The 139th Hunger Games

Chapter 7: Cedar and Juniper

                                                                                   Cedar

My parents had died years ago. Now I struggled to survive on my own. This meant working to chop trees at dawn, and finish at dusk and going to my little hut. I hated the Reaping, the Capitol, the Hunger Games, and everything related to it. I had made my choice earlier.f a twelve-year-old was Reaped, I would volunteer. There was no life for me here, and if I could save just one child, my life would feel complete. 

I headed to the City Square, steeling myself. From the girls, a wispy child with dark brown hair and dark eyes was Reaped. My heart ached for the girl, named Juniper, and I wished she didn't have to go to her death so soon.

The boy's name was picked. He was a twelve-year-old, a terrified expression on his face. I was glad that he, at least, would get to live. I volunteered, and took a place on the stage. The boy came and met me when we were saying goodbye to family, and thanked me. It warmed my heart.

                                                                                 Juniper

I headed out early, careful as to not wake up my sisters. Putting on my jacket and tugging a small sack, I headed outside. Even though we are not allowed to cross the electrified fence, there are some gaps big enough to reach your hand through. This is strictly forbidden though. 

I come back home with a sack full of nuts, berries, and greens. Quickly, I change into my Reaping outfit, and help my siblings make dinner. Mother is still at work, so I take them to the children younger than twelve area and go to the thirteen-year-olds area.

I hope that I'm not Reaped. My mother works all day and most of the night, and she still has barely enough money to support us. It's mostly because of my foraging that we have enough money to survive.

In the Reaping, I hold my breath as the announcer opens the slip of paper. I have survived one Reaping. I can survive another. I seem to be wrong, because the name on the paper is my own. I head to the stage, trying to ignore my siblings' cries of desperation. A boy volunteers. I wonder what could have driven him. How will my family survive, I wonder, as I head in the train.