CHAPTER 2 – SIXTY SECONDS

There's a calm breeze hitting my face as I stand on my pedestal. I do nothing to prepare myself for the gong. I'm still half expecting no gong to ever go off. I've been questioning the legitimacy of these sick Games ever since the announcement of them three months ago, and even still I feel like it's all just a big joke.

I look to my right and see Violet. She stands very still, hands at her sides, looking straight ahead at the Cornucopia.

"Violet," I say loud enough for her to hear from her pedestal ten feet away. She immediately looks over to me as if I've awoken her from a trance. Her expression doesn't change, but a single tear trickles down her face. In my mind I picture her saying, "This is actually happening. The Hunger Games are actually real."

We get up inside the train and the door seals behind us. Violet hasn't stopped crying or shaking since we left the Justice Building. Dorrie waddles quickly across the car to a table set with the most food I've ever seen at once in my life. Being raised in a time of war means you only eat so much. And something I've never seen before, the food was actually pretty. All sorts of shapes and colors.

"Now, have a seat you two. Wipe away those tears darling, you don't want to enter the Capitol looking like you're going to a funeral," bickers Dorrie.

"We are going to a funeral," I snap, "Our own."

"Well with an attitude like that, you just might be," she says back. I shrug it off and walk over to take a seat. Violet follows. Once we're seated I grab some kind of cake with brown icing. I've only ever had cake a few times before, and it always tends to give me a stomachache. Though today, I don't think anything's going to stop me from indulging in Capitol food, not before it's too late.

"I'll be right back, don't leave this car," says Dorrie. She clanks off through a door and disappears. After a long period of silence, Violet speaks for the first time.

"I'm sorry about Zoe."

"Violet, is this really a time to apologize?" I ask.

"I'm serious. I was never nice to her and I've felt bad about it for years. I bet she's so happy that I'm on this train, getting sent off to my death."

"Well, she did tell me she hopes I last longer than you," I say with a laugh. God knows some humor is the first thing this girl needs to lighten up. She forces a smile and looks down in her lap.

"I'm not going to win," she admits, "I'm just hoping I go quick. I'd rather die right away than last til the end and have to go through the whole thing. But for Zoe's sake, I hope it's you who wins."

Violet looks back to the Cornucopia. I follow to where she must be looking and see a scattered arrangement of backpacks, weapons, and supplies in the field around the Cornucopia. The mouth of the structure holds an unsettling amount of deadly contraptions. I'm just curious to know which one of them is gonna be responsible for ending my life. Trying not to stay on the topic, I look above the Cornucopia and see a large digital screen with the number 60 on it. Suddenly, it starts to count down. 59… 58… 57… 56…

I look to my left and see a petite girl with long golden locks of hair. Her name is Jane, from District 7. I remember her from our two days of training because her and her District partner, Ellis, had no problem showing off their skills with axes. No surprise there, they probably grew up chopping up lumber with them. I guess all they have to do is pretend my face is a tree trunk if they want to get out of here alive.

I look back at the countdown. 51… 50… 49… It's as if time has slowed down significantly. My heart starts to pound a little harder as this reality sinks in. Those weapons are very real, just as real as I am. I'm really standing here on this pedestal with twenty-three other kids, waiting to run in and kill each other. I can no longer stand still with those thoughts in my head, so I start tapping my foot. The thought of having no possible way of escape, nowhere to run, no exiting the arena unless all these other people die first, makes my face get hot. There's no way I can do this.

34… 33… 32…

I look a few tributes over to my right and see a tall, beautiful girl with skin a little darker than mine. Camellia Sunrose, the only full name I remember so far, because they haven't stopped talking about her since the day we got to the Capitol. I saw the footage of her reaping. District 11. She wasn't even picked, but she volunteered to participate. This was something the Capitol never expected to happen. But when she stepped forward to take the place of a younger, scared-looking girl from her District, they found the possibility of having volunteer tributes exciting.

21… 19… 18…

Seeing the countdown this close to hitting zero sends a surge of anxiety through my body. I shudder in fear, but shake it off. All I need is motivation. A reason to go home. A need to go home.

"Charles, you've got a visitor today," squeals Dorrie with excitement.

"I'm gonna start calling you Dorris, see how you like it," I rebut. She scoffs, offended by my reply. The elevator door to our hotel suite suddenly opens, and out steps a familiar face. Capitol General Coriolanus Snow.

"Mr. West," says the young commander as he steps out of the elevator, "What a pleasure to have you here in the Capitol." Suddenly I feel like there's a lump in my throat. General Snow was a big leader for the Capitol's forces during the war of the Dark Days, and according to my mom, his squad was responsible for the death of my older brother and father.

"Let's go have a talk, shall we?" he asks, but then rather forcefully grabs my arm and pulls me into a small, dark closet to the side of the hallway. Once inside, he flips on a small light in the empty closet and slams the door shut, looking sternly down at me.

"Listen, Charles."

"Charlie," I correct him.

"Charlie," he repeats with a faked smile, "I just want to let you know, that you being here is not as much by chance as you may have thought." No surprise there. I continue looking at him and wait for him to continue speaking.

"You were unable to avoid being in the Hunger Games. You were told each boy's name was in that bowl once, correct?" I refuse to respond.

"Well that was false. But, we're only deceiving you as your father deceived us at the start of the war. No, the only name on those slips of paper was yours. The Capitol saw it fit and fair that the son of one of our most destructive adversaries be a tribute in this year's Games. We thought you might give us a better show than your father ever could. Let's just say, we don't want you to disappoint us."

I shake the cold memory out of my head and look back at the countdown.

10… 9… 8…

This is it. This is the Hunger Games. They're about to begin. In a few minutes I could be lying on the grass dead, just like General Snow wants. But I'm not going to let that happen. The last thing he wants, and the last thing he expects, is for me to win, to go home, and to stand as a threat against him. Suddenly I'm overwhelmed by the possibility of sparking an entirely new revolution when the sound of the gong pierces my ears.

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