Chapter 2

When I wake up in the morning, I roll over to my side and fall back asleep again. Then I wake up for a second time, flip onto my back this time, and fall asleep again. When I wake up next, I'm laying on the floor, cradling the vase that was sitting on my bedside table. Hm. Weird.

I abandon my attempts on sleeping and decide to get dressed. I see a glint of gold on the floor and remember the pin that Marge gave. Taking a closer look, I see that the pin is really a lovely gold bird—at least, I think it's lovely. I can't really tell, the head of the bird has snapped off. The bird is surrounded by a thick circle. There are thin little gold bars running vertically across the whole pin. Like a jail cell!

It's my favorite piece of jewelry yet. Actually, it's my only piece of jewelry.

I find a scarf that I use to wrap around my body and act as a shirt, dress, and pant outfit all rolled up into one. I moonwalk down the hallway to the dining car.

Haymill is sitting in a rocking chair in the corner, with a gallon jug of Welch's grape juice in his hands. Peetal is combing his hair and checking his reflection in a spoon, smiling and winking and letting out the occasional giggle.

Haymill glances up as I walk into the room.

"Look, it's cutie-patootie!"

"Katnit!" I huff.

"Of course," he says.

Just then, Effel runs in.

"Pleebop hulu to smackbok tra crich, crich, crich pray!" she squeals happily. Peetal and I look to Haymill for translation, who shrugs and gives it his best shot.

"Today's a ketchup of big, big, big egg. I think."

"Harte!"

"No, that's not right. Say it again, Effel."

"Pleebop hulu to smackbok tra crich, crich, crich pray!" Effel tries again.

"Ahhh… Today's going to be a big, big, big day." Haymill tips his grape juice bottle up and downs a quarter of it, dribbling purple juice down his shirt. The dribbles create lots of purple polka dots on his shirt. I may have to borrow it sometime.

"So, Haymill," I say casually. "Aren't you supposed to give us advice about the Games?"

Haymill shrugs, looking unconcerned. "Well, technically, but psh! You guys look so… I mean, you're just so… tough and strong. You don't need my help."

I nod. Tough and strong—that's very true. I kill spiders for my mother all the time at home, and trust me—those suckers are fast.

Peetal nods as well, setting down his spoon and doing a final fluff-up on his hair.

Effel draws our attention to the train window with a shriek, pointing out the window.

"It's the Capitol!" I say. I'm really starting to understand Effel.

"Harte!" Effel squeals.

"No, no, not the Capitol," Haymill says. "It's a spider. There's a spider on the window."

"No way!" I cry, leaping up. "Let me kill it! I'm excellent at that."

But there's nothing near for me to smash the bug with, and so I take Peetal's head and crush the bug with it, smashing his head right into the window. He was sitting closest.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

The moment the train pulls stops, Peacekeepers rush in to grab Peetal—who's still whining about the bug guts in his hair—and me. This time, they scoop us up like married people on their wedding day. It would've been rather cozy, but I recommended some deodorant to my Peackeeper. Very kindly, of course

I am ushered into a plan looking room, with one huge white chair in the middle. It's surrounded with cart and little tables, and there are ropes and little metal wires protruding from the seat. One thought crosses my mind—torture device.

My second thought is run. I turn and try to race out of the room, but my Peackeeper grabs me and tosses me onto a chair.

Like some sort of human bait, I see three blobs of color come rushing out of the shadows, drawn to me.

"Katnit!"

"Hello Katnit!"

"Sup?"

The weird blobs are grabbing the wires and ropes and strapping me to the seat.

"Hoooold still!"

"HEY! Don't bite!"

"Oh my God! She drew blood!"

Finally, I am left strugging against the restraints while three people line up in front of me, finished tying me down. I stretch my foot out and attempt to pinch them between my two toes.

The three odd people line up in front me, and I scream. I had been developing a growing suspicion that these three blobs were not people, but I was wrong. It was worse. Each one had fallen victim to the ridiculous Capitol fashions. Possibly even the worse fashion yet.

Face rearranging.

"I'm Venius!" screeched a woman with eyes on either side of her head, and a mouth under her chin. She had to tilt her head back to talk to me.

"I'm Flavia," said a guy, turning around to talk me. He had eyes in the back of his head, and a mouth on top of it.

"And I'm Activia," a woman—I think—beams, with one mouth on either side of her head.

The rest of their facial features are arranged in odd places over the rest of their head, so to hear and see and talk to me, they have to constantly keep turning around and around.

"I'm Megan Fox," I say slyly, because I don't want these people hunting me down for a cup of tea or something. But instead of just accepting this—in my defense, I think I look just like Megan Fox—they burst into laughter.

"Bahahaha… SILLY!" Venius cackles. "You're Katnit Everbean!"

"Oh, oops. I forgot."

For the next three hours, they use a tweezers to pluck every single piece of hair from my body (Even my toe hairs!), make me take a shower in acid rain, and they sing little songs when doing this. It's absolute torture.

Finally, they attack my face with little brushes and sticks of globby mascara, and finish everything off by putting me in a lovely blue dress with a matching shawl.

"Awwww, she looks so precious!" they coo. "Let's call Chinna!"

They cartwheel out of the room, except for Activia, who's a little pudgy and has to lay down and roll out the door.

Twenty-six seconds later (I counted) the door opens and a man dressed plainly in black steps into the room, a serene smile upon his face. He's humming something that sounds suspiciously like 'Burning Up' by the Jonas Brothers.

