The Hunger Games: Never Safe From Danger

Chapter One

Chapter 1

Alsa’s POV

Watching. Waiting. Wondering. Wishing.

The Hunger Games, born out of the cruelty of Capitol high-ups, is a televised event in which twenty-four young people between the ages of twelve and eighteen are forced to fight to the death.

It’s a month before the 175th Annual Hunger Games, which also just happens to be a Quarter Quell. Quarter Quells happen every twenty-five years and have a special twist. They change the rules of the year’s games, supposedly to remind the rebels of their mistakes. Anything could happen, and nobody is truly safe. They could do anything- literally, anything.

My family is crowded around the television. The picture goes fuzzy every few seconds. The room is silent. Occasionally, someone will try to break the tension by speaking, but no words will come out. Even my seven year old sister, Rosaliss, who doesn’t really understand the concept, senses something is very wrong. We are not afraid. We are truly petrified.

And we aren’t alone. That’s the comforting thing- knowing that the other thousands of people in District Five are watching the same broadcast, with the same crippling fear shrouding the room. There is only a tiny chance that I will be chosen as tribute.I, Alsa Sirottan, have only three entries in the reaping out of thousands. Unless…

What if this year’s twist is the younger kids having more slips? Or the age range becoming smaller? Or the kids who take out tesserae having less slips, and vice versa? I am fourteen years old, and my mother won’t let any of us kids take out tesserae.

And now a man in a suit of fine material is speaking on the television. He’s clearly from the capitol, with his unnatural, blue skin, his sticky-out silver hair and his affected accent.

“Citizens of Panem. As a reminder that you cannot always protect those you love, one tribute will be reaped. This tribute will have to choose the second person to accompany them to the arena. They must be of the opposite gender. Thank you and goodnight.”

Those are the words he speaks. I look at Rosaliss and clasp her hand tightly in mine. I’m scared, and even though nothing affects her, she is scared for me too.

I run through a mental list of all the enemies I have acquired at school. Too many.

My parents collect all three of us- Me, Rosaliss and my older brother, Torrin-in a massive hug. Then my father looks me in the eye and tells me,  “You are not going to get reaped, Alsa!” He then turns to Torrin, and fiercely declares, “You either! No child of mine is going to be forced to take part in those barbaric games!”

He always gets pretty worked up over The Games, but even more so this year. Probably because he knows that Torrin and I both have a fair amount of enemies who couldn’t hesitate to throw us to certain death, even if it meant them joining us.

“What’s happening?” asks Rosaliss, innocently.

“Nothing, Rosy, honey,” says my mother, but I can tell her voice is close to cracking. “Come along and go to bed.”

Torrin looks at me. “Good luck, Alsa.” We do this every year- we wish each other luck in the upcoming reaping. It’s kinda became a tradition.

I nod. “Good luck, Torrin.”

And then I say, “I’m feeling tired, I’m gonna go to bed,” and walk in the direction of the bedroom.