After watching the footage of the reapings we're dismissed to go and sleep, we probably wouldn't arrive in the Capitol for about five hours, and anything that needed discussing would be upon arrival, for now we should just sleep, and hope we'd be well rested before training begins.
When I go to the bedroom carriage of the high tech train I flop on to the bed on my back, staring solemnly up to the ceiling, a blank canvas that allowed me to demonstrate my worries and sort them into an order before I allowed them to re-enter my head and cloud up my emotions. I wasn't a career, I was nothing of the sort, I struggled to kill the fish that fed us let alone real people, but I knew I would have to get over this fear if I had any hope of being kept in the career alliance, sometimes if there is a year with a weak career, they'll be shunned to make way for a more impressive tribute from an outer district, but this rarely happened. Chaim would get in...easily! He gave off the nice guy approach, but you could tell he was hiding something, the way his brows furrowed in concentration watching the reaping footage, the way his fingers clenched and un clenched in perfect synchronisation He was ready to fight. And he could. His build was impressive, A life time of the back busting work required out on the boats in Four meant he was at his physical peak and even the gigantic pair from two would be hard pressed to tow him down. I however, was not so impressive, Although I was physically fit, with enough muscle on me to cope, if I came into competition with one of the larger tributes I'd find myself in danger, Chaim could probably snap me in half without breaking a sweat. I try to banish these thoughts as I languidly lulled myself into a deep, undisturbed sleep.
I turn across the bed, screwing up the covers in my fist up to my face as if to fend off the brutal reality that was my life now. Reluctantly I get up and fix my hair in preparation for the throng of Capitol photographers that desperately attempt to snap an image of Chaim and I. 'Hot of the press: Another set of children here for the slaughter! Yay!' Ugh. These people, It really is astonishing how they see nothing at all wrong with sitting by whilst 23 children die at their hands each year and then glorifying their murderer, who is still but a child. It makes you wonder, would they react the same should the tributes be chosen from the Capitol? My guess is definitely not.
Once I've finished getting myself presentable I head into the main carriage, where we were before and see Chaim slung lazily over one of the large red couches. He sits up to attention when I enter: "Nice sleep? I couldn't get a wink, I think I'm travel sick" he states sheepishly, rubbing his stomach in jest. I roll my eyes and give a small nod in recognition to what he said, I like Chaim, I feel we could be good friends if it weren't for this cruel twist of fate, but I can't allow myself to make friends, that would put me in a vulnerable situation, people who trust easily do foolish things. For all I know, this could be some big plot to gain my trust and destroy me from the inside outwards. But there is something about his crooked smile so genuine that leads me to believe he really is trying to be my friend. It didn't change our circumstances though, so it wouldn't change my decision.
Before long, our whole team; Myself, Chaim, Saphira, Mags and Gabe sit down at the same breakfast table we sat at the previous night, tucking into ham and eggs like there is no tomorrow, Well, there wasn't much after tomorrow for me anyway, It had a strange but delicious taste, always making my mouth crave for more. Suddenly, a beam of light shines through the train cart window, reflecting off one of the silver platters into our faces, that's when I stand to the window, looking out to the Capitol..I couldn't believe it's grandeur, It was at least twice the size of District Four, with high-rise buildings climbing into the heavens and colors that seemed artificially created. It was magnificent. Which made me hate it all the more. They danced around in their candy colored buildings, frivolously throwing their cash around whilst the districts mourned their children and scrimped and scraped for basic meals. Hate isn't a strong enough word. As our train enters the Capitol, its wheels screech a deafening cry against the metallic tracks, pulling up into a station crawling with people who held the same wacky appearance as Saphira and Caesar Flickerman, the Games never-changing host. They scream and wail at the mere sight of us, chanting our names and our district like they actually care about us, like they're not rooting for other tributes when they stab a dagger through our hearts or send an arrow hurtling into our skulls. And I realise a terrifying fact, that stares me right in the face.
This is just the beginning.