A/N: I had always thought that Glimmer was a character with a lot of potential, but nothing was ever really done with her. So I decided to write the Hunger Games from her point of view, to give her some more depth and show that there is more than meets the eye with her. Please review! Any and all reviews are appreciated. Thanks!
I stood slightly apart from the group of girls that were huddled like sheep, with their wide eyes and dopey expressions. Any other day, I would have joined in on their gossip simply for lack of anything better to do. However, it all just felt too petty at the moment. I barely even heard their murmurs, barely felt the wind gently tossing my long blonde hair into my face.
The reaping was the most important day of the year to me. The most important day of the year to anyone in District One. Here, getting your name chosen was an honor. We were trained our whole lives for this — I myself had trained three hours each day since the age of eight, learning what tactics would get the most sponsors, who to pick for alliances, and, most importantly, how to fight to the death. Sure, I had heard stories of Districts 11 and 12, about not having enough food, dying in the streets, praying to not be selected as a tribute. But they always seemed like myths to me, like the scary stories that parents told little children to get them to behave.
I hadn't gone all-out for the occasion like some of my shallower friends had. My hair hung straight and shiny down to my waist, and I was dressed in a simple lace shirt, a frilly skirt, and flats. However, it was enough. Every eye in the vicinity was on me.
I knew I was beautiful. People had told me so ever since I was a little girl. When I walked into a room, everyone would stop and stare for a moment before snapping out of it and continuing with their activities. Strangers would come up to me on a daily basis and say, "Wow, you're gorgeous." It wasn't really even a compliment anymore, just a part of my life, like knowing my own name.
Our district's escort, Kamilia Myers, stepped up to the stage and a hush ran over the crowd. Kamilia had slowly been promoted from district to district, and now she was in District One, the cream of the crop. It was her first year here, and she looked a bit dazzled. I smirked slightly-I would have done ten times better up there. "Welcome to the 74th annual Hunger Games!" she trilled. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Her six-inch heels clicked on the ground as she walked over to the ball containing the girls' names. Nearly everyone entered their name a bunch of times here, not for the meager grain that they gave you (everyone threw that away when they received it) but because they wanted to be in the Hunger Games.
Whether it was because I was beautiful or because I lived in District One, I had gotten everything I ever wanted. I was born to a high-ranking official, in charge of manufacturing fine lace and silk and sending it to the Capitol. We lived in a nice house with a big yard just a few blocks away from the town square. Any material thing that I desired, I immediately owned. Every boy in the district lusted after me, and girls clamored to be my friend. My life was perfect.
However, there was one thing that neither my beauty nor my parents could get me: a home in the Capitol. Every year, our class traveled there on a field trip. From the very first visit, I had been enthralled by the huge buildings, the colorful streets, the people with their made-up faces and eccentric clothing. Yes, I came from the finest district in Panem, but this was a whole other level of living.
There was one problem: you didn't just get up and change districts. People stayed in the district they were born into. Even the spoiled citizens of District One, the pets of the Capitol, had to make do with the district that they grew up in.
As far as I knew, there were only two ways to be granted life in the Capitol. The first was marriage. However, the odds of meeting someone on one of my passing visits to the Capitol was very slim, and besides, I wanted to be able to provide for myself. After all, just because I was beautiful did not mean that I wanted to end up as some trophy wife, nothing more than property of her husband.
There was one other option: winning the Hunger Games. The winner was always showered with fame and fortune, as well as attention from the Capitol. The less remarkable winners faded into the background after a few months, yes, but I just knew that I would have a ticket to a life in the Capitol if I won. I just had to get into the Games first.
Kamilia dug deep into the clear bowl of names. We heard her perfectly manicured fingernails scrape the bottom of the glass, and then she retreated back to the microphone with a slip of paper in her hand. I barely had time to hope before she opened the paper and crisply read, "Glimmer Alvarest."
