PART 4

The Capitol is pure amazing. Stone buildings tower over the train, as if we were an ant. Giant screens are show cased over streets and on top of buildings, showing the reapings. As the train passes, I see glimpses of the soon to be Tributes. From District 1, a tall skinny man, around six foot, who had muscle tone. Brown hair and green eyes, and looked to be about 17. The girl tribute was beautiful, with blonde hair, and green eyes. She smiled as she came upon the Reaping stage. It's always the Districts next to the Capitol that love to go into the arena, thinking its a privilege to reprsent their District. Some even volunteer for the place of a tribute. If Katniss was present during the Reaping, she probably would have volunteered to save me.

I turn away from the window of the train, trying to blink away the tears. I think maybe it has finally settled inside me that I won't see my sister again. The fact that I won't be returning home and that I will be faced with a gruesome death has struck me like a lightning bolt. "You okay, Prim?" I hear Peeta's gentle voice ask. I look at him, and without controlling a single motion, I break down. Sobbing and blobbering uncontrollably. Peeta runs over to me and raps his arms around me, securing me. I sob, staining his gray shirt with my grief. He strokes my hair like his father did in the Justice Building. His fingers tremble, is he scared also? Is he hidding the tears so that he can comfort mine?

The room becomes dark, and I hear the echoing of the train screeching onto the track. The train has pulled into the station, I believe. Peeta takes his hands onto my shoulders and pulls me away from his chest, "Would seeing colorfull freaks cheer you up?" he asks with a smile. I knod. Peeta picks me up, swinging me into his arms, and carries me to the window. The train station is packed full of Captiol citizens of every imaginable color. They stand, pressed up against the railing that stops them from going into the train. They wave and have huge smilies on their faces, they're excited to have us here. Peeta waves back, mimicking their smile. I look at him, questioning his act. I thought he hated this as much as I did. Peeta turns his head to me, stopping his waving for a second.

"They're our sponsers. Might as well have them think we're nice." It clicks into my head, and I start to wave also. I must impress to survive, it's the way we must play. Effie walks into the cart room, "We're going to leave the train now, its 9 o'clock, perfectly on time." She smilies proudly, then shows us the exit door into the train station. Peeta sets me down, my shoes click on the tile floor. Peeta follows me as I walk out of the doors and onto the stone floor off the station.

''Come along now." Effie says, taking my hand and leading us into a car. I go in first, then Effie, and followed by Peeta. The seats are softer than the ones in the train, it must be nice to live in the Capitol. No worries, hardley any jobs, the riches are sent over along with all the hardships that the Districts make. Haymich is the last to enter into the car, he lets out a sigh as he rests his head onto the head rest of the seat. He seems hungover, he must have drunk the rest of the alcohol in the bottles when I went to bed. Haymitch must have really loved her, if someone like me can bring up such memories. I look away from Haymitch and go to the side windows.

The citizens seem to be following our car, as if they were crazy fans of a celebrity. Well of course, we are their celebrities, we are Tributes after all. We're going to be entertaining them for the next week or so, I laugh to myself at the thought. How can someone so blind and dumbfound think that killing is a usefull way of entertainment? I shutter, then clear my thoughts. I'm not going to get anywhere by thinking bad about them. I need them, and I'm not going to get them if I'm cursing at them in my thoughts. The car stops infront of a large stone building, with smooth walls, and hundreds of windows. There seems to be more than 10 stories, and a balcony at the top. We exit the car, Effie leading herself to the doors, and almost running through the doors, muttering to herself about how we might be late. I slowly follow her to the doors, but stop myself. I look up, observing the tall beautiful building so close to me. I realize, that this building will house me till my death date, and will be the training center to survive in the hell I will enter. I shutter at the thought, yet somehow mutter under my breath, "Amazing. Purely amazing."

I hear someone walk to me, their mouth comes in contact with my ear, and I hear Peeta whisper in soft words, "Welcome to the Capitol."

PART 5

"Get up! We're going to be late! Get up, get up, GET UP!" Effie screams as she yanks the blankets off my, what was, warm body. "5 more minutes..." I slurr from my drool covered lips. Effie picks me up with my pale arms and throws me off my bed. "When I return, you better be ready." I hear her scowl then leave the room to wake up Peeta. I lay on the floor, closing on my eyes for a bit. The floor isn't confortable at all, so I get up, and put the blankets back onto the bed. I wanted to get ready for the day, but the only clothes I have are the ones sitting before me. I had slept in the pajamas that a girl brought to me. I set to leave the room to ask someone for another pair of clothes, but as I set my hand on the door knob, someone else opens the door. The girl comes into my room, and silently hands me another pair of clothes. "Thank you." I say, taking the clothes from her. She bows and leaves, her red hair seeming to streak the air.

