Amiee Smith, 13, D6F:
When we get close to the arena site, the pilot of the hovercraft drops shades over the windows to obscure my view. Ran, my grouchy, unhelpful stylist, gripes about something or another. At least if I die, I'll never have to experience his awful vision of a 'District Six Aesthetic' ever again. After a few minutes of turbulence, the lower door of the hovercraft lines up perfectly with a hole of some kind, which I'm directed to enter. I do so hesitantly, with Ran right behind me, and I find myself in a dimly lit chamber. My launch room, which has a horrible-looking glass tube in the corner of it.
Ran takes me to a table in the corner, where food and beverages are laid out. "Eat," he tells me. "As much as you can stomach. You'll be grateful in the arena." I grimace, thinking about my first day in the Training Center. I ate a big lunch, and it gave me horrible cramps when I had to do the mile. I'll likely have to run a lot farther than that, so I spoon only a cautious amount of stew onto my plate. It's delicious and summery, with some kind of springy root vegetable, but I stop after several generous spoonfuls. My choice of drink is a pinkish juice, since it's what my mentor provided for me in the Capitol after hearing I wanted something to give me more energy. A boost of endurance will probably come in handy now.
It's nerve wracking to sit down and have a snack only a few feet below the place I might die, but I suppose it's best to top off my food and water, make sure I'm as full and hydrated as possible before entering the arena. Fear is threatening to overwhelm me, but I push it aside, distract myself with another sip of juice, and fight to keep my head clear. Today, I want to be ruled by my thoughts alone and retain my ability to make practical decisions.
After all, my life depends on it.
Eliza Maddox, 17, D2F:
It's at times like this that I find my hair bothersome. It's long, reaching to perhaps an inch above my belly button, and my stylist has quickly discovered it easily gets caught on things, in this case, the ladder down into the launch room. As a result, she's french braided it up and woven the remainder into a complicated but loose bun at the top of my head. She makes me do a few jumping jacks to make sure it doesn't jostle too much or get in the way when I'm fighting, and then she pulls out an opaque garment bag.
She has no idea what it contains, but there are several smaller compartments inside of it, and the first thing she pulls out is a set of matching aqua-colored underwear. They fit close to my skin and are secure, but not too tight. The bra is especially comfortable; the straps don't dig into my shoulders, and it's perfectly molded to fit me without becoming cumbersome. She explains that, in fact, this whole outfit has been specifically sewn with my proportions in mind, by one of the Gamemakers. Apparently, Lucent Saccharyn wants her tributes to enter the arena without worrying about our clothes.
I'm confident that I'll excel in the Bloodbath, and I think about how proud Pop will be in a few minutes as he sees me rise up into the arena. I fiddle with my token, a charm bracelet on my wrist, and double check to make sure it's clasped properly. It is. I'm not hungry or thirsty, and I feel ready to fulfill my destiny as a Career.
I may have not volunteered for these Games, but I know I belong here.
Damon Archer, 14, D7M:
There are so many layers to the outfit that's been made for me. Still, each is smooth over the next, and I'm happy that there aren't any wrinkles to contend with. Rumpled sleeves under a jacket are one of the most irritating things in the world, but with the way this coat fits, I never would have known there to even be a shirt under it. I think that's the point, that these clothes are the most optimal to fight in.
The best part is the boots, which have metal embedded into the soles to help me get a better grip. My stylist informs me that all of the clothes on the outside, like the coat, skirt, and boots, are waterproof. We're probably going to have a wet arena, judging by that, which I feel rather dubious about. I'm not a very good swimmer. The clothes, though light, are very hot. The launch room is kept at a comfortable seventy degrees, but I feel like pools of sweat are already forming in my socks.
The pitcher of ice water seems a lot more appetizing now. I wonder how my alliance will do, if we'll all survive, whether or not Trey will come after me. I think that we'll definitely be attacked by at least one other tribute, since there are four of us. We're also appealing targets. Jenna and Radley are both some of the strongest tributes, so they can stave off attackers better. The Careers will have to work harder to kill them. I might have scored pretty high, but I'm also only fourteen, and therefore an easier victim. I touch the cool silver of my token, and I'm reminded that although I share my father's name, I do not have to share his fate.
I'll keep my mouth shut, no matter how much I want to rebel, and I'm going to make it home to Ma.
Trey Copper, 18, D10M:
The Peacekeeper didn't accompany me in the hovercraft, and I'm glad to be free of my last remaining burden. Only a few minutes separate me from my sweet, long-awaited revenge against Emily. Ever since she was walking with a gaggle of other young kids so long ago and one of them called me a 'dummy', I've hated her little group of friends. Somehow, though, she managed to escape, and I held a grudge against her for ruining my efforts.
