Chapter 1: Wake Up Call

I woke up in that state of panic that you get when you're in a bed that isn't your own. It didn't take me long to remember, though. The realization of my situation was like a punch in the face (which I was sure to receive plenty of in the weeks to come). This is the third morning in a row that I've had this happen. I took a deep breath to calm down, and every breath after that seemed like a blessing. I kept wishing I could lock them away to save for later. The breath did little to ease my tension and anxiety, and I subconsciously squeezed my fist into the plush sheets I was tangled in.

A knock at my door sent a sound that echoed loudly through the room. It sounded suspiciously like the cannons. Another wave of panic shot through me once I remembered that a cannon would signify my demise in the near future.
Her voice was loud and painful to my ears, even though it was muffled by the door. "Pet, breakfast in fifteen." She barked. I winced at her harsh tone. Why did she have to be so... bitter? She called out to me again, but I didn't listen. I pulled a pillow from underneath my head and slammed it onto my face, groaning loudly. Mags would be irritated, but they were sending me to die in a few days. I should be allowed some attitude.
No matter how much I wanted to lay in bed all morning, my stomach was nearly screaming for food. With a loud, dramatic sigh, I threw the pillow across the room and flung the blankets off of me. I pushed myself up into a sitting position with my elbows. I stood up too quickly, because I felt dizzy for a moment. I could see myself in the vanity mirror across the room. I nearly cringed. My hair was tangled and my eyelids were smudged with makeup leftover from yesterday. My mother, if she had seen me now, would have joked that elves snuck into my room in the night and tied my hair in tiny, individual knots. I smiled at the thought and walked into the bathroom adjacent to my temporary bedroom.
I stripped out of the blue silk pajamas that the Capitol had supplied me with and dropped them onto the tile floor. The door was left ajar, but I didn't care. The bedroom door was locked, so I was sure no one would be coming in. Not even him.
Once I was completely nude, I pushed three buttons on the intricate shower before me. The water turned on, and to test the temperature, I ran my hand underneath it. It was perfect, as usual. I stepped inside and closed the glass door behind me. The force of the water was so strong that it felt like tiny pebbles trickling onto my bare back. The feeling of being surrounded by water reminded me of home, and I rested my head calmly against the wall.

I was eight years old. Dad cast his line and smiled down at me. He made fishing look so easy! I tried to smile back up at him, but the gesture looked more like a cringe from the sun in my eyes. I held my pole tightly to my chest, afraid to cast it and humiliate myself with my lack of experience. His line was slightly loose, hanging in the water perfectly still. In the blink of an eye, it tightened and began to pull away from him. He caught one!
He pulled it towards him and up, and started to reel it in. I stood in awe, and I accidentally dropped my own pole to the ground. The usually calm water rippled violently as a trout flew from its dark blue surface. I could see the hook lodged in its lip. It started to flop around desperately, and my eyes started to water. I grabbed onto my father's pant leg.
"Daddy, you're hurting it! Put it back! Let it go!" I pleaded. He looked down at me. He wasn't smiling, though. His eyes were completely serious. He looked at me for a moment before nodding and kneeling onto the wet grass. He didn't care that his pants would dampen. He held the helpless fish carefully. I stood by his side silently, and realized with a smile that I was the same height as he was while he knelt.
I had never seen him concentrate so intently as he had in this moment. He slowly twisted the hook in such a way that I could almost see the relief in the trout's eyes. After the hook was successfully removed, my dad held the fish out to me. I held it carefully in my small hands, afraid to hurt it.
But it was in vain. I had waited too long to put it back. It stopped flopping around in my hands suddenly. In a moment of panic, I threw it into the water. But rather than swimming away like I thought it would, it floated back up to the surface. I ran into the water until it was up to my neck and picked up the fish. I screamed at it through sobs, insisting that it woke up.
In a second, my father was behind me with a firm hand on my shoulder. He said that it wasn't my fault, but it died in my hands. I knew I'd killed it.

