On the train ride to the Capital, I think about my past. I remember learning about why we have the Games. 74 years ago, Panem's 13 districts rebelled against the Capital. The Capital won, destroyed District 13, and created the annual Hunger Games. Every year, they picked two tributes from each district: one male, one female in between the ages 12-18 to fight to the death on live television that was aired all over Panem until a lone victor remained. It was for the Capital's pure entertainment and for the districts' absolute devastation and sorrow.
Before I left, Tally came up to me and tearfully gave me a beautiful woven bracelet made from grasses that she had dyed herself. This was to be my token, the only thing from home I could bring into the arena. "Finch," she had said. "Please come back soon." I crossed my heart.
Suddenly I'm back on the train, looking at the trees whizzing by at 200 miles per an hour. I sigh sadly and gaze into my amber eyes in the window's reflection. I feel my self start to drift to sleep when Reesha opens the door and informs me that they are announcing the other tributes on the television. I take one last look outside the window and start towards the door. When I open it I am greeted by a cozy atmosphere. Reesha and Inigo are sitting around the television on colorful poufs. I pick out a pouf in the lovely shade of lavender and anxiously await the program. The seal of Panem lights up the screen and the anthem begins to play. They start with footage from District one. Nothing more than the usual happens, just a pair named those ridiculous names: Marvel and Glimmer. Ugh. In District 2 the tributes, one volunteered, are named Cato and Clove. A couple more districts and we're at 5. I see myself walk nervously to the stage followed closely by Inigo. Nothing much happens after that and I feel myself drifting away and I snap back in just in time to see 11 deliver a small girl and a large boy, an interesting combination. Then, finally, we're at 12. Something grabs my attention and I lean in on my pouf. They call a small girl and then an older girl, probably about 16, volunteers frantically. There hasn't been a volunteer from 12 in a decade! The older girl's name is Katniss Everdeen. Her fellow tribute is called. His name is Peeta Mellark. They shake hands and Katniss looks uncomfortable for some reason. I'm sure it's nothing.
After the program, Reesha leads us to the dining cart. We have a feast set out before us, most of the dishes I don't recognize. Pretty soon I'm full and regretting eating all the rich foods. I groan and excuse myself back to my car. I craw into bed in my new silk pajamas and rest my head on a feather pillow. The reaping in 12 replays in my mind and I see the desperation in Katniss's eyes. She wants to win this thing as much as I do. In the arena she will be determined and won't go down without a fight. Neither will I.
