The wind blew gently on my back, making my already messy hair tangled. I laughed as my gaze fell on a nearby tree stump with my initials carved on it. Stupid brother keeps doing things like this to annoy me. I focused intently on what my brother had carved; S. T. is cool. . . NOT.
I noticed that he had carved it with care, and I smiled mentally. My brother is really an artist even with things like this. What I'm puzzled with is the fact that my brother does his art on tree stumps, flowers, and leaves while we have a lot of "artsy" things at home. We can afford thousands of them, yet he still keeps on doing this.
"Robin, little guy," I caledl him and grinned as he stubbornly walked towards me, brows furrowed, hands clasped. "Hey, are you still angry at me? Big sister Strawberry made you unhappy? Come on, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to eat your chocolate chip cookie."
"Don't make me remember!" He hollered as he placed his hands over his ears. "I don't hear anything! La, la, la, I'm singing a song!"
I chuckled at his behavior as I ruffled his hair. I then sang along to the stupid song he and my father had composed. "La, la, la, I'm singing a song! La, la, la, you can sing along! La, la, la, Whatever you please! Just don't look at my scabby knees!"
There's no point to the song, but he and Father always sang that song whenever they're tired, sad, worn-out, or confused. My family's a happy and content one, even though we have quarrels now and then.
"Berry Tramp! It's time for your training dear!" I turned my head towards our house and noticed Mom's calling me. It's time to train on fighting. I have no idea why my father and mother were always pushing me to train, but maybe it's because I tend to get in fights a lot.
I pulled out a rubber band and tied my fiery red hair in a ponytail. I then went in my house and changed into pants; skirts in training are impossible. My red hair certainly looked awful because I haven't had a chance to comb it this morning. I had just put on a simple pair of black pants and slapped on a cloak - don't ask me why, I love mysteriousness.
My father was with my brother when I saw them on the windows of my bedroom. Seeing my father smiling at my brother, I peek a little. My bro has carved into another tree trunk; I'm sorry S.T.
I seriously don't know whether this little weirdo loves me or not, but I like him till the world ends. That's what sisters and brothers are supposed to be right? I waved goodbye to my bro when I got out of the house and joined Cera - an acquaintance of mine - who was also training with father.
"Hey you!" I turned my head and saw someone running towards us. I think the person was one of our neighbors - I have seen him here before. He stopped in front of us gasping for breath. He then told us something; something far too evil to describe, something only our President can think of.
"President," He told us. "He declared that there will be something called the Hunger Games. Two participants will join from each district, a boy and a girl. Then, they'll kill of each other until one remains. They'll explain everything further under that old oak tree. They didn't want to go to the plaza because the person who'll explain everything told the other residents that it's too dirty."
Stupid logic. The plaza - ablaze with splashes and splotches of gold, overflowing with jewels - is dirty, while the dusty space under the tree is not? I must see for myself what this person explaining the 'Hunger Games' thing was. I ignored the neighbor though (I'm not that friendly to people - except my family) as I walked towards the tree.
The tree was shady and there were already some people from my District there. People of all sizes - some as fat as a whale, some as thin as a cane - and colors wearing rich clothes. I might have looked like someone from another District because of the clothes I'm wearing. If my Aunt (a person who is a self proclaimed fashion expert) was here, I'm sure she'll ground me to death because of the ugly outfit.
