As Caroline is ushered down from the stage, I am brought up. She tries to look angry, but in her eyes I can see a sense of relief. There is also a hint of worry in there. The worry is held for me. Umanda wraps her arm around me. The arm is cold, bony, and her long fingernails dig into my skin. I wish that she would let go. "What is your name, child?" she asks sharply.
"Lottie," I answered, dazed. "Lottie Wilson."
"Ah," she said, finally releasing me from her grasp. "Our female tribute, Lottie Wilson!"
There were a few faint clips and muffles from the crowd. I look behind me to see Noje and Carmella, a few of our district's past winners. They look stone-faced and cold, as they always do. I remember when Carmella won, five years ago. The arena was a large underground maze that year. Tributes started to go crazy by seeing nothing but the same, gray walls no matter how long they walked. Carmella stood by the careers until there were only two of them left: Her and the boy from district 2. He tried to sneak up on her and stab her in the back, but she turned around just in time to stab him in the heart. From what I saw on television, she was a nice bubbly girl before entering the arena. She always wore pink and had a smile on her face. After winning, she has never been the same. Her daily clothes were gray, and although only 20 years old, she had aged greatly in her looks. There were wrinkles under her eyes and on her forehead. She never dared to look anyone in the eye and would rather look down on the ground. The bubbly girl who had existed just five years ago was destroyed by the Hunger Games.
Noje won a couple of years before I was born. From what I've heard, he's always had a cold heart.
"Now time for our next tribute!" Squeaked Umanda and she walked over to the other glass bowl. She dipped her hand in, fished it around for a bit, and then finally grabbed a slip. She pulled it out and read. "John Freeman!"
I don't bother to look at him. I know he'll soon be replaced by a volunteer. And he is, a redheaded boy by the name of Rone Chowkzy takes his place. Rone is 18, strong, and intimidating. He has a smirk on his face, a smirk that taunts me and makes me uncomfortable.
We're shuffled away from the stage and into the Justice Building. I'm left alone in a room by myself.
This is supposed to be the part where people close to me and love me say goodbye. Except there's nobody who loves me. There is nobody even remotely close to me. I hug my knees up to my face, and cry.
How stupid was I? That's my problem, isn't it. Making stupid decisions. I could have found a life and friends, could have found it here on my own. I could have found something, done something, been happy. Only if I tried. Instead, I made a rash decision to save a girl someone would have probably volunteered for anyway. If my father were here, what would he say? How hurt would he be?
I sighed. There was no changed what had already been done. What I can do is change the future. There are going to be twenty-four of us in the arena, and only one is going to survive. I could find a spear, or even make a rubbish one out of wood, like my first one that dad taught me with all those years ago. I had good aim. I could kill humans like I kill fish.
No. I couldn't kill, and I knew that. I didn't have the state of mind to, and I knew I couldn't bear it. I was good at hiding. Maybe I could hide until everyone else dies.
The door opens and it's the peacekeepers. It's time to go. -
Everything on my chambers on the train was smaller than they were at my house. Not that I had a problem with it. My room at home was large, white, empty, and made me feel very alone and small, more than I already was. What does make me uncomfortable is the smell. At home, everywhere you went had the smell of the sea. Here, everything smelled of bleach and perfume.
I've told Umanda that I wasn't hungry and wouldn't be coming out for dinner. I didn't care if I was losing precious "training time" with Noje and Carmella. I wanted to be by myself.
I sigh, lie down on my bed, and wish this whole thing was just one, big dream.
-
I wake up the next morning, still in my chambers, and still on the train. I drag myself out of bed and to the drawer. I find a simple white dress similar to my normal style. I pull it on and examine myself in the mirror. There are deep bags under my eyes and my hair is matted. My glasses are dirty, so I take them off and clean them with my dress. I find a brush and make a futile attempt to get rid of the knots. After a few minutes of my hair, I give up due to the tugging was hurting my head and I was starving. The last time I ate was almost a day ago.
In the dining hall, Rone is talking to Noje, Umanda is sharpening her nails and Carmella is absent. I take a piece of seaweed bread and a little bacon, not wanting to gorge myself and be sick for when I arrive in the Capitol.
"Ah, look who has decided to join civilization," said Umanda with a flick of her hand. "Eat fast, we'll be at the Capitol in only a few minutes."
I ignored her. Instead, I tried to listen in on Noje and Rone's conversation.
"What are you talking about?" I say slowly, trying not to rudely interrupt.
"Strategies," answered Noje answered quickly, "Of no use to you."
"Why?"
Noje laughed. "Why? Why do you think? You're the size of an eight year old. You've never been to training. The Careers aren't going to want you. You'll be dead within the first five minutes."
The words stung, but I didn't have time to react, for we had arrived. Rone jumped to the window to wave the Capitol citizens, while I sat starting at my bread.
-
The hair that I couldn't even attempt to brush earlier was painfully pulled until it was straight. My glasses were taken from me, and, as I objected to a shot that would forever correct my eyesight, replaced with contacts. My glasses made up my look and what I thought of myself, and I didn't want that taken away from me just so I would 'Look Better'. I didn't have much hair on my body, but anything that wasn't on my head was forcefully ripped off.
"Ow!" I reacted "Ouch-watch it!"
"Be careful," said one of the people working on me, "She's young and her skin is fragile."
"Can I put on clothes now?" I asked, "Please?"
He handed me my robe, and I tied it around myself, embarrassed. As the hair-rippers left, my stylist came in. She was a tall Capitol woman, with green hair and an obnoxiously pink pantsuit.
"Hello Lottie," she said, "I'm Svetlana. Do not worry, I already have your measurements and your dress has already been made by me and Homora, so you will not need to remove your robe in front of anyone again. I know how young girls like you can be quite self-conscious,"
Svetlana's words seemed to roll of her tongue as she spoke, each coming directly after another, in perfect unison.
"What will I be wearing?" I asked.
"You'll see," she said with a smirk.
In the matter of an hour, my hair is given extensions to make it much longer and flow down my back. It also has blue and green extensions in it, the colors of the sea. My dress is blue-green glimmering jewels, and on my head was a ring of magic flowing, glowing fish.
As much as I loved the outfit, Rone hated it. He had blue-green sparkling pants and a magic tunic, with his own crown of fish. He looked disgusted and detested it, and that almost made me happy.
Almost.
This was still the Hunger Games.
All the tributes were lined up in their chariots, ours fourth. Our horses were an unnatural blue color. I got a large knot in my stomach. I hated being out in front of people, and I hated being the center of attention.
One by one, the chariots began to enter the stadium. The district one tributes wore nothing but jewels, thousands and thousands of them, all over their entire bodies. Distrcit two were dressed as Roman Warriors, even with swords at hand. I believe District three won the prize for worst Opening outfits this year, both of them dressed as ridiculous, stereotypical square robots. Then it was our turn.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see anything, but as the crowd roared, I couldn't help but open them. There were people, people everywhere. I looked up at them, mesmerized. I had never seen so many people in my life, even on reaping day. I looked up at the big screen, and right at my face, a a hundred thousand times bigger than it really is. Without my glasses, my eyes look large, wide, and excited.
But I can see my face darken as I realize what coming here, entering this stadium really means.
This is the end.