I do not own The Hunger Games, but the plot of the story and original characters are mine.

Chapter 6

My alarm goes off at seven-thirty. I turn it off and sit up in my bed and rub my eyes. Emily sleeps beside me, wearing a pair of borrowed pajamas. I have classes today, but I know that I won't be attending them. I am not longer Carmen Hyde, college student. I am now Carmen Hyde, Gamemaker. The idea makes me sick to my stomach.

There is a sharp knock at my door. My mother comes in my room, she seems happy and cheerful. She doesn't seem to mind my hasty exit from the party last night. "Today is going to be a very busy day as your new job as Gamemaker. Are you feeling better?"

I swing my legs over the side of the bed. "A little. Dimitri drove Emily and I home."

"He's such a nice young man; you know he's only twenty-five?"

"Really?" So you'd rather me be with a cracked up victor than Graham. I think I'm starting to see your plan here.

"Today's meeting will probably just be a run down of what is expected of you. You'll get to see your new place of course…"

"New place?" I interrupt.

"Well, yes, outside the arena. That's where I stayed all those years when I was a Gamemaker. Where did you think I stayed?" Her sudden honesty about the Games scares me. "You can decorate it however you want."

"Mother," I say patiently "Why did you do this?"

She sits down on the bed and takes my hand. "This is the best thing for you right now."

"Killing innocent children? Mother, are you out of your mind?"

Emily stirs beside me.

My mother's eyes harden, whatever kindness was there is now gone. She looks around and pulls me close. "I need you to trust me. Listen and do what they tell you. Keep your ears open."

"You want nothing more to prove that you're not like them…" Dimitri's words echo in my ears. "I can help you…pick me."

Her expression changes and she becomes cheerful again. "So, let's pick something out to for you to wear to the meeting." She goes into my closet and begins flicking through my clothes. "We need something professional."

"Mother, am I allowed to have visitors at this new… place?"

"Of course darling. It's not a prison. You can come and go as you like." She comes out of my closet holding a simple black skirt and a simple red shirt with a ruffle at the collar. "What do you think of this?"

I am speechless.

"It's nice, but it's not professional enough," Emily says.

"No?" she asks. "Maybe you should wear a pants suit instead. Then you'd look more put together. This is too casual." She goes back in the closet. I am afraid that she'll find Graham's clothes.

"Maybe we should talk about it over breakfast, unless you're busy," I say. This is of course, ridiculous. She is still in her pajamas and is wearing no make up.

"I'm never too busy for my daughter," She says brightly. "It's a shame you weren't feeling well, you missed Caesar Flickerman."

"Mother, are you feeling okay?" I put my hand to her forehead. You are never this nice to me, I think. You make a point not to spend time with me, instead leaving me in the care of my grandmother or Avoxes while you go on your sexcapades with members of high society.

"I'm fine. Let's go eat breakfast. Then we'll decide on what you're going to wear."

"I'll be there in a second."

"You need something professional, but sexy." Emily says once my mother has left. She gets out of bed and starts digging my closet.

"I don't think I could handle Dimitri Kral staring down my shirt." I sit back on my bed. "He creeps me out."

"He's not the one you need to worry about. He seems rather decent, actually. A little weird maybe, but he's a victor… and most of them are kind of weird." Her voice becomes more muffled as she moves deeper into my closet. "You need a suit skirt and jacket."

"I have black one," I say.

She shakes her head. "No, it'd be better if you had another color. Black is…. You're not going to a funeral. Go eat breakfast with your mom, I'll find something. I'm good with clothes."

I pull on a robe and go join my into the kitchen. Guilt overwhelms me about last night. "Mom," I ask. "Are you angry that I left the party early?"

"No, honey, though I wasn't pleased to deal with Graham after you left. He had too much to drink and he was hitting on Nadene Newkirk's daughter." This isn't the first time I've heard of Graham's skirt chasing ways.

"Well, I'm not going to have much time for him while I'm a Gamemaker," I say. I know that this she wants to hear. "I might as well break it off." I don't want to do this, but I know it'll probably be best.

She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "Whatever you think is best."

An Avox brings a stack of waffles and we begin breakfast. Conversation dies, and we eat in silence. My mother flicks on the television and we watch Caesar Flickerman recount the previous night's parties and celebrations.

"There was a huge celebration at Seneca Crane's mansion which our beloved President attended. Vivian Hyde attended with her daughter Carmen Hyde." There was a close up with me in my dress walking in with Graham. "What a beautiful dress! But that's not all! Carmen was named by Vivian as a Gamemaker." There is a close up of my reaction of complete shock followed by my shaky entrance to where the other Gamemakers are standing.

