A/N: Second time I've uploaded this, but now it has beta corrections. Enjoy!
~The Early Bird Catches the Worm~
Barley Dawson
The rows of hung men and woman go on and on. Lee's father after my aunt and uncle, and in new addition Lee's mother is added to the long line of terror. Then the brown curls of my father with the fresh green eyes that haunt me every time I look in a mirror. His hand, for the first time, holds the pale skinny fingers of the green/grey eyed girl beside him. Her hair parted to one side of her face, and gingerly without hesitation, I reach out and smooth the other half of her parted hair and let out a shriek.
The pale fingers held in my father's hand- they were mine.
I bolt up. Sweat beading off my forehead and wetting the strands of hair pushed behind my ear. There are no clucking chickens outside my window to calm me and reassure that I'm safe at home. All I can hear is the capitol's cheering. It's only then that I remember the games are today.
The sun seems to have risen only a few hours ago. I'm surprised that the Capitol's people are even awake yet and not in their expensive beds made of smooth silk.
When I look outside the window beside my dresser as I grab a white tank top from the back of the drawer, I see what looks as if the aftermath of a party. Garbage is splayed across the streets that the metal machines haven't picked up already.
After I've finished getting ready, I step outside my door. My own preparations were useless. Soon my stylist and her crew came to dress me for the games. She reassured me of a promising outfit this time. This year we won't be wearing a bright orange attracting vest that will barely hold away the frigid cold which will most likely appear in the nights.
At the dining room, no one is there except Devon and a couple of avoxes in their white suits. Devon sits in the same spot he did last night after the interviews for dinner. He looks out the window thinking with a small clue of determination on his face.
I walk up to the boy with messy black hair and sit across from him. "Are you nervous at all?" I ask, interrupting his train of thoughts. I only get a shrug in return, but I can tell I've broken his one quiet, calculating moment to think of a strategy.
This is good of course, because I don't know how I would have coped with Devon and that clever mind of his. I just made my odds better.
~Lies through Amber Eyes~
Devon Vanazuales
At first I would've thought she would have been a good alliance, but now that she's trying to ease me away from winning, I guess not. Barley doesn't eat much. When the rest of the district ten crew shows up and we're served our foods. I'm almost worried for her. Her body is so slim and she doesn't even take the time to fill up the day she needs all her strength to survive.
Sandra, my stylist, spends the entire time at breakfast mumbling small, harmless insults to the people who made the arena outfits this year. Then she gives all the complaints to us like we were the ones to cause the problem.
I really couldn't care less though. I lost respect for Sandra after she pierced my nose and dressed me up like a bull.
Our mentor is late to the table. Val sits next to Janie whom is talking about the interviews from last night. Val says nothing and goes right to eating when the avoxes set the food in front of her. "Devon, I think you did wonderful in your interview!" Janie smiles at me, then hands me the syrup from her side of the table to put on my toast.
Barley looked a bit offended. Janie kind of seems to write Barley off a lot, including now. Barley doesn't say anything though. She keeps her mouth shut and slowly lifts the ripe strawberry into her mouth.
"We could watch the re-runs if you'd like." Janie offers. I look at Barley and she looks at me. We'd rather stay here and eat in silence before the games than watch our future competitors on a screen as they gain sponsors.
"It'd be better if you did. Sometimes a strong, trained tribute even makes the mistake to slip out some information of their whereabouts on the games." Val advises. Barley still looks at me pondering for an answer.
I stand up and ridden any syrup off my sticky fingers. "Sure." Barley follows me from behind to a room with a television beside couches and chair surrounding it.
We watch the full interviews of the careers since they are, are biggest fears so far. Sadly, they are far too hidden. Barley and I only notice the confidence that shines off their strong builds.
We skim through districts five through nine and a few things catch our eyes. Nan with her ADD may be a good start and Jeret will be wiped out in the bloodbath with his bad leg, no doubt. Toth is smarter, talking more about home then the games, which leads up to think that she's going to be a bit of a problem. We find nothing off Reed due to getting too bored to listen to anything he says. If we can split Ren away from Shay we might be able to do something about the two. Sarah and Zane are harder to figure out, so are Daisy and Luke.
