I step on to the sleek, silver train and my jaw drops. Is all of the capitol like this? Smooth chairs are placed in clusters around mahogany tables with embroidered tablecloth; beneath my feet is a carpet that I know if I take my shoes off, my feet will drown in and the whole carriage is lit up with an extravagant light that glimmers and tinkles. Urgius smiles at our open mouths, "Now, this is the dining car. Your bedrooms are to the right, Charlie and I have rooms to the left. You've an hour to freshen up before dinner." She flashes a final smile before sauntering off to her room.

"You heard the lady, make the most of your time here." Charlie says, hobbling over to the nearest chair, clutching his crutch for dear life. He's only 37 and you wouldn't think otherwise if it wasn't for his Games wound. I've never seen the scar, but people say it an inch thick and goes from his heel to his hip. A permanent reminder of what the capitol did to him.

I take his advice and go into my room where I find a clean set of clothes laid out on the bed and a full bath. I slowly pull off my clothes, taking care to fold them up and put them in a pile with my sentimental earrings and new carved necklace on top. Someone will know that these are to be my district token. I wonder if Jeffrey has a token, but I doubt it so make a note to find him one.

At first I am hesitant to get into the water; the tub seems so deep and no-one would be able to hear me if I drowned. But a yawn spreads over my face and I just want to get this over with: the train, the chariots, the training, the games themselves. As I slip my leg into the still water, the heat prickles my skin and it turns lobster pink. It starts out uncomfortable, but as I get used to it the warmth becomes pleasant. I put in my other leg and clutch the side of the bath for support, before fully entering the water. I lie back on one end of the tub and instantly want to fall asleep, but force myself to scrub clean. A decorated clock ticks softly, telling me that I only have 15 minutes 'til dinner, so I dry off and put on a simple pair of trousers and top. I make my way back to the dining car where Urgius sits in a new outfit, complete with sea-blue wig and sunset-orange lips. She is lightly applying powder to her eye-lids as I take the seat opposite her.

"How are you finding it dear?" She asks, not even glancing away from the compact mirror in her hand. I decide to play it sweet

"Oh, I love it. It's so much nicer that what we have at home!"

"Isn't it just," she nods. She closes a small silver case and places it in her bag, which is slung over the back of her chair.

The doors make a whoosh noise as they open and close, letting Jeffrey and Charlie in, enthralled in conversation.

"But if I don't cook a rabbit I could die from food-poisoning!"

"Well, what's the alternative?"

"Light a fire!"

"Oh, that's a great way to show the careers where you are –"

"I'm sorry, what sounds better: Jeffrey Sherled - killed by sword, or, Jeffrey Sherled - killed by rabbit!"

"What about: Jeffrey Sherled – victor?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to win if I don't eat. It's the hunger games,"

"That's if you're lucky enough to catch a rabbit." I intervene. They stare at me like I'm some green alien. "I mean, you might just get a squirrel, but a knife can only be so accurate. You'll probably have half the meat covered in blood, so once you've skinned and cleaned it you'll barely have a snack. Of course, that's if you can even get any weapons, and I don't know how good you are with them …" I trail off, as even Urgius has started looking at me oddly. Finally, Charie breaks the silence,

"That's a good point, I mean, how were you planning on catching a squirrel?"

"Well, I've used a bow a few times and I'm not too bad at snares either. But if I really want to win, I'll need an axe. With one of them I might actually have a chance." Jeffrey chuckles.

"Same here, though I'm not too bad with knives either." I add.

"Well, at least you two might actually make it past the first day, if you get any weapons, that is." Charlie mumbles, lowering himself into a chair. Jeffrey offers to help by tucking him in, but is pushed away.

Before we can start another conversation two girls in red suits lay the table with what seems like endless plates of food. When they finally finish, I say a quiet "Thank you," to which they just bow their heads. Once they've left I give a puzzled look to Charlie. "Avoxes," he whispers, "they've committed a terrible crime, and so have to serve the capitol."

"But why didn't they speak?"

"They can't, their tongues have been cut out."

My eyes open wide with a look of dread. "That's…" I start, but then see Jeffrey's alarmed face and remember that this train is probably bugged, "An unusual method of punishment." His face relaxes and we start to eat.