My mouth dropped open in shock, a whoosh of air coming out. However, I quickly arranged my face into a winning smile. The reapings were live on television, and I needed to start racking up the sponsors as quickly as possible. I briefly registered my friends congratulating me, some tearing up because they hadn't been chosen. Babies, I thought to myself.
I extracted myself from my little posse and strutted through the cheering crowd towards the stage. Kamilia's face briefly flickered with shock at how stunning I was, then she composed it into a smile. "Congratulations," she chirped. Turning to the crowd, she asked, "Any volunteers?"
I wasn't worried about anyone volunteering in my place. Everyone in town knew how much I had desired this, and no one wanted to be on my bad side. Just as a reminder, I raised a single, sharp eyebrow at the crowd, my expression saying Don't you dare. My wishes were respected: the only sound was the wind whistling through the trees.
Kamilia nodded. "Alright, now for the boys!" She didn't dig deep into the boys' bowl, simply plucking a name off of the top. "Marvel Adams!"
A boy with light brown hair, dark eyes, and deep dimples ran up to the stage, pumping his fist in the air. I had seen him around school, but he wasn't a friend of mine by any means. Marvel was a bit taller than me and buff enough, but didn't look like too much competition. To me, he looked like the kind of boy that thought he was so tough and acted all badass, but secretly wrote his feelings into a diary at night, or something of the sort. The kind of boy that could be very easily manipulated as long as you let him think he was in charge.
There was one more reason that I had always gotten everything I wanted, other than my beauty and my birth status.
I could read people like no one else. And because I could read people, I could easily manipulate them.
I read my parents and knew just when to ask for more things. I read the boys at school and knew who to lead on and who to play hard-to-get with. I read my friends and knew who to respect, who I could control, and who would let me push their buttons as much as I wanted to. It was a natural skill, and I used it to it's fullest extent.
Marvel and I shook hands. I shot him a coy smile, and he grinned back at me, looking surprised and pleased. We then allowed ourselves to be led off the stage and into the Town Hall building by Peacekeepers. The one leading me started to take my arm, but I raised an eyebrow coolly at him and he let go immediately.
They sat me in a room with plush cushions, velvet couches and carpets, and crystal chandeliers. Nothing too fancy. I laid down on the couch and let it all sink in. I was going into the Hunger Games! It was really happening! Fortune, fame, and a home in the Capitol were right around the corner! I giggled gleefully to myself.
After a few minutes, the visitors started pouring in. First my main group of friends, all squealing and shrieking in excitement, a few moaning about how they hadn't been picked. I let them chatter on for awhile before the Peacekeepers came and escorted them out.
Then it was boy after boy, some shyly wishing me luck, some promising that they would sponsor me if I needed help. A few outwardly told me how much they loved me, how they always had, how they believed I could win this, blah blah blah. I smiled, told several I loved them too, even burst into grateful tears when the moment called for it. After all, if I didn't play the part convincingly, those were just a few less sponsors for me.
Finally, the door opened one last time and my parents came in. "We're so proud of you, sweetie," they told me, tears running down my mother's cheeks.
I hugged them, sweetly thanked them, and told my mom not to worry, I had this in the bag. "Well, in case you ever need a little help..." my father started, pulling a gorgeous ring out of his pocket. "We've been saving this for a while, for if you ever made it to the Hunger Games. It can be your token from your district."
I took it questioningly, unsure of how this would help me in the Games. My parents smiled and motioned for me to twist it. I did, and a poisoned spike popped out. My face broke into a smile. "Yes," I whispered. Apparently my parents had no more qualms about cheating than I did.
They both kissed my forehead one last time, then the Peacekeepers knocked on the door. "Time to board the train, ma'am," they hesitantly told me. I smirked: I had a feeling that they wouldn't call just any tribute ma'am.
I walked through the gilded halls of the Town Hall one last time, then boarded the train that would take me away to my fate. There was no fear in me, just a desire to start training and scheming. These bitches had no idea who they were dealing with.
