My heart beat quickens, sweat appears on my palms, on my forehead, on my legs. The escort for District 4 seizes the small slip of paper from the giant glass ball on the stage in front of the Justice Building. I close my eyes and pray, hoping, begging for the best.
"Nitya Viponte!" Calls the escort. Many people groan.. Because it is me who was chosen. My heart seems to stop, and I feel like I'm in a nightmare. Everything seems so surreal suddenly. I take a deep breath, with some difficulty, and force my legs to move. Because I'm in District 4, you would think I would be pleased, honoured even, to be chosen. I would be shouting to the crowd for no one to volunteer for me. Well, it wouldn't matter if I did, because no one will anyway. I'm not your usual District 4 girl. I'm a District 4 girl who is terrified of being chosen for the Hunger Games, just like any other kid in any other District. Apart, of course, from 1 and 2. Because of this, the kids from my District hate me. They're all itching to volunteer, but they hate me so much they'd rather see me suffer than save me by volunteering.
As I mount the steps, I feel the tears coming on. This is my death sentence. There's no way I could survive this. The escort holds her slightly blue hand out to me. Capitol people do the most horrible things to themselves; her whole body is dyed a pale shade of blue. I refuse her hand and stand there before the annoyed yet satisfied crowd. The courtyard in front of the justice building where the Reaping is being held has a beautiful view of the ocean. I've always loved this view, and to think this is the last time I'll ever see it..
"Your turn, boys!" the escort says suddenly. I can't help hating her, she seems so happy about all this, that 23 innocent children will be killed for her entertainment. She plunges her hand into the glass ball for the boys, and grabs a named slip of paper. "Atlas Perthshire!"
I gasp. This boy must be the only one in the whole district who has the same point of view as me.. And, well, I may have a small crush on him. My heart sinks as I remember that, because he's like me, no one will volunteer for him. How can I possibly kill him? Sweet, sexy Atlas. For him, this is also the last time he will see the ocean. I'm seriously in danger of crying now, I try my best to hold back the tears, but eventually I feel one rolling down my cheek. I can't look him in the eyes when we shake hands, but I can feel his boring into me anyway.
When we enter the Justice Building for the hour of goodbyes, I'm taken aback at how luxurious this place is. I've never been inside before, but was never interested. I knew it would be a bit more expensive than everything else in the district, but I never expected an elevator, or velvet carpets and matching, comfortable furniture. When the peacekeepers deposit me in my room I completely break down. I'm still crying when my Dad comes in with my Mum in a makeshift wheelchair.
We sit on the couch and hold each other. I assure them that I will try my hardest to come back. Mum is too sick to probably even notice anything's wrong. She has cancer, we expect her to go any day now. I'm extra thorough with saying goodbye to Mum, because even if I do come back, it's likely she won't be around. After about 15 minutes of hugging, tears, and doubtful reassurances, a peacekeeper escorts them out. I don't expect anyone else to visit me, so I sit down and cry, wondering if I'll ever see my Dad's narrowed green eyes again, or Mum's wispy blonde hair. I cry and cry until the door opens again to admit Atlas' older sister, Lethania.
"Ok, we don't have too much time, I only just got out from Atlas", she says, somewhat urgently. I can tell she only just said her final goodbye to her brother, because she still has tears on her cheeks and her eyes are red and puffy. "I want you to know that even though you're pitted against Atlas, we will still be routing for you. If Atlas can't come home, we want it to be you. The only other decent person in this District."
I smile weakly at this, so at least someone (outside my family) will be supporting me. "Thanks."
"Also, Nitya, please don't tell him I came here. He told me he didn't want me to. He was scared about what I might tell you." She says that last part with a slight smirk, her voice infused with subtle hints of amusement. I stare at her incredulously.
"What doesn't he want me to know?" As soon as I say this I know what her answer will be.
"I'm sorry, Nitya, I don't want to betray my brother's trust. Especially since I may never see him again." Her voice catches at the end of her sentence, and fresh tears start running. I give her a hug, and we sit there together, holding each other, until the peacekeeper comes in to escort Lethania out the door. I suspect my hour is up, it's not like anyone else will want to visit me. Lethania was surprising enough.
