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.


5. Training day three

Dear Friend,

I am a little disappointed today. I woke up feeling terrible, after my dream. I'd dreamt I'd die, but then met all the people I know that have died. That is two. My beloved Aunt Helen, and my friend Michael. It was weird seeing them again, and they just weren't them. That's how I knew I was dreaming. I'm a little relieved, I was not ready to die just yet, there is more things I want to think about, and more people I would like to talk to. I wonder what would happen if I just died now? What if I have cancer, or get heart failure, or commit suicide. Will they have to reap some other kid in my place, or would they just not include a male tribute for District 6 this year? I'm not really sure I'd like to find out.

I showered for the sixth time, this time I smelt like dandelion and burdock, which is weird, because I thought that was just a drink. I ate a nice breakfast, and chatted with Lydia. I'll miss her. One of us is going to die, or both of us, and we'll never see each other again. She's the nicest twelve-year old I ever met. 

Today we had private training, where we have to show the Gamemakers our skills, and they will rate us out of twelve. This will help the Capitol citizens decide who they want to win, and who they will sponsor. This is extremely important, it could be the difference between life or death for us all.

I was called in twelfth, after Lydia. I walked in slowly, and was feeling very nervous. My heart was pounding so loud, I was surprised they couldn't hear it. I said my name as clear as possible, and they all nodded. A few looked a little bored, and tired. They sipped expensive alcohol from expensive glasses, and were eating their exquisite food, and murmuring among themselves. I guess they already knew just how weedy and useless I am.

I pick up the slingshot, and begin firing at the targets. I hit most of them, and they seem a tiny bit impressed. I then make a fire, make a snare, and do a bit of camouflage, until they dismiss me, not really seeming too impressed or unimpressed.

Later on that day, we settle down in front of the television, and it reminds me of the Christmas I spent with Sam and Patrick, where we all sat down together. Everything reminds me of them now. I never thought I'd miss them this much.

A funny man with weird hair announces the other tribute's scores. There are some tough competitors. Huge, muscular boys and really mean looking girls, who all get eights and nines and tens. Then I hear my name, and we all hold our breaths.

"Five!" The man says. We smile around the room to one and other.

"That is not so bad Charlie, you can still win." Horatia says, patting my back. I still can't help feeling a bit sad though. Lydia gets a six, and they all cheer. We watch the rest in silence. Aspen gets a nine, and I picture her in her own room, cheering and slapping the boy from her district, a weedy, sad looking boy, on the back. This makes me smile.

Tomorrow is my final day here, and our interviews. I am very extremely nervous. I hope Sam watches. Maybe that will help me to carry on, knowing she's back home, watching me, and feeling proud.

I hope you are well.

Love always,


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