The Sixty-Seventh Annual Hunger Games

Chapter Two

     The first thought that pops into my head as I step onto the train was, "Wow." It was only supposed to be in my head, but apperently I said it out loud. 

      Palma goes on to explain how fast the train is going, but I'm too mezmerized by my surroundings to do much listenig. All I pick up is that we'll arrive in the Capitol tomorrow. Reality hits me all at once, and I'm suddenly all too aware that I might be the one killing the innocent little boy standing right next to me. Is it worth it? The though pops into my head. 

     Is it worth it to kill innocent children, some younger than me, to win some money? It has to be. I have a family to go home to, but then again, so do they. I know I can't think of these things. I need to take my brother's advice, and play their game. No matter how much I hate the Capitol for making me do this, I have to go along with it to win. I have to win. For my brothers. That's all. Not my father, only Zander and Jake. 

    Palms shows James and I to our quarters. Mine is huge. There's a televison, a huge squishy bed with about a hundred squishy pillows, and a giant window over looking the city. What would I possibly watch on the televison? Reruns of previous Hunger Games? Somehow, I don't exactly think that would help my nerves right now. 

     I spend a few minutes going through the droors, which have clothes all my size, which is weird, considering that I just got here. The bathroom is all kinds of amazing. Since I didn't have access to hot water at the touch of a button at home, it's amazing to me that these crazy people can bathe whenever they want. 

     I peel my "fancy" clothes off and get in. I experiment with several buttons. One sprays me with warmish water, while another covers me in a strange smelling oil. After I wash the oil off and finnish showering, Palma's knocking on my door telling me that it's time for dinner. I put on a light blue t-shirt and tight, stretchy, black pants. I slip on some new shoes. They're like ones that I have at home, except new. 

     Dinner is indescribable. It was chicken, I knew that, covered in an almost sweet orange sauce. After I ate two plate fulls, I realized that I wasn't used to eating that much. I felt sluggish, and like I was going to burst, or at the very least throw up. James was still eating somehow, on his third plate full. I wanted to warn him that it wasn't a good idea, but hey, he was starving in Seven too. 

      But I was also thinking that I couldn't get too friendly with someone I was going to kill. Whoa, girl. I thought. I probably won't even be the one the one to kill him, although no matter how the odds fall, it won't be any good. 

     Palma leads James and I into a big room with a couch when we finish desert. We watch the reruns of the Reaping. I look like I'm going to break down at first, but then I clean it up, and I look stronger, older maybe. More confident for sure. 

     James cries on the television, and looks embarassed  on the couch. We watch the Reapings from other districts. I metally note the dangerous looking ones. Natrally, the heaviest ones are from Districs One, Two, Four, and the male tribute from Eleven. 

      As I lie in bed, I cry. I cry for hours. I cry not for my fate, but for my family, because I already miss them. I also cry at the fact at how fast and easily my brain switched from starving girl in the Seam, focused on finding food, to a murderous girl, focused on the best way to kill these people. 

     I wake up to three crazy looking people standing in a line in front of my bed. "Hello, Piper!" the craziest of the three says excitedly. "We are absolutely exctatic to be working with such a lovely young lady!" she says in her chirpy accent. 

     The next few hours are full of waxing every freaking hair off my body, covering me in thick powder, and painting and filing my nails. "Now," announces the man, apperently Flavious, "it is time to meet your stylist. Her name is Janie, be respectful." his accent makes me want to punch him in the face. 

     They lead me into a room, and tell me to wait. I had on only a thin robe, since I had to be completely naked in front of my prep team. It only helped a little that the stylist was a girl. The funny thing was, I wasn't that embarassed of my body in front of them. My prep team seems completely fake, just like all of these other Capitol people. 

     The door slides open. A woman who looks to be in her early twenty strides in. I am suddenly struck by how utterly normal she is. Sure, she has a coulple peircings in each year, and one in her eyebrow and nose, but, she's normal looking. 

     "Hi," she says, "I'm Janie, and I'm gonna be your stylist. I have to admit, I'm not exaclty sure what I'm doing. I'm new this year, so just work with me." Janie's voice is completely lacking the accented chirp of the Capitol. "I'm not gonna ask you to take off your robe, because that would probably be a little very awkward for you." she continues. 

     "I'm Piper." I say simply. She nods. She asks me about my district, which I don't exactly have entertaining stories to tell. We eat lunch and she tells me funny stories about growing up in the Capitol. She says that she'll have my costume ready by tomorrow night, when Opening Cerimonies start.

     After Opening Cerimonies, I will start my week of training, which wraps up with me showing the Gamemakers a special skill, which I don't have. Guess I'll improvise. I'm starting to think that improvisation is the best strategy in these games.