suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

When Atala begins to read down the list of the skill stations,
my eyes can’t help flitting around to the other tributes.
It’s the first time we’ve been assembled, on level ground, in
simple clothes. My heart sinks. Almost all of the boys and at
least half of the girls are bigger than I am, even though many
of the tributes have never been fed properly. You can see it in
their bones, their skin, the hollow look in their eyes. I may be
smaller naturally, but overall my family’s resourcefulness has
given me an edge in that area. I stand straight, and while I’m
thin, I’m strong. The meat and plants from the woods combined
with the exertion it took to get them have given me a
healthier body than most of those I see around me.
The exceptions are the kids from the wealthier districts, the
volunteers, the ones who have been fed and trained throughout
their lives for this moment. The tributes from 1, 2, and 4
traditionally have this look about them. It’s technically against
the rules to train tributes before they reach the Capitol but it
happens every year. In District 12, we call them the Career
Tributes, or just the Careers. And like as not, the winner will
be one of them.
The slight advantage I held coming into the Training Center,
my fiery entrance last night, seems to vanish in the presence
of my competition. The other tributes were jealous of us,
but not because we were amazing, because our stylists were.
Now I see nothing but contempt in the glances of the Career
Tributes. Each must have fifty to a hundred pounds on me.
They project arrogance and brutality. When Atala releases us,
94