Opinions and Truth - The Last Hunger Games

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Chapter 1

India Snow

“India Snow”

I let a tear slide down my cheek as my name is called from the platform mounted in the Capitol Square and a chorus of boos is shouted from the crowd. India Snow. That is my name, so deliberately given to me from my grandfather. It’s a curse that hovers over my head, letting people judge me and imagine the cold-hearted 14 year old girl who should be the relative of the murderer, President Snow. No one bothers to find out who I am- how I act. Oh, no, all they need is my name and I might as well be thrown to the Devil. After all, that’s sure to be where I’m going now.

Welcome to The Last Hunger Games, they state on the banner shadowing the large stage. And this is definitely a party banner occasion of joy. Hint of sarcasm there. This time, The Hunger Games is being organised by the District Rebels- not the Capitol. This time the competitors are from the Capitol- not the districts. And this time, the Rebels will be choosing relatives of the most important- most wealthy, evil and strong- people of the Old Capitol to compete in the Arena. That’s where no doubt, I come in. Oh, yes, can’t you just imagine their luck when they realised that President Snow- or Ex-President Snow I should say, now that he has perished in his own coughing fit- had a teenage granddaughter? Perfect age for the Hunger Games and a perfect person to compete in the deadly Arena that her Grandfather created.

I reach the stage quickly, approaching the new President of the Capitol, President Paylor. I lift my chin up high and return the President’s cold glare that is directed in my way, and I stand and face the audience, trying to blink the moist out of my eyes.

The spokesman who had called my name continues with calling out the other competitors’ names and I listen carefully, trying to get an idea of my opponents.
The man, Plutartch Heavensbee, continues, “Quiet please. The following females will also be competing in the last Hunger Games”

One by one, Plutartch Heavensbee calls out the female competitors in age-order and they all walk forward, taking their places beside me on the stage. I can’t help but notice how I was called out first, before everyone else. Great. Somehow, I figure that I’m not going to have one moment of peace in The Arena. There’ll either be Competitors making it Hell, wildlife making it Hell or Gamemakers making it Hell.

“12 year old, Xena Samuels,” Plutarch calls, “Daughter of Annalise Samuels, inventor of the Capitols’ pods that defended the Capitol from justice.”

A tall and slim girl with long wavy black hair and a red and blue-tipped fringe stands up, her one dark grey eye that isn’t covered by bangs, looking around like a trapped rabbit, before hesitantly scurrying through the crowd towards the stage. Her eyes flick to me reproachfully before she stands to my left.

“14 year old, Maddison Abel…” I suck in a sharp breath, my vision going fuzzy. I should have known that this would happen. “Daughter of Lucie Abel, decorator” he used heavy sarcasm on the word decorator, “of the past Hunger Games Arena’s.”

I watch, trying to keep my breathing steady as what he says has settled into my mind, as my best friend’s athletic body rises from the crowd, her long brown hair and bangs masking a nervous face with bright and scared emerald green eyes. I hear her name come from my mouth in a frightened whisper and my hand half-heartedly reaches out towards her as the passes me and takes her place on the stage. Maddi gives me a half-hearted nervous smile from behind Xena Samuels.

My brain still struggles to accept the fact that I would be put in the Arena with my best friend when Plutarch calls the next name, “14 year old Cloe Berkhimer, daughter of Madeeha Berkhimer, Hunger Games Gamemaker and half-cousin of India Snow”

I raise my head once again, seriously doubting my ability to repress my shock, as a faint memory dawns in my head of a distant cousin. And sure enough, an older version of the image in my head approaches the stage, a short girl with the typical blonde hair, blue eyes look. Cloe mounts the stage and passing me, gives me a small but confident smile. I remember watching the District Tributes being chosen. They’d all acted confident, so as not to be picked out as a weak character- or they’d done the opposite and turned out to be brutal and fierce. It was time to smile back confidently.

The next person is another 14 year old called Samantha Colinbird, who has long hair that sparkles and glitters into different colours in her every movement and sad, deep sea blue eyes and by the way she moved, she obviously caught the attention of many gawping guys. Her mother was the main bidder for Finnick Odair, as the whole of the Capitol knows how Snow had sold Finnick to the Capitol’s women.

After Samantha, is the daughter of the head security guard of Snow’s Mansion named Tiffany Avila, aged 15, with tan skin and brown hair and brown eyes. In fact, her whole body radiated the colour brown and surely, in the Arena, camouflage would be no necessity for this mud-coloured girl.

However, the next two 15 year olds, Blaze Mayelle - whose mother, Roksana Mayelle was deputy Head Gamemaker has midnight black hair and Aquilla Santaren- whose father and mother were very wealthy and popular in the Capitol- has shaggy, shoulder length blood red hair and black eyes with heavily pierced ears and unusually claw-like nails.

“Lanta Green” is called next by Plutartch and the crowd produces a suspiciously skinny District-looking girl with grey eyes and dark brown hair who has a Gamemaker for a mother and a rich and important father who I vaguely remember from a New Years Ball that I’d attended with Pedro, my ex-boyfriend.
Pedro has been my boyfriend for three years now, up until last Sunday night, when the Rebels had announced that they would be holding a last Hunger Games. That night had been what I think of as my condemnation. It was certain that I would be entered, what with my ancestry and I’d also decided that this was my cue to break up with Pedro Louis, my extravagant, bad-boy boyfriend. I would’ve found a way to break up with him anyway. I was tired of kissing his snakebites and feeling his too short and shaved in a dragon pattern hair. I was just sad to see the look in his eyes as his heart broke. There was no doubt that he loved me more than I could ever love him.

The next few to be called are Rosalyn Night, an auburn haired 16 year old whose father owned a large amount of land and was very rich, another 16 year old called Ranielle Fairchild who has short, red hair, a ghastly scar across one cheek and different coloured eyes whose father organised the bombing of District 13 many years ago and the twelfth female at 17 years old, Mikylie Steleson who has long dark hair, piercing blue eyes and a tattoo of a flame on one upper arm and a wolf on the other. Her mother, Ryannia Locker was the Deputy President of the Capitol.

I feel glad to hear that I’m not the only one to receive boo-ing, as the crowd boos Mikylie on her way to the stage and she takes her place in the row of female competitors.

So great, I’m being entered into an Arena where the rule is “Kill or be killed” with my best friend, my half cousin and a group of girls, of which most of them are all at least half a head taller than my short 5’4 body.

Could this get any worse?

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