I took a deep breath. It was shaky, unsteady; like me. I stared at my trembling hands that were crossed across my stomach. I lay on my bed, feeling the shivers crawl up and down my spine. My skin was pin-prick sensitive, and the slightest shift made me feel uncomfortable. So this is how it feels to be a tribute.
But despite the churning stomach and my pounding n the back of my skull, I jumped right up as President Snow knocked. Except, it wasn't him. I threw open the door to see an Avox staring back at me, just as surprised as I was. I couldn't help but gulp, becoming aware of my dry lump of a tongue sitting awkwardly in my mouth.
His hair was bleach blond and spiky, his eyes a pale lifeless blue. They never seemed to blink.
I nodded for him to proceed, already dressed in my tight-fitting tribute jumpsuit, a square with the number 13 on my upper arm. The Avox led me out to a black car with blacked-out windows and opened the door for me. I got inside, and the car sped away. I was alone with the black, cold leather seats, the sensitivity crawled back into my skin.
I stared at the building that I was unceremoniously dumped at. It was tall. I counted twelve floors. I walked hesitantly inside. I had no idea where I was going. I was looking around, playing nervously with my hands when a voice made me jump.
"Ah! You must be Nightshade, District 13's girl tribute!"
I whirled around. There stood a man with unkempt dark brown hair a a path of hair growing on his chin. He had laughing eyes and a tinge of cruel humor to his yellowed smile.
"Who are you?" My voice came out rather demanding and strong, the complete opposite of how I was feeling. I was impressed at myself. All those years of acting for my Capitol audience had really payed off.
"Why, didn't the president tell you? I'm your mentor!"
Oh course he was. It took all of my natural acting ability to keep from snorting contemptuously. He was chip off the old block, that block being President Snow. It was made obvious by the clean-cut suit and the cruel smile, but he was much less groomed than Snow.
"Of course," was my short-tempered response. I knew that this man would report my every action, every word, back to President Snow. My inability to escape his watchful eyes and ears ticked me off something nasty.
"I'm sure you're looking for the training room. Right this way." He could sense my hostility and avoided bringing it to the surface. After all, he couldn't loose face; or stature.
I followed him to the elevator. He took long nimble strides, hands folded smartly behind his back. I stared at his arms and could tell that for all his grace, he was tense and stretched rubber.
He pressed a button in the elevator and we were propelled downward. I stared at him with a threatening, no-nonsense look that he caught right as the elevator came to a halt. I couldn't tell if it were me or the elevator's abrupt stop that caused him to flinch, but I was satisfied either way.
I returned a blank, emotionless expression to my face as I stepped out and looked around at the other tributes, my competition. It didn't look like much, but who but the Careers showed their hidden talents while the other tributes were around? I put on a mindset that everyone were deadly assassins, but I caused me such unease that I dropped that notion and decided I'd be open to friendship.
I walked further away from the elevator and looked around at the different stations. I had no need to practice, having done so everyday of my life, so I decided to have some fun. I went to the camouflage station and proceeded to paint myself and whatever else was at hand.
I could feel the stares burning into my crawling skin. As soon as one person noticed the 13 on my arm, the news spread like wildfire. I smiled a bit to myself, thinking of the stories from past Hunger Games. Some people were convinced that we were placed in the area just to cut back the numbers. Others believed that we were zombies, raised from the dead and only destroyable by the Capitol. Who knows, maybe I am a zombie. I almost laughed and went back to my
camouflage lesson thinking to myself that fun might be possible to scrounge from this whole Hunger Games thing.