"What is the girl with the red hair named?" I ask at the table, shoving eggs into my mouth. Effie seemed to drop her muffin in surprise of such a stupid question.

"She doesn't have a name."

"Why not?"

"She's an Avox."

''A what?"

"Someone who made a crime, and their punishment is to become a maid."

"And that gives them an excuse to take away her name?" I snarl through my teeth, instantly regretting the tone. Effie stands up, pushed her chair out, and stormed out of the room. Peeta had remained quiet through the whole heated discussion, eating his toast, and watching with amusement.

"I don't get it either." Peeta admits through his food. I snap him a look, then leave the table. I storm up the stairs that lead to the balcony, trying not to rip something apart. I crash myself through the door and I'm greeted with a cold morning wind. Up on the balcony, there are many flowers gardens, trees that bare blossoms and not needles, wind chimes hang from their branches. I can't help but smile as the wind courses around my body, whipping my hair free from it's loose braids. There is a white stone bench that sits in the middle of the balcony, I rest myself on the bench, and look at the rising sun. I let out a sigh, looking at the orange that elevates off the sun. It reminds me of the orange cake Peeta was eating on the train, while he spoke about how he didn't even know if I should trust him.

Does Peeta not trust himself as my ally? Does he think he'll kill me while I'm asleep in the arena? The fact that his father thinks I should trust him triggers a sign of caution. He is his father, he wants Peeta to get out, not me. He will take every step it takes to make sure his son will be in his arms again, even the step of killing off me. Of course, if it comes to it, I could be the only thing standing in his way. Only one comes out, and I know it won't be me. There will be 23 other tributes, who love to kill, including the weakest. The two tributes I saw from District 1 look like they could eat puppies for breakfast, they can handle me easily.

With my head clear, this seems like the time to think of a plan. Haymitch hasn't been much help at all, looks like I have to fend for myself. After many years of required Hunger Games watching, I know the basics. There is a cornicupia, full of weapons, and backpacks. After the countdown, the tributes can either run to the cornicupia and risk being killed then and there, or they can run away with no supplies. The lay out of the arena is different every year, I recall one year being only a desert with rocks and snakes. Many had to kill by smashing in skulls with the rocks, or tipping their blow dart in the snake poison. Many died of starvation and thirst, it was the slowest and most painful game. The Victor was from District 2, since 2 works with stones, they knew how to hit the rock on another rock to craft sharp edges. He later died from the malnutrition. With no idea of what the lay out will be, I can't make an plan. I don't know what there will be to screw up my plan, huge tital waves could drown me, or lightning strikes could zap me. Nothing is predictable with the Game makers.

Today will be the Tribute Parade, the Capitol will get a second glance at this years Tributes. After watching the reaping, this time they will see us dressed on outrageous costumes showing which district we come from. I am District 12, coal mining. Every year, the stylists have the tributes dress in coal mining outfits, along with flashlight helmets, and pick axes. We never stand out, not next to the Career Districts that have the outstanding stylists. I dread for the moment today when I am forced to put on the heavy outfit and be humiliated. I let out a sigh and have my eyes close. Those are moments that will come, right now, I must relax. "Strip down." I hear one of my stylists command me. Without a second of hesitation, I start slipping off my shoes. "First, we need to completely wax you." "Wax?" They only time District 12 has used wax is for the wax candles for the mines. What will wax do to my body? The stylist looks at me as if I'm stupid, but then remembers I'm from a "far to gone for class" District.

"We're going to take all the hair of your body."

"Why?"

"So you look shiny and new."

"I'm only 12."

"We're aware. Now shush and lay down."

After many hours of waxing, having them rake through my knotted hair, and pluck my eye brows, I feel like my whole body is burning. They wash me down with a moveable shower head, blow dry my hair to its fluff maximum, then leave my bare self alone. They told me the head stylist, Cinna, would be coming soon. The door opens and a tall normal looking man walks into the room, with short brown hair and green eyes. He wear a simple black shirt and pants, nothing flashy at all, like the other Capitol Citizens. He looks to be in the middle of his twenties. "I'm Cinna, your stylist. You can put your robe on." He speaks, he has a pleasing low voice. Without hesitation, I snap the robe on, hating that I had to present myself in the first place. "I'm sorry you've been choosen as a tribute." I'm shocked at his words. Every Capitol person has congratualted me, not telling their apologizes.

