The 70th Hunger Games: A Little Love

Chapter Two

Dear Diary,

I write to you, post reaping, in a train, on my way to the capital.

I guess we can see how that went.

I don't know how to feel. I just... I don't know. But nonetheless, I'll tell you how it went.

For breakfast, my family each had a small plate of sausage, and I had a slice of bread with strawberry jam. Typically on the days of the reaping, we eat a bit less than normal, as a tribute to all of those from poorer families who can't eat. We bring our extra portions of food, for my family, the extra sausage, for me, my second slice of bread, to the reaping to give to a poorer family.

His worries, although completely valid, compare nothing to mine. Seeing as I'm eighteen now, as this is my last reaping, my name is in there seven times. Seven! Mathematically speaking, the chances are low that I'll get picked. Realistically speaking, I know they shuffle it around so that the rich are never chosen. All I can hope is that somebody who has trained to be in the hunger games volunteers for whatever poor soul is chosen. Especially if that poor soul is me, or one of my friends.

We walk up to the front of the reaping area, where peace keepers prick our fingers and take our bloody fingerprint to insure that we're us, and nor someone pretending to be us. It's pretty cruel, if you ask me, to think that people want to get out of the games so badly that they'd have someone pretend to be them.

Maybe it speaks more to the nature of games than about the people.

When they prick my finger, I involuntarily jerk back and away from the peacekeeper, sharply sucking in a breath. This happens to me every time, every year. Thankfully this will be my last year getting this done.

Alex was feeling a lot better this morning, proof that yesterday's sickness was just a byproduct of nerves about the games. He held my hand tightly, up until the point where I pushed him towards the twelve year old boy section. After one last squeeze of my hand, he was off.

Once I line up with the other eighteen year old girls, I glance around at the heads around me. Seas of brown, black, and dirty blonde hair envelop the crowd around me. Red hair is a somewhat rare feat, and from what I can see, the only other girl with red hair like mine seems to be towards the front, maybe fourteen years old.

I'm a somewhat tall girl, especially compared to some of the malnourished girls that surround me in school. And now. Looking to my right, I hand off my extra piece of bread to her. She had the most gorgeous platinum blonde hair, shoulder length, but it was very tangled up. I wonder the last time she had her mother had her brush her hair for her. Or if she still had a mother. Or if she ever had one.

The girl envelopes me in a tight hug, a huge smile on her face: "thank you so much Annie!"

That small interaction puts a smile on my face, and reminds me of why i want to become a teacher: to impact kids lives. Here was a girl, that I barely knew, but I had changed her life with just a piece of bread. Teachers do that with their students every day!

As a teacher, I would have the ability to change so many lives! I could teach about life before the Dark Days, and life now. I could teach about the other districts, and giving back to the community. I could teach about nature and the benefits of going vegetarian, if finances allow. I could teach about finances, and saving money. I could do so much for my community, for everyone!

Helping people and animals is so important to me, in any way I can. Whether it be giving my extra food, helping teach swim at my school, or teaching in the future! I guess that may be why I've had so many friends all my life, so many boys who ask me out on dates—

"Annie Cresta" I hear my voice ring out through the lips of the district four escort, Velerio Satin. I look up to the front of the stadium, my face contorted into one of horror. Bodies were turning towards me, separating, giving me room to walk forward. Faces of the crowd looked at me sadly, as if to say "I'm sorry". But really, they were just happy it wasn't them.

Was anybody going to volunteer? We always have a volunteer, someone rich whose parents trained them from a young age.

Right?

I begin walking forward, rather slowly, my heels dragging. I'm giving anyone who wants to, a chance to volunteer. Could I really be going into the games? I can't even look at a dead squirrel on the side of the road, nevermind kill someone!

People must know my chances are slim, because the chatter that surrounds me is connotated negatively.

"—She had so much potential"

"—so pretty—"

"—wasn't she the docile one in all our classes?"

"—another loss for four—"

"—such a shame—"

I feel my chest going up and down faster and faster. I can't do this now. I can't freak out in front of all of these people, in front of all of Panem.

I can't.

After eons of walking, I mounted the stage and shake the hand of Velerio. His skin was tinted gold, probably a recent trend of the capital, and his hair was in long, thick orange braids down his back. I would've expected the golden skin to be warm, perhaps a bit sweaty. Instead, I was met by a shock of cold that sent a shiver down my spine.

Just hold it together Annie. Just wait until they take you into the room.

Velerio has made his way over to the pool of boys names, and the crowd looks hopeful. Maybe the boy will be stronger, maybe a boy will volunteer. Maybe there will be someone who isn't scared of her own shadow that will go into these games.

"Percy Heltingrow" Velerio calls, and there comes a face I'm so familiar with.

From the section of twelve year olds, a small boy with olive skin and black hair moves forward. It was Watter's little brother. I was going to be competing for my life against my best friends little brother. How could this happen? He was so young, and I thought Watter's family only entered his name once. What were the chances that the one slip is chosen?

I can't believe it.

"May the odds be ever in your favor!" Velerio proclaims, throwing his arms up in the air and receiving an applause and the occasional 'whoop' from our section of career trained students. Why didn't they volunteer today?

All of a sudden, we were being whisked off the stage by previous winners and peacekeepers and Velerio alike. I felt a warm hand on my back, and a soft whisper in my ear. My thoughts were so clouded with nerves that I couldn't tell who it was, or what they said. All I could detect was the faintest smell of sugar remaining in the air after their whispers, and the slightest sense of warmth remaining with me after their presence.

They put us into rooms and tell us what I've always known. You get one hour to say goodbye to everyone.

One hour.

And then I'll never see my family again. My vision was blurring with tears.

My fingers were going numb.

One hour.

It was getting harder to breathe.

One hour.

I was getting dizzy, small stars of silver color floating around my vision.

I couldn't hold it any more. I broke down on the floor, sobs escaping my mouth like cats fleeing water, like pond lilies turning away from the sun.

Thank you for listening, this is all I can muster to write now,
Annie

(Hey guys. It's the author, Hannah. I'm here to tell you I will be publishing this story on a scheduled basis, with a new update every monday and friday, unless something prohibits me from doing so. I hope you're enjoying the story!)