Now, I've concocted my grand plan to make up for how she so rudely evaded me for years. It's a delightful little plot, and I'm sure the other Careers will agree. Livi in particular is an excellent leader, and I'm certain she'll be on board with watching my back as I torture Emily to death during the Bloodbath. The arena outfit is deliciously comfortable, minus the heat. I feel like I'm being cooked, but the warmth will surely be useful in the arena. I once heard that blood can clot more easily in the cold, and I hope the arena is at subzero temperatures so Emily won't bleed out as fast and I'll have a larger window of time to torment her.
I'm not nervous at all. I've taken my last trip to the bathroom, eaten my last Capitol-made dessert, said a half hearted goodbye to my stylist. This is my chance to right the wrongs that were committed against me so long ago, and I'll keep things exciting for the people watching by quite literally adding insult to injury. I've picked up some especially colorful language from my prep team, and I'll be sure to incorporate everything I can into my performance.
I'm going to give them a damn good show.
Emily Parker, 12, D10F:
My stylist is alright, I guess. He hasn't done much to help me, but he's not bad company. The outfit I've been put in is close-fitting and ridiculously fun to move in. I also suspect it's designed to be easily penetrated by a weapon. My own range of movement in the new clothes will help me run faster and defend myself more effectively, but the same will be true for Trey. I'm not stupid, I know he's gunning for me.
My saving grace may be Ardledge and Griffin, and I already know having allies will make everything. I've done everything that needs to be done, I'm ready to go, I have my token, and I'm not going to get braver by pacing another lap around the room, so I wait in my launch tube. This is the Stockyard, the place where cattle are calmed down prior to being slaughtered. I'm not feeling particularly calm, but I'm not panicking anymore, which I suppose means it's working.
I don't really have anything to say, so I stand still in my tube, ready to shoot upwards at any moment, and repeat the alliance's plan to escape the Bloodbath. Ardledge made it up, and although I trust him completely, it still might not work. The gist is that Trey is a Career, and he wants the approval of the Careers. He also wants the supplies from the Cornucopia. Ardledge is pairing me up with Griffin and ordering us to run as far away as we can, while he grabs a weapon from the center and takes Sorrel and Chip to rejoin us. That way, even if we're split up, there will be one strong tribute in each group. I did well in both the mile and the sprint, and I know what my goal is. I might not be smart enough to trick Trey, or tough enough to fight him, but I can certainly run away from him.
It worked last time, didn't it?
Rafe McClellan, 18, D2M:
I have never worn a skirt before. Skirts, jewelry, and all other accessories of that nature were strictly prohibited. My father would humiliate me and call me names if I put on anything that could be considered remotely girly. Thankfully he's dead now, of course, just as the other twenty-three tributes soon will be, but I know he was wrong.
The Capitol has made the skirt a mandatory part of the arena outfit, worn over tough hiking pants, and in doing so, practically decreed that it's a fine thing for a boy to wear. I actually really like it. It's very comfortable, and although it can be let down to my ankles by loosening certain straps and buckles, I am to enter the arena with it resting just above my knees. My stylist predicted that since it's waterproof, the idea is most likely that it can trap heat and keep my legs warm in a swampy, cold arena.
I finish washing my hands, and from somewhere in the room, a speaker blares out, "Thirty seconds until launch!" My stylist pats me on the back and ushers me into the glass tube. The door unexpectedly closes, and I press my hands up against it. "Fifteen seconds to launch!" She gives me a reassuring smile and touches where my hand is on the other side of the glass. "Ten seconds until launch!"
"You're going to win for sure, honeybun. Do some damage out there, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Five seconds until launch!" A countdown begins, and I bend down to tighten my shoelaces, adjusting my footing on the platform. Before I know it, the surface below me begins to rise, and I position my hands against the curved walls, but I soon run out of material to brace myself against. A circular portal opens above me, and I'm instantly battered by a jet of icy air. As my tube brightens, awash with light, the voice of Iris Whottenberg rings out in every direction.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here we have it, the Four Hundredth Annual Hunger Games!"
Hey y'all!
The next chapter is the Bloodbath, and I'd love to hear your placement predictions for the tributes! I can't wait to really get this show on the road! Also, I'll be including an alliance tracker here, so it's clear who's teamed up with who.
ALLIANCES:
Career Pack: Oscar, Livi, Rafe, Eliza, Lyra-Rose, Trey
Protective Older Brothers: Ardledge, Emily, Griffin, Chip, Sorrel
Band of Youngsters: Ryan, Thys, Amiee, Damon
Queer and Platonic: Quinten, Harry
Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Soren, Pola, Zea
Lumberjack, Gymnast, and Farmer: Jenna, Elle, Radley
Loners: Soya
The Bloodbath will be up in a week, and yes, I'll be writing eulogies for the dead tributes. I'm so excited to get this out, and I'm going to try to make it as awesome as possible for everybody reading!
– LC :)