The 1st Quarter Quell

Chapter 4 - Making Yourself Known

We all sit around the television in our home, along with every other family in Panem in their own homes. The host is new this year, very young, probably my age too; his name is Caesar Flickerman, his hair an electric green, his skin dark from cosmetic treatment. Under all of that makeup and surgery is probably buried a more handsome side to him, worn away by the Capitol's influence. He must've been very talented if he'd been pulled out of school to host the Games, very talented.

He is sat on one of two chairs in the studio accompanied by a very handsome young man with sandy coloured hair and an odd pointed beard. This is the lead Gamemaker for the past 5 years, Henrik Colston, heartthrob of the Capitol.

They start off talking about the past games and who their favourite Victors are and their favourite Games. Henrik says that his favourite Games is the 15th Games, when the winner bled the opponent to death, and Caesar agrees with him. I remember that one, it gave me nightmares for weeks, especially since it was mandatory we watch the finale. His screams, his choking...It was sick.

They then start talking about this year.

"So Henrik, what can we expect with this year's Games? Anything special planned?" Caesar asks with excitement spreading across his face and in his dark eyes which were lined with green glitter.

"Well...The Twenty-fifth Hunger Games will be no ordinary Games..." He smirked as the audience made went 'ooh', "Haha, yes...This one, is called a Quarter Quell..." He said pressing his fingers together, pulling a devilish smile.

"A Quarter Quell? And how exactly will this be different Henrik?" Caesar asked raising his dyed eyebrows.

"Well...each Quarter Quell will be unique, and this year...each Victor won't be Reaped as usual...Instead, they'll be voted by their own District...They can pick those who are less fortunate, or those who they know will bring honour and pride to their District."

"Can each District vote for a Victor?" Caesar asks curiously.

"Yes...Although we'd prefer them not to...they've already had the chance, why not let other people have a shot at glory?" Henrik gives a pearly white smile.

I can't believe this. I could get the chance to do this. My District know that I'm worthy of competing and that I stand a chancein the games, and either way I'll definitely place in the top 7. But then there's the matter of competition - would they vote Zenobia over me? Sure she's older and has more sex appeal in terms of sponsors, but surely, they'd want someone who honour isn't handed on a china platter to, right? I can always volunteer though?

"And volunteering will be abolished as it defeats the purpose of the votes." Henrik says, and the audience moan in protest.

Great! There goes my backup plan! I shouldn't be so sure of myself, it's only going to get me eliminated sooner than I think, and it'll come back to bite me.

The show finishes up shortly after that, and I go to bed thinking about the Games. Would I get voted? How far would I get? More importantly, did Mason Clay know this was going to happen? And if so, how? And even further, was he trying to warn me about the Games?

I've made up my mind, I'm going to enter this year. And I will emerge victorious.

~

"Seriously Althea, I suggest you consider doing it next year, when you're sixteen." Mother says as she chews down her breakfast, not even looking at me as I speak with her.

"Why not?" I argue back from the other end of the table, slamming my palms down in protest.

"Well put it this way," Dad starts as he is about to leave the house for work, "You'll have grown, and therefore you'll be stronger and better than you already are, you'll definitely win. I'll see you at dinner." Dad says, kissing both me and my Mother goodbye. At least he was nice about it, he's always nicer to me than Mother, she always put me down for being too ambitious, Dad supported me. Dad lifts me up.