Sunshine - A Hunger Games Story

2| Secrets

"Humphrey. They were talking about Humphrey Stewart!" Tyson exclaims, out of breath after scampering away from the rail yard. "They're going to punish him. And after all he's been through already?!"

Of course. Humphrey Stewart, District 9's sole male Victor. A man constantly sending hateful speeches aimed at the Capital in between piecing together his mental state. Father of two: Shelly (12) and Jacob (17).

"Why would they bother with old Humpsters? He's a bit too mental to cause any serious 'uprising' in the Capital, isn't he?" I make air quotes with my hands when I say uprising.

"They lie," Tyson whispers in astonishment.

"I mean, how can they believe that people actually believe the things that he rambles about."

"It's rigged. It's always rigged."

"But Jaxson and that Oh-sia; what's-her-bucket, something's going on there." I continue completely ignoring Tyson as the words in my mind tumble out over top of his. "Wait, what? Rigged? What is? Go back."

"The Hunger games! They rig the games." Tyson stands up from our crouched position behind a stone building. He runs a hand through his curly black hair and passes back and forth.

"That's not true. It can't be. Not possible. The Hunger Games are simply a villainous way for the Capital to remind us of our defeat by killing all but one of 24 randomly selected kids. There's nothing to rig!"

"That's what they said!"

" Don't think I heard them say they'd rig the Hunger Games and kill only the kids we want."

"They implied it. What do you think they were going to do with Shelly? Give her a stern talking to?" He stares at me expectantly with his hand on his waist. "Ayesha, the Hunger Games are in 2 weeks."

"I- It- But- No. It can't- I won't-. Let's just wait. Let's just see if she gets reaped. If she does, you're right, we're doomed. If she doesn't we're doomed but not quite yet." I turn to head home but Tyson catches my wrist.

"We can't wait that long." He looks me in the eye with his big sad puppy dog eyes.

I want to give in and come up with a plan, but instead my thoughts are too jumbled. I turn back around and put my arm from his grasp mumbling something about time to think. As I walk down the streets, a frown adorning my features, I think over what he said.

The Capital can't be rigging the reapings. It makes no sense. They're already killing us, why would they need to rig it?

When I come out of my thought bubble, I realize that I'm following two young girls. One with a nice shirt and skirt, the other with a filthy jumpsuit. They chatter to each other and gossip as if there was no difference between them. As if one wasn't set for life while the other was starving. When the poor girl looks down, upset about something that came up, her friend rests a hand on her shoulder. Her dark braids swayed side to side on her back. The well dressed girl hands over her lunch pail which causes the other to smile.

Shelly Stewart's a nice girl. Only twelve years old with an increased capability to do good and the heart to follow through.

But no, she's probably just a spoiled brat who goes around teasing other kids and flaunting her money. There's nothing I can do for her. It's not like I'm willing to die for some random stranger who's been given everything her entire life.

I turn away and head back to my house. My head is tilted down looking at my shoes that are coated in mud and gravel. After letting out a long sigh, I lift my head up and pay attention to my surroundings more.