District 3

Jodie Yates

District 3 feels like it's a million miles away as I wait for the tribute parade to begin. Of course, I know it isn't really, but that's how it feels as I stand beside my district partner, Edison. Was it really only yesterday that I heard our district escort (a woman named Gabriella whose hair has been dyed with black-and-white stripes) call my name at the reaping? I remember walking onto the stage and being introduced to the assembled crowd. Then came the moment when Gabriella asked for volunteers, but there were no takers, which isn't unusual outside the Career districts. Even so, when she moved towards the boys' reaping ball, I felt my heart sink. I knew that, from that moment on, I was almost certainly living on borrowed time.

Time, as measured by the clocks which are among the gadgets we make in District 3. And that's the theme our stylists have chosen for our tribute parade costumes. I'm wearing a black bodysuit and matching boots, with a flared skirt over the leggings. Gears made from a metallic fabric have been sewn to my top and around the hem of my skirt to depict the inner workings of a clock. On my head, I wear a headdress consisting of a clock face with the painted-on hands pointing to three o'clock, presumably because I'm from District 3.

District 3, with its factories producing various electronic devices. It is the place where I was born and brought up, the place I may never see again. Like most citizens of 3, I am skilled with technology, but I know next to nothing about physical combat and I'll only have three days to learn how to handle weapons. What chance will I have against the kids from Districts 1, 2 and 4, the ones who've been training for these Games nearly all their lives?

Put simply, not much. Being from District 3, I can see the tributes from all three Career districts from where I'm currently standing. They're all bigger than me and, with the training they've already received, they'll have a huge advantage against me in a fight. My only hope of staying alive for more than a couple of days may be to concentrate on survival skills once I get to the Training Centre, but I know that won't be enough. If I want to get out of the arena alive, I'll eventually have to take on at least one of the Careers.

The Careers, the pets of the Capitol, the tributes who always have a head start on the others. And, from what I can see of the kids who'll make up this year's Career pack, I don't fancy my chances in a fight with any of them. Not in a direct confrontation anyway. If only I could be sure of finding something at the Cornucopia that I could use to set a trap for them . . . Something in the backpacks, maybe. But, even if I could grab a pack and get clear of the Cornucopia, I'd have no way of knowing what that pack contained until I opened it.

I could try lying low and waiting for the rest of the tributes to wipe each other out, but such tactics rarely work. Even if I managed to avoid the others, I'd still be at risk of dying from hunger or thirst. Not to mention that the Gamemakers have a nasty habit of forcing tributes together. I've seen it before. If the tributes are scattered all over the arena and there have been no deaths for a while, they take steps to get them all into the same area. And they almost invariably wait until the latter stages of the Games, when any alliances the surviving tributes may have formed will be starting to break down. If they haven't broken down already . . .

So my best option may be to find a way to make use of my technical skills. But how? Reactivate the mines at the Cornucopia? I've never seen anyone attempt it, but I suppose it must be possible given the right technical know-how. At the very least, I might be able to make use of the mines' component parts. I'm clutching at straws here, but it may be my only chance.

That's what I'm thinking as the District 3 chariot rolls out onto the streets of the Capitol.

Edison Bailey

Ever since my name was called at the reaping, I've been thinking about my brother. He is - was - called Diode and he was a tribute in the Sixty-ninth Hunger Games. He managed to stay alive for nearly a week, but then he had the misfortune to run into the entire Career pack. Outnumbered by six to one, he didn't stand a chance. He was fifteen, the same age I am now. My parents haven't been the same since they watched him die and now they may have to go through the same thing with me.

When they and my younger sister, Copper, came to say goodbye, I promised that I would do my best to win, for Diode's sake. At the very least, I would try to survive longer than he did; he placed eleventh in his Games, dying on the sixth day. Copper was just a toddler then; she's now seven and I hope she'll never have to go into the arena like her brothers. Having to send one child to the Games is hard for any family, but to have to do it three times . . .

Whatever happens, my family will soon see the costumes the District 3 stylists have created for the tribute parade, which is mandatory viewing. My district partner, Jodie, and I are dressed as clocks. My costume consists of a black bodysuit and matching boots, with an open-fronted trench coat (also black) over the top. Pieces of metallic fabric shaped like gears have been stitched to my coat and the whole costume has been topped off with a headdress in the form of a clock face.

What will our friends and family think when they see us in our clock costumes? I can only imagine that some of them may see it as a sick joke on the part of our stylists, a reminder that time is running out for all but one of the tributes. And I know that probably includes me, unless I can find a way to outsmart my opponents; like most District 3 citizens, I'm good at problem solving, but not so good when it comes to physical strength.

I consider trying something with the force-field around the arena, but immediately dismiss the idea. My father told me about what happened at the second Quarter Quell, how Haymitch Abernathy (the mentor from District 12 who's always drunk) used the force-field to deflect an axe back at the girl who had thrown it at him, allowing him to claim victory. But the force-field wasn't meant to be used like that, so the Capitol weren't best pleased at the way Haymitch won. I don't know the full details because those Games have been banned from our screens, but I do know I'm not going to risk trying a similar stunt. The last thing I want is for my family to suffer because of something I did in the arena.

On the other hand, I could try rigging up an electrical trap like the one my mentor, Beetee, used to take out several opponents at once. Assuming I can obtain the necessary equipment at the Cornucopia and you can never be sure what the Gamemakers will include among the supplies. One year, for instance, the only weapons available were spiked maces; there's usually a much wider selection, ranging from knives to crossbows.

But I know from watching previous Hunger Games that District 3 tributes tend to do best if they can make use of their technical skills, provided they can stay alive long enough. So that should probably be my strategy as well, but I can't rely on it completely; I need to learn how to handle weapons. If, during my time at the Training Centre, I can pick up a few skills with a knife or a spear, I'll at least be able to defend myself even without the means to exploit my knowledge of technology. Unless, like Diode, I find myself heavily outnumbered.

Right now, however, the chariots have started to move. Soon, the whole of Panem will see me riding through the streets of the Capitol, dressed as a clock.