The Capitol Games

1

OCTAVIA

I looked on at the sea of children before me, their brights wigs, colored skin, tattoos, worried frowns or nervous giggles, and wonder which ones were about to get their death sentence.

We were all gathered in a large square in the middle of the Capitol. Most of the buildings still laid in rubble from the rebellion and the rebels have been slowly trying to build a solid government and the city back up—along with dealing with the Districts. There was so much to do, but they still found the time to gather all the Capitol children for one final act of rebellion—or vengeance—whoever you chose to see it.

I was shoulder to shoulder with at least a hundred kids, from ages twelve to seventeen, all shifting on their feet. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck from the steady sun and being so close to so many others. Cameras focused in on all of us for those who didn't have the time to stand behind the gates that separated us like cattle from the people from the Districts, some fellows from the Capitol, who watched in struck horror.

Up on stage, Effie Trinket, had been talking for a while, but I haven't been listening for the last few minutes. Something about how much of an honor it was and how glad they should be and how it was almost all over. Effie's obnoxiously pink curls bounced across her head as if struggling to hang on to her scalp.

I tried to focus on that instead of the sweat constantly coating my pants, causing me to wipe it off on my pants. I tried to focus on the toes of my shoes instead of the crying faces around me. Some completely broke down, one boy dropping to the ground sobbing, digging his nails into the concrete as if he was going to hang on.

I frowned at him and turned back to the stage.

"Welcome all, to the seventy-sixth final Hunger Games!" Effie announced.

The crowd cheered, clapping madly. Some stayed silent, faces like stone and others too stunned to react, and not all of them were from the Capitol—people from other Districts weren't happy either.

After almost a century of blood and murder, who said these people wanted any more?

I looked over to where President Paylor sat on her balcony, watching with a stone cold face. She didn't look very happy either, but as a respect to President Coin, the late woman killed by her own figurehead, she had gone along with the plans.

The Hunger Games—a competition where two tributes—a boy and a girl, chosen from every district, would be sent into an arena to try to survive and ultimately kill each other in bloody ways for entertainment. After the first war, the Capitol used it as a way to punish the districts for rising against them.

Now, after the second rebellion seventy-five years later, the Districts came out on top, promising to end all the bloodshed.

But first—they wanted to kill us first.

This game was to be unlike any other. Twenty-four tributes would all come from the Capitol—children of the old government that starved, beat, tortured, and killed their people. I can't say I blame the rebels for wanting a little extra revenge, but I don't like that that revenge is to punish me.

"May the odds ever be in your favor!" Effie said her typical lines. All the escorts for seventy-five years said the same thing—ringing in my ears from when I got to sit down and watch the Games. When I was just an observer. Now I was expected to be a participant.

Effie stuck her hand into a large glass bulb to her right. A sick feeling landed in my gut and I was glad I skipped out on breakfast that morning.

"Helena Frazier!"

A girl, a few years younger than myself, looked up. She was shaking like a leaf and thin strands of ruby hair fell around her large eyes. She turned, maybe to run, but there were too many people. The only way to go was forward. She looked like a startled deer, skipping up as if excited but it was probably only to get up on stage before she peed herself.