Completed Scartissue [Editing on Hold]

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My knees shake and my hands sweat. I wipe them uselessly against my light blue dress to be roused on by my mother.

âDonât do that, Coral! Youâll dirty your dressâ

I sigh loudly and fold my arms over my chest, looking out the window of our home as I do. From the upstairs room, I can see people beginning to queue into the reaping areas.

âWeâd better go, Coral.â She mumbles from behind me as she straightens my hair. I bat away her hands and walk down stairs.  

I hurry down and join the crowd, the familiar smell of salt water attacking me as soon as a step out into the street. I love the smell of the ocean and, I often stop to study in my special tree by the beach but, I have no time for thoughts of that now, I must go to the reaping. I follow the crowd towards the Justice Building.

I know I am getting near when I hear young childrenâs cries. I see young children grabbing onto their sisters dresses or their brothers slacks, begging them to stay with them, being too young to know that they have no choice. On the other side of the simple, rope fence are children from ages from 12 to 18. The younger kids crying and sniffling and, the older kids looking either worried or excited. Sometimes a mixture of both. I walk towards the group of older kids and wait in silence for the Escort to step out. Silver Roxen. She eventually steps out and the crowd falls into silence.

I can feel my knees shake as she introduces herself and talks about how the games started. Playing a film near the end of her speech.

The Hunger Games began when the long-demolished District 13 rebelled against the Capitol who restrained them. They lost the war and the Capitol, in an attempt to make sure that such an occurrence will never happen again, introduced The Hunger Games. A war pitted against children once a year, every year in which, twenty four children from the twelve districts fight to the death until, one lone victor remains. Where the fight is taken place varies year by year. Some years they will be in the middle of a forest or, in ice caps. I remember one year there was a bare terrain, the only colour produced by huge boulders.

The other children surrounding me and I are all waiting to see which two children from my home, District Four, will be sent to the arena to fight for their lives and, the massive cash prise. Some people train all their lives, waiting for their chance to be sent into the arena, going from rags to riches or, rags to nothing. Thereâs everything to gain and, everything to lose.

My thoughts are interrupted by Silver coughing into the microphone.

âOkay, letâs see who will have the honour of representing your district in the 63rd Annual Hunger Games!â She announces with a wink. She walks over to one of two large, glass balls set up on the stage, the âtock-ingâ sound made by her heels echo off the stage.

She raises her hand over the first glass ball and hesitates for a moment before she reaches in and grabs the first slip of paper she comes across.

I hold my breath as I listen to her heels return to the microphone over my heartbeat. Silver takes a breath as if to steady herself before announcing the name written on the small strip of paper.

âCoral Rankineâ

I breathe in a startled breath as I realise that that names familiar to me. It takes another moment for me to realise. Thatâs my name!

I straighten my dress as I walk out of the group of seventeen year olds, into the path leading to the stage where Silver stands, waiting.

I reach the stage and cross both fingers behind my back. I only have one chance if I want to survive, and thatâs for someone to volunteer in my place. District Four is a Career district where, people often volunteer in others place for a shoot at the cash. Yet, despite this, not one person volunteered in my place. And I know why, too. Ever since I was little, I cared not about mastering a bow and arrow or a sword. I cared for my studies. I never went to practice fighting like the other kids. I slightly know how to use a knife to wound, of course. And I am competent with a trident but, Iâm not nearly as good as the others, I just learnt what I needed to know to survive in a district based on the fishing industry. But, being top of my classes made the others jealous and, not being at the training made me different. And people didnât like that. I have always been an outcast and, honestly, I never mindedâ€Â¦ Until now

I watch as Silver mumbles an “Okay then” and walks towards the second glass ball, containing the boy’s names. She doesn’t hesitate, this time, reaching straight in and grabbing a name at random.

“River Saltcoats” Silver announces, searching amongst the boys for River. I small boy who looks about nine stands out of the crowd and makes his way to the stage, his eyes darting this way and that nervously. His slender frame climbs the steps and he stands beside Silver.

“Is there any volunteers for this young man?” She asks, even sounding sad at the thought of such a small boy in the arena with such big kids. I shake my head. It must just be that she’s disappointed that it won’t be much of a good fight to watch.

A larger boy comes from the boy’s side, near the sixteen year olds.

“I volunteer!” He shouts and, he half runs, half walks to the stage.

“What’s your name?” Silver asks, her voice having a happier tone, this time.

“Floodplain Saltcoats” He announces and I almost choke.