I raised my head from the wall and frowned. That was the last time I'd gone fishing with my father. I'd gone with Delphie and Ash and on my own, but not with him. Every time he would invite me, I would remember the dead trout in my hands. The way it's eyes seemed to be frozen. The way it floated in the water. I would immediately refuse.
Delphie, my older sister, used to joke that I shouldn't have been born in District 4, but rather in District 7. I would always climb trees. Delphie would have to help me down, though. Getting up and getting back down are two very different things.

I was 10, sitting in the highest branch of the oak tree that could support me. I could see Delphie way down on the ground, arms crossed in their usual manner. I had been sitting in that branch for an hour and a half before Del had heard me calling for help.
She was annoyed, to say the least. She had been fishing in a nearby pond when I realized how high up I'd climbed. When she heard me screaming, she rushed over.
"Pet, just put your right foot on the branch below you and your left on that branch right there." Del called up to me, pointing vaguely at the tree. She was so far away, and I couldn't tell which branches she meant. I was terrified, but I trusted her with my life. I put my right foot cautiously on the branch directly underneath me. I clutched onto the branch I was currently on for dear life, and dropped my left foot onto a random branch. It turned out to be the one Del was talking about due to her words of encouragement.
"Good job, honey. Now just do that again!" She called up. She'd done this many times before, but I'd never been up quite this high.
I managed to drop down about ten feet without her help, but I foolishly looked down at her. This in itself was enough to shatter any courage I had had. I scrambled over to the base of the tree and hugged it, trying to keep my breathing even. Hot tears ran down my cheeks and I felt a searing pain on my right forearm. I looked, and saw a scary amount of blood. I had scraped it on a broken branch in my panic.
"Pet, sweetie, what's wrong?" I could hear the worry in her voice. When I didn't respond, she stepped away from the tree in an attempt to see me again. "Honey, what's going on?" My arm was still bleeding, painting the tree crimson. My silence drove Del over the edge and she began to quickly climb the tree to get to me. I sat still, not knowing what to do. Delphie got to my branch and sat next to me awkwardly.
"Sweetie, c'mon. You're okay." She whispered soothingly. Unfortunately, her soothing tone disappeared once she saw my arm. "Oh my gosh, Pet, what happened?" She shouted. I didn't say a word and shrugged, staring at the tree. She unwrapped my arms from around it and looked at my wound. Her wince was painfully obvious.
That's when the branch we were on snapped.

