Performer, Provider, Protecter

1

"Corsica Greenly!"

My heart stops for a moment. Fear lining every part of my being. I had woken up this morning with a bad feeling in my stomach, and a sour taste in the back of my throat that just wouldn't go away. Not a good feeling to have on Reaping Day.

I want to cry; to scream; to run over to my mother and beg them not to take me away. But I know I can't do any of those things. I can't scream, or run away, and I definitely cannot cry! My sponsor number would be lower than ever before!

The high-strung feminine Capitol voice clears her throat, "Corsica... Greenly!"

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I know I need to move, but I can't. I'm petrified.

The voice echoes through my ears again, this time sounding annoyed, "Corsica Greenly!" She says a bit louder.

The hand on my shoulder squeezes and I'm snapped back to reality. I turn around and see my little sister, Etalie, frowning at me. I see her eyes start to water.

The Capitol accented voice yells, "CORSICA GREE—!!!"

"Yeah yeah, I'm here," I mutter, my limbs going numb as I reach my hand up to my shoulder and squeeze Etalie's fingers. I feel her start to shake. I feel me start to shake.

My hollow body drags itself up onto the stage. I look down the whole time I'm walking; not wanting the sight of any of my fellow classmates to cause me to burst into tears.

"Come on, dearie! We don't—Erm," The voice hesitates as she looks out upon my District, apparently supposing that all of its residents have nothing to do; nothing to live for, "Well... I don't have all day."

I roll my eyes as my feet find the spot on stage where the unlucky District 7 female Tributes stand while the male gets chosen.

"Well! Time for the boys!" The escort says.

She strides across the stage with such agile speed that it takes a moment for my brain to process her reaching her hand into the Reaping bowl and pulling out a name.

She fingers the paper before throwing it back into the ball and picking another.

I gasp, and for the first time, look out upon the audience. I see my mother on the floor crying silently, as she's being comforted by Mrs. Clearwater, her best friend. But more importantly, I see havoc among the boys.

The worst kind of torture, I think, always wondering what would have happened if she had just kept that piece of paper. Well...Not always wondering... My thoughts grow dark, the "lucky" kid will probably just die 30 seconds into the Games...

The escort clears her throat as mine goes dry.

"Tomlin Clearwater!"

My ears start to ring. I've known Tomlin since...since...well since birth! His older brother Kousa and I have been best friends since as long as I can remember. My eyes start to water.

Tomlin is only twelve.

I can't hear very well, but I can make out Mrs. Clearwater falling to the ground, her body shaking with sobs.

It was then that I decided, as I gazed upon the chaos, that I wasn't coming back. I would do everything in my power to get Tomlin back to his family. And he would leave that arena alive and well and return to District 7. And I would leave dead.

Tomlin very quickly steps onto the stage, nodding at me as he walks past.

I manage a grimace.

"Well... Go on you two! Shake hands!"

I reach out towards Tomlin for a handshake, but he pulls me in for a hug—a very much needed one at that—and then the Peacekeepers were on us.