A Story Of Nightlock.

Part 4 - Pre-Games

                                                             CHAPTER 3 - PRE- GAMES

A quiet rustling noise wakes me. I slowly sit up from the comfortable matress I'm lying on, my eyelids feeling droopy, my head groggy. Finally I open my eyes, and remember where I am; in the Capitol. 

The room I've been staying in these past few days is bigger than three houses combined from Distrct 5. A bathroom lingers to my right, where I can choose different colours and scents of bubbles for my shower. The sink is lined with small, coloured maufactured stones. Whenever I get out from my shower, all I have to do is step on a  red rubbery mat, which blows hot air onto my body and instantly dries me, as well as untangling my hair from knots.

My cylinder wardrobe sits to the left of the door, filled mostly with proposterous items from the Capitol. I have managed to find a few normal t-shirts to wear though, not that they're going to stay on my skin for much longer.

The red, shaggy carpet feels soft and scratchy against my toes as I stand up. I rub  the sleep from my eyes and pull off the rubber band from my wrist, tying my hair into a messy bun. Today I find out my training score, and then, the games.

I try not to worry as I pull on a green shirt, authentically patterned with silver leaves, but so many thoughts begin to enter my head; will the arena start of on desert? snow? forest? water? I hate water, always have. The very though of water brings me back to the tragic accident of my mother.

I remember she was always having to wake up early for work in the power plant. I could never understand how she could be bothered, but I was young and ignorant then, and didn't know that my mother was trying her best to support her family.

One morning when my mother got up, I couldn't bear the thought of sleeping while she was working hard. I had gone outside and picked up a stick from the ground, and began to stir the charred coals that lay cooled beneath the fire pit that we had last night. I was making patterns, designs and models. I don't know why, maybe I was just used to work from the power plant.

I remember beginning to think of a new model to trap electricity in when a Peacekeeper came up from behind me. I had almost jumped out of my skin when he tapped me on the shoulder. It bothered me how the white uniforms of a Peacekeeper never got a speck of dust on them, even though our district was made up of dirt roads and smoke from the power plants.

I had asked the Peacekeeper what he was doing, and he had explained the terrible accident that had occured whilst my mother had been working at the power plant. Some idiot had spilled a bucket of water over the control system while walking, causing the whole plant to spark and shoot flames. My mother was long dead. A service at the Justice Building was given to her two days afterwards, although I would have liked a few more people to be there, even if others were mourning over their dead family members as well. I was to young to work, and had nobody to support my family. My father had died as a result of whipping, when he tried to steal a bowl of rice for us when the winter struck badly. I was all alone, forced to learn poisonous plants from safe ones, forced to feed myself. That's when I was able to sign up for tesserae. And well... here I am.

After brushing my hair, I walk barefoot down to the kitchen, where my stylist, Octavius, and mentor, Alius, sit. Zaera Leafe also sits with them, the member of the Capitol who read out my name during the reaping. Her orange and black wig are curled in certain positions above her head, and I wonder if I should get out a ruler and measure the height of it. Zaera is, of course, wearing her famous glitter. Her lips are pursed in what seems to be frustration as she daps a little red glitter over the pink lipstick on her lips, trying to 'paint' a heart as she looks into her pocket mirror. She's wearing a weird sort of orange dress that curls up ( just like her wig ) at the ends. Her shoulders are exposed, and I can see a faint sign of pink dye which is almost covered up by a red glittering shoulder wrap.

"Goodmorning," Octavius says as I sit down on one of the oak chairs that match the dining table.

"Morning," I say, and help myself to a chocolate chip muffin.

"Finch!" Zaera cries, leaping up from her seat.

"W-what?" I reply, somehow nervous. My mouth is watering, the muffin sits in my palm.

"You canno't eat a muffin for breakfast, that is unsanitary and unhealthy!"

I feel like laughing. Zaera has made a huge fuss over a muffin.

"Well Zaera, I won't be eating like this after two weeks. Better make the most of it, don't you think?" This shuts her up, and I take a massive bite into the sweet dessert.

 Caesar Flickerman then appears on the television screen. It's quite early, but he's still wearing the same midnight blue suit as he did at the interviews last night.

I enclose my face in my palms. I should have done more in my private training. Should have shown them my camoflague skills, my stealth.

As usual, the Careers get high scores, eights, nines and tens. After the curly haired boy from District Four, who recieved a seven, my image appears on screen. I cross my fingers, not hoping for a massive score, but not a two, either.

"Well done." Alius pats me on the back. I have recieved a score of 5. Eric does a little better, earning a 7.

I feel relieved. The Careers will overlook me. I feel safe, but Eric, however, feels nervous. I twist from where I'm sitting to see him leave the room. Funny, I didn't even realise he was with me, and that is a fatal flaw. I must reconsider my senses before the Games.

Many other tributes gained sixes and sevens, including the little girl from District 11, Rue, which surprised me. The boy from her District, I now know as Thresh, gained a ten. I have some compeition.

Katniss Everdeen, the girl on Fire, gains an 11, which shocks everyone. The Careers are definately going to persue her. The boy, her... lover, gained an eight, which was alright.

Alius tells me that I will have one more day of training publicly. I change into my District 5 shirt and make my way down to the training centre. Cato is practicing fiercly with his sword, the girl from his district toying with her knives. The tributes from one and two practice spear throwing and archery. None of the Careers have practiced survival skills though, which concludes that they are sure the Cornucopia is theirs.

I walk fastly towards the snare's station, where I see the District 11 boy, Thresh. His hands are too big to tie the little ropes on the twigs of the snare. He's going to have a problem with food.

Within moments, I produce my own perfect snare, and feel that it may be time to practice with weapons. Before I can decide, however, a large hand looms over my shoulder, making me feel like the Peacekeepers are back. I stumble backwards, now looking upon the iimage of Thresh.

"Hello," he says gruffly.

" Erm... hi." I turn to leave,

"Good luck in the Games, Finch." He says.

"You too."

Thresh walks away from me, picking up a silver scythe, which fits perfectly in his musculine hands.

I sigh, walking off towards the camoflague stop, where my teacher begins to rant on about what resources are better to coat yourself in, how fast mud dries and which positions leaves can hide you most on your body.

When I'm told to practice a method of coating myself in wet gravel, I look towards the fire stop and see Katniss fiddling with some sticks. She's obviously very skilled, and makes a fire in less than ten seconds.

The dancing flames of Katniss' fire flickers before my blue eyes, reflecting the light in the iris. My eyes turn foggy as I walk away. Partly from the fire, mostly from tears of frustration.