[/where's. your. picket. fence./] {phunke}

Though risking a pricey trip to the doctor for Carpal Tunnel, Simone continued to write, anxious to finish the paper before the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and the beginning of Winter Break. Ms. Yalene, having majored in World History, lectured classes every hour on the rise and upbringing of Panem. And, though he heard the same thing nearly every day, he quickly became intruiged with the work.

According to the reading on pages 223-234, Panem rose from the constant turmoil and disfunction of a land entitled North America. The people had been terrible, polluting their world left and right, and using up the last bits of natural resources. Eventually, disaster struck. Storms, earthquakes, hurricanes, and other natural disasters, that diminished their population rapidly. And, though it took much time, they began to build a second continent, one under an entirely different name. Panem, consisting of one Capitol, ringed by thirteen immediate districts. At first, this seemed a good idea. The population increased, and it looked as if the dark mark in Earth's history would be forgotten. Though, not for long...

Fed up with their superior's self-conceited attitude, the thirteen Districts waged war with the pampered Capitolites, some fighting for freedom, others justice. They all had the same goal. Win. Panem quickly entered the Dark Days, in which all struggled for survival, their vast numbers dropping considerably as battle raged on.

With little hope from the beginning, the Districts were ultimately defeated, the long, gruesome battle over. Though life would not go on as expected in the Districts. In turn for their mutiny, District Thirteen had been destroyed, having been rained on with various nuclear warheads and terrible bombs. And, not finished with their revenge, the Capitol created the Hunger Games, a demented game show in which twenty-four children between the ages of twelve and eighteen would be deported to an outdoor arena, where they would fight to the death.

Quickly signing his name at the bottom, he hurriedly threw his textbook, a scraggly thing, falling apart at the seams, into his cheap bookbag, a shade of blue near that of his own eyes. Standing, it took several long strides to reach his instructor's desk, where he handed over the paper and borrowed pen. Giving a nod of farewell, he pushed open the door, and stepped into the hallway, where kids would pool from crowded classrooms, anxiously talking about their holiday plans and exchanging shouts of farewell.

Simone could only hope he wasn't there when this all occured.

WIP!