The door opens one last time, this also takes me by surprise. The visitor is a vaguely familiar man. He stands tall, but is very thin. He looks around his late twenties. He holds out his hand for me to shake then sits down. I sit down next to him, he doesn't object. We sit in silence for what seems like a lifetime, but must only be seconds. Until he finally opens his mouth.
"You probably don't remember me." He says, I open my mouth, but before I could utter the word "no", he continues. "I taught you to swim when you were young. You were my best student. Remember me now?" I think for a while, then I remember him.
"You're Mr Fourheir!"
"Yes, Nitya ,I'm Mr Fourheir. Please, I think you're old enough to call me by my first name. We are no longer student and teacher. My name is Jourje." I nod. How strange this is; I finished swimming lessons when I was 7. I am now 15, I expected him to forget me as I did him, and yet, he has come to say goodbye. I haven't seen him in years, I'm honestly surprised he's still alive.
He puts his hand in his pocket, and extracts a metal disk attached to a ring of cloth, big enough for you to put around your neck and still hang loosely over your chest. It looks old, worn, and yet I can still see the image engraved upon it. I don't understand what it's supposed to be. It looks like a wave, but why is he showing me this? "What is it?"
"This, is a medal. It has been in my family for generations. Around 500 years ago, in the mid-21st century, our ancestors created a big competition, called The Races. They included swimming races, running races, every kind of race you could imagine. The Races were held every 10 years, I think. About 2 or 3 centuries after they were started, one of my ancestors won the Ocean Swimming Race. This medal, was his reward. It became an heirloom, and now I'm passing it on to you. I hope when you look at it, you will think of home, of who you are and what you an do. I want you to wear it in the arena, as your District Token." He says. I'm extremely taken aback. He's giving me this, as my District token? Something that has been in his family for goodness knows how many generations? "Please." He adds, his eyes looking directly into mine, unblinking, begging. I reach out my hand and grab it slowly.
"I will."
He barely starts to smile when the peacekeeper is dragging him out of the room. My hour is up. I am escorted from the Justice Building to the train station, which is very nearby. I try to conceal my puffy face from the many cameras, and regret crying so much in the last hour. Atlas is walking nearby with our mentor, Savera Odinshoot. She's short with blonde hair and blue eyes. She won her Games by being able to run from the mutts that killed the last 3 competitors. The others tried to run, but none were as agile or fast as her. She's now in her early 20s. I join them and find that they're joking around. Typical Atlas. If I were him, I would be getting some help. We board the train and I feel so relieved that the cameras have finally gone. How will I stand life in the arena, knowing that I don't have a single private moment?
The speed of the train (and I'm not exaggerating when I say this) floors me at first. I've never travelled at such a speed! The fastest I've travelled is on the fishing boat, which averages about 10km/h. I don't like it, I feel like I'm flying to the capitol and could crash any second. I start to get used to it when the escort - whose name is Nalajerie - tells me that afternoon tea is being served.
Oh, the food! I have never seen so much food! I would eat it all if I could, but the speed of the train combined with a full stomach equals sea sickness.. Or rather, train sickness. I bite into some fish soaked in lemon sauce and sea salt. It's so delicious, and reminds me of home. Although it's much tastier. There's also this strange drink.. It's the colour of pee and smells kinda.. Tropical? I don't know the word for it.
"They call it Apple Juice, it's a fruit drink," says Atlas who is already sitting down. "It's kinda bitter, but nice, although if you're feeling sea-sick, I wouldn't recommend it." I feel fine so I try some. He's right, it's nice, but has a bitter aftertaste. I make sure I take the seat beside him and grab some meat that looks like some kind of bird. It tastes nice, and there's some beautiful herbs and spices cooked into the skin. I think there's also some kind of fruity flavour in there somewhere, too.
