CHAPTER 10

MARTINS POV

I can feel the crowd knowing that Chris is going to die in the games It happens every year. The tribute from district twelve always looses the gamemakers attention and they end up dying in the games no matter how good they are because they have no sponsors. I hate it. Being forced to stand and watch our tribute getting sponsors. Being guarded by peacekeepers so we cant move anywhere. I can see it in Chris' face and the rest of the crew can too. The redness in his cheeks and the anger and regret building up on the projector as we watch. He picks up another bow pulls it back and stays in that position for a really long time. The district 12 is silent. Nothing but the annual cough or sneeze. He lets go and it hits the dummy right in the chest. We all let out a sigh of relief. And we think district twelve might have a winner this year. But the joy doesn't last for long. Chris relaxes and his cheeks glow he turns to face the gamemakers to receive his approval but they continue to talk, and drink as they turn their attention to a roasted pig. Anger and deceit rushes through the district and Chris. Once again Chris pulls back the arrow and the crowd grows louder because Chris isn't facing the dummy his arrow is facing the gamemakers. Eyes wide open we wait to watch a gamemaker fall down dead, but before I can cover Krista's eyes the arrow flies through the pig. I sigh. Chris would never do something like that what was I thinking? I hear shouts of alarm as people stumble back. The arrow skewers the apple in the pig's mouth and pins it to the wall behind it. Everyone stares at him in disbelief.

"Thank you for your consideration," He says. Then gives a slight bow and walks straight toward the exit without being dismissed. Chris? What's wrong with you? I think.

CHRIS' POV

''Now, you've done it! Chris now you've done it! What on earth are you thinking! No sponsors! NO SPONSORS!'' ''Now, now Effie calm down-'' Cinna reassures her. ''Calm down? Calm down! If it does not concern you Chris will not have any sponsors in the games and without sponsors he is dead meat! Dead meat I say!'' She turns to me. ''What did I tell you!What? 'Shoot straight!' That is what I told you shoot straight!'' She says wiping her fan all over the room. ''What do you have to say for yourself!'' Haymitch says. ''Sorry...But did you see what they were doing though? How else was I to get their attention?'' I say defiantly,''You could have killed someone!'' Just then the Television turns on.

First they show a photo of the tribute, then flash their score below it. The Career Tributes naturally get in the eight-to-ten range. Most of the other players average a five. Surprisingly, little Rue (my shadow)comes up with a seven. I don't know what she showed the judges, but she's so tiny it must have been impressive.

District 12 comes up last, as usual. I dig my fingernails into my palms as my face comes up, expecting the worst. Then they're flashing the number eleven on the screen.

Eleven!

"Christopher, the boy who was on fire," Haymitch says mischievously as we all stare at the TV in awe.

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I lay in my bed. When two peacekeepers and Haymitch enter my room, and given a simple uniform to wear.I place my hands and feet on the lower rungs and instantly it's as if I'm frozen. Some sort of current glues me to the ladder while I'm lifted safely inside.I expect the ladder to release me then, but I'm still stuck when a woman in a white coat approaches me carrying a syringe. "This is just your tracker, Chris. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it," she says. I'm terrified of needles yet I don't let it show other tributes are around.

The ride lasts about half an hour before the windows black out,the last glimpse of life has disappeared before my eyes suggesting that we're nearing the arena. Were all silent, of course we are were being carried to our death. Were all lined up one in front of the other, and once again Foxface and I catch eye but she quickly looks away. Now that I have a glimpse of all the tributes I know what to do. We follow instructions to my destination, a chamber for my preparation. In the Capitol, they call it the Launch Room. In the districts, it's referred to as the Stockyard.

I'm shaking all over when I reach and the one person I really trust is there. Cinna. He places on the inside of my coat,the mockingjay pin. I try my best to stop shaking so Cinna doesn't poke me and a mechanical voice projects in the room.

''20 seconds until launch.''

I'm so terrified. I'm so terrified. I-can't believe this is actually happening. My life is flashing before my eyes."The material in the jacket's designed to reflect body heat. Expect some cool nights," he boots, worn over skin-tight socks, are better than I could have hoped for. Soft leather not unlike my ones at home. These have a narrow flexible rubber sole with treads though. Good for running.

''10 seconds until launch.''

I'm so scared. I'm so terrified! I step into the transparent cylinder and Cinna says one more thing before I go up. "Good luck, boy on fire." And then a glass cylinder is lowering around me, causing the trembling to increase and I can't breath. Tears of fear flood my eyes, and the elevator rises.

For a moment, my eyes are dazzled by the bright sunlight and I'm conscious only of a strong wind with the hopeful smell of pine trees. All tributes lined up around the cornucopia getting ready to run towards the weapons, and so do I.

''Ladies and gentlemen, let the seventy-fourth hunger games begin!'' and the torturous voice begins to count down.