Quelling the Flames

Will Smith, District 11, Task 1

The stylist looked at the vines on Will's shirt. Will was standing around, not sure what to do.

"What's wrong Will," the stylist asked.

"I'm not sure what to do. Not like anyone gave me a list of instructions," he replied.

"Life isn't always easy."

"I'm one of those who's learned to not to mess with things before told."

"Well, I don't want to burst your bubble, but you're going to have to mess with a lot in the Games."

"I have a plan."

"If I may ask, what's your plan?"

"Why would I reveal my plan to you?"

"I help people Will, I won't tell anyone."

"Fine. I plan to let her go home by killing myself."

"I can tell you right now that no good will come form that."

"At lest she'll go home."

"This is a Quarter Quell, nothing as it seams."

"What do you mean? They haven't told us the twist yet."

"I mean, once you get in there, or have to be prepared for anything. You can't kill yourself."

"If it means she goes home, I will."

"I mean they won't let you."

"How can they not let me? All they want is a show."

"Exactly. Quick death is not good for rating. The audience wants to see people turn on each other."

"I don't want to kill her."

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Yea. I guess," Will sighed. His suit was vines. These were harmless. Will knows plants well, and he could tell they were harmless but annoying to gardeners. Also people when they are getting poked by the thorns, like now for him.