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Rerun News

     Same news. Every year. President Snow and his dramatic, and completely fake speech about the Hunger Games. That dreadful competition that they say is for the better of the discricts. To keep them in line, he says. The amusement of the Capitol and for the punishment of a dead alliance is apparently a perfectly good reason to torture the minds of children and young adults alike! Ugh. The Games still haunt every dream I have, and every moment of peace I actually manage to get get ruined by memories of that Arena.
     I walked in the room to my father and big brother watching President Snow's ridiculous speech. I lean on the wall and look at them. My father, Joseph Lorikeet, an acclaimed farmer. Well, as acclaimed as you can be in a dying country run by liars. But he's the most honest, and kindhearted adult in the whole district. He often gave so much away to people worse off then us that we became the poorest in the district. That was until I won the Games. My brother, Fletcher, is funny, loyal, always has my back, and one of my best friends. He also had a knack for woodworking. He had made me a small wooden Sakura blossom. I've never seen a live one, but I trust it's accurate. I focused back on the room.
     President Snow's face was still on screen, and I could feel anger rising inside me. I bottled it up for now, and decided to actually listen to the recording.
    "As you all know, this year, the 75th annual Hunger Games, is a Quarter Quell, which means..."
Ugh. His voice was like sandpaper on my ears. Like nails on a chalkboard in my brain. Still, I tried to listen as best I could.
    "...There will be a slight change..."
I was getting bored again. I fiddled with the wooden blossom in my pocket. It was something I did often, but I knew I would want details on the Games if Fletcher and I could make a wager like we often did.

     "...The participants will be chosen from the existing pool of victors."

My mind stopped. I gripped the flower in my hand tightly. And I was sure I was a bit pale, because Fletcher definitely noticed. He stopped the program and threw the remote down. I was frozen in this shock. I was sure that the metaphorical bottle I had put my anger had not only opened, but it shattered. I threw myself at the door and raced outside. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I had to leave. I ran, hot tears streaming down my face, and the flower clothed tight in my hands, right to the meadow. I cursed under my breath, although no one was there. I hated myself for automatically coming here. This was the meadow where they buried Rue. She was my best friend. We knew each other since we were kids. I picked some flowers I knew to be called primrose. I wasn't sure of there significance, or why they stuck out to me like they did, but I put them on Rue's memorial and walked out as quickly as I could. I knew that if I wanted to survive the Reaping, I couldn't get soft.

But I was.