I looked at my right arm. The scar was more visible than I would have liked it to be. On my other arm, there were scars that formed a criss-cross pattern on my wrist. This was from teaching myself to fish, which admittedly wasn't the best idea. I could have asked Del to help me, but I preferred doing things alone.
I shook my head, shoulder length hair flying in each direction. I stepped out of the shower and pressed a small black button to shut the flow of water off. I wrapped a plush, periwinkle towel around me, and a second towel around my hair. I walked into the bedroom and saw that my bed was made. This struck a nerve in me. Of course, I have no privacy. The Capitol has taken everything from me. My family, my 'friends', my house, my home, my privacy, and soon enough they'd be indirectly taking my life.
I sighed in annoyance and got dressed. I put on a plain black tank top with blue sweatpants. Underneath I wore a grey sports bra and plain white underwear. No socks, though. I much preferred bare feet. Mags would hate it, but I didn't really care.
I checked the time on the clock hanging on the dark blue walls. Mags told me about breakfast half an hour ago. I was late. I smirked slightly. I opened my bedroom door and walked towards the dining room. An array of smells hit me like a ton of bricks. Oatmeal., bacon, fresh fruit, freshly baked bread, tea, coffee, and other smells I couldn't recognize. But by the time I reached the 12 person table, only Mags sat there. Her plate, full of food, sat untouched in front of her. The other plates around her were dirty and had obviously already been eaten off of.
"You're late." She stated bluntly, staring at me intensely. If looks could kill, she'd already have killed my family and I.
"I had to shower." I said nonchalantly.
"You didn't have to do anything." She scolded. I decided to throw a curveball.
"You know, you look really pretty today, Mags." I said with a smile. That certainly caught her off guard, and she blushed a bit. Her eyes avoided mine, not knowing how to handle the compliment. I shrugged and sat across the table from her. I immediately began to shovel food on my plate. Once it was nearly overflowing, I began to eat as quickly as possible. Once I had taken my first bite, Mags took hers. I had finished half of my plate, maybe more, when she broke the silence.
"So you made an alliance last night?" She mumbled. This caught me off guard, and I nearly choked on an apple slice that was in my mouth. I was lucky and didn't choke. Instead, I went into a fit of violent coughing. Of all of the things she could have asked!
Once I could breath again, I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I did."
"Why her though?"
"Because I think she actually has a chance. She seems strong, both physically and mentally. I think that District 12 might get their first victor."
"Buy why not the careers?"
I scoffed. "Those narcissistic douchenozzles? No way in hell."
"Pet!"
I held up my hands defensively. She looked appalled, but I shrugged it off and continued eating. Too bad she wasn't done harassing me.
"Training starts today." She mumbled, then took a bite of a pancake.
I slammed my silverware down onto the table and shot her a fake look of shock. I attracted the attention of some nearby Avox's, but I didn't care. "No way! Really?" I ran a hand through my still damp hair, "Next thing I know you'll be telling me I'm a tribute in the Hunger Games or something!" I shouted sarcastically.
However, Mags was not amused. Her face showed no expression whatsoever, and she pushed her chair back and stood up abruptly. "I'm done eating. Be ready in 30 minutes," and she walked away without a sound.
I finished my breakfast in silence. Just as I was about to get up and leave, he walked in.
"Morning, Pet."
"Piss off, Ash." I spat. I stood up without looking at him and held up my middle finger in his general direction.
"I was just being nice. Can't you go ten minutes without being rude to me?"
"Can't you go ten minutes without pissing me off?" I yelled. It wasn't much of a comeback, but I was in no mood to talk to him. I walked into my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. It may have made me a bad person, but I absolutely couldn't wait to kill him.

On my bed was the outfit I assumed to be my training uniform. There were the usual undergarments, a pair of black spandex pants that went down to my mid thigh, a black tank top who's straps were bound to confuse the hell out of me and blue pipe-like patterns up the sides and along the seams, and a light grey jacket made from the same material as the pants and shirt. Wearing them would show off my figure, lack of curves and all. On the side lay thick black socks, and heavy boots to match. The colours reminded me of District 12.
I put on the outfit quickly, eager to see how I looked. As I expected, it all fit me perfectly (and the straps of the tank top took me longer than it should have to figure them out). I walked over to the vanity mirror and stared. The fabric stuck to my skin, but not uncomfortably. It accentuated my hips and made me look prettier than I've ever looked before. Even prettier than the night before with my flowing dress and pearl-laced hair (which, admittedly, was not pretty at all). The way they dressed me felt gaudy and … just wrong. It wasn't me. My family probably didn't recognize me. Not at first, at least.

I sat still as Delphie braided my hair. I wore my blue dress shirt with a black skirt. This is my second year with Del's old outfit. It fit me well. Not perfectly -it was still too big around the waist- but well. I couldn't complain, though. Anything was better than my old dress. I hated it with such a passion that when Del outgrew hers, I threw my pink frilly disaster into the largest lake of District Four. I haven't seen it since then, and whenever my Mother would ask me about it, I said that a mermaid took it. She never found it funny.
Delphie tied the end of my hair with a rubber band. I reached around and gently felt the braid. We called it a Fish-tail braid, which I thought was funny considering we were the fishing district. Delphie turned me around by my shoulders. She looked me over, smoothing out me shirt where it needed it. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and smiled at me.
"Beautiful, Pet. You look absolutely beautiful." She said softly. I tried to smile back, but it was nearly impossible. The fear of my name being picked was overwhelming. She must not have noticed, because she pulled me into a warm hug. I wanted to stay in her arms forever, but my father walked in to send me out.
"Pet, it's time to go," My dad said calmly. I could tell that he was pushing every inch of worry or fear so far down that it wouldn't come back up for a long time. I pulled away from my sister and nodded. Del reached down and kissed my forehead gently. I wanted to remind her that since she was 19, she wouldn't have to worry. But she would have no matter what I told her. She would worry for me.
Delphie grabbed my hand tightly. She led me towards the door and pushed it open, taking us outside.