Then it's our turn. Barley is the sweet, innocent girl I remember from last night. But now I notice something different about her. As the buzzer sounds, the capitol's camera lights catch every movement she makes as she leaves revealing the grey flecks in her glimmering, green eyes. Inside though, I can tell those eyes that seem like another bit to her flawless body, pleading for help that even she knows will never come.
Barley notices me figuring out what she's done at the end of the interview because she asks, "How many people do you think noticed?" She sounds like her interview was a big failure. Showing the other tributes how weak she really may be.
I look into her grey and green eyes, a replica of last night and give her a small smile. "No one. No one but you and me." I say lying through my teeth. I don't think she noticed the lie. Good.
~Hums of the Flightless Bird~
Rose Everwish
I remember when I first started in the harvesting. I was only four and was assigned to the highest trees in the orchards. Standing in front of the tall chestnut tree was the most terrifying moment in my life next to being drawn in the reapings.
My dad took my hand and squatted down beside me while I still had the look of fear in my eyes. "Courage of a mockingjay's tune is contagious. A wise man once told me that the small white feathers of the flightless bird are not what lets the beautiful bird soar, but what's inside its large heart."
So I sang the tune I hear of the mockingjays out my window all the way up that tree as fellow canaries and jabberjays and even the gorgeous mockingjay itself sat at the branches I climbed on and hummed along creating the steps of courage that I walked upon.
When I was reaped, at first my only comfort was a mockingjay in the sky joining my tune. It took only a second for a peacekeeper to raise his rifle and shoot the gracious white bird out of the clear blue sky. It took only a second for me to fall down those stairs, right back where I started.
Ryan takes my hand to try and comfort me as we reach the roof. He is a brave boy. If I am not to win, I want Ryan to win for me. His family would miss his smile too much. I would want him to see that girl Callie again. The one he mentioned so many times to me. Even in the interviews.
The hum of a helicopter fills my ears. It flies above the side of the building. My shoulders tense as a peacekeeper ushers me toward the black ladder that drops so loosely to the side of the roof.
My breaths grow deeper and I climb up onto the first step. My head swivels back toward Ryan, my hair whipping into my sight of view despite the blue headband trying to hold it back, he smiles at me reassuringly.
I hum "The Ripple Effect". The same song I hummed to on reaping day with the mockingjay. My hums are weak and tears threaten to run past my cheek. When I reach the top there is a man with a sharp needle. And when he inserts the tracking chip into my arm, the dam my eyes and try to hold up falls and tears spring from my eyes.
The wind shakes the ladder rapidly as I climb down. A peacekeeper holds the ladder steady at the bottom so I don't slip. Ryan is next and he looks at me sympathetically as I am escorted back into the training center.
Inviting warmth swallows my body in the training center, but the cold hand of the peacekeeper that grips my arm is cold and harsh. I wait for Ryan to come into the glass elevator I am told to stay in until Ryan comes back. And when he does come back, he gives me a hug and holds my hand as the elevator descends down.
Each floor we go down, I feel like I'm falling further down the stairs. I'm falling further from the top of the tree. But then a hum surrounds me in the glass elevator. The man in the white suit that stands by the white elevator buttons hums an old tune that mockingjays would chirp throughout the fields at eleven. No one has sung the song for a long time.
A small smile falls across my face and I hold the cross around my neck that my mother gave me. Ryan softly hums along. I would have never expected him to. He seems like a tribute, too strong for silly songs. But I remember that all tributes have a soft side too. They're not all monsters. Even the careers. They have the urge to get back home to families and friends as much as anyone else here.
I wipe away the tears that soak my face and join the cheerful chorus. I may not be a mockingjay who turns heads when flying above, but I am a songbird whose heart will never be contained, no matter how the capitol tries to get rid of.
~No Storm can Shake my in Most Calm~
Nirvana Filmore
I roll up my sleeves on my jacket. The jacket that I won't be much use during the cold nights for these next few days. The bump across my left fore-arm from where the tracker chip was inserted drives me insane.
It's almost noon. Almost time for the plates to rise up into the bone-chilling arena that's thirsty for blood. I give out a small sigh and look at the grey mountains that match Frida's eyes in comparison.
I find it hard believe that past those mountains, past plains and valleys, my friends and family are still out there watching me on a screen battling my biggest fear. The big fear that no one ever knew I had. Dying.
