When I wake up, the other side of my bed is cold. It usually is, though, when my electric blanket isn't working. Or maybe it's that my servant isn't in my bed. That's weird, she usually is. Maybe she wet the bed or something again.
Sigh.
I get out of my bed, and get dressed into my favourite turtleneck sweater with a reindeer design on it, and blue jeans. I just love the Christmas season, don't you? There's just one thing wrong: The AmazaGames.
You see, the AmazaGames are this game show that is terrible. The Tilapitol, the crazy town that controls all of the Districts that are conveniently put in a circle around it, loves the AmazaGames. But everybody in my District, District Melve, know that they are terrible. The show makes teenagers sing, dance, act, cook, compete in physical challenges, and show their talent above all else. And if they don't win, they get humiliated on live television.
Horrible, really.
I go outside to be with my friend Male. We always meet in the suburbs out of the city of District Melve. Together, we try to raise money for our families, because we're both super poor. Actually, don't tell Male this, but I'm really rich.
We do dance and singing routines for people on the street.
He's waiting on the corner we usually preform on, with the boombox that my father left me when he died in a shoe store accident.
"Happy Reaping Day!" He says, taking a swig out of a bottle. He always says his bottle is full of tea, but I know it's beer. I wish he'd let me have some, but ooooh noooo, he says I don't need to be an alcoholic. He tells me I'm too young.
He isn't old enough to drink, either.
"Ready?" I say, taking my red and purple striped hat off and putting on my red cowboy boots.
Male presses a button on the boombox, and we start our routine. Nobody gives us money, like usual, but I still love dancing and singing. It's the last thing that my father taught me before he died.
After our routine, I am out of breath. "I hope you don't get picked." I tell him, putting my hat back on.
"I think both of us could survive the AmazaGames, we have talent." He says, ruffling my hat.
"Are you sure? I can't imagine having to be in front of all those people." I say sheepishly.
"We'd just imagine we were on our street. How different can it be, really?" Male asks, rubbing his chin. He's drunk. He always is by the end of our routine, because he drinks too much of his "tea".
When I arrive back home, everybody is up and about. My servant, Trim, who's only twelve and thinks she's a really good writer, much like her best friend Corbin, is all dressed in a pink tutu and bright purple button down. Her blond hair is in a really high ponytail, and she looks nervous. It's her first Reaping this year.
"MOM! I NEED SOMETHING TO WEAR!" I scream, walking through the door and taking off my hat again.
My mother comes into the room holding a white flower-girl type dress and a flower crown. I squeal and run towards it. My mother drops it on the floor and starts to do the hokey-pokey.
She's been like this ever since Dad got crushed by all those shoes.
"Trim, get her." I say with a wave of my hand. Stupid mom always ruins everything. I remember one time I brought my boyfriend home, and he got all freaked out. So what if every part of his body was either covered in tattoos or piercings? I liked him.
I get dressed in the clothes, and curl my hair until I have a bunch of ringlets on the very top of my head. "TRIM!" I scream, even though my servant is right next to me. She covers her ears. "WE'RE LEAVING!"
My servant nods, and follows me out the door.
As I stride down the streets of District Twelve, everybody stares at me. Of course they do, I'm Watchiss Meverleen. Everybody loves me. Well, really, they're staring at Trim, because she's so pretty, but I guess I'm guilty by association. Well.
When we get to the Reaping, everybody is staring at what I'm wearing. I always set the new fashions, and everybody is always really jealous. I spot Male in the crowd, drinking a whole lot of "tea". He always does this on Reaping Days. Nobody in my District wants to be reaped, because it is pretty much the worst thing that could happen to anybody. People from my District never ever win because nobody in our town has any talent. We are all just boring coal miners who can't really do anything but sit down, complain about our stiff backs, and look ugly.
"Welcome to the 74th AmazaGames!" Our escort from the Tilapitol, Pleffie Mrinket, says to us all. We are probably supposed to clap, but none of us do. The AmazaGames are too terrible.
Being from the Tilapitol, she is wearing the weirdest fashions. Pleffie's hair is dyed bright pink. Actually, it's pretty obvious that it's a wig. Most people from the Tilapitol over the age of 10 are bald, so they wear wigs.
The other person on the stage is our AmazaGames mentor, a past Victor named Lame-mitch. He isn't very lame though, in a suit with a dark purple tie, slicked back black hair, and a British accent.
"This year," announces Pleffie, "The theme will be talent! As you know, every year we have a theme, and last year it was underwater, and we got some… er…. Unpleasant results. Our 73rd Victor is Miss Renee Mickey from District 4, because she was the only… tribute who could… stay afloat. ANYWAYS, this year it's talent, and we want to see our lucky boy and girl from this District showing off their best talents!"
It's obviously a lie. The Tilapitol wants us to embarrass ourselves.
"For our girl tribute…" Pleffie pulls a name out of the bowl of girl's names. "Trimnose Meverleen!"
That's my servant! She can't go to the AmazaGames, then who will take care of her so she can take care of my mother and me? There's only one solution.
"I volunteer!" I shout, waving my hands in the air like I just don't care.
"Come on up then!" The escort shouts back, waving back to me. I run up to the stage.
"Name?" Pleffie asks.
"Watchiss Meverleen." I say with my head held high. I feel like crying, and spot Male in the crowd. He sticks his tongue out at me then passes out.
Greeeeat.
"That's, like, so cool!" Pleffie shouts at me. I roll my eyes. She moves to the bowl with the boys. "Cheetah Rellark!"
A blond boy comes up to stand beside me. I know him, he's that kid that threw some burned bread at me when we were eleven.
I hate that kid.
"Let's hear it!" Pleffie shouts. I don't know what she wants to hear, but it's silent. "Dammit." She mutters as we all walk away.