It was a beautiful day outside, really. The nicest reaping weather that I could remember. The sun was shining bright, dimmed slightly by light and fluffy clouds. The wind blew softly, but enough to make the sections of hair too short to braid flying into my face. The wind smelled like the nearby lake, and a little salty. I wished that, rather than going to the reaping, I could run off and swim all day. Or maybe fish.
Del and I reached the town square quite early. I expected her to let go of my hand and allow me to join the other 16 year old girls in the predetermined roped off section. Instead, she grabbed my other hand and looked at me. I could see the terror in her eyes.
"Pet, listen to me. No matter what happens, you'll be okay."She whispered. I knew she was trying to reassure me.
"If I get picked... What then?"
"You'll be okay," She continued to look at me with those wide, brown eyes.
"How do you know that?"
"I'm your sister. I just know," She said with a smile.
"Of course you do," I teased.
Again, she kissed my forehead. Then she let go. I walked over to where the other girls my age stood. I saw some acquaintances. No friends. My only friend was Del. I looked around. Across from us was the roped off section for the 16 year old boys. Behind us were the 15 year olds, then 14's, and so on until it ended with the 12 year olds. Ahead of us stood the 17's and 18's. Each section was packed to the brim with neatly dressed children, standing perfectly still and remaining silent. All were mentally preparing themselves for the reaping. For the possibility of having their name read. The 12 year olds looked more scared than any other age group. In reality, they shouldn't be as scared as the 18's, or even the 16's. If they didn't sign up for the tesserae, their name would only be in there once. I didn't want to think of how many times my name was in there. How many slips of white paper had my name written neatly in black. Delphie had had many more slips than me, but she was 19 now. She was safe.
I heard the clock tower down the street chime.
Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong.
Ten in the morning. It was time.
On the huge stage before us was a podium. Ten feet to the left was a large glass bowl filled with all of the girls' names. Ten to the right, an identical bowl with the boys'. Behind it all was a large screen and three chairs.
The mayor of our district walked up to the podium. He was a short, plump man with orange hair that went down to his ears. When he reached the podium, he tapped the microphone with a fat finger. He cleared his throat so loud that even the peacekeepers, standing behind all of the citizens, could hear him.
"Welcome, District Four," He announced, faking a smile that didn't match his tone. "Happy Hunger Games! Please give a warm welcome to our one and only, Agusta Carrosella!"
Agusta was certainly something. She was about 5'7, and thinner than I was. Her hair was an outstanding shade of blue (it was orange last year) and cut pixie-like. Her eyelashes were pink and glittering, longer than ever before. Her makeup was a horrid creation of the capitol. She didn't look human. But, come to think of it, no one from the capitol did.
She was dressed in a very poofy aquamarine gown. The shoulders themselves seemed like individual puffer fish. Her shoes had heels about 7 inches high, making her tower over everyone else. Her hands seemed surreal, shining in the sunlight.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Agusta called out in her peppy, british accent. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
I mouthed the last part as she said it. I'd heard that phrase every year of my life up until now. 16 years. Agusta set off into her speech about the revolution. After the story, she had us watch the video of how the games came to be. 16th time I've seen that, too. But then, once it was over, she cleared her throat. We hadn't been focusing during the video, but now we watched her again.
"Now, let us see which young lady will be our tribute in the 24th Annual Hunger Games!" My heart seemed to stop. The whole square fell absolutely silent. Not a single whisper or murmur escaped from the mass of people. All eyes were on Agusta. She walked over the the left bowl. Each step sent the click of the heels echoing throughout the square. She took a deep breath, as if she was worried. She reached her long, thin fingers in and closed her eyes. They waved around gracefully, hovering over the slips of paper, before unceremoniously shoving her whole hand into the pile. In the blink of an eye, her hand flew back out with one slip in her fingertips. She walked back over to the podium and with her inhuman fingernails, she unfolded the slip.
"Pet Palmios!"

