My favorite tribute died last night and her death was so brutal. Tammy didn’t deserve to be killed by a stupid frog. I hate the Hunger Games and I think she should’ve won. I hate all of the other tributes left, so I feel no sympathy for any of them. I am just so annoyed that Tammy died because she was so beautiful and she wanted to win it for her family and she had such great skills and for the gamemaker to kill her was just rude and despicable.

Unfortunately, now I have been chosen to send a stupid parachute to one of the victims that are still alive. But, I don’t care about the ones that are still alive, at ALL. Tammy was my role model and I thought after the games I could maybe meet her when she went on tour to all of the districts. But no, she’s dead. I’m just going to send mine to that kid, Washingbeard, from district eight I think because his hair makes me laugh. I’m going to send him my lucky comb because it solved my bad hair days so it should solve his as well, and boy does he need my lucky comb. I hope he enjoys my comb and my generosity, but if he dies, he better not get blood on it.

I wake up in the dead of night and I see the moon glowing so happily and the stars twinkling in the background. For the first time in the Hunger Games I am relaxed, a little too relaxed. The gamemaker must see how happy I look because immediately after I show a faint smile, a loud animal sound rings my ears. Ring. Ring. Ring. What animal must be making that noise? I have never heard such a peculiar sound in my entire life. All of a sudden, the branches beside me of the tree I am perched on, starts to rumble. Thousands of glowing eyes in the night stare straight at me. Stay calm, Tammy. In the sneakiest manner and in my natural instinct, I slowly reach for the sword behind me. Once I have my sword in my hand, I jump.

Running for my dear life, I look behind me and see a wave of red, yellow, gold, and blue hopping toward me. Still looking backwards, I trip over a root in my way and fall flat on my face, scratching my knees and twisting my ankle. As the blood oozes from my cheek and my ankle swells, I shed a tear. This is it. At least you’ve made it this far, is what I kept repeating in my head. No, Tammy. You are not going to let the stupid gamemaker kill you. It would disappoint your family to not even try to defend yourself. On that note, I stand up, unleash my sword, and start slaying as many of those vicious creatures as I can. Five minutes go by and I stab and puncture every single creature there is, but one. The last black speckled, golden frog there is lands right on my nose, looking only to be about an inch or two in size close up. I’m sorry I let you down mom and dad. I’m sorry.

     Bang. Bang. Bang. The cannon seems as if its lost control and sounds as it did in the first few minutes of the Hunger Games. Oh no. Oh no. What is happening? What evil, horrid thing did the game maker think of to kill more lives? Whatever it is, I am ready. With my new attitude and recently sharpened swords, I climb down my tree and start to walk ever so slowly through the dense, tropical forest. Out of nowhere a mist sprays my back while I hear a rumble that turns into a faint roar. Then, I see it. Water rushing toward me at gosh knows what speed. A wave about two mountains high is racing towards me and I only have a few seconds to think about my next move. I swiftly run as fast as I can until I find the highest tree near me. Using my swords as stakes, I stab the tree and climb my way up it faster than I have ever climbed.

Holding on for dear life, the humungous and deathly wave slaps my back dead on like shooting a bull’s eye and I fall into the massive water, swirling and swirling around. Summersault after summersault, I think to myself, you can NOT die like this. You can NOT have the game maker win, not this match at least. I swim and I swim, not knowing which direction I am swimming or even how deep the rushing water is. At last I gasp for air as I come up from the water. Coughing and choking on water I grab ahold of a patch of rocks and pull my whole body out of the water. I am alive. Bang. Bang. Two more are dead as I lay face up smiling at the sun shining down on me. It’s all over, it’s all over.

I have only killed 4 people that have chosen to disturb my peace while I have been in this tree. While I sharpen my swords, I hear a beeping noise in the distance ad I see a parachute coming near me. It lands on my lap, so I open it up. I see a camera with a note attached that says, Record to your loved ones. I talk about my mom and dad first because I love them so much and they raised me all by themselves. Then, I give thanks to my mentor Hufflepuff and my trainer, Billy because they have helped me survive so far. Lastly, I talk about my dog, Fish because he is always there for me. After I finish recording, I let out a laugh of stupidity because I realize how dumb I’ve been worrying about my family. I need to worry about myself and that’s it. If I’m going to win, I need to think like a bloodthirsty winner.

The echoes of different tributes’ screams bouncing off the arena walls startle me to the point where I cannot sleep. Cannon after cannon, I feel more relieved, yet even more frightened of the situation I am in. An hour passes, yet it seems like forever that I have been sitting up in this tree. All of a sudden, I hear the leaves crackling under me. Breath, Tammy. Breath. As I unleash my sword, I see who it is, and smile so wide, that my mouth seems to come off my face. Roger! It’s really him! We hug with much passion and as I look into my best friend’s beautiful eyes, I shed a tear. Now that I have found Roger, we can start our alliance and then I will be able to win the Hunger Games.