The cold wind rushes up onto my face pulling the strawberry blonde curls away. Light walks up from behind me and following my gaze, looks out at the mountains. "Looks as if they go on forever." He says trying to make conversation which surprises me. The only person I know that he tries to talk to is Arabella.
"What do you thinks going to happen out there in twelve?" I ask looking between the valleys in the mountains.
"They'll all be dreading the moment when we're raised into the arena." He says simply and pathetically.
I look at him then back at the valleys. "You know what I mean."
He sighs. "They'll find a way to live on. I know I did when my parents died." My black eyes watch him. Light seems so calm. You'd think he'd be more frenzied due to the fact that the only way he can live is if Arabella lives.
"What are you going to do when you and your lover are the only ones left?" I say turning round and slumping against the railing. Light says nothing for a long time, he only looks down and watches the parade of people setting things up in celebration of the games.
"What about you, Zane, and Luke? Do you really think either of them are going to enjoy each other's company?" He asks trying to ignore my question.
I shrug lightly. "I'll just go with whatever the gamemakers throw at me I guess."
"You two!" Effie yells over the wind. "Time to go. Hurry, we're on a tight schedule!"
"Good luck." He says and I turn to Light and say slowly: "May the odds be ever in your favor." Then I walk towards Effie and wait for what's to come.
~It Sounds an Echo in my Soul~
Light Rivers
The ride on the hovercraft takes a longer than expected. After at least an hour the surrounding windows are blacked out until ten minutes later we're to exit to hovercraft with our stylist.
I'm led underground and into the catacombs. I walk through the passageways for a long time. There is a door marked with different numbers that lead to the Stockyard. I am the second to last door at the end of the catacombs.
The Stockyard is cold and is nothing but chamber that will help me prepare for the games. In the middle of the room is a small metal plate. When the cameras are ready and all the tributes are prepared, the plate will rise with me standing on it and I'll be entered into the arena.
When a package has arrived with my clothing for the games, I'm told to put it on after a shower and then we'll have a nice extra breakfast for before the games start.
During my shower I take time to rethink my strategy. What if I lose Arabella in the bloodbath? My mind rejects the thought and I remember the words I mentioned last night.
"I fell in love with a girl from District 4. I feel like a complete idiot...But I'm in love. So I guess it's worth it."
The audience loved it. I saw Arabella blush backstage, but she had to have seen it coming the moment she said she fell in love with me.
I get dressed into an A-shirt and an ember green sweater. I wear thick brown pants usually used for hunting that run into waterproof hiking boots. For a second I start hoping that the arena will have a jacket waiting for me at the cornucopia, but then I just remember that my biggest goal is just getting out alive.
As promised I'm given a breakfast afterwards that I eat reluctantly. I hydrate myself as much as possible with water during this time. I know that what's to come probably won't be some oceanic paradise that will provide water everywhere I turn due to the last games that have been filled with swamps, beaches, and mudflats.
After breakfast, my stylist does some final preparations that I find unnecessary and we're ready for me to be launched into the arena. We wait another five minutes until we get the call that signals it's time for me to step onto the plate.
My feet walk onto the round plate and I turn to my stylist who is already retreating to the door. A glass cylinder tube starts to lower over my plate and when I'm left alone in the Stockyard I say to myself: "May the odds be ever my favor."
And the words echo around the room and I feel like I choke on the fear that is being crammed down my throat.
I'm going into the Eighty-Third Annual Hunger Games.
A/N: If it took thislong to write the Pre-game, I don't want to know how long the interviews would have taken me to write. The games should be up so promise me you'll check them out!
Due to this chapter being replaced for the author's note, the only way you guys will be able to write a review (if you already have for chapter 26) then you'd have to log off and I won't make you do that.
Meaning- no ways to get sponsor points this time. But I'd still love to hear your feedback, so if you have any questions or just want to notify me, give me a PM.
I loved writing this chapter. It was most definitely my favorite chapter to write before the games. I hope you guys liked it as much as I did. (I almost cried [in a happy way] while writing Rose's passage).
Sadly, Ryan Haven didn't get a chapter this time. I just thought that the way he acted in Rose's chapter was too pure to add onto. Sorry Ryan!
Cross your fingers for your favorite tributes for the next chapter!
-Fifi