I stand in the center square in front of Effie Trinket. "Blah, blah,
blah, and may the odds be ever in your favor. As always, ladies first." Now the Hunger
games aren't something minor. It's where children between 12 and 18, a boy and girl
from each of the 12 districts, fight to the death. TO THE DEATH. The ornaments on
Effie's dress create a luster on the crowd, as she puts her hand in the fish bowl with the
girls' names in it. "Jenna Trevorton!" Oh no. No. NO, NO, NO! I'm the female tribute. I
obviously must comply or else I will die anyways. My name was only in there twice.
TWICE! I walk up to the stage taking my place, knowing this is a primary thing for our
country. There is no way I can cope with this what so ever. Will I even get to say
goodbye? " Gerald Stevenson." I completely zoned out I didn't even realize the boy was
chosen. He looked about 15 with black hair. The next thing I know, I was whisked back
to my house to say goodbye. There is no way to preclude this from happening. I burst out
into tears hugging my mom and dad saying I loved them and I would miss them so much.
But most importantly I would try extremely hard to win without killing anyone or without
using violence. I then had to be forcefully whisked away on a train towards the capitol.
