The Girl with the Knives

  The wind blows the strands of my dark hair around my face. My eyes squint into the breeze. Wind like this isn't common here in District Two because of all of the factories around. I walk quickly past one now, and right next to it, at the end of the cobblestoned square, is the Peacekeeper's Training Camp. Apparently the Capitol didn't have enough citizens to enforce the entire country of Panem, and since they've always favored us at Two, they asks us to train some devoted adults to become Peacekeepers.

  I finally reach our house, a large, fancy mansion. I step through the short path and push open the door. I walk toward my room, hoping not to be noticed by my mom, dad, or brother.

  Of course, it doesn't work. My father calls from the kitchen, "Hey, Clove, where've you been?" I shuffle my feet, sighing, and stride to his side. "Training." I reply. "Okay." he says back. It's no secret that I'm the best knife thrower in the entire district. "She never misses." I hear people say at times. Some people even say I should be in the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games were made by the Capitol after the Dark Days, when the thirteen districts rebelled. The Capitol destroyed one and made the twelve others each offer offer a male and female tribute to fight to the death in a huge arena (that, really, could be any setting: a desert, a jungle, anything!). It ends when only one person, the victor, remained, and that person got riches and a huge house in the Victor's Village in their district.

  I make my way slowly to my room, and i hear my sister singing some weird song in the shower, so I go right to my room. I sit on the ornate bed, stroking the satin-smooth, bloodred sheets. Tomorrow's the reaping for the 74th annual Hunger Games. At the reaping an escort pulls a slip of paper from a girl's glass ball, and then one from the boy's. Every kid from age twelve to eighteen has to enter, and the number of slips increases as you get older. I wonder if I should volunteer this year, because you can volunteer to take someone else's place in the Games. I think i have a pretty good chance of becoming victor, as I can turn deadly faster than you can say, "Killer." I had just mastered throwing a knife over my shoulder- something I've had trouble on before.

  I change into my indigo pj's, get ready for bed in my own personal bathroom, and lay down. My waist-height hair splays out on my pillow behind me. I toss and turn, unable to sleep even though my bed is so comfortable. The darkness seems menacing so I turn on the light. I hear my mother walk past my door. I get a glass of water and lay back down. Soon I'm very frustrated because I still can't sleep. This is very unusual because I usually have no trouble sleeping. Finally I throw my pillow on my head and fall to sleep.

  The next morning I wake up and numbly get dressed into a velvety gold-and-ruby dress, red shoes, and various golden jewelry pieces. My mother comes in, already dressed, and wordlessly does my hair and makeup. I look ravishing, an angel draped in gold and red. For some reason, she gets all quiet whenever it's time for the Games. Everyone else here loves them. When i come downstars, my little sister, Petunia, runs up to me and i smile. She looks almost identical to me, except for her green eyes and chocolate-brown hair, as opposed to my dark brown eyes and black hair. Togther, we set out for the reaping.

  When we get to the town square, most people are already there. We head to get our fingers pricked for DNA recognition, then we take our places. I stand with some other sixteen year olds, and they all smile and wave. I nod back, happy to be recognized. The escort, Natalie Tinkle, starts by explaining the Hunger Games, blah blah blah. Finally she chirps, "Ladies first!" in the ridiculous Capitol accent, and plucks a name from the girl's glass bowl. I wait, holding my breath in like my lungs are balloons, and she calls out, "CLOVE SEVINA!" I stare up at her in a mixture of horror and pleasure. The tribute is me. I step up to the podium and say into the microphone, "I don't want anyone to volunteer." proudly and clearly. Then the boy is called. He's an eighteen-year old I don't recognize, and before I get a good look at him Natalie asks for volunteers and a muscular, blonde boy bounds forward. I stare. It's Cato.

  Cato might be the most lethal killer in the entire District, me included. I've seen and heard of him slashing away at the manequins at the Weapons Center, and after the pieces are splattered with the fake blood. I can't believe I'm going to the Hunger Games with him. We shake hands and sit through the anthem, then we say goodbye to our families in the Justice Building. They're pretty sure i'm coming back home as Victor, so it's not much of a goodbye.

  After that, we board the train to go to the Capitol. It speed off as I catch one last glimpse of my home.

  I go straight to bed, which is in a surprisingly large room. District Two is fairly close to the Capitol, so it will only take another twelve hours or so. I fall into a fitful sleep, waking often. Finally, Natalie calls me for breakfast. I sit and eat wordlessly. The food is slightly better than at home. I gorge myself on pancakes, eggs, bacon, muffins, toast, and plenty of other food.

  Soon, we arrive at the Capitol. There are neon colors everywhere, including on the people. I will never understand Capitolists, I think as I flip my hair behind my ear and wave out the window through a fake smile plasterd to my face. We get off the train and are ushered through the crowd to a building. My prep team gets me ready to meet my stylist, who i think is named Hunter. I think nothing of the team, they are nothing but servents to me. Finally, Hunter comes in. He has light skin that brings his makeup and stencils into focus. Purple lipstick, electric blue eyeshadow, a slight overdose on blush. Green stenciled arms, smooth clean nails, clipped brown hair.

  He and I talk for a few minutes before he explains our- meaning Cato's and my- chariot outfits. The tributes ride chariots for the opening ceremony, dressed up in a costume or outfit representing their district. Since District Two is masonry, Hunter has designed a golden, metalic outfit that focuses on power- which is represented by eagle wings. The wings are on a crown-like headdress that makes us look like our head's about to fly away.

  After that i go up the elevator to level two (each district has a whole level).  We watch the recap of first the reapings, then the opening ceremonies. We look impressive, but then District Twelve comes out and my jaw drops.

  THEY'RE ON FIRE.

  They're literally flaming. I can't believe it! They'll take all of the sponsers, just because of some stupid costume! I storm up to my bedroom, furius. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better. Tommorow's the first day of the Training session. All of the tributes will have three days to train with weapons and survival skills. The last day it's just you and the Gamemakers, who make the arena and will score you on your chance of becoming victor on a scale of 1-12. Then, i think with relish, I'll show everyone how truly deadly I can be.