Maegan Hangel
I awake with a start on a Capitol train witha pair of chocolate eyes trained on me with a smile.
"How long was I out?" I question the unnamed girl.
"A couple hours. Hey, I'm Maegan Hangel. Your fellow tribute in the games!"
"Okay, I'm Devin Qurstil. Boy tribute. District 7. So you got voted in too?" I reply.
"Yeah, kind of sad really, if you think about it. Your own district. Voting you into certain death. Tragedy." I study her. Long blonde hair. Brown eyes and a yellow tank top and ripped up jeans. Dirt on her hands and face smudged. Work boots. Beautiful. I shake my head after I zone out because of her charm, and get up and yawn. How did I even get here in the first place? I set that aside and splash some water on my face. Reality then hits me in the gut. Hard. I have been sent in to compete in the Hunger Games. I'm not even fit or strong! How am I going to come out of this alive? I close my eyes and think for a moment. I can throw an axe better if I get stronger, and I can probably use a knife or spear with accuracy if I train hard enough. Sponsors. How do we get sponsors? I think. I can probably use one of my poems I guess, and Maegan is beautiful. Did they get my pad and pencil? Certainly they did. I'll have to ask later. I'm pretty well fed and hydrated, so I shouldn't get too hungry or thirsty in the games. Interviews. How should I be? Sexy? No. That should probably be Maegan. Confident? A little bit. Cocky? No. Clever? Yes. I should be clever, smart, and confident. I got it. I have my game plan early, now I just have to remember to use it. I also remember I have a mentor. Hopefully a good one, too. Stable. Working. Functioning correctly. We watch the reaping on television, and see my eyes widen when I am called. I probably already have a target on my back for the Careers and other tributes. I also see a 16 year oId girl step up to the stand before me. Calm. Almost smiling. No fear whatsoever. It is Maegan. I am tired and sore after thinking about strategy, and go into my cabin sleepy eyed, with bags under them. I am able to flop onto my comfortable bed and strip off my clothes,tucking into bed as I see my pad and pencil on the nightstand next to me as I drift off. That's when the night terrors begin.