Chapter One: Let The Games Begin
My hands were shaking to the point where I was sure I looked like I was having a seizure. For the third time, my fingers slipped and lost their grip on my boot lace. Biting my lip in frustration, I looked down at my sweaty, shaking palm. I clenched it into a fist, trying to dispel my unease. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and leaning back against the wall.
"You're going to do great!" said Tobias for the hundredth time. "I know who I'm going to be betting on!"
I opened my eyes and looked at the stylist. "I know," I said. "I heard you the first time. And the second time. And the time after that." I once again began lacing up my boots.
"I know you know," Tobias said, the fake capitol smile permanently attached to his face. "I'll enjoy seeing you after you win the games!"
I put one final knot in my boot and stood up, trying to keep my breathing steady. Tobias held up my jacket, allowing me to slip my arms into the sleeves of the fitted windbreaker. I shrugged it up close around my shoulders and pulled the zipper up. The small beep of the clock above the tube passing the two minute mark nearly made me jump. Two minutes to the start of the games. Two minutes until I could count the number of days left on the earth on one hand.
I turned to face my stylist. "Thank you, Tobias," I said, ready to be done with the irritating stylist.
Tobias put his hand on my shoulder. "I'll be rooting for you!" he said. "I just know that you're going to give an amazing show!"
His eyes betrayed him. I could tell that he thought I was weak, thought I was going to be dead within minutes. He was faking to try to boost my confidence. "Yeah," I said, pushing his arm away from me and turning toward the tube. "I'm sure you'll love watching me die."
Tobias's fake smile faltered. He took a step towards me, mouth open and ready to protest against me. I stepped in to the tube, smiling as the doors closed before he could say a word. I was plunged into a silence only broken by the sound of my beating heart.
I felt the elevator begin to rise, climbing skywards towards the center of the arena. I began taking deep breaths, feeling the air fill my lungs, holding the breath for a moment, then releasing it through my nose. My heart was beating like a drum, slamming against my ribcage like it was trying to escape. I tried to swallow but found my mouth dry. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of my neck.
"I am Johanna Mason," I spoke aloud. The words seemed to steel my nerves momentarily. "I am seventeen years old. I am from District 7. I. Am. Not. Weak."
The trap door above me opened, letting me into the arena. The hell I was entering greeted me with a baptism of light and cold wind. I blinked hard, standing resolutely against the arena. I will not be defeated, I thought to myself. I will survive.
When I opened my eyes, I was greeted with a clear blue sky, sun shining high overhead. Clouds formed in front of me as I exhaled. A chill ran down my spine, quickly accompanied by a gust of freezing wind blowing through me. Directly in front of me was a ring of platforms, each holding a tribute dressed in the same windbreaker. Some tributes looked nervous. Some tributes looked confident. But no matter what contestant my eyes settled on, they were all looking towards the cornucopia in the center. The metal centerpiece itself was filled to the brim with an array of weaponry, shields, food, water, and other supplies. Between each contestant and the cornucopia was a fifty meters of open, snow covered ground to cover.
The clock counted past thirty. I looked around, focusing not on the other contestants but on the terrain surrounding us. Ten meters behind us, the ground quickly dropped into a steep slope. The center of the arena was a mountain, and we were starting at the top. My heart began beating even faster than before.
Bile formed in my throat as the clock counted past twenty. The wind began picking up, whipping waves of loose snow across the open ground. As the countdown came closer to zero, the wind began blowing harder, stinging my cheeks as it blew small grains of ice across the mountaintop. By the time the countdown reached ten, I couldn't make out the contestants on the other side of the circle. By the time it reached five, I couldn't see five feet in front of me. The top of the mountain was consumed in a blizzard. As the countdown reached zero, the buzzer blared across the mountain and a voice rang "Let the 71st annual Hunger Games begin!"