Savera Odinshoot enters the room and takes the seat opposite us. She's changed into some warmer clothes. I don't blame her, the air in this train is strangely cold. She observes us for a while, during which we continue eating. It seems hours until she finally speaks up.
"You two are the ones that dislike The Games, right? That's why no one volunteered for you?" She says almost matter-of-factly. We both nod, she snorts. "And I thought you two were alright! Ha!" She's bursting out laughing, we just sit there, embarrassed. After about 5 minutes she's still laughing. She seems unable to stop. At this point, I get really annoyed. I stand up suddenly, grab a knife and drive it into the table with such force that it makes a large sound that makes her gasp and clutch her chest for fright.
"Think we're funny, do you?!" I say, loudly, clearly, forcefully, angrily. I glare straight into her eyes which show no fear, but are still wet with the tears of laughter. "I bet you'll be glad to see us gone, then! In fact, why even bother to mentor us?! Since we're so ridiculously lame, there's no point! Well, guess what? We have about the same chances as the average tribute. We want to survive, and you're our mentor. It's your job to help us stay alive! If you're not here to help us, what the hell are you here for?!" Her eyes begin to show anger. My resolve wavers a bit because I know that, if she doesn't like me, she is not likely to help me.
"I am here to help the tributes of District 4 survive. You two don't deserve the honour of this, but you do deserve a slow and painful death.. According to most of our District. I happen to be one of the nicer ones, fortunately for you, so I will help you." She says slowly and poisonously. Every syllable quivers with controlled rage. She has a very high temper, no doubt about that..
"Ok so, how do we survive?" Atlas says. I've never seen him so serious. I'm so used to the happy, laughing Atlas. Where did this sombre young man come from? My stomach gives a jolt as I realise I may never see that laughing boy I fell in love with again. Savera gives us some advice, although she's vague. She gives short, quick answers that don't always completely answer the question. None of us dares ask her to be a bit more direct. After a couple of hours, lunch is served. Nalajerie joins us. She's not the usual escort for our district. But I guess the other lady, Figra, got a bit old. She'd been the escort for our district for 15 years. Probably got bored of the job, I suppose.
Lunch consists of multiple dishes. First we have what Nalajerie called the entreè. We can choose between roast duck soaked in a white sauce that perfectly complements the herbs sprinkled over the surface of the bird's back; a delicious looking soup that is transparent green, with chunks of pear floating around the surface; roasted potatoes with gravy; and vegetables of all shapes and sizes, soaked in a clear, dark liquid that tastes sharp. Next we fill our plates with beef, lamb, rabbit, chicken, any and every meat imaginable. Then we all get bread with butter, and pasta with sauce. Finally, we stuff our faces with exquisitely decorated cupcakes of all flavours; rainbow ice cream; a bright, wobbly substance that Nalajerie calls 'jelly'; and delicious chocolate of all types. Nutty, fruity, plain.. you name it, we have it.
After lunch I get one of the Capitol attendants to show me to my quarters. It's one cart containing a very large bed, a huge wardrobe, and a separate bathroom. I sit on the bed, which has a thick, soft quilt of a green, velvety fabric. The bed immediately moulds to the shape of my butt. Perfection. My bed at home is nowhere near this luxurious. For one, it's not even half the size of this one. For another, to have fabric so soft, is unheard of in any of the districts. Not even in One, where they make luxury items.. Or Eight, where they make textiles. Even to have fabrics with this intensity of colour is rare. You can have coloured, definitely. But to have colour so intense, so dark, costs a fortune. Even in Four, one of the richer districts, few can afford the luxury. Whatever makes up this mattress, you cannot buy in the districts. It is an expensive luxury reserved for the Capitol.
I lie down and begin to drift off, it seems only minutes, no, seconds later Atlas is softly knocking on my door, telling me that dinner is served. I smile as I listen to his voice. So deep, yet still has a bit of that 'boy-whose-voice-is-breaking' sound that most boys our age have. When it goes away, I'm left with nothing. I'm not hungry, since lunch was so big. I decide to get up and have a bath. The bath is much better than my bath at home. At home, we either bathe in the ocean , or we use our tubs. They are built into our homes, are wooden, and just 1 metre squared, and about half as deep. This large white plastic tub, which is roughly twice the size of the one back home, is extremely comfortable. Like the mattress, the plastic somehow moulds to my body while remaining solid. It's truly mind-bending, this Capitol technology.
