I'm too shocked to realize that I'm in, what seems to be, a luxurious Capitol train. At school, they tell us that these trains and other vehicles are built in District 6. We don't have much communications with the other districts, ever since the Dark Days. A big change from last year, when the tributes were dumped in filthy trucks. I think some guy, maybe from 11 or 12, got bitten by a bat in one of them and he got rabies. "Is this real?", I say. Octavia gives a glance and then says, "They decided to give an upgrade. You'll also be given an opportunity to train in a training center, where they will give you individual scores on your skillset.". Then, Octavia proceeds to show us where our compartments are.

Concher raises his eyes in surprise. "I guess they want the games to be a spectacle."

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you here Octavia?", I ask.

"Well, each tribute will have an escort now. I'll show you around and help you."

"Not that you'll be much help.", Concher mutters.

And because I hate Concher and want to be on Octavia's good side, since she's now a key to my survival, I respond saying, "Of course Octavia will help us! In my opinion, we got the best escort ever!"

Octavia gives me a small smile; I guess I won her over. "Thank you Mags. And Concher, I think you better start showing some respect."

Concher just gives me a wink and disappears into a compartment.

"Now Mags, we should better start working on your image!" Octavia announces.

"Image?"

"Yes. How you'll be perceived in public."

"Well... I want to be seen as brave but also kind."

Octavia nods while hastily writing on a notepad. This woman is prepared. "Do you have any talents?"

"I can make fish hooks out of anything. I'm a great survivor.", I respond.

"Good. Make sure you tell them that during the interview."

"OK. How about when I'm in the arena? Any advice?"

"I'm not really the person to ask about that.", she says with an awkward laugh.

I nod and then walk to my compartment.

I'm astonished by what's waiting inside for me. A grand bed, filled with huge soft pillows and big velvety blankets. A diamond chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a shower filled with rows of soaps, and huge wardrobes that I can see hanging with lines of shirts, pants, and dresses. "Oh my god.", I mutter to myself. I'm so tempted to just jump on the bed, but I don't want to get it dirty, so I decide to take a shower. The shower has warm water, a luxury for people in 4, where we only have ice-cold. There are dozens of bottles, each with different scents and aromas. I feel giddy inside, looking through all of them. "They're only babying you, so you can put on a show.", I think. But honestly, if I'm going to die soon, I might as well enjoy this. I choose a sea salt soap and breathe in the strong odor. Home.

After rinsing and drying in towels that feel like clouds, I find a blue shirt and a pair of trousers in the wardrobe and put them on. "Mags!", Octavia calls. "Time for dinner!". I respond with a "coming". When I finally sit down at the table, waiters bring out dozens of plates, bowls, and dishes filled with mesmerizing and mouth watering concoctions; warm gravies, roasted meat, fragrant rice, and fried fish. As I sit there with my jaw open wide in shock, Octavia smiles at me. "New procedure. Now you'll be treated like luxury guests! Isn't that exciting?". I nod, but what I really want to dig in and devour the food. But that isn't polite, so I simply take some spoonfuls of rice, fried tilapia, a bit of gravy, and roasted potatoes. The rice is aromatic, the gravy coats my mouth, and the potatoes are tender. The tilapia tastes like home.

I'm too distracted by the food to see Concher Cohen standing in front of me.

"Hi, honey.", he says, in this really sick flirtatious way.

"Can you stop Concher? It's not funny."

"Sure, honey."

I'm so sick of him that I storm off into my compartment. I can hear Octavia scolding him about his behavior. Good. That's what he deserves. The argument starts dying out and then I hear the swoosh of my apartment door. I turn around and there he is, Concher.

"Look Mags, I'm sorry. I'll stop, okay?"

I nod. "I'm not another one of your school girls."

He blushes. "Yeah, alright. Night, Mags."

"Good night."

That night I dream of District 4 and the beach. And maybe somebody else there too. Somebody not too far from me, right now.