One time, in the midst of winter Cato and I took our usual Tuesday stroll to the Children's Apothecary. We had our usual fake argument of love, walked with our fingers locked together, and passed our usual park. After the run through of children coughing, being rushed in, being released. Children with tubes this way and that, and seeing the new ones as well. I try to help them believe. Cato and I decide to walk back and listen to the old clock radio Pop has in the kitchen. Its still where it was those years ago, at my house.
The walk home was cuter and colder than any other winter run had ever been. Snow was falling harder and whiter than the last, and the only thing on my mind is him. Cato Deaton, the strong built, handsome young man standing next to me, catching me when my clumbsy feet slipped. Always there for me, to catch me when I fall, wipe my tears, to give me a hug when I give up. To believe. Life without Cato would be like a flower without water, dead. Reaching the road, the snow started slowly melting away, creating a large slick ice rink right right in Distrct 2. My first step, and I went down, hard. I could tell Cato tried to help, he took my glove off in the process. Ifelt like my heart was going to break in half. Every breath took effort, and caused pain. My heart stopped the rythmatic beat, my hands stung from the landing, expecially my left. Cato has my glove. Breathe. That was my only instruction for myself, and this same moment, in this different predicament, I have to breathe.
Penelope Droft. Penelope Droft. Penelope Droft. DON'T JUST STAND THERE CLOVE TYLK, DO SOMETHING! YOU JUST VISITED PENELOPE'S LITTLE SISTER TODAY AND YOU ARE LETTING HER WALK TOWARDS HER DEATH. YOU ARE BASICALLY KILLING THEM BOTH. That last thought is what helped me come to. Penelope is a 12 year old, she reminds me of Layla in so many ways, it would be like watching Layla die if I let Penelope. I've talked to her sister many more times then I have to Penelope herself, but that little girl is as bright as the sun, her smile lights up the room. SHE'S GETTING CLOSER.
My heart drops to the floor the second her right foot touches the first step. The town is murmuring words of disgust, as they always do when a soft, young, bird like figure is reaped. 12 year olds are not usually reaped, I mean they are not favored and saved, but they are young and usually have one paper with their name on it. That's when I come to, again.
"I VOLUNTEER!" I belt at the top of my lungs.
The wind blows my hair, but I find it hard to reach oxygen. I'm falling at a slow pace, and it feels like forever. My dress snags on a branch and cuts my arm. "Did she really just do that?" "Is she okay?" "Clove, was that you?" "Walk before the Peacekeepers drag you there!"
"Shh." Halle Skoth said. "I do believe we have a volunteer!"
Those words sent me back again. Only this scarred me for life, and will continue to, if I win. I was 14 years old. Being in the same predicament now, it flushes back to me. 2 years ago, "Clove Tylk" was written on 3 little pieces of paper in a bowl of a thousand girls. I was reaped. When I reached the first step as Penelope has, with my right foot if I do remember vaguely, someone volunteered for me the way I have volunteeres for Penelope Droft, today.
I'm caught of guard when my feet start moving towards the stage. I come to, and realize that "snag" was actually my friend deliberately punching me in the arm, and pulling my dress as she yelled at me. My hair blows through the wind, and as Penelope stares at me, she recognizes me.
"NO! No I'm going in there! Take me! STOP!" Penelope yells, she starts walking up the stairs slowly. My heart is fearing her possible death, and my feet start running.
"Penelope!" I say as I grab her shirt and pull her off the stairs. "I'm going to win for you, for you both." I say in a promising voice while I hug her. Setting her down kills me, but I know what I have done is right.
