am, the boys more than three times that much. They've been training since they were old enough to be tributes. I have no doubt that they will be the biggest competition. Tonight they will play the reruns of the reapings across Panem, and I shall see who I'm up against for the first time. His eyes are clear, not at all bloodshot. He's managed to keep his emotions to himself.

Outside, a car waits. Velia climbs into the backseat with us.

"Your mentors have already been transported to the station," she says in her bright, annoying tone that never fades, "but just wait until you see the Capitol! It is truly amazing, with the most splendid architecture, and the best designers in Panem! Apart from perhaps some of those in Eight..."

Her meaningless chatter continues all the way to the train. As soon as we pull into the station, I try to see the train. I've only ever seen the cargo trains that take our products to the Capitol. The train that the tributes travel on is sleek and silver, with powerful engines. The windows are all one-way glass, so I can't see into the cars. I suppose they don't want to ruin the surprise for the tributes, who have surely never seen such splendour.

There are more cameras at the station, just like I thought there would be. They are all trained on us. I try to pretend they aren't there, and act accordingly. Gladius does the same. Velia, however, soaks up the attention. It must be a Capitol thing.

Peacekeepers stand on either side of the steps that lead to the train. This is probably the last time I will set foot in District 8. I take a deep breath, and grab onto the rail for support. I ascend the stairs, and turn into what I assume is the living car. Behind me, I hear Velia clap her hands, and Gladius gasps. If I wasn't feeling so empty, I'd probably do both. The furniture is delicate, and looks like it took months to make. It has all the style of the Capitol, but is still comfortable.

On every flat surface, food is piled high. It is finer than anything I've seen. Even Gladius looks impressed, and he's a merchant. There are finger foods, stews, meats, vegetables, almost any food. At least I won't go hungry until the Games start.