The Twenty-ninth Annual Hunger Games: A Fanfiction

District 8 Reaping

District 8 Reaping:
Sterling Evergrove
I sleepily open my eyes. I can't believe it's reaping day again already. I don't feel very nervous. I feel a bit excited. I don't have to worry about any of my siblings being picked, because I don't have any. I'm an only child.

"Sterling, are you up?" Father calls from downstairs. My mother died when I was young, so I live with only my father.

"Yes, I'm up!" I call back. I feel like I could sleep for another day.

"Go ahead and get ready!" Father says. So I take out the nicest outfit I have and put it on. Father is already ready for the reaping when I come downstairs for breakfast. I eat my breakfast quickly, not wanting to be late for the reaping. If someone is late for the reaping, they usually get their name put in more times. Sometimes it's something much worse than that. I try not to think about as my dad and I head to the square. I wave to Dad, telling him that I'll see him after the reaping. I sit quietly in the fourteen year olds pen, not really caring if I get picked but still feeling a little fearful. I have no friends, so there's no one to talk to. I just wait until our Capitol escort, Laguna Heavenleaf, steps onto the podium that has been set up.

"Hello and welcome to the District Eight reaping for the 2nd Hunger Games!" she exclaims in that awful accent of hers. How can Capitol people be so cheerful all the time? I don't think that young people losing their lives is a cheerful thing.

I don't bother watching the video. I already know what it's about. The only part that I pay attention to is the actual reaping.

"Ladies first," says Laguna, walking over to the girls' ball. It takes her forever to pick a name.

"Rosemary Alderberg!" A seventeen-year-old girl that I don't recognize goes onstage. There are no volunteers for her, which is no surprise. Last year there were no volunteers for either of our tributes, and they both got killed.

"All right, now for the boys," says our escort. It takes her less time to draw the name from the boys' ball, and she walks quickly back to the microphone.

"Sterling Evergrove!" I'm shocked. How could it be me? But I just go up to the podium. Again, there are no volunteers. I wonder how my father must feel. I still don't feel very nervous. But I know my father will miss me if I get killed in the Games. All of a sudden, I feel somewhat sad. What if I never come back? I try to push the thought away, but I can't. My father may lose me, his son, his only son, his only living family member after Mother's death. And that makes me even sadder. I'm not even sure what to say. I feel tears coming into my eyes, but I quickly brush them away. I can't cry in front of everyone; I'll look weak. But as Laguna makes her closing speech at the end of the reaping, I can't help but feel hopeless.