Little Flower-The Hunger Games from Rue's Point of View

Chapter two

I blink. And blink again. Did she really just call my name? She couldn’t have. Right? Oh no, what if she did call my name. I’d be forced to die…

“Rue Seran!” she calls again, a bit quizzically. Oh no. I start to hyperventilate.

I slowly walk up to the podium, still clinging on to a bit of hope that when I get there, she will say “Oh, you silly thing! I didn’t mean you! There is another Rue Seran in District 11! Go back down, and feel lucky that you’re still twelve!” But she doesn’t. The only sound is the wind, which smacks my hair against my face. I don’t dare look over at my family.  I’ll cry if I do. And If I cry I’ll get pinned as an easy target.

After the gasps and the sighs of relief that follow my being chosen, Aurelia says, exasperated

“Oh, alrighty, alrighty, I know we’re sad that someone so young has been picked, but there’s still a boy that must be chosen!” Everyone gradually quiets down, and she draws another piece of paper. Suddenly, I realize that who my fellow tribute is, is almost as important as the fact that I was chosen. The bigger and better trained the tributes are, the less the odds of my survival are. Maybe if all the other tributes are tiny and malnourished I’ll actually have a chance. I mean, I’ve been working in the orchards since I was nine, so I have experience moving quietly through trees, and since I’m so tiny, maybe people would think I was a weakling, and decide that killing me isn’t a priority. But if all of my competitors are giants, all of that goes down the drain.

Suddenly, Aurelia’s high voice brings me out of my speculation.

“Okay, now we have our male tribute, and he is… Thresh Mantuk! 

“Oh no,” I think. “Why does it have to be Thresh?” Thresh is 7 feet tall and must be at least three times my weight. His arms are so muscled from working in the fields all day that they ripple whenever he moves. He never talks or brags about it, but everybody knows that he’s the strongest in our village. Maybe even in the district. He could probably squish all 56 inches of me with his little finger. In other words, I had better stay away from him. Far, far away.

“Come on, tributes, let’s shake hands!” says Aurelia.

“Great,” I think. “Thresh is going to break my hand before the games even start.” I’m considering convincing Aurelia to give up the traditional handshake, when Thresh grasps my hand. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and he smiles reassuringly at me, as if he realized my worries.

I’m preparing myself mentally to face the goodbyes, which are sure to be heartbreaking, when suddenly the gruff voice of Head Peacekeeper Bann raises above all the others.

“Due to security issues, the goodbyes have been canceled.”

“What??” I think. The goodbyes are a traditional part of the Games, and I’ve never heard of them being cancelled. But then again, we’ve never had a tribute as powerful as Thresh. They were probably worried he’d jump out a window to his freedom or something. I can’t decide whether or not I’m upset by this new news. Saying goodbye to my family would be terrible. But so is not being able to. I don’t have time to contemplate this though, because now we’re being pushed to the train that will take us to the Capitol. When we get to the tracks, there are thousands of reporters waiting for us there, with their cameras blinding us with their light. Good, I think. Now I can wipe away the tears that have been trying to push out of my eyelids ever since I was picked. I’ll just pretend that I’m shielding my eyes from the light.

                Aurelia eventually manages to push away all the reporters shoving each other around madly to get a photo of us. Taking photos as if they’re not going to see us all killed on public television. When we’re at the train, one of the photographers actually tries to climb in with us, but he’s stopped by one of the train attendants.  Suddenly I realize that who pushed him away wasn’t a train attendant. No. That was Arcto Antagio. Arcto Antagio is one of the few Hunger Games victors from our district. During his games, people were appalled by his lack of mercy and his willingness to kill anyone, even his district partner, who was his best friend. He is probably the nastiest person in the district. He is also apparently my mentor. Arcto stares Thresh and I down, studying us. When he sees Thresh, he nods approvingly. Weird. Arcto is almost never approving. Then Arcto turns to look at me. Unlike Thresh, who he studied for a full minute, he barely glances at me. And then he walks away. They say actions speak louder than words, and that action spoke louder than a thousand words ever could. It said ‘Whatever. Not worth my time. Just another kid who’s going to be killed.’  And that one action took away all of my hope of winning. If Arcto can’t even bear to look at me, what are my chances or doing anything substantial in the games?

                Aurelia points us to our rooms, and I walk there slowly. I tell myself that what Arcto did had no meaning. I already knew I had no chance of coming out alive. But it still disappoints me. Like the bit of hope I was clinging to was a small tree branch quivering in the wind, and Arcto just went and plucked it of the tree with his overly muscled hands. And for some reason, this makes me angry. Very, very angry.