Hey, this is a story I am currently still writing. Please read and give me some critisim !

The story is told by Olivia Collinswood, a 19 year old intellectual and anti-social girl who leaves her home, District 7, to go study at the famous Stenton Academy in District 2. She encounters Gale Hawthorne, an emotionless boy, Laurdin Paylor, the President's daughter. Together, they push her to confront her fears, and save Panem from ultimate mayhem.

Some things to consider:

- is it interesting so far?

- should I add more information about her background, or do you want it to unfold slowly?

- are there any messed up sentences that I should correct?

Note:

the chapters titles are in french because I'm a weirdo.

Hope you enjoy it !

chapitre un

I wake up, startled, by the terrifying nightmares that continually haunt me when I engulf into sleep. Thump-thump, thump-thump, my heart sounds. "Hurry up and get dressed. You'll miss the train," instructs my mother presently. I immediately respond to that, my eyes search for the clock. 11:00 am. The train leaves in a few hours; but I'm guessing my mother wants me to be extra ready. I stand up, take a deep breath, and stride to the bathroom.

I change into my white t shirt, olive green military jacket, and blue denim jeans. Looking into the mirror, I see my blank expression. How am I feeling? Well, this question frightens me, because I don't know. My long, straight black hair whishes to my shoulders, with my bangs inching to cover my dark brown eyes. In sunlight, my hair glistens with a chestnut hue, matching my eyes. My peachy rose skin prickles, because of the scorching shower I took, so now I'm red without the embarrassment. I discontinue analyzing myself, and head to the kitchen.

Before I even reach there, I inhale a whiff of my mother's famous blueberry waffles, which are the best waffles I have ever tasted in my life. Tantalizing? Very. Normally, she makes these about twice a month, but today is a special occasion; I'm going to the one and only Stenton Academy – in District 2. Hence, I will be leaving my parents, and District 7; with its lush forest atmosphere. I will be living on the grounds of the school for 4 years, free of charge, because I acquired a scholarship with my hard to achieve grades. At last, I think I know how I am feeling about this expedition; anticipated.

"Olivia, I can't believe you're moving out already! I'll write to you every month, and I'll send you some money so you won't have to struggle to find work, and-"

"Mother, I'll be just fine. Surely I can find a job somewhere; maybe not exactly what I want, but it'll sustain me enough," I assure her.

"Nonsense! I'll send you some, anyways," she insists stubbornly. Realizing that a) I'm fighting a losing battle, and b) my waffles are getting cold, instead of bickering with my mother, I quietly finish my breakfast. As I'm chewing, I see the resemblance from her and me. We both have the same black hair, and rose skin tone, but her eyes are a glassy, clear cyan blue, whereas I have my brown, plain eyes.

I come out of my two story, wooden house, and just stare. At everything I know; the enormous wheat field, the chipping warm yellow paint barn house, the endless, jagged row of pine trees at the back of the house, the fruit/vegetable patches, and of course, my working father, who is hauling two metal milk pails toward me.

"Morning, father," I greet.

He smiles in return, and says "Good morning, Liv. You excited for the big district?"

"Ha, course I am. Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"Don't get too ahead of yourself; carry these to your mother, please." His brown eyes are twinkling with tease. The same brown as mine. His hair was a caramel brown, before it turned grey, of course. Although my father is somewhat old, he still towers over me, which is where I inherited my height from.

"Yes, sir!" I salute, and grab the pails with my bare hands. My parents are great, even if they really hate me going away for such a long time. Sometimes I wonder if they know I can stand on my two feet.

I gave the pails to my mother, and go back outside. It takes me 15 minutes to walk through the dusted path that leads to the stream, my favourite place out of District 7. When I was 15, I discovered this place as a refuge from the world around me. The willow tree sits at the edge of the meadow, with its little drops of golden green leaves swaying with the wind, its trunk inching to fall into the water. But, it never does – somehow, it stays planted into the ground. This place always seems so surreal to me, because nowhere can look this peaceful in real life. I've found a place of utter tranquility. My head rests on the rigid surface of the tree, taking in the beauty of this area. It was one of the few places that escaped the Capitol's obliteration.

Scanning my room for the last time, my parents suddenly bombard in. They say what all parents would say; be safe, don't forget anything, and good luck. It's funny how this speech can be used to bid someone goodbye when they go to war. I hug my parents, and bid them farewell, with me simultaneously lugging my bags. I step out the door, into a new phase of my life.

chapitre deux

While waiting at the outdoor train terminal for my voyage, I look around. It is a clear, beautiful summer day, with flowers bursting with colour, birds soaring with glee, and the blue sky above me. It is also the last one, actually, and I try to find some familiar faces. I recognize some people from the town, but not anyone from my school. It figures, I guess. Everyone would be cherishing their last day of summer before school comes around and no one mentioned moving. Then again, I didn't either. I've kept to myself all this time, not because I am shy, but because I know that if I got social, my grades will plummet, thus leading to locking in a terrible future ahead of me. I was very involved in my school work; I did not need distractions called companions. Yes, I was alone, but I was never unhappy about it. I like being solitary

A distant chugging sound interrupts my thoughts, and instantly, I get up from the bench. The train strops in front of me, with its rusty, iron body, which looks like it just had its centennial birthday, or more. I go inside and take a seat next to a window. The whole train has this antique vibe to it, and although I've rode this a dozen times, I haven't taken notice until now. My eyes are drooping, trying to stay open, but I drift into sleep anyways.

I awake with sunlight beaming through my eyes. They do a take at my silver watch; a going away gift from my parents. It reads 6:38 am which means I've slept for at least 5 hours. Soon, the train will stop and I'll be officially in District 2, to departure to Stenton. Excitement builds up, and I am instantaneously rejuvenated. To pass the time, I spelunker the different train compartments; some are just for passengers, and a few were restroom or food compartments. Wait, I slept through dinner! Just as my brain comes to that conclusion, my stomach reacts with a pretty loud gurgling sound. Fine, but first I go to the restroom, I tell my stomach telepathically.

After I freshened up, I stride to the food compartment, and pay for a turkey sandwich. I sit on an empty chaise, thinking of how much of an impact this experience is going to make on my relatively safe, predictable life. Maybe I'll get amnesia and hopefully forget my damned past. Or better yet, render me to stop beating myself up. Ha, the first outcome seems more plausible.

As I nibble on my sandwich, my eyes lay upon the man to my right. I am 100% certain he was not on the train before I was, because I would have noticed his conspicuous grey eyes. Maybe he is the same age as me, but the way I perceive him, he seems so matured, that I can hardly tell. He has straight, black hair, a tall stature, and olive skin, and seems to be staring out the window. I avert my gaze to mine to my left, to prevent myself from staring. It's just that this person is intriguing; he doesn't have the cocky popular boy posture, because I would have detected that immediately. This man almost seems pained, maybe? There is only so much about him I can interpret, but I can sense he had gone through too much, which gives him a permanent yet subtle kind of impenetrable sadness in his eyes. Anyways, the train stops movement, and the conductor notifies everyone that we are in District 2.

"FREEDOMMMMMMM!" my brain screams with joy. Instinctively, I collect my belongings as fast as I can, and rush out of the indoor train station of District 2, in search of a cab. Luckily, I find one just in the nick of time, race to it, beating the other person competing with me. Oh, that wasn't nice, I thought, but then again, I'm not. The cab driver offers to put away my luggage, which I thankfully accept, so I hop inside the vehicle. "Stenton Academy, please," I instruct, as the engine roars to life, and soon enough, we leave the station.