When the train stops, I barely even notice it. 

The ride is smooth, so much smoother than the rickety old lumber trains I've ridden once or twice that bounce around the tracks, leaving you with the danger of being buried by wooden tree trunks.

So the only clue I have to notice that the train is stopped is when the announcer hobbles into my compartment, making me jump, and introduces herself as Gloriana Mov. 

I'm not impressed. It's a very Capitol name. If she'd grown up in District 7, she'd've most likely been bullied by the kids who hate the Capitol, which is fair, and think that the name would be her fault, which isn't fair. 

Not that I like her. Actually, I seem to be gravitating in the opposite direction. 

But she's a 'master of proper etiquette', in her words, and so I at least try to listen. It's hard not to laugh at her Capitol accent, though. 

I glance at the clock, once again ignoring Gloriana, or apparently Glori now, as that's what she wants me to call her. It's about 7:30 PM, leading me to believe I've missed training. 

Good for me. It's not like I need it anyway. 

Well, maybe I'd need training in being more likable, so I'll get more sponsors. 

Because I'm not, not even remotely. I know this. It's not like I'm sad that everyone hates me. It's just who I am. And why would I change who I am? I like myself perfectly well the way I am right now. 

"So why are you invading my room?" I ask Glori. She tuts softly.

"It's not invading, dear. I'm merely leading you out because you'll need to get off this train eventually, and it's stopped now and you haven't even looked out the window!" Glori walks over to my window, which is covered by a thick curtain that blocks out the light. She pulls open the curtains in such a dramatic way that I wouldn't be surprised if a bluebird fluttered past the window and started singing. 

"Come look, dear! Your first time seeing the magnificent Capitol!" She seems happy, as if she's actually excited for me and cares about me, and isn't excited to see my televised death in only a few days. 

I scowl, but walk over to the window. And suck in a breath. 

It really is gorgeous, the Capitol, with it's high-rising skyscrapers that seem to actually scrape the clouds, and the mixture of different kinds of buildings, made entirely out of metal and covered with tech, a luxury most people don't have in District 7. 

Our houses in 7 are made out of wood, extra from the days we exceed the amount required. 

Almost no one has anything technological, except for an ancient TV set that barely works anymore. At least in my neighborhood, in my home. 

If a wildfire started, sparks from some lumberjack's campfire hitting the nearby trees, if it spread quickly, all of District 7 could be wiped out within a day. 

It's unnerving to see how much the Capitol undervalues us risking our lives for them, cutting down 70-foot-tall trees and jumping out of the way as not to be crushed. 

They, the Capitol, with their preference of polished metal framework, don't understand how hard we work to give them lumber. 

I turn away from the window, to Glori's dismay. 

Then I leave the room, because I can't handle any of this Capitol nonsense and I want to be in the arena already, where I don't have to think about making the crowds like me or not being rude. If I'm rude, people will just think I've gone insane like so many of the tributes do.

I step off the train, with Glori on my heels. There's already a crowd waiting, Capitol citizens cheering me on. 

I glare at them, angry at how they, too, are excited to see me die. 

A peacekeeper in a pure-white uniform grabs my arm, ushering me off to the side and into a building marked the 'Training Center'. I know what this is, I've seen it on TV every year. 

It's where the tributes train, where they learn to use everything from a murderous two-sided battle ax to a dainty bow and arrow. 

I think that by that comparison you can see what I prefer. 

The peacekeeper leads me past a series of rooms, some marked 'Training Entrance', another marked 'Gamemaker Entrance', and the last ones just bathrooms. 

It's actually kind of interesting, being in this new space with new people. 

Not that I'm a fan of new people. But I hate the old people so much that it's refreshing.