The Perks of The Hunger Games

For the Fan-fiction crossover competition. When Charlie is reaped into the Hunger Games, he really doesn't expect he is going to win. He's quiet, small, and not the bravest, but definitely the most observant. This is his journey through the games. In the style of Stephen Chbosky.


2. The Capitol

Dear Friend,

I like the Capitol. We were flying by, on this amazing, scarily-fast, train, and I was talking to our mentor, Murdoch, with Lydia, when we saw it. It flashed past the window, in all it's vastness, and it was beautiful. It's all tall, grey, concrete structures and rivers and houses, and the people were dazzling. They wore the most craziest, colorful clothes you ever saw, and their hair was wild, so many colors and shapes. I was mesmerized. We stood there, staring, we hadn't seen anything like it before in our lives.

I find Lydia a nice person. Like me, she still can't stop crying. I heard her through my wall in the train, all night long, sobbing in the shower, sobbing getting dressed, and sobbing herself to sleep. I can hear her now, even through these super-thick Capitol walls, on our sixth floor apartment, in our own special block, along with the other tributes.

We got a very warm welcome, which I think is nice. They waved and called our names, that they must have only just learnt themselves, and watched and cheered as we got off the train. They mill around the streets of the Capitol, in their bright clothes, like a river of paint. I could not stop looking at them, and thinking how much Sam would love it here. There is too much to take in. She's be right at home, in this place.

The woman who was on the stage is our escort. Her name is Horatia, and she is quite annoying, but very friendly. We each have our own stylists, and mine is a pushy, puffy-lipped old woman called Padma, who's years of plastic surgery have caught up on her. I feel a little bit sorry for her really, although she is horrible.

Between them all, they got us ready for the Opening Ceremony, which was great. We had to wear these white, plastic costumes, which I guess were meant to look a little like trains, which I find weird. Just like before, the crowds cheered for us both, and threw roses at our feet. I picked them up to save, but Horatia wouldn't let me. Right at the end, I picked little Lydia up, and the crowd went wild. Tributes aren't meant to be friends, yet I'm already loving Lydia. Not as much as Sam though. I can picture her watching me, on her tiny screen at home, maybe feeling proud of me. Because I'm here, and I'm famous.

At the end, when President Snow is making his speech, I cry, because this is so over-whelming. Lydia cries too, and I think we have a mutual understanding together.

I'm in bed now, the make-up washed off my face. I can't believe they put make-up on me, it did not suit me very well. We ate a huge, rich meal, and I ate all of my plateful. And more. The food is delicious, there is every sauce, vegetable or desert you could ever think of to eat. The rooms are vast, and very eccentric, and the showers have so many buttons that I spent about forty-five minutes in there, figuring it all out. I now spell like pineapples and lilies, and spiced pumpkin. I will never get tired of those showers. I think I'll have to take a shower three times a day from now on.

I am very much looking forward to my time here, in the Capitol, but I just can't set my mind far enough to the time after that, which I will spend in the arena. I'm trying to get used to the fact that I will almost definitely die, but it's tricky. My mind is whirring, and as much as I love it here, I would give anything to be back home, sitting with Sam and Patrick, watching some other poor kid's life come to an end. 

I guess I'm going to have to try.

Love always,


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