I cram as much food into my body as quickly as I can as I know that in about 20 minutes my brain will register that I am full. I try to steer clear of rich foods, but sometimes they are too tempting: pieces of chicken coated in a creamy, peanut sauce, a lamb stew with little plums and for dessert, a cake that is so sweet yet bitter I can't resist three slices.

"Just be careful, chocolate will make the pounds pile on!" Urgius warns.

"Choc-o-late," I repeat the new word, putting another fork-full in my mouth. Jeffrey seems to have the same idea as me, cramming everything he can into his mouth. Dribbles of conversation sometimes occur between Charlie and Urgius, but as Jeffrey and I always have our mouths full, they die out quickly. Eventually, I cannot take any more food (I've already had to unbutton my trousers) so I lean back and try to relax. Jeffrey soon does the same, and the avoxes return to take our plates away.


Not long after dinner it's time to watch the recap of the reapings. I begin to wish I hadn't eaten that last slice of chocolate cake as it threatens to make a reappearance. We all crowd round the huge t.v that nearly covers the whole wall of the television compartment. As I take my place on a soft sofa, I feel Jeffrey hold my hand; for some reason I don't mind. The seal of Panem glows on the screen whilst the anthem plays. It's soon replaced by our host Theodore Pattyman, who welcomes us to watch this year's reapings. I try to swallow the lump that has started to settle in my throat, but I can't until Jeffrey squeezes my hand. I reply by squeezing his back.

We're given a little introduction and then the screen shows what must be district one's reaping. Their escort looks fancier than Urgius (if that's even possible), but I keep that thought to myself as she reads out a name. Before her lips have finished forming the last letter a girl is on stage as a volunteer. She's beautiful, there's no doubt about that. A sheet of dark brown hair falls to her waist and two deep brown eyes are keeping the gaze of everybody in Panem. She gives her name as Fiona Nighting-Gale before the boy is called out. Yet again, it's a volunteer. He's tall and musceley, but has a long scar across his right cheek. I miss his name as we go to district two where, yet again, the escort is fancier. The girl is a typical career: volunteer, tall, strong, menacing. But the boy is reaped right out of the 14 year old section. He's over-weight and doesn't have any looks. This makes me worry what it is that makes everyone else not want to volunteer.

District three has two 12 year olds. It' sad, but I have to look at it from a survival perspective. The district four female is reaped, a seventeen year old tall piece of muscle, and then an 18 year old male volunteers. The tributes from five and six don't look too bad (the 6 female is another beauty), and then it's onto us. My name is called and I pause for a second while the camera finds my face. I quickly compose myself and begin to strut up to the stage when Mandy shrieks out. It shows me pulling her back and rushing up to the stage. Jeffrey looks better. He is so calm, graceful yet still menacing. We shake hands and then it moves on to the next district.

I let out a deep breath, not realizing that I had been holding it in. The other tributes aren't that interesting apart from a set of twins from nine and 16 year old girl from 12. Then there's the girl from 8 – a 13 year old volunteer. She's very small and I wouldn't pay her much attention if it wasn't for the guards who had to escort her up to the stage in chains. The camera caught a flash of her eyes and I saw how empty yet full of hate they were.

"A psycho," Charlie muttered, "haven't had one of them in a few years. You better watch out."


I go to bed straight after the reapings, but soon hear a knock at my door.

"Come in," I mumble, guessing it will be Urgius informing me of tomorrows wake up times. I'm pleasantly surprised when Jeffrey slides in.

"How you doing?" he asks while I sit up in my sheets.

It takes me a second to find the right word "coping. You?"

"Coping. Coping with the fact that I may never see district seven again, coping with my imminent death, coping with never being able to say…"

"To say?"

"To say something important to someone important."

"You didn't tell them in the justice building?"

"I didn't have time."

"I know, there's so much more I wanted to tell my family too." I said, suddenly knowing exactly what advise I should have given, what I should have told my parents.

"It wasn't my family." He said solemnly, as if giving me a clue.

I blushed with the sudden realisation "Your girlfriend?" Someone like him would definitely have one, or at least a crush. I begin to feel guilty about the hand holding earlier.

"I wish. Goodnight." He blew me a small kiss before shutting the door.