Not Just A Game

Chapter 3

The dirt path that weaves throughout the districts is gloomier than ever. Belle and I walk hand in hand past houses and shacks and porches where we see mothers crying as they hug their children for what could be one of their last moments together.

We walk past Griffin's home and see him standing in front of his front door with his family. They were waiting for us.

I motion for him to walk with us.

He is wearing a soft blue shirt tucked into some khaki pants. His messy hair looks the same as ever, still showing off his casual personality.

His brother is thirteen this year. Clayton has his name in only twice. Clay of all people doesn't deserve to be picked. Even Griffin knows this.

Griffin told me that he would volunteer in a second if Clay happened to be reaped this year. But it's not Clay I'm worried about.

Griffin has always been very protective over his family. Every year he gets tesserae for them, but when Clay or anyone else volunteers to get it, he blows up. He's furious and tells them if they do they may both end up in the games. Then he's on silent for the rest of the day.

His siblings know he doesn't mean it, but they obey, and let him be granted all the flour and oil and other material he needs.

"How many times in your name in today?" I ask. He looks down at his shoes, clearly ashamed. Ge hesitates before answering, but finally gives in. "82 times." He states quietly.

I nod, not allowing myself to say anything. My decision to keep quiet is for the sake of Clay, and his sister.

We near the square and Belle grips my hand even harder. I feel her slim body tense up next to mine, and her fear kicks in.

Up ahead she sees the sign in table. She stops in her tracks and turns to me.

Tears well up in her hazel eyes. I comfort her, embracing her in a hug. She let's go of my hand and we walk in silence to the sign in table.

The bright yellow sun reflects off the shiny metal table. Six different women, for the six different ages of kids in the reaping, sit across from us. I lead Belle to the twelve year old station, and head over to the fiftheen year old station. I hold out my finger and wince when they electrocute it. It's just enough pain and makes your finger bleed just a drop of blood to verify I was at the reaping.

The stage has four chairs sitting across it. In front is a microphone. Those four chairs remind me of the terrible quarter quell.

As for the quell, as a reminder that there are two sides to every war, for the 100th Hunger Games, four tributes are to be reaped from each district, totaling to 48 tributes. They will be divided amongst two groups to be put in two separate arenas. When twelve remain in each, they will be brought together to fight until one lone victor remains.

I sets a lump in my stomach. That double everyone's chance of being reaped. Griffin goes from 82 to 164. Mine just rises from 4 to 8. Still the worries threat to consume me whole.

I spot Griffin in his section. He is looking clammy as he sights Belle shaking with fear. Her name is only in the bowl once. She has nothing to worry about.

I turn my focus to the stage where Elsie Mink bounds happily to the microphone in a powderpuff pink wig and a dress to match. She taps the mic twice and clears her throat.

For five minutes straight Elsie rambles on about the rebellion and the dark days and the honor of being a tribute from district twelve.

The short program plays on the projector recapping everything she just said.