District 5

Kayla Jefferson

More than anything in the world, I had been dreading my first reaping. Twelve years of watching the Hunger Games have taught me that the younger tributes almost always get taken out first. My mother tried to reassure me that the odds of my name being drawn were slim since I would only have one entry in my first year. But that one entry was the one drawn by our district escort, no-one volunteered to take my place and here I am.

Right now, I'm standing with my district partner, Silas, waiting for the tribute parade to begin. Since we are from District 5, the district which generates power, we have been dressed up to reflect this. I'm wearing a costume which consists of silvery strips of material sewn to a mesh background to form a sort of flared dress. On my feet, I wear boots in the same silvery colour and my headdress is a helmet with wires emerging from it. There are also wires emerging from my shoulders. I am a pylon.

I look round at the other tributes. I can't see all of them from where I'm standing, but the ones I can see are all bigger than me; I'm 4'9". I know I won't stand a chance if any of them attack me and that's exactly what they'll do. In the Hunger Games, it's kill or be killed and only one of us can survive. And the odds that it will be me are slim, unless I can somehow outlast all the others. But, even if I could avoid my fellow tributes, there are still other things that could kill me.

Starvation, dehydration, Gamemakers' traps, mutts . . . I've seen all these, and more, kill tributes. Mostly, however, the tributes die at each other's hands; it's been three years since the Games were decided by something other than a big battle between the remaining tributes. And, since tributes my age rarely survive long, I know the odds are not in my favour.

Unless I can learn how to survive in the wild. Then I might have a chance of at least avoiding death from starvation or dehydration. But it won't be easy; District 5 is one of the more urban districts and that means our kids are often ill-prepared for the arena. Not all of them, though. There's a red-haired girl I know called Tania Finch. She's a couple of years older than me and she's very cunning, so much so that I think she could do well if she ever got picked for the Games. She might even end up winning simply by being smart enough to stay alive longer than the others.

But she's not here, whereas I am. So I will just have to do the best I can, even though that probably won't be enough to keep me alive for long. For one thing, what am I going to do for food? I probably won't be able to obtain much at the Cornucopia; indeed, the Careers will almost certainly claim the bulk of the supplies. I could try stealing from the Careers, but that kind of strategy can be risky. If you get caught, you'll almost certainly end up dead.

Dead. That's what twenty-three of the kids waiting to be paraded through the streets of the Capitol will soon be. Only one of us will ever see their family again and, unless I can somehow manage to outlive all the others, it won't be me. I think of my sister back in District 5; her name's Maeve, she's six years old and she will soon have to face the prospect of watching me die on live TV. I used to comfort her when she got scared by the violence in the Games, but I can't do that any more. So, when she and my parents came to say goodbye, I made her promise to be brave no matter what happened.

I feel tears well up as I recall how Maeve clung to me - she probably wouldn't have let go had our father not pulled her away - but I quickly compose myself. The parade is about to begin and, young as I am, I cannot show weakness in front of the whole nation.

So I try to look brave as the chariots start to roll out onto the streets of the Capitol.

Silas Westwood

As I wait for the tribute parade to begin, I find myself thinking about the reasoning behind the Hunger Games. They say the Games are supposed to be a punishment for the rebellion, but that was seventy-three years ago, when my grandparents were young. None of the kids waiting to be paraded through the streets of the Capitol had anything to do with it. But, because of something which happened before we were even born, twenty-three of us are going to die. I want to shout about how unfair it all is, but I dare not; if I was heard speaking out against the Games, there's no telling what the Capitol would do.

In my case, they'd probably make life difficult for me in the arena - like it isn't going to be difficult anyway. But I'm worried about my family back in District 5. The Capitol have been known to punish whole families if one of them shows any sign of dissent and that's the last thing I want. So I try to find something else to think about, but without success. And the fact that I have a twelve-year-old district partner makes it even worse. I don't know anything about her other than her name, Kayla, but every time I look at her I think about how she's going to die soon. All because of something which happened over seventy years ago.

First, though, we have to face the tribute parade. Kayla and I have been dressed as pylons to represent the power which District 5 generates. I'm wearing a sleeveless top made from a silvery material sewn onto a mesh background, with trousers made from the same material underneath, plus matching boots. There are wires emerging from my shoulders, as well as from the helmet I wear on my head. My stylist told me he'd been wanting to work with metallic fabrics for years, so he asked to be assigned to District 3, only to be told they didn't need any more stylists at present. Luckily, a vacancy had opened up on the team responsible for District 5, which has a similar industry.

I don't much care for the whims of Capitol residents. All I know is that, not content with sending kids off to die every year, they have to make the same kids into a public spectacle via the tribute parade. Still, it could be worse. I could have ended up with one of those stylists who dress their tributes in as little as possible; a few years back, the kids from District 12 emerged wearing nothing but black dust. At least I'm able to maintain a little dignity.

I turn my attention to deciding how I should approach the Games. I know I should work on my survival skills, since tributes from the more urban districts are at a disadvantage in that area. And it would also help if I could learn how to handle weapons. Not that I expect to become as competent as the Careers, but just being able to throw a spear or wield a bladed weapon will at least enable me to fight back if I'm attacked.

But will I really be able to kill my fellow tributes? If I want to survive, that's what I'll have to be prepared to do. Could I kill Kayla? Given how little chance very young tributes like her stand in the Games, it might be kinder if I were to take her out myself, rather than let the Careers catch her. I've seen Career packs in action before, so I know they often like to toy with their victims before killing them. In the meantime, I'll have as little as possible to do with her.

As for the rest of my fellow tributes, I think I could probably take most of them on easily. The Careers, however, are another matter; they've been training for these Games all their lives. And, if I'm to win, I'll have to take them on sooner or later. I know how ruthless Careers can be and at least half of them make it to the latter stages every year.

Right now, however, the tribute parade is about to start. Standing beside Kayla, I watch as the chariots begin to roll out.