"Stop doing that!" Effin' screeches, her wig sliding completely off. The crowd stares blankly at her. "You know what?! We are going to censor all of your middle fingers!" The crowd groans and finally settles for shaking their fists at the camera instead.

"And now, the boy tribute will be selected!" she continues calmly. Everyone simply blinks at her, except for Hamsnitch, who yells, "GET SOME, EFFIN'! No, really, get me a couple beers."

Effin' ignores him and reaches into the second bowl for boy tributes. I pray for it to be Grace so I at least have someone to talk to while we're fighting to the death.

"PITA MALARKEY!" Effin' cries, waving the slip of paper. Oh, no. Anyone but Pita Malarkey. I can't stand owing people things. God, I hate when people save my life!

See, after my father died, my mother of course was too lazy and kept leaking this foreign wet substance from her eyes. Clearly, she was beyond help, but Prim and I needed food and money. I started working as a tea tester, but I was terrible at it. My supervisor told me one day that I could take tea and those little sandwiches home to eat if I got the "good or bad" tea test right. Pita came out of the tree he was stalking me from and studied the tea with his binoculars. He then informed me of what I was supposed to say for each one.

He told me, "There, Katpiss. I only help starving people if I'm in love with them. It's this little quirk I have."

I was able to take the food home, and we survived long enough until I met Grace and learned to hunt. Pita saved my life. To me, he'll forever be the Boy who Fed.


Then we are taken into custody. The Piecekeepers transport us in cages to the Justice Building to make sure we don't escape. The room we are delivered to will be where we say our final goodbyes.

I sit on a couch, waiting for my visitors. Surely I'll have a whole fleet of them, heartsick at my absence.

Prim and my mother come in the room, and I leap up, encouraged. I know what they'll say. They'll want me to be brave and try to survive for them. They'll tell me how horrible it is I have to endure this, but how amazing and honorable I was for volunteering.

"If you die, make sure it's entertaining," my mother tells me, putting on a new shirt she bought that says, "Keep Calm and Die Young". Then they abruptly leave.

"I love y-" I call as the door slams shut. My next guest is unexpected; Mr. Malarkey, Pita's father. I wonder why he's not visiting Pita.

"Here's some cookies, freshly baked by Mrs. Malarkey," he hands me a warm batch of cookies and whispers, "You can gain Pita's trust by pretending to love him, and stab him later. It's best that way." Huh. How nice of Mr. Malarkey! I love cookies! He's way nicer than Mrs. Malarkey, who I'm pretty hates me.

My last guest is Grace, who greets me with a warm, sexual tension-charged hug.

"Listen, just remember your father's advice and you'll be fine," he tells me. What was my father's advice for the Hungry Games? "Don't get picked, Katpiss." Wait, that's not helpful!

"GRACE!" I yell, but he's already left. Effin' and Hamsnitch appear, dragging me to the train station.

"That was quick," I say, a bit on edge. I bite a cookie to take my mind off it. It tastes bitter, though, so I spit it out.

"You barely had any visitors," Effin' explains, "and my shoe is melting, thanks to you." I look down to see that the cookie landed on her shoe. Huh. Maybe it's my spit, which could be a good tool in the arena.

Once we board the train, I spot Pita. He's weeping and drying his tears with bags of flour.

"Where did it all go wrong?" he laments, "somehow all my problems started when I got picked for the Hungry Games!" I pat him on the back a bit to comfort him, and my hand turns white with flour.

In school, they say the Capitol is really… they say it's really… uh… well, they… I'm not entirely sure because I never pay attention. So if you wanted to know how the apocalypse happened and Pan 'Em really got started, well… you're on your own there.

The train car is fancier than anything I've ever seen. I recognize the silk seats as the fabric covering the walls on our home.

The food is what really captures my attention, though. The decadent trays display- whatever, I'm hungry. I shovel food into my mouth until I have no room for air. Pita selects all the bread and shoves it into his mouth.

"Ugh, you two have horrific manners," Effin' sneers, "especially you, Fatfest." I shrug. If the sponsors saw me, the rich people who can buy gifts for tributes to be delivered in the Hungry Games, they would be horrified, too. A sponsored gift can be the difference between life and death. But if they can't accept me for who I really am, then do I really want them to help me?

Then Hamsnitch stumbles drunkenly in, further aggravating Effin' Trilogy's mood. Hamsnitch is our mentor, the one who advises us, talks with the sponsors, and basically is our lifeline. In other words, we're screwed.

"EFFIN'! HEY, KATPISS, PITA!" Hamsnitch yells, slurring his words a little.

"Chill, Hamsnitch!" Pita says. Hamsnitch shakes his head vigorously.

"I CANNOT CHILL, PITA. Although I wouldn't object to you getting me a cold beer, chilled to -50 degrees. Thanks!" Hamsnitch replies. I try to refrain from slapping Hamsnitch as Pita fetches the beer.

"Got any advice for us?!" I ask urgently. Hamsnitch sips his beer and thinks for a minute.

"Don't die," he chuckles.

"THAT'S NOT HELPFUL. My father already gave me that advice!" I tell him.

"Well, then here's a real tip- there's this great pub in the heart of the Capitol. You're gonna wanna write this down. It's called, Crack This, and the walls are decorated to look like District 12. It's a real laugh." I wonder why he's telling underage kids this, but when I look at Pita, he's writing it down. "Oh, and you should probably also listen to your stylists. And of course, you should try not to die either. Even if you've heard it before, that's probably the most important part of the Games," Hamsnitch finishes. Pita hurriedly writes everything down on his pad of paper.

I'm starting to feel a little hungry again, so I go back to the cookies. I suddenly realize that they're oatmeal raisin. I thought they were chocolate chip! In a rage, I hurl all the cookies out of the train. Wherever they land, a part of the ground melts.

The train begins to slow down, and we see the Capitol in its full glory for the first time. I nearly go blind at how neon everything is. We spot the pub, and then the train stops and we see the Styling Center.

We're finally here.