Chariot Ride
Clarisse La Rue
The costume in my chariot, I hate. The props, I love. The costume is this metallic gray dress, with gold lining. I never wear dresses. The props are weapons and shields. My districts partner, Luke, can pull off rocking his outfit. His shirt is tight enough to show his muscles, and he holds the swords like a pro. I'm don't look good in a dress, but the spear I hold is breaking the chariot—deadly. Finally the district 1 chariot goes. Snowy white horses pull a snowy white chariot, carrying the tributes for district 1 in cloaks and crowns as if they were the king and queen. Then we go out. I'm surprised how many people shout my name, but more call out Luke's. Oh well. Once I win, I'll show them. Our names disappear as the tributes from 3 come in. Their costume is really cool. They have black outfits with blue sparks of electricity shooting off. Reyna and Travis are their names, I think. Then district 4 comes. They have deep green wetsuits with snorkels and fins.
"Nico!" a woman calls, and throws him a seashell that bounces off the boy's head.
District 5 comes in. They are dressed up like power lines—ha! The district 6 tributes come in, dressed up like train conductors. District 7 are trees, District 8, smoke. Who dresses up a tribute like smoke? District 9 are bags of grain, and ten are a cow and cow boy. Eleven's costumes are terrible—a carrot. Bleah. District 12 are lumps of coal. We all gather around president Snow. I look around me. Every one of these people I'm looking at will be dead within days. Great!