Survival

I.

Avery's pov-

I go deeper and deeper into the fields, the earth crunching under my feet at each step, and the cold air passing through my long red hair. I keep walking, having no idea where I'm going, and really, I couldn't care less. I just wanna go far away, it's not like somebody is waiting for me back at district 10. Since I was little nobody is at home waiting for me. My parents died when I was 3, leaving me with absolutely no one, and eventually some woman, Alice, took me into her family, which is only composed by her and her twelve year old daughter. Great. It's not like I appreciate them, well Autumn, the kid, is kind. She has one paper, and it's her first year being possibly chosen to be a tribute. She keeps saying I'm going to get picked, actually I stopped counting how many papers I had, so I lie and say I don't have much. 

I have way too much papers. Since my parents died from starvation, I won't let Alice and Autumn succumb the same way, even if Alice says it's not necessary. I know she's sick, and I don't mean sick like something curable, I mean sick sick, like she's going to die. Autumn doesn't know, plus she wouldn't understand. I know Alice needs her daughter by her side, and not put in the games, so even if we never really liked each other, I'm not letting Autumn take any tesserae, reducing any chance she has of getting picked, even if that means I have a lot of chance to be. But I'm not the only one that has a lot of papers, so I don't think I'll be chosen either. I try to not think about the slight possibility of me being put in the games because I don't want to believe it. I can't see Autumn in the arena, but then I laugh at the thought of me, Avery Howard, a 15 years old, in the Hunger Games.

I avoid thinking of it, because it's not worth it. Anyway, choosing or being picked to go to the games doesn't change anything in the end. If you get picked, you have literally no chance of getting out of there alive. If you are not chosen, you live a shitty life, and you'll probably die of lack of food or some kind of an illness, like Alice.

I shout insults at the Capitol, although they don't hear me. Nobody is outside because everyone's getting ready for the reaping. I'm so sick of it. It's cold, the peacekeepers are all ugly and starring at me, and there are the constant animal noises that do not cease.

District 10, livestock. That doesn't mean we have enough to eat though, absolutely not, we have no access to what the animals produce. Everything goes to the Capitol. Everything goes to the damn fucking Capitol.

I still can't get out of my head that there's a chance I'll get picked. I don't even know why that stresses me out, because I have nothing. Nothing I care about, nothing to fight for, nothing to hold onto. So why am I so scared?

Think about something else, Avery. Just think about something else, I order myself mentally. Yes, life is shit. But that does not mean I wanna die, okay don't get me wrong I do, but not killed by some other kid forced to kill other kids. No. I'm not gonna let the Capitol control me. 

I stop in my tracks, my legs refusing to go on. Even if they're not my family, I should be back home, right? Maybe I should be there to reassure Autumn that I'm not gonna get picked, and that everything will be ok, even though I know very well that nothing is ok, and that nothing ever will be. It's true that I can hate Autumn sometimes, but she's only twelve. She doesn't deserve this, nobody does. 

It's maybe the last time you'll see Autumn, I say to myself. And Alice.

I'm not gonna say they're like family to me, or that I act like she's my mother and that the kid is my sister, absolutely not. Plus, we don't even look like each other. In fact, I don't look like anybody in district 10. Either they are all well-build, which I'm not, or they have brown or ashy blond hair, and I have red hair. 

After a few minutes of reflexion, I go back, and when I realise there's not so much time before the reaping, I start running. I almost hit a tree, literally the only tree standing in the large field. I've always been like that. When there is no danger, I find it. That doesn't mean I'm clumsy, but every time I find a way to put myself in trouble, so yes now you can imagine why I laugh at the thought of me in the arena. I would literally die the first day.

When I finally reach the door of our house, technically not mine, I open it, just to see Autumn finishing to get ready. Alice is preparing her hair. Honestly, she doesn't look bad, even though she cries. She's wearing a brown dress that matches her hair colour, and she has a gold necklace, which was Alices first. She must have given it to her for her first day of being possibly reaped. 

"You're late," Alice says, not even bothering to look at me. 

"It's not like we're not gonna see each other again," I say, rolling my eyes.

At those words, Autumn breaks down, running to me and embracing me in a hug. I don't hug back, not because I don't like her, just because I'm not a fan of physical contact. 

"I don't want you to get picked," she sobs.

"I won't," I reassure her, patting her back to try to calm her. "We're going home tonight, all together, as usual. It's going to be ok."

"How can you be so sure?" she asks, still crying.

I look up to finally meet Alices eyes, she's clenching her jaw. I know she's scared that her daughter will be picked. But she has one paper.

"Because you're both good people. You're a good person. Your mom is a good person. Good people don't get picked. So yes, it's going to be ok." I explain, forcing myself to smile.

"What about you?" the twelve years old asks.

"What about me?"

"You're a good person too, right?" 

I freeze. I gulp, trying to say something, trying to just give her a simple 'yes', even though I know I would be lying.

"She is, honey. She is a really good person, and that's why we're all gonna come home safe," Alice jumps in for me, "Now let me finish your hair."

I nod at Alice to thank her, going to my shared room with Autumn. I'm not gonna wear a dress, I hate dresses, so I just stay dressed as I am now. I know that girls have to wear dresses for the reaping, and I don't care, I'm gonna be the last one following their stupid rules. So no dresses for me.

--

When we arrive in the square, everyone has their heads down, some cry, some scream, some just want the reaping to end. I'm not like those people. I don't cry. I don't scream. Of course I want it to be over. But life isn't fair, and we don't always get what we want. So I clench my fists, nodding one last time to Alice, hugging Autumn, and making my way through the others to reach the 15 years old section. Once I arrive, I don't look at anyone, as well as I don't look for Alice, or Autumn. I'm on my own. I've always been. 

As soon as the woman, the Capitol escort, comes up to the stage, the crowd goes silent. We're all focused on the same thing, we're all thinking of the same thing. I fidget with my hands, bad habit when I'm nervous. I shouldn't be. I've thought about it before. Way too much.

"District 10," she greets. 

During her speech on how great the Capitol is, I really wanna laugh, because she looks stupid. She's tall, and she has weird blond hair which isn't natural at all, with something like a fruit ball on her head. Her dress is pink, and sticks to her body until ending at her ankles. She really does look like an idiot.

"Let's get started!" she screams in excitement.

She moves to the reaping ball, my name is on more than twenty papers, way more than twenty papers. There's a huge chance that the paper has my name written on it. 

"Ladies first," she chuckles. 

Her thin fingers reach for a paper while keeping eye contact with the crowd at all time.

If I get picked, I'm going to make district 10 be remembered.                                                                         

If I get picked, I'm going to show them that they can't control me.                                                              

If I get picked, I will be the best.

They will remember my name. Dead or alive.

"Autumn Gray," the Capitol woman lets out in a breath.