After my bath I really have nothing else to do but to go out to dinner. Atlas is sitting beside Nalajerie, and on his other side is an empty seat, then there's another empty seat where Savera should be sitting. He is the first to notice me walk in, as Nalajerie is babbling on about how 'privileged' we are to be able to experience the Captiol before we die a painful, gruesome and very public death. Great.
I take my seat beside Atlas. He smiles at me as I sit down, I give a smile back. Nalajerie is perplexed, tributes are not usually friendly to each other after the Reaping. They must kill each other, so why bother? Well, apparently no other Tributes do. Well, then again, Tributes from our District celebrate after the Reaping anyway, they're probably too busy partying to be friendly.
"We'll be arriving in the Capitol in 7 hours" says Savera as she stalks in. She sits down in the vacant seat and stuffs her face with food. She doesn't say a word throughout the course of dinner. Not even when Nalajerie asks where she's been. Judging by what she said when she came in.. My guess is she's been talking to the driver or pilot or whatever the driver of this train is called.
We finish dessert and I say I'm going to bed. It's been a long and terrifying day and I'm exhausted. I collapse into bed in my clothes and find I can't sleep. I don't like lying there awake so I get up and walk out. I can hear voices.. Atlas and Nalajerie. I walk toward their voices and find they're sitting on a couch together watching the recap of the Reapings. I thought I missed them, they are usually played during the day. I sit down, luckily it has only just started and I'm watching the girl from District 1 get Reaped. She has blonde shoulder-length wavy hair and clear blue eyes. She also has a scar on her cheek. Not very long, but it's wide and red compared to her pale skin. I wonder why no one volunteers for her.. She looks quite pleased so she can't have been in my position. They Reap the boy, and another quickly lunges forward to volunteer.
I watch the District 2 Reaping next, the girl is very fit, with brown hair and eyes. No one volunteers for her, either. She looks so deadly, I wouldn't be surprised if it was because she would kill whoever does. The boy is Reaped, then it cuts to the District 3 Reapings. A short, freckly girl with dark hair is chosen, and then the boy. Next is our Reaping. I watch myself get chosen, walk shakily to the stage, and nearly burst into tears. I then watch tall Atlas get chosen and you can nearly see my heart drop. They then cut to District 5. A short redhead girl is chosen, and then a boy with a huge burn up his arm. The tributes of District 6 don't make much of an impression on me, just like most of the boys from the other Districts. District 7 has an extremely tall and fit blonde girl and a short, stocky boy. District 8 Reaps a brunette girl with a strawberry birthmark up one of her arms and onto her neck. The boy is chosen and they cut to District 9. The escort calls out the tributes' names and it cuts over to 10. None of the tributes from 9 or 10 make any impression on me and I forget them quickly. For 11 a rather shaky girl is chosen, then a short, black boy with Asian-style eyes is chosen. He doesn't look happy or sad or even nervous. He occasionally winks at a couple of girls, maybe he thinks he actually has a chance. The District 12 tributes are both short with blonde hair and blue eyes, then the National anthem plays, and the screen fades to black. By now I can only remember a quarter of the tributes.
Blonde girl from 1, Deadly girl from 2, burned boy from 5, tall girl from 7, girl with strawberry birthmark from 8, boy who winked from 11, and that's it. I look at Atlas, the fear in his eyes is crystal clear. A lot of the competition look a lot stronger and deadlier than us. Nalajerie gets up suddenly and exclaims she's going to bed in her loud Capitol accent. For what seems like an eternity we sit there. The atmosphere is so tense, right now I miss the happy joking Atlas more than ever.
