CHAPTER 1
Have you ever wondered what it would be like if your mother was dead? What if your father was evil, and I don't mean like he forgets your birthday, or cheats when you play him at checkers. I mean evil, the kind of man who kills 23 children every year for no reason. Now, I want you to imagine the most horrible, blood-thirsty,and murderous country in the world, the type of place where they make children kill each other for the entertainment of the capitol city, and your evil father is the leader. Well, welcome to my life. I am Angelica Snow.
I wake up to the sound of my maid knocking on the door and telling me it's time to get ready for school. This is ridiculous of course, because I don't even go to a real school; that's too dangerous for fact, most of the country doesn't even know I exist, and that's the way my father likes never lets me leave the house, I don't have any friends, and the closest to the real world I've ever been is my balcony. This is because everything is too dangerous for the president's daughter.
I gently pull a comb through my long blonde hair, then let it fall down my back and put on my "school uniform," which is another unnecessary thing since I have a private tutor, but my father insists I treat it like a real school, when the truth is it's not. I don't even learn what I would at a real school; I learn how to rule the country. I learn about the Hunger Games, because as I am an only child, I will one day run this country, and I am being taught to be a "good" ruler, which he thinks is exactly like how he rules. I would never tell anyone this, but when I'm president things will will be better and the Hunger Games will end.
Thoughts like these could get me killed, which is why I never voice them, though I wish I could, wish I had someone I could trust with this, someone to vent to.
"Angelica" I am ripped from my dreams of a peaceful Panem by the harsh voice of my teacher.
"Oh, sorry Bradley, what were you asking?" I say, smiling.
"I wish you would pay attention," he says sighing.
"Sorry, um, the answer is 238," I say.
"How do you completely block out the whole lesson, and then still do it perfectly?" he asks, sounding frustrated.
"I don't know, my dad probably did surgery on my brain to make me smart," I say only half joking.
"Okay, why don't we just take a little quiz, then you can go for lunch," he says, handing me a double sided sheet of paper. I love quizzes. I know this sounds weird but quizzes mean peace to me. I don't have to listen to a boring lesson, I can just give the answers in complete silence, and this quiz is particularly easy.
"Done, may I go now?" I ask, looking up from the paper.
"Okay, you can go. I'll give this back after lunch," he says, and I head to the dining hall. I sit in one of the overly fluffed bright red plush chairs, and ring the little bell, telling the kitchen that I'm ready for lunch. An Avox walks in with a silver jewel incrusted platter that holds my lunch. He sets it down on the table and starts to walk out.
"Thank you," I say as he retreats. Then he's gone and I'm left alone to eat my lunch. Of course I'm not really alone; I have cameras watching me 24/7 so my dad can keep an eye on me between torturing the districts and planning the hunger games.
I finish eating and head back to the "classroom." I am seated just as Bradley walks in.
"Oh, hello Angelica, you're early," he notes.
"Yeah, I finished eating early," I tell him.
"Well, here's your quiz back," he says, handing me the paper. I unfold it, revealing the bright red A+ in the right hand corner. "Surprise, surprise," he says, grinning. "You know it's hard teaching someone who already knows everything."
"What can I say, it's a gift" I say, smiling cockily.
" Well, now we're going to learn about the laws of Panem," he says, smiling since he knows I hate this particular subject.
Once I'm done with school for the day, I return to my chambers and sit on the balcony. I pull out my easel and begin to paint the candy coloured Capitol. Once I've almost finished my painting, I am pulled from my own world by a knock on the door
"Who is it?" I call.
"Isabelle," she replies. Isabelle is my maid.
"Come in," I tell her and before I know it she's right over my shoulder.
"That's beautiful," she says looking at my painting.
"Thank you," I say curtly,
"Your father would like to have you present at dinner," she tells me, to my surprise.
"Really, I made the list, wow," I say sarcastically.
"Your father is a very busy man," she says.
"Yup, that's my daddy," I say bitterly, cutting off her response by walking into the bathroom.
I wash my face, apply fresh make-up, and brush my hair before exiting the bathroom. I walk into my giant closet and pull on pair of exercise pants and a pink cotton tank top, because it's comfortable. I'm just about to exit when Isabelle's voice stops me.
"Angelica, please, this is a formal event," she says meekly.
"Formal event? I'm going to eat supper with my know, in some families, girls do that every day," I say bitterly.
"Yes, well, remember who your father is," she says.
"A jerk who I never see," I say in answer.
"Please,Angelica, just change and have a nice dinner," she begs and so for her, not my father, I go change into a pleated skirt and white blouse.
"Closer," she says, looking me over. I go through 2 more outfits before one is deemed appropriate; a floor length pink dress that sparkles and hugs my body, with a necklace made of rare pink diamonds and shoes to match.
"There, perfect," she says, smiling, and I walk out the door.
I think it is absolutely ridiculous that I'm wearing a floor length gown to have dinner with my father, but oh well. I'll just try to get through the next hour without openly showing my hate for him. I sit down at one end of the table and wait for him to show up. The door opens, and the room fills with the scent of blood and roses.