"If you're sorry, then why are you a stylist?"

"To show my work, I take much pride in it. I want to make every Tribute stand out, I want to make you stand out." Cinna comes closer to me, fiddling with my golden locks. "You're so small, so young, I'm extremely sorry." His voice that lacks the Capitol accents echoes through the white tile rom.

"It's not your fault." I whiper, watching his eye lids lined with gold flicker. He smilies, still fiddling with my hair.

"You have so much potential." I hear him whisper. There is a silence before he asks me, "Prim, are you scared of fire?"

PART 6

The carriages have been loaded, District 12 has been paired with coal black horses. Peeta and I are dressed in black suits that fit tightly yet confortably onto our bodies, black capes drape over us. Cinna stands before you, with a match in his hand. I eye the match, hoping he won't dare to come closer. I know he will though, it's part of the event, if he doesn't do it, I won't be noticed. Peeta has a confused look on his face, and whisper into my ear, "What is he going to do?". Caution lives and festers in his voice. I whisper with a smile on my lips, something I can't wipe away.

"Just wait and see. You're going to love it."

Cinna steps toward my cape, and touches the end of the match to it. The black fabric immediately ignited with a beautiful red flame. The flame didn't crawl toward my skin, but stayed on the cape as if it were wings. Peeta tries not to flinch as Cinna does the same to his cape. We both look majestic, the flames outlining our cheek bones, and giving our eyes the flame of attention. Peeta's smile grows as big as mine.

"The parade is about to start. Remember, smile. These are your sponsors. Good luck guys, you look amazing." Cinna tells as. Right when he finishes his sentence, our carriage starts rolling forward. One by one, carriages infront of us leave the tunnel, and go into the arena of screaming Capitol citizens. I look at the carriage that's infront of us, before they leave the tunnel also.

A large man with dark skin and dark hair is infront of us, he's threatening just by looking at him. I don't want to see the damadge he will do in the Games. I look to the right of him, a little girl. My heart gives a tug, she looks about the same age as me, 12. She has puffy curly hair and has dark skin like the man beside her. She must be as scared as I am. Why didn't any volunteer for us? We are the double digit districts, no one volunteers in those districts. Its a punishment to go into the Games for us, not a privilege.

Our carriage is the next to leave the tunnel. My stomach is fluttering, my hands are shaking. If I screw this up if I don't make them like me...I'll be dead in the first day. I give my body a huge shake, then contain myself again from the nervous gitters. "You okay?" Peeta asks. I knod, trying to not let my arms shake also. Peeta puts his hand in mine, and smilies at me as we exit the tunnel. The screams of the Capitol overwhelm my ears beyond anything I could imagine. The last time I heard anything this loud since the mine explosion. I was seven and I remember it to vividly. I shake away the flashbacks, I can't cry. Not here. I grip Peeta's hand more, and let my mouth form into the most painful smile. I watch as the Capitol's screams turn into "Ooo"'s and "Ahh"'s as they turn their attention to us. They cheer and clap, throwing us roses, and blowing us kisses. I catch a rose and grip it with my other hand, and raise it to the general direction that it was thrown to me. I blow back their kisses, hoping I don't look ridiculous.

We get to the end of the isle and the carriages have formed a half circle around a tall podium. A man with white hair and darks eyes appears at the podium. The words he speaks are just a blurr, I don't pay attention to anything but the other faces of the tributes. They all look ruthless, blood thirsty. They want to win, they want to get home as much as I do.

I'm screwed.

PART 7

Training days. I shudder in the elevator as it decends into the huge room where all tributes will be together for the first time. Two days of fear that I might be "accidently" injured, the fear that the Careers will look at me like I'm a meal, the fear that they'll take me as one. Again, I shutter, my whole body is trembling. I can't contain how much I want to pry these doors open and jump out. I feel like a mad women. All the information that Effie and Haymitch have been pounding in my brain is slipping out, I can't grip it back. In the training center, there will be no cameras, no one will be watching. It's just you, the tributes, the game makers, and the weapons. The weapons, I shutter again. Here is the place where people will train to kill. Or worse, kill me.

"You okay?" I hear Peeta ask me. I turn to him, my eyes almost filling with tears. "Prim..." Peeta grips my body and strokes my one braid, this form should be natual for him, he's done it too many times to count. "It'll be okay...Remember what Haymitch told you..."

"I can't." I sniff through his shirt. "I'm forgetting it all." "That's perfectly fine, Prim. Just listen to me, I'll remember for you. Haymitch wants to to make allies, more than just me. Not with people strong and fierce than you, choose someone you can trust. It is better to have quality, than quantity." he almost whispers these words. I have decieded that I can trust Peeta, if I didn't, I would have never let him touch me in the first place. I sigh, letting eveything sink back into place.

