District 6

Mercedes Brown

District 6 is the district which keeps Panem moving. Our main industry is transport; from an early age, our children are prepared for a lifetime as assembly plant workers, mechanics . . . and so on. Unless, of course, they end up as tributes in the Hunger Games, which is what has happened to me. In my seventh year of eligibility, when I was one year away from being out of the reaping for good (barring any Quarter Quells which might change the age limit) my name was drawn from the girls' reaping ball.

To be fair, I knew the odds weren't in my favour. After all, I had been claiming tesserae since I was twelve for myself, my parents and four younger siblings. And that meant my name was in the reaping fifty-six times. Seven because that's the minimum number of entries for eighteen-year-olds, plus forty-nine for all the tesserae I'd claimed over the years. All the same, I hoped that my luck would hold for just one more year. But it didn't; one of my entries was drawn and I had to make my way to the stage. As usual, our district escort asked for volunteers and, as usual, there were no takers. In fact, District 6 hasn't had a volunteer in over thirty years.

Anyway, I'm District 6's female tribute in the Seventy-third Hunger Games. Right now, I'm waiting with my district partner, Philip, and the other tributes for the start of the tribute parade. My costume is, to say the least, strange. My stylist came up with an ensemble consisting of a corset top, leggings and boots, all of which look - and smell - like they're made from vulcanized rubber. Vulcanized rubber, the stuff we use to make tyres. I'm also wearing a necklace and matching bracelets which look like they've been made out of wheel nuts. And the whole thing is topped off with a headdress which has clearly been modelled on a hubcap. In short, this year's District 6 costumes are based on car wheels.

When my stylist first mentioned the wheels theme, I imagined myself being paraded through the streets of the Capitol wearing nothing but a tyre around my waist. The costume I ended up with is at least an improvement on that - even if it is damn uncomfortable to wear. Still, at least I'll only have to be in it for a few hours.

I think of my family back in District 6. My two oldest siblings, Pilot and Jessica, are also of reaping age, at fifteen and thirteen years old respectively. Since I would have been too old for the reaping next year, even if my name hadn't been drawn, Pilot signed up for tesserae for the first time this year; he said he had to, being the eldest after me. But I hope Jessica and our ten-year-old twin brothers, Leo and Aldrin, will never have to take the same risk. And signing up for tesserae is a risk; it allows you to claim a year's supply of grain and oil for each person in your family, but it also means your name has more chances of being drawn.

But, if I can win these Games, I'll receive a guaranteed income for life. That means Pilot won't have to claim any more tesserae and Jessica, Leo and Aldrin will never even have to sign up. They'll still have to face the reaping like all the other kids in District 6, but they won't have the added risk of having extra entries. Though, of course, the tesserae Pilot claimed this year will still count towards his total number of entries in future reapings, even if I do win these Games. But at least the chances of his name being drawn will only increase slightly. First, though, I've got to win.

Over the next three days, I plan to work on my weapons and survival skills, so that I'll at least have a chance. And the training period will give me time to observe my fellow tributes, see if any of them might be worth teaming up with. Allies can be useful in the Games, but you must be prepared for the possibility that you might have to kill your own allies, or vice versa.

But any decisions about allies will have to wait. Right now, the tribute parade is about to begin.

Philip Ashton

As I wait for the tribute parade to begin, my mind runs through all the recent District 6 tributes. In the past five years, six of our tributes have died in the bloodbath, one has placed twelfth and the remaining three have made the final eight. Among the latter was Titus, the tribute who went mad and tried to eat his opponents, though we don't talk about that - for obvious reasons. But I knew Titus before he went into the arena - he was a friend of my older brother, Myles - so I know he wasn't always a nutjob. It was the stress of the situation he found himself in that made him snap. But I hope I won't go mad as well; I would hate to be remembered for anything even remotely similar to what Titus did.

Right now, I'm standing beside my district partner, Mercedes, both of us dressed up to represent District 6's main industry, transport. We are supposed to represent car wheels - or so our stylists say. I'm wearing a suit of armour that looks as though it's been made out of tyres, with wheel nuts as shoulder studs and a hubcap for a headdress. This is what the whole of Panem will soon see me wearing.

I think back to the reaping, remembering when I was called to the stage, hoping against hope that I might get lucky and have someone volunteer for me. No chance of that; the only districts where volunteers are the rule rather than the exception are Districts 1, 2 and 4, the Career districts. So I had to leave District 6, my home for the past fifteen years, not knowing if I would ever see my friends and family again. I know I will return one day, but will I return as a victor or as a corpse?

Naturally, I have a definite preference for the former. So I must find a way to win these Games. I don't know how I'm going to do it yet, but I'm going to give it my best shot. At the very least, I want to make sure I don't get knocked out in the early stages. Luckily, I'm fairly strong and that should give me a slight edge, hopefully enough to allow me to take out some of my opponents. But, if I'm to win, I'm going to have to take on at least one of the Careers and they're going to be harder to kill.

Whatever happens, I must never lose sight of the fact that my opponents are human beings. That's what happened to Titus and it's why most people think the avalanche which killed him was no accident. He'd made it as far as the final four and there was a very real chance that he might end up winning. So, to make sure they wouldn't have to give the crown to a mad boy who had tried to eat his fellow tributes, the Gamemakers set off an avalanche in order to eliminate him from the Games.

I don't know how much truth there is in that theory, but the Gamemakers have killed tributes in the past, though they don't do it often. They mostly force the tributes together, then leave them to fight it out. Even so, I don't want to give the Gamemakers an excuse to take me out; if I have to die in these Games, I want to die for a better reason than the fact that I went nuts and literally tried to make a meal of my opponents.

Luckily, cases like Titus's are rare, but they do happen. And the fact that it happened to someone from my own district makes me wonder if, no matter how hard I try to avoid going down the same path, I might end up suffering a similar fate. But I remind myself that it's unlikely, that most tributes do not try to eat each other. The trouble is, you can never tell how someone's going to react to being in the arena until the Games begin. So I must work on my fighting skills while I'm at the Training Centre. And, when I get to the arena, I must hope I manage to retain at least a shred of sanity.

That's what I'm thinking as the District 6 chariot rolls out.