Caesar chuckled. "As you can see by her reaction, this is a complete surprise. There had been rumors since last years' game that Vivian planned to step down. Her replacement is her own daughter. Not much is known about Carmen as she tends to avoid the public eye but she is currently enrolled in Capitol University studying Music. She is an accomplished pianist. All eyes will be on her as she becomes a part of the Gamemaker's Council."

Next they show a clip of me exclaiming how happy I am to receive the honor of being a Gamemaker. From this angle, I look like a complete ditz. There is an interview with Contessa Lister. "I think Carmen will be an excellent addition to our Council. She has large shoes to fill, and little experience with the Hunger Games. She did not attend any previous Gamemaking session."

Caesar asks "Do you think that will be a problem?"

Contessa laughs. "Not all. Vivian brags about her daughter's creativity so I think she'll be a great fit."

"Will she have a mentor to help her get settled in?"

"Of course! Vivian and I were close friends. I definitely plan to take that beautiful girl under my wing and help her learn the ropes of being a Gamemaker! Our children used to play together, you know."

I don't like Contessa. I think she is pretentious. As far as I know, she doesn't have any children. One thing I guess I can be grateful to my mother for is that she kept her life with me and the Capitol and Hunger Games separate.

"Her lipstick is too blue," My grandmother complains as she walks into the kitchen. "It makes her look half dead."

"Have I ever met her children?" I ask.

"She doesn't have children, at least that I know of, and if she does, they're considerably older than you," My mother says. She rubs her temples. A list of the Gamemakers appears on the screen.

"Lovely," I say. I stab my waffle and take another bite. It tastes like cardboard. "Will I have a mentor like what's-her-face said?"

"I'm sure they'll have someone with you in the room on your first couple of shift at as Gamemaker, at least for the few days. I don't know if they'll allow you to pick or not." My mother says. "I shall call Seneca and ask."

The phone rings distracting my mother. My grandmother waits until my mother leaves the kitchen before she sits down and helps herself to a waffle and fruit. "There's something you should know about these people; they will try to bribe you allow them to mentor you."

"That's basically everyone in the Capitol," I say.

"Maybe, but these are truly the scum of the Capitol. These are the ones who kill children for sport. I don't know what your mother was thinking."

I sniff. "Well, she's never been much of a mother."

My grandmother looks around and says, "It's a lovely day for a walk in the garden. I think some of my flowers are blooming."

This is code for 'I have something to tell you, but your mother can't know.'

"Did you know I get my own place?" I say. "Mother says I can redecorate it since I'm living there. Will you help me?"

"Of course, dear." We go out into the garden. It is pleasantly warm now, but in the few hours the temperature threatens to rise dramatically. Since the war in the Old Times, the weather has changed drastically. It has to do with weapons used by the county before Pandem was formed, nuclear, I think. It disrupted the atmosphere and so the Capitol's weather goes from one extreme to another. In the summer it's hot, and in the winter it's frigid. There is a light breeze.

My grandmother puts an arm around my waist. "Don't trust those who give you expensive gifts."

"What about my mentor?"

"If they let you choose, go with your instinct and first impressions. Actions speak louder than words. It'll keep you alive."

If I used first impressions, I didn't have much to go on. The Head Gamekeeper Seneca Crane's beard scared me. I heard he preferred young girl in the bedroom. Plutatch Heavensbee was a womanizer whose wife divorced him after she caught him having an affair with his children's nanny. He also had his eye on Crane's position for years. Then there was Contessa Lister who made up stories about my friendship with her so-called non-existent children. She like younger men and supposedly had a harem of on-call male suitors. I didn't know much about the other Gamemakers, but I could guess they were the same breed as Contessa and Plutarch. And then there was Dimitri, the slightly unhinged victor.

"Did Dimitri say anything to you last night as he drove you home?"

"No," I lie. "Emily was there with me when he drove us home. He didn't say much, just congratulations. We danced earlier in the evening. He seems nice enough."

My grandmother stopped to examine a red rose. "It strikes me very odd that someone like him is a Gamemaker."

"Maybe it wasn't his choice," I say. Rumors have it that after they win they try to break the victors. Annie Cresta is one example. Apparently after her victory tour they tortured her. Apparently there was rumor of unrest in the districts. However, there are always rumors about revolts and demonstrations in the districts. "I should probably start getting ready for my new gig."

My grandmother hugs me. "Good luck. I'll probably be here when you get back. The garden's need work."

We have Avoxes and a gardener that tend to the garden, but I know with the horrors my grandmother endured both from the Games and the Capitol, pruning, weeding and planting flowers keeps her sane.