"Ah, hello, Katnit," he says kindly, and then flicks a switch besides him. The walls burst into flames.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" I scream, horrified, as Chinna stands in the doorway, laughing maniacally. Frantically, I try to rip the restraints right out of the seat in my mad attempts to escape. Then he seems to notice me and rushes over to untie me. The minute he removes the last restraint, I leap up and dash for the switch on the wall. When I press, the fire soaks into the walls and leaves the room exactly as it had been moments before.

Chinna gives me a look of disgust and flings himself onto the couch in the corner of the room. "Party pooper," he mutters under his breath.

I sit down next to him. "I'm sorry, Chinna."

He says nothing.

"I'm sorry, Chinna," I say again.

Chinna sighs, still annoyed. "It's okay, Katnit," he says wearily. "My music will do."

He picks up a remote and directing it at a speaker implanted in the ceiling. I'm guessing it's there because he doesn't want it destroyed when he flicks his fire switch. Soft music starts to play.

Love is a burning thing

And it makes a fiery ring

Bound by wild desire

I fell into a ring of fire

"So, Katnit," Chinna says, sitting up. "I have some fantastic ideas for your entrance. You're not afraid of fire, are you?"

"No," I lie bravely.

"Good, because here's the thing," Chinna's demeanor is changing—slowly the corners of his mouth are curving up, his eyes are growing wild, and I swear his hair is starting to smoke. "In District 12, you mine coal. What do you do with coal? You burn it. I had originally created this synthetic fire for you to wear, until I realized that nothing compares to… real fire." He looks like a maniac now. It crosses my mind that Chinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.

"We're going to stick you in a black garbage bag, like a fat ol' piece of coal, then light you up… with real fire!" Chinna cries as Johnny Cash hits the chorus.

I fell in to a burning ring of fire

"You must RUN through the city in REAL FLAMES!" he shouts excitedly.

I went down down down and the flames went higher

"And just before it burns your flesh—"

And it burns burns burns

"We'll have one of the prep team members dump a bucket of water on you, stick a new burning garbage bag on you, and set you off on another run!"

That ring of fire…that ring of fire

"Excellent, eh?" Chinna beams proudly.

An hour later, I'm fidgeting in my black garbage bag while Chinna dances around me with a torch, humming 'Play With Fire' by the Rolling Stones.

Peetal wanders over, yanking at the collar of his garbage bag.

"Chinna," he complains. "Doesn't this trash bag make me look fat?"

Chinna opens his mouth to deny it, but then stops. "Well, look on the bright side. Nobody will notice when you're on fire."

This year, we've skipped the chariot and instead are going to just sprint as fast as we can to where the first bucket of water is, manned by Activia. Peetal and I line up after District 11's chariot, nervous.

Finally, it's time to start. Chinna runs up and lights us on fire with his torch.

"RUN!" he screams madly. "And mold pans!"

"What?" I ask Peetal, confused, but he's already taken off. He dives under District 11's chariot, vaults over 10's, and rolls around 9's while I try desperately to follow.

When we come into the view of the audience they begin to scream, whether out of fear or excitement I don't know. A few reach their hands out to us, but whether to touch us or kill the flames I don't know. I feel the fire starting to burn through the plastic bag, and see Activia waiting on the side of the road, filling a bucket of water with a fire hose.

Someone throws a rose at my face and I catch it, and am about to sniff it before I realize it's on fire. So I throw it back to them.

"Katnit! Katnit!" they cry, loving me. I smile, caught up in the moment and am about to strike a pose. The crowd wants more.

"Your hair is on fire!" they shout. Oops. I take off again, and Activia eagerly throws the bucket of water as I draw closer. She misses. All the water splashes to the ground right in front of me.

"Wait!" she screams. "Wait!" She drags out her fire hose and starts to spray Peetal and me. Finally, when we have been extinguished, she smashes another garbage bag over our heads and Chinna runs up with his torch.

"Amazing!" he screams. "You're amazing! Let's go."

And off we go again.

When Peetal and I finally stumble into the training center, Flavia enthusiastically hoses us down, and Haymill, Effel, Activia, Venius, and Chinna gather around us, babbling.

"Perfect!" Chinna exclaims, fingering the ends of my hair that were seared off from the fire. "We won't even have to trim your hair!"

Peetal is carefully fingering his eyebrows, which are mostly burnt off, Haymill is chugging his grape juice, Effel is talking about 'prapcha kurls', the prep team is rolling up their fire hoses. They're all babbling excitedly.

"Amazing!"

"Do you feel a little fried?"

"Peetal, what did you do to your eyebrows?"

"Katnit, I think a bit of your hair is on fire… right… there!"

Effel insists that we go up to our floor in the Training Center arm in arm, and Chinna leads us in a rousing chorus of 'Light My Fire'.

A/N So, today's 'You are Awesome Award' goes to Telehphone, for helping Chinna be the nutso pyromaniac he is today. Thank you. xD Oh, and thanks to my little sister for helping me with my ideas.

Wait, one more thing- sorry if this chapter isn't as funny as the last one. I feel like it was a bit of a fail. Lemme know.

WAIT! Last thing, promise! If anybody has any suggestions for future chapters, I'd be happy to hear them. If they're super awesome and hilarious, there's a good chance I'll use 'em.

Reviews? ;)