The Hunger Games are a very big deal here in the Capitol; they are both a popular source of entertainment and an excuse to display our fabulous wealth. As I child I watched them with both interest and horror, though as I've grown older my fascination with them has slowly waned, until at 17 years of age, I view them with mild indifference.
My parents are obscenely rich, mostly due to my father's position as one of Panem's top surgeons and the fact that as the sole daughter of famous Hunger Games Gamemaker Plato Parnassus, my mother inherited a great deal of wealth from her late parents. Even amongst the Capitol citizens, we are the very best of the best. Our home is an enormous mansion in the coveted suburb of Platinum Ridge, where only the richest are permitted to reside. Even the houses in each District Victor's Village would look shabby and decrepit compared to these palaces.
This is the year of the 74th Annual Hunger Games; the year I will complete my Senior Year at Heavenswood Academy, a very prestigious private school that only the children of the very wealthy attend. I expect to graduate with exceptionally high marks and could probably study anything I please at the University of Panem, though this is not expected of me. Instead, my parents have fond hopes of marrying me off to someone of a suitable social status as soon as I turn 18. This is not the future I had intended for myself, but it is the one that has been chosen for me.
***
I wake up to a beautifully sunny morning on the day of the Reaping. Without even thinking, I press a button on the side of my bed and in moments my maid, an Avox named Lucia, appears to help me begin my day. She walks briskly into the bathroom and with the touch of a few buttons the bathtub is filled with steaming water scented with roses. Within minutes I am neck-deep in the water, enjoying a soothing soak. Eventually, the water becomes tepid, so I drain the bath and wrap myself in two enormous fluffy towels. I wander back into my room to find the bed made and everything tidy; Lucia usually does this first thing in the morning.
I turn and face the mirror, gazing at my reflection – I'm an oddity here, because I don't really look like your typical Capitol citizen. My long, straight hair is its natural colour of blackish-brown which is unusual because so many people colour or restyle their hair. I have smooth, pale skin and grey eyes, my entire body without surgical enhancement or adornment. The only concession I make to Capitol styles is the dark eye makeup I apply with a practised hand, and the shimmering silver jewellery on my wrists, throat and fingers. Slipping into my black silk school dress, I pull on a black leather jacket and black ballet flats, before picking up the designer handbag that serves as a school satchel and walk downstairs into the breakfast room.
Mother is sitting at the head of the table, poring over some gossip rag. Her skin is so highly polished it gleams in the early morning sunlight; this week her eyes are the strangest shade of purple I have ever seen. She peers up at me from her paper and frowns.
"Morning, Artemis. Did you sleep well?" she asks.
"As always, Mother," I mutter, looking down at the cinnamon scrolls on the table instead of at her.
"And how is that lovely young gentleman you went out with the other evening... What was his name? Mars? Jupiter?" she continues, her tone lightening somewhat.
"Mercury was very nice thank-you, but he isn't my type," I reply, my tone an angry hiss, "I'd prefer not to discuss it any further with you."
She's always trying to find me a husband, even though I'm still too young to marry. This last one, Mercury Plantagenet, was nice enough, but also incredibly self-absorbed. It also didn't help that his hair was coloured the exact shade of scarlet that Caesar Flickerman sported during last year's Hunger Games.
"Very well, darling," she says, before smiling coldly, "and are we still determined to look like some drab coalminer's brat from District 12 today?"
"If you're referring to my lack of makeup and physical mutilation in general, then yes Mother, I am," I snarl, before departing the room, a pastry stolen from the table concealed in my hand.
She's right, in a way; I don't look anything like many of the other Capitol citizens, even without the extravagant makeup and extensive surgery. My features very much resemble the female tribute from District 12 about six years ago, Sian Pinewood; she made it to the final 12 during the games, but was killed by a Career tribute. Ever since then, it's been a running joke amongst my family and friends that we must have an ancestor from somewhere in the coal District. I wouldn't be surprised, and I do vaguely remember once seeing a very old, old photograph printed on paper of someone who looks very much like my father, except dressed in old-fashioned clothing, posing with a scrawny, underfed-looking young woman possessing similar features to me. My mother is constantly pressuring me to colour my hair, have my eyes dyed or get some laser tattooing. I do my best to ignore her.
My little sister Athena is already waiting near the front door to go to school; she's very beautiful, my mother's 'little girl'. Even though she's only fourteen, her blonde hair has been artificially lengthened and has silver streaks running through it; she wears coloured contacts to make her grey eyes seem green. Thin, flowing tattoos of flowers and vines circle her wrists and her skin is absolutely flawless. I don't even bother talking to her; she'll just repeat the same sentiments as my mother. Instead, we step outside into the late morning sunshine and into the car waiting for us. Thank goodness that school here in the Capitol does not commence until 1pm, or very many of us would often be late.
As the car rolls smoothly down the driveway, my cellphone beeps with a vid-message from my very best friend, Venus Hathaway. Her voice and image fill the car.
"Artemis, my dear, you'd better not be late for school today! They're showing all of the Reapings today, and you're gonna love it! I caught some of it at home before I left, and there are some great tributes this year; especially this totally gorgeous guy from District One who I'm already dying to sponsor!" she giggles.
The message closes, and I sigh. Ahh yes. Reaping day. Tonight will not be a pleasant evening at my house. Every year just before the Hunger Games, usually on the night of the Reaping, my parents provide myself, my brother Primus and Athena with generous stipends with which to sponsor tributes. Though they would prefer for us to 'back a winner' and donate to a tribute from Districts 1, 2 or 4, we are allowed to sponsor whomever we wish.
My sister and brother love to engage in the heated betting that often accompanies sponsorship ; however I have not spent a single coin of my money since I first began receiving it when was 10. My parents do not like this, as socially powerful families are widely expected to donate to such a 'noble cause'. To be honest, I do not feel like wasting my money on a Career tribute that has so many sponsors she/he hardly needs it and if I backed someone from a poorer District, my money would probably be wasted before the bloodbath was over. Though I have not seen this year's tributes, I expect it to be much of a muchness as it always is.
***