The Hunger Games: It's Not Over

THG: It's Not Over Ch 3- The Chariots

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That’s not changing anytime soon.

     Maria Serha- District 11

     I stand silently by my chariot. As terrible as this sounds, I actually like my outfit. ‘Cause, you know, it’s important to look good when you’re mentally preparing yourself to die. I’m positive I’ll die. There’s no chance of survival. It’s impossible. To live, you need to kill, and I just don’t have the heart to do that. For goodness sake, I’m a vegetarian! That’s pretty difficult to manage when even with meat, your district’s on the brink of starvation. It takes dedication. During work in the orchards, sometimes I sneak a bad apple or two. Stealing from the wealthy. It’s a hard life. And oh, did I mention my five siblings? No? Yeah, that too. I can’t even kill a fly without dying a little inside, knowing that I ended a life. So, if I can’t kill a fly, how the heck can I kill a person? Answer: I can’t. My strategy? Live in the trees. I’ll try to appear strong, vicious, and deadly in training, so I get a high score, therefore sponsors, therefore food. Then my mentors can send me food, water, and supplies while I live in the trees! When it gets to final two, I better hope the other tribute dies first. I’ll keep some poisons with me, so if they ever find me, death will be painless. My mentor, Seeder, respects my decision and supports me 100%, but Chaff? Not so much. He understands, he just thinks that maybe I can push past it, and do what I need to do. He says I’m smart. He said that

     “Anyone who can come up with a strategy like that, well, that’s a genius.”

     My mind slowly swivels back to reality, right now. The other tribute from my district, Mark Desyu, walks up to the chariot, and helps me in. He really is a gentleman.

Oh. My. Capitol. This chariot is going to tip over. It is. I’m going to fall.

    “Stop shaking Maria! You’re going to tip this thing over!”

Oh. So that’s what it is.

     “Sorry, Mark. I’m just so nervous!”

     “I know the feeling.” He mutters.

People say that Mark and I resemble each other. I don’t think so. I knew Mark when he was reaped, because he’s in my working group at the orchards. Were we friends? I guess you could say that. Suddenly, I feel a pull on the bottom of my dress.

I look down, and it’s really no surprise.

“Mark! You’re stepping on my dress!”

“Sorry! I’m just trying to find a spot for my feet. The bottom of your dress takes up so much room, I swear it’s as long as the Nile!”

Ah, the Nile. That really long river that used to be in a place called “Africa”

“Do you even know what the Nile is?”

“Wasn’t it a really long type of pasta?”

I roll my eyes, because I know he’s not lying. He actually thinks the Nile is a type of pasta. The chariot jerks forward, and suddenly we’re rolling out onto the streets.

Dreydyn Trok- District 3

The chariots are starting to stroll down the street. And I’m holding onto it for my life.

“HOLY CRAP!!!!!!!”

“Dreydyn, you’re such a wimp!” Says the other district 3 tribute, Angela Quinty.

     I haven’t known Angela that long, just since the reaping, but here’s what I do know: She’s devious. She doesn’t lie when she says not to aggravate her. Once, I made fun of how small she was on the train, and the next meal, I found fingernails in my mashed potatoes. How she did that, I don’t know. I was at the table before her, and I never took my eyes off the food.

“I am not a wimp!”

“Says the person that went to the washroom to puke after finding nails in his potatoes.”

“Hey, you never know where they’ve been!”

“So, what was your stylist like?” She asks, all while we both wave and smile at the audience.

“Insane.” I say. “She was completely leopard print, all over! And she almost sang her words.”

“Mine too.” She says. “Except he was zebra.”

We both start laughing at the ridiculous “fashion” in this city.

We do a final lap while the president talks about some crap about the glory of Panem and the Hunger Games, then stroll into the bottom floor of the training center, our home/prison for the training and preparation time. I don’t bother staying downstairs to socialize and make alliances. I’ll just show them what I’ve got tomorrow at training. With that thought, I press the number 3, ride up, and plop into bed.