My heart stopped. It wasn't an exaggeration or a hyperbole. I couldn't breathe anymore. I hadn't just imagined it like so many times in my nightmares. She said it. She said my name. I started to walk towards the stage. I could hear Delphie screaming. She was volunteering. But she couldn't take my place. She was too old. The peacekeepers held her back, but they couldn't hold back her screams.

I heard Mags knocking at my door. I knew it was her before she spoke, because her knock was always the same. Four legato knocks.
"Are you ready?" She shouted. Instead of answering, I opened the door and nodded. Mags stepped to the side and held her arm out, gesturing for me to 'lead the way'. Ash was already waiting for us at the elevator, dressed the same as me. He smiled softly at me, but I just scowled. Mags pushed the down button, then turned to Ash and I.
"Listen to me. Don't interrupt, just listen." We stared blankly at her, surprised at her sudden change in mood. "I realize that you two don't get along. But if either of you want even the smallest chance at survival, you'll have to be civil towards each other. Do you understand?"She asked, annoyance present in her usually monotone voice.
"Yes, ma'am." Ash said sincerely. Mags looked at me. I really didn't want to be civil to him. He cheated on me and told me on our four month anniversary. Being civil was the last thing on my mind. But, being who I am, I rolled my eyes and nodded.

"Shake hands," Mags ordered. Ash held out his hand to me. I stared at it for a minute, not moving. "Pet," She warned. I sighed dramatically and shook his hand. It was smooth. I remembered that, when we used to hold hands while walking home from school together, his were always incredibly smooth. I could never figure out how, though.

I realized that I still had his hand in a death grip and I let go. It was a bit sweaty, and I rubbed it off on my pants. He smiled at me again. As I was about to curse my mouth off at him, the elevator doors slid open silently. Ash walked in, followed by Mags, then me.

I learned yesterday that I don't handle elevators very well. On my way up last night, I vomited on the carpeted floor from what could only be described as motion sickness. The Avox on this elevator wasn't happy, and I was glad that she wasn't able to complain.

This time, I just had to close my eyes. That's the advice Agusta had given me. I stepped inside and looked around. The walls were a light blue, and I assumed that they were velvet. The carpet was a darker blue than the walls and looked twice as soft. I wanted to take off my boots and wool socks so I could enjoy it. Unfortunately, we were only on the 6th floor. I wouldn't have time before we reached the training floor.

Mags reached past me and pressed the button at the bottom. The doors slid closed and the elevator began to descend. I saw all of the buttons surrounding the button that, along with a hologram, read 'Training Center'. I didn't want to close my eyes. Along with the recently pressed button, there were buttons 1-14. I knew that the 3rd floor was for District 1, 4th for District 2, and so on. We were on the 6th floor. It wasn't too high up compared to District 12, who stayed on the 14th floor. Each button came with a touch activated hologram that served as a label.

Thinking of District 12 reminded me of Ilaina. Meeting her last night was the only good thing to happen since my name was called. She was very pretty. Prettier than I was. Her eyes were brown, but in a way that made them look like chocolate. I knew that she'd be getting quite a bit of sponsors. In some ways, she reminded me of Delphie. Kind of introverted, but still very nice. They had the same eyes and hair. They were around the same height, and had similar eye shape.

She had more of a chance of survival than I did. More than her district partner (whose name I forget), more than the tributes from 9, 10, and 11. I didn't have a chance at being victor. Not at all. But that didn't mean I was completely useless in the games. I could swim, I could climb, I could fish, I could hide, I could get my own food, and I was a fantastic liar. With Ilaina on my side, I may survive longer than I thought. But, if anyone should win the games this year, it should be her.

I was surprised that no one got on the elevator with us. It made me wonder if maybe the elevator was just for our district. It came to a gentle stop. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ash and Mags against the soft wall, most likely avoiding any possible motion sickness on my part.

"Well, here we go." Mags mused softly. The doors opened. The training room was unlike any room I'd imagined.

Here we go indeed.