Two hours later, I am ready to go for my meeting. The beauty process took less time because of all the work done yesterday. I am wearing my grey suit skirt and jacket with a purple scoop neck shirt underneath that Emily picked out. I am wearing minimal makeup, a move done by both my stylists and Emily to play up my youth and inexperience; an advantage that could go either way.

"You look great," Emily says. "You look the part."

"I only wish I could feel it."

"Fake it until you make it." She hands me a black bag. However, it is stuffed with piano music. Too lazy to take it out I hastily stuff a fresh note book alongside Brahms, Beethoven and Debussy.

I take deep breath and steel myself. As soon as I leave this house I become a part of the Games. It's a role that I do not want, but one that I am required to play..

My mother calls me from in the foyer. I hurry down stairs, careful not to trip. A sprained ankle and bloody nose would not be a good thing. Both of those things make for a lousy first impression.

"Avis Barkley is here to pick you up," Mother says. I have no idea who this person is, but I assume he is somehow related to the Gamemakers. He's probably one of Crane's Avoxes.

A lightly-tanned man wearing a simple black suit with a red tie, stands at my front door. I instantly dislike him. He removes his sunglasses and holds out his hand to shake mine. "Congratulations on your appointment to the Gamemakers. It is a great honor to serve with someone with your credentials."

"Thank you," I say stiffly.

"Shall we go?" He gestures to the door.

"Yes, we don't want you to be late." She straightens my jacket once more. "Good luck darling. Here's the key for the apartment. I'll meet you there after the meeting and bring you a change of clothes."

Good luck, darling. More like 'Have fun in this hell that I've sent you to for the next couple of weeks.'

In the driveway, a red sports car is waiting. Avis opens the passenger side of the car.

"This is a very nice car," I say. "Thank you for picking me up." The inside is black leather and only seats two people. I buckle my seatbelt.

"Thank you," he beams. "I just got this car a week ago. It's very retro. Have you ever been in a sports car?"

"No."

"Well, do you like fast cars?" I don't like the way he's looking at me from behind his sunglasses. Cross another possible person I can trust off the list.

"How far are we from the meeting?" I ask.

"About fifteen minutes. If we had some time to spare, I'd show you how fast this thing can go."

"I may not have time," I say. "If the meeting lets out early enough, I may try to make it to class."

"Mmm…" he says, "A goody-two shoes, eh?"

I look out the window feeling uncomfortable. Avis tries to make more conversation, but he soon gives up. After passing though a few checkpoints, we stop at a dead end. Avis rolls down his window and presses a code into what looks like an old mail box. From the wall a tunnel appears. Avis revs the engine. Tires squeal and we are plunged headlong into the long tunnel. The tunnel is big enough for two lanes of traffic, but we are the only one. My heart sinks into my stomach.

From behind us there is a roar of another engine. A single headlight comes up behind up. Avis looks in his rearview mirror and swears. The man on a motorcycle passes us and waves as he does so. "That asshole," Avis swears and slams on the gas pedal. "He wants to race, does he?" We lurch forward; I cling to the door. The motorcyclist cuts in front of us. Avis swings to the side and floors it.

Up ahead the tunnel curves forcing both of them to slow down. Avis floors the engine again and curses. The motorcyclist allows Avis to get closer, but then he zooms out of sight. The tunnel ends and opens into large parking area. A few cars are parked in a few of the spaces. They are expensive-looking cars and most likely belong to the Gamemakers. The motorcyclist pulls into one. Avis pulls into the space beside him and rolls down my window.

I am able to get a closer look at the motorcyclist. Red curls pokes out from underneath the black helmet.

"Nice bike, Dimitri," Avis calls. "I'll beat you next time."

Dimitri chuckles and flips up the visor of his helmet, revealing his hazel eyes. The garish white make up is gone. "In that old thing? Yeah right."

"I let you win."

I sense this is an ongoing joke between the two of them. Avis seems remembers that I am in the car. "Dimitri this is our fresh meat is Cammi."

"Carmen," Dimitri and I say simultaneously.

"Her name is Carmen." Dimitri repeats. "We've met. Last night. I took her home after she became ill." He takes of his helmet and shakes his head. His red hair cascades across his shoulders.

"Whatever." Avis says. He gets out of the car and slams the door behind him. He seems annoyed that Dimitri got first dibs. "Same thing."

"No," Dimitri says coolly, getting off his bike He opens my door. "She's one of us now. You will treat her with respect the respect she deserves."

"Or else, what?"

"You're a big boy; I shouldn't have to tell you." Dimitri keeps his eyes level with Avis's.