As the arena becomes darker by the minute, Roger decides to find some food for both of us to eat. It’s been about an hour since Roger has gone to catch some food. No cannons have gone off so that is a good sign. Hearing the sound of crunching leaves, I climb down from the tree, thinking Roger is back from hunting. As I look around, no one is near me. I am confused. Where’s Roger? I yell out his name and I turn around to see my life flash before my eyes. To my horror, Roger has stolen someone’s knife and has just thrust it at me. Luckily, I still have my sword in my hand and I jab him in the throat and see him fall to my feet. The cannon goes off and I start to sob. Why did Roger turn on me? We were best friends. I don’t understand. Confused and alone, I climb back up my tree, wipe my tears, cuddle my swords, and drift to sleep.

As I say goodbye to my mentor, Hufflepuff, he zips up the back of my suit and gives me the final tips of survival and wisdom he has to share with me. Go for the swords and get out of the cornucopia as fast as you can, is the only thing I hear besides my heart raising. Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart beats faster and faster as I step into the metal tube that will send me up into the arena. As the floor under me starts to rise, I wave my final goodbye to Hufflepuff who mouths, you got this Tammy. I feel sweat starting to collect on my face from the nerves inside of me. Twenty seconds go by and I am in the arena. 60 more seconds until the Hunger Games starts. What I have trained my whole life for, is finally here. I am from district one, the favorite and most wealthiest district of them all. If anyone deserves to win it is me. All the other tributes mean nothing to me, besides my friend who was chosen. We will become an alliance when the Games start and we will be the last standing. Then, I will kill him and claim my rightful victory. I will make it out alive. 30 seconds. My heart starts racing even faster. 20 seconds. I look at my surroundings and see that it is a tropical setting. There is water surrounding me and the other competitors. 5…4…3…2…1…GONG.

The Hunger Games have officially started. I sprint to the cornucopia and scan it for swords. Four others are close behind. Quickly, I grab my swords and run by them. I push one of my enemies into the water, let out my loud roar to frighten the others, slice off the head of a person about to tussle with me, and run off. I climb up a tree that is sturdy enough, lay my swords beside me, and camp out for the night. As the minutes pass, more and more gongs go off. I count at least four not including the person I killed. I am proud of the start of the Hunger Games and that I am still alive. I will not let my family or district down. The Cottonhead will survive.

Since sword fighting is a passion of mine, during my one on one session with the gamemaker, I really seemed to entertain and surprise him. I waited in a small, all white room with the other 23 contestants. Luckily, I was the second person called so I didn’t have to wait long. As I tiptoed into the silent warehouse where a glass window separated me from many famous people from the Capitol, I looked for some sort of instructions as to what I was supposed to do. Just as I finished scanning the room, a voice spoke from behind the glass. He told me to show him the best I had to offer as a tribute in the Hunger Games. So, I grabbed the shiniest sword I could find and I pressed the button to start the simulation of holograms that I would fight against. 5…4…3…2…1….

As the orange holograms rushed toward me I jabbed and stabbed my way through all of them, puncturing each one straight through the heart. The screams of the simulations must have terrified my competitors, because after I left the warehouse and sat back in the white room, everyone had a look of fear in their eyes. With my last few seconds to show what I really had before the gamemaker would score me for this year’s Hunger Games, I had to execute the best sword move I had, the Cottonkiller(named after my last name of course). The last hologram came running at me with intense speed, so I jumped over it, while landing a front flip, unleashed the roar of my sword, and thrashed it into the back of the hologram’s neck. Smiling ever so viciously, I bowed to the gamemaker, laughed, and walked away.

Finally, I began to realize why it was such a great honor to be chosen from district one as a tribute. I was the most trained, wealthiest, and would get the most sponsors. I have the greatest chance to make it out alive. Watch out other districts, Tammy Cottonhead is eager for a bloodshed.

Being a child chosen in district one as a tribute for the Hunger Games is an honor. Every kid is trained from the time we are born, till we are not eligible anymore. Every year I have the same routine for the reaping. I wake up, eat my breakfast, put on my prettiest dress, just in case I am picked, then I put on the new makeup I bought from the previous week and I march out of the house with my family. Since this year is the 80^th anniversary for the Hunger Games, I look extra beautiful than usual.

As I walked out to the place where the reaping was taking place, every step of mine sounded like a quiet mouse. The stadium of chatter like it used to be at past reapings fell under a silent spell. Maybe it was the nerves of the parents that made everyone so scared or the fact that it was going to be a different and harder hunger games because of the anniversary. Whatever it was, made me sweat off my new sparkly, purple makeup which I am still unhappy about. As I frowned with a deep sorrow, Harper Hayes, the lady with the poufy hair who announces the tributes every year, started talking into the microphone. Her voice sounded like a death call for all of us children, which is very unusual. I was anxious just like everyone else in the stadium. Oh how I wished to not be called from that horrid and ugly container with thousands of victim’s names drowning inside.

As she read the boy’s name my heart seemed to skip a beat because it was my friend Roger. Harper’s hand reached inside the container, pulled it out and read aloud “Tammy Cottonhead.” I walked ever so slowly to the podium n I shook so hard that my teeth began to chatter. “This is going to be the experience of a lifetime,” Harper told me as I shed a tear.