"Well, I reckon we're stuffed. There's no way we'll get past any of them! I say we give up now and let them all kill each other while we ride safely home." I say. My attempt at an atmosphere-lightening remark. Epic fail. He smiles though. He looks me in the eyes with that great big smile of his.
"Yeah! Great idea! Let's get out of here!" He gets up and runs out the door into the next room. I know he's joking around. It's not surprise that when I walk out the door to see what he's doing he's waiting beside it to scare me. We laugh together for ages. We collapse onto the ground and just sit there laughing. One wouldn't usually laugh this much for something as simple as this.. But the fact that we can probably count the number of funny times we have left on our fingers makes us cherish the moment as much as possible.
We eventually calm down and I lay down on my back. He sits there for a while longer before getting up and saying he's gonna try and get some rest. I lay there for a while longer before deciding to do the same.
It seems five seconds after I close my eyes that Nalajerie is rapping on my door, commanding me to get up. We'll arrive at the Capitol in 2 hours. I notice it's still dark.. It's probably only 2am. I get up obediently and decide to take another bath.. There's just something calming about these Capitol baths. Maybe it's the warm water.
I finish my bath and get dressed into a blue dress I find in the dresser next to the bed. The blue is the precise shade of the ocean back home, I look at myself in the mirror and burst out crying. The blue dress reminds me too much of home.. That I will never see again. No, there's a chance I will. No of course there isn't. Did I not see the tributes from the other Districts? Deadly, confident, strong and trained. What chance do I stand? And how can I win knowing that to achieve it, Atlas must die? I cannot kill Atlas, nor will I be able to watch him die. It will be far better for me to die before him, then I don't have to suffer the heartbreak. What am I thinking? I'm not going to kill myself nor am I going to try to die. I am going to keep trying my best until the end. Isn't that what I promised my family? Mr Fourheir? I can't let them down. The thought reminds me of the medal Mr Fourheir gave me. I retrieve it from the clothes lying abandoned on the floor and put it on.
When I go out to breakfast I realise I'm still wearing the sea-blue dress when Atlas gapes at it. He must be remembering home, too. We eat breakfast in silence. We haven't seen Savera since dinner last night. I wonder where she's got to. I can just make out the mountain range that encloses the Capitol in the darkness. We'll be there extremely soon. I finish eating and go sit in the room where Atlas, Nalajerie and I watched the recaps of the Reapings. I curl up on one of the lounge chairs and just lie there. Terrified of the coming days. In less than a week the Games will begin. I might be dead in less than a week; if I'm one of the unlucky ones to die on day 1. No, I can't think like that. Must stay positive, must stay alive. Oh, great.. Now I'm thinking about Atlas dying again.
We enter a tunnel and I know we're gonna be there in mere minutes. I walk to the nearest window and watch the lights of the air vents go past until we get out the other side. We travel around a great big lake and then we're surrounded by Capitol reporters and crazed Hunger Games fans. I wave to them, maybe one of them is rich.. They could be my sponsors. The Capitol is amazing. Our seaside shacks and run-down fishing boats are like dead flies on the ground compared to this wonder. This place won't have much competition anywhere.
We pull into the station and Savera runs over to me before we step onto the platform. "They'll take you in for prepping in a few hours.. I won't see you until after then. Don't object no matter what they do to you. You won't like a lot of it.. But just take it. Got it?"
"Got it."
"And don't argue with your stylist.. Whoever he or she is, they know what they're doing. Understand?"
"Yes." I say. I look to my left and find Atlas standing next to me. He's looking at Savera with that very serious expression that does not belong to him.
We pull up at the station and the cameras encircle us. I feel extremely crowded out and try not to push some of the main offenders away. We walk into the training centre and the glass doors close behind us. I watch as the reporters with large cameras try to get the best spot in front of the door, pushing each other and moving from side to side to get the best angle. Blinding lights flash, reporters shout, cameras click. This is all I will ever know for the rest of my life. I have to accept the fact that for the rest of my life, whether I win or not, I will always have cameras pointed in my direction. I need to forget privacy completely.. My life will be very public from this point onwards, and there's nothing I will ever be able to do about it.