Avis fiddles with his keys and mutters something along the links of having to pay a parking ticket. He glares at Dimitri as he leaves. He heads towards the security booth located a little ways away from where we had parked.

"Thank you for that," I say. I tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear. I try not to look at his scars that jut out from the corners of his mouth.

"Sure." He pulls off his gloves and stuffs them into his riding bag. "He's a bit of an asshole. Let me know if he keeps bothering you."

"I might need a ride home," I answer. "Or at least to where I'll be living during the games. He was my ride."

I stand there and look around at the deserted parking lot. The air is stuffy and the florescent lights buzz. Dimitri takes his time putting on his dress shirt, vest, and tie. "Oh, were you waiting on me?"

"I don't know where I'm going."

"You wouldn't happen to know how to tie a tie, would you? I can't do one without a mirror."

"It's been a while. When I was little and my father was around more, he used to let me tie his tie." I set my bag down. He hands me the black silk tie. I drape it around his neck. He holds his hair out of the way as I slip it under his collar. My hands shake uncontrollably as I take the wider end of the tie and try to remember how to tie it.

"Nervous?" he asks. The raspy voice I heard last night was gone.

"In front of you? never." I scoff.

"I meant the Gamemakers."

"Nervous, not so much. Intimidated, yes."

I take the wide end of the tie cross it over the narrow end of the tie, and then swing it under the narrow end and back to the left. "When I was younger, about maybe ten or so, my father went on a business trip. When he came back, all of his ties in his closet were tied for him.

Dimitri chuckles. "So did you lose your job as his neck tie tier?"

"That was pretty much the end of my career in that field." I straighten his tie and smooth his collar. "His stylist took over that. Is the knot too tight?"

"Feels great. Thank you." He gives me a small smile.

Another car pulls into the parking garage and stops in front of where we are standing. A window rolls down. "Yoo hoo! Carmen!" It's Contessa. "Get in; I'll give you a ride to the door." By the tone of the voice, I suppose I should oblige her. I can't afford to make any more enemies. We're still playing "nicey-nicey" as Dimitri put it last night.

"It's not that far," I say. "I can walk."

Dimitri checks his watch, "We need to hurry. It's getting close to ten thirty."

"I'd hate to see your fall in those heels."

"No, thank you. I'm fine. I told Dimitri I'd walk him."

"She keeps me out of trouble," he adds. He pulls my arm and we start the short trek across the parking garage.

"You need more help than that," she sniffs. She rolls up her window and tells her driver to driver her to the building.

"I don't understand, she's going to have to take the elevator like the rest of us. It's not like her driver can drop her at the front door."

"Where are we, exactly?" I ask. I lengthen my stride to match his.

"We're under the arena. The arena can only be accessed by this underground passage or hovercraft. When they bring in the tributes, they black out the windows so they can't see where they are going. It's for safety reasons more than anything. The Games aren't exactly…popular in some circles."

"Has there ever been an attack on the arena?"

He shrugs. "Not in my lifetime, I'm sure if you ask Plutarch or one of the older Gamemakers they can answer that question." He opens the glass door to the building. Inside, the walls are tiled green. An Avox mops the floor. I can tell he is an Avox by the way his lips are contorted.

"How long have you been a Gamemaker?"

"This is my third year." He presses the up button. "Any other questions?"

"What am I supposed to expect?"

Dimitri shrugs. "Whatever they throw at you."

"Can you be any more vague?"

Contessa bustles into the building just as the elevator door opens. She is out of breath and annoyed. "They wouldn't let my driver pull up to the building so I had to walk. Some new security measure."

"Oh that's another thing. Things tend to change quickly around here."

"Stop trying to scare her Dimitri," Contessa says annoyed. Today she is dressed in a hot pink feather dress and some sort of weird hat that is pinned directly to the side of her head. "Don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Anything else?" I ask.

The elevator doors open. "You might want to invest in a bullet-proof vest," he smirks.

"What are you going to do, kill me?" I ask.

"Nervous?" he answers.

"That's enough, Dimitri! Quit being such a bastard." Contessa grabs my arm and leads me down the hall. On one side, the hall overlooks the arena. I can see the tops of trees from where we stand. The sun is rising over the arena. A way off in the distance rests the cornucopia. Already it has been stocked with some supplies and weapons for the incoming tributes. A mockingjay flies from one tree to another.

I have no idea where I'll find a bullet-proof vest.

A/n: Sorry this is so long. I couldn't find a good place to break it. I am anxious to figure out what you think about Dimitri, or is it too soon to tell? Please Read and review!