The Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games

Chapter 2- ADDIE

The Reaping takes place in Section 1's Marketplace, because, of course, we have to show Panem our very best. I feel underdressed in my simple blue dress as I line up with the other, wealthier sixteen-year-olds. They have matching pearl necklaces and earrings, fancy, bright colored dresses, and fancy hairstyles, while I have my almost-too-small dress, thin chain necklace- which happens to be covered in rust- and my dark brown hair in a simple half-up style. I can't help but feel a pang of hate towards them. I am sure that, unlike me, none of them have their name in more times than what is required. Why would they? They aren't living off of a small day's worth of wages in a rickety shack, spending nearly all day working.

Our mayor, an Asian woman in her forties or fifties, steps up to the podium and begins to tell the story of Panem. It's one I've heard every year without fail- how Panem was formed and why the Games are in place.

Panem is located in what used to be an area called North America. It fell to many catastrophes- storms, fires, floods, droughts- and after it succumbed to these, wars broke out over what little resources remained. Panem is the "gleaming country" that rose out of the collapse. Panem was made up of thirteen districts which surrounded a beautiful city, but then the Dark Days began. The thirteen districts rebelled against the Capitol, and they were all defeated, but the thirteenth district was singled out to be completely and utterly destroyed, providing a message to the other districts: The Capitol is- and always will be- in control.

An image pops into my head as the mayor describes how the Capitol defeated the rebels. I picture the uniformed Peacemakers in the alley, two years ago, massacring the people outside of the warehouse as I watched from the rooftops. New ideas aren't tolerated. The Capitol may be trying to sugarcoat the story, but the end result is the same however they put it: we are under their dominance. Even the biggest of wars and rebellions won't change that.

He continues with his story, explaining the Hunger Games. As a punishment for rebelling, the districts must each send two tributes to participate in the games- basically, a massive fight to the death on television. Twenty-four teenagers aged anywhere from twelve to eighteen are chosen to be taken to the arena, where they will fight to the death. Rules are easy: last one standing wins.

The whole point of the Games is to maintain the Capitol's assertion of power over the districts, to demonstrate to the districts that the Capitol can do anything to them. We would never succeed in another rebellion.

The mayor reads the list of surviving victors from District 4. We have five. There is old Mags, three men, and Finnick, and as they climb the steps, Finnick stares out into the crowd. I turn my head to see who he is looking at, and find James in the section with the other twelve-year-olds.

I didn't realize he was old enough for the Reaping. He's so small, I assumed he couldn't be older than ten years old. Maybe the joke that rattled me so much on the soccer field was him trying to fend off his fear of the Reaping, just like me.

Our escort, Vim Underfall, walks onto the stage and grabs the microphone as the list of names comes to a close. He's a very short middle-aged man, and he has long locs that fall almost to his waist. They're dyed different colors, and his eyeliner is an ombre pink that goes with the bright hair. I must admit, while being a bit over the top, it does have a good effect. The colors pop against his dark skin.

Vim starts his speech, and my heart starts pounding in my chest as I know the drawing of names will be soon. I've managed to stave down my panic for the long droning speech of the mayor, but with the minutes ticking down, I start to feel jittery.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Vim's voice is lower than any voice I've ever heard before, despite his size. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

He reaches his hand into the bowl and pulls out a folded slip of paper. Stepping away from the bowl, Vim holds the paper up to his eye level and unfolds it.