"Thank you." I say through his shirt.

"You're welcome."

The elevator door opens and Peeta lets his arms slip from mine. I turn away from him and I walk into the huge gynasium. Weapons, everywhere. There are stations scattered across the room, along with obstacle courses. Someone pins a square piece of cloth, with the number 12 painted on it. We are explained the rules; we cannot engage in combative exercise at all with any other tribute. If we want to train to fight against someone, there are assistants. We are free to go to any station. The stations vary of subject, from survival skills to fighting skills. All of this is in our hands, we should take advantage of it. I look around at the other tributes. They are all bigger than me, except the girl from 11. She matches my eye contact and smilies, I smile back, a real smilie. I scan the rest of the tributes, some look like they've been starved, while others look completelly fine. Districts 1, 2, and 4 look the most healthy, for they are the wealthiest. I look down upon my body and mentally compare myself. They may be healthy, but so am I. From Katniss hunting and gathering from the meadow, I might be the healthiest 12 tribute ever. Next, I look to Peeta at a side glance. He is the bakers son, I have no idea if that is a rich job, or a poor one. I don't know if Peeta's physical form is healthy or poor to what the job could provide. There is the flour sacks, he could become strong from the years of that.

The tributes all walk away, we must have been dismissed. I don't move though, as if my legs won't let me. I try and command them, but they won't budge. Peeta takes my hand and leads me to a station, I don't even know the name of. Somehow my legs had listened to him. He points to a flower, its pink, with yellow in the middle. The yellow looks like a mini flower. "You know what flower this is?" he asks. I shake my head, I never was good at plant identifying, Katniss was the gatherer. Peeta picks up the flower and puts it in my hair, "It's a Primrose flower." he smilies.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and turn around. I feel the flower coming loose, I see Peeta catching it, and setting it back onto the station table. Its the little girl, she smilies again at me. "Hi." I say in a softer voice than I expected.

"Hi." she says back, matching my softness.

"I'm Prim."

"Rue."

"Allies?" I ask, I know I can trust her. I know she won't hurt me, I can tell just by looking at her. Haymitch told me to trust my gut, but then Effie smacked his shoulder, and told me to be wise. I am being both, I just hope she will be also. Rue doesn't take a second to hesitate, she knods her head, and hugs me. "Yes." She says as she giggles. "I'll be your allie."

PART 8

"Primrose Everdeen." The machine calls my name. It's time. It's private training score time. My mind has gone blank, I have no idea what I can show them. "Prim?" I turn my head, facing Peeta. "Good luck." I smile, "Good luck." I reply. I turn and walk down the hallway, to the gymnasium. I walk through the doors, seeing the Gamemakers and other Capitol men sit in a balcony. They laugh, drinking, and eating. They don't have a care about me, they have seen 22 other tributes who have tried to impress them. I am just another number, and they've lost their attention span. I walk around the room, they still don't notice me. This gives me time to know what to do. I see all the station, empty. That's when I see it, a completely unnoticeable station buried in the dark corner. A Medical Station.

Mother worked at an Apotheicary, she taught me what she knows. Why hadn't I thought of this sooner? I look at the mass amount of trays and trays of herbs. With glee, I have reached my heaven. I roll the station over to be infront of the Gamemakers balcony. I clear my throat as loudly as I could. They still don't give a single care. I fiddle with my bangs, I don't like being rude, but I need to prove I can have a training score good enough to beat others.

"Primrose Everdeen." I say, loud and clear. Their chatter goes silent, their attention is finally on the blonde little girl. A man with a fablous beard stands up, and stands against the railing. "Go on." he says, mimicking my voice.

"If you ever get bleeding gums, or a sore throat, the solution is Bayberry. Black walnut expels parasites, internal, and outernal. Blessed Thistle strengths your heart, and maxes the oxygen to your brain." Off I go, rambling on and on built up information about plants and their uses. I hold up the herb that I talking about, giving extra imformation than I could imagine. My sentences are flowing together with out a whim. And yet, after not even thirty seconds, they turn their attention away from me. I engluf with anger, and spit out,

"If you ever bronchitis, which I hope you do. You'll never know."

I stock away, stomping to the doors. Forgetting I had left the station out in the open, I run back, pushing the cart as hard as I could, back to its spot. It rolls and crashes into the wall, I turn back to the balcony. Now they all look at me, I bow, and smile. "Bye bye now."