The Writer Games | Once In A Lifetime & World Edition

Finals: Jace Miller

JACE ENTRY WORLD

"I tried to convince  sponsors to send you hair gel in the arena, but they just didn't seem to  understand the importance of it." Monica sighed. She had spent over an  hour styling my hair, and on any other occasion I would have complained,  but today is a special day. A "holiday".

Today is the start of the Victory Tour.

I'm not going to lie.  I've never actually read the Hunger Games trilogy. I know the release of  the movie started a big craze, but I've never been one to get involved  in those crazes. I tend to avoid them, actually. Too many people-- both  male and female-- "fangirling". It's not really my thing. But from what  I've heard, the Victory Tour is a big deal from the second book.

Anyway, I've been tuning  Monica out the whole time. What she says isn't important at the moment.  It's the same junk about my "beautiful hair" that she's been spouting  since the beginning. I have more important things to think about.

We are currently in Russia, the first stop on my tour.

The new government  doesn't trust me to give my own speech, so they wrote one for me.  ...It's in Russian. I've read it over and over the entire plane ride,  but I still don't think I've pronounced any one of the words right. This  will not end well.

"Okay, it's time!" Monica cheers, pushing me out of my seat and toward the door to the stage. "Don't touch your hair!"

And then I'm on the stage in front of thousands.

In the front row, sits  Viktoriya's family. I never really knew her, never talked to her, never  even saw her death. But the tear-filled eyes of the boy I can only guess  is her younger brother makes me feel like a monster. Next to  Viktoriya's family sits Enya, I remember seeing her in the family  interviews. Now I know I am a monster. She's not crying, but the way she  stares up at me on the stage... my stomach feels like it's made of  lead. It's my fault Alek is not here with her. He could have come home.

I clear my throat and  step up to the pedestal, where a microphone is waiting for me. I pull  out the sheet of paper that has my speech and glance down at it:

Я, ном Джейсом Уивером,  Миллер, сегодня перед вами, как победитель всемирной игры. Ваши старания  отказал Holender и Александр привет боролся и погиб благородством. Их  объем памяти будет почитаемым навсегда всех наций.

And then, hesitantly, I  begin to speak. "Ar.... hom Axen...com... Yenbepom... Munnep..." I  stumble through the words, having no idea what I'm saying. I glance down  at the crowd. They are murmuring amongst each other, looking at me  skeptically. Damn.... "Chero... ar... nepea bamn.."

Now random Russian citizens are shouting at me angrily... in Russian... And I stop speaking. This is not working.

With one final glance at  the speech, I crumple the paper in my fist and toss it. "Okay. I'm not  sure if you can understand me, so I'll just speak for those of you who  maybe can. I'm sorry that I'm standing here instead of your children, or  family, or friends. I never knew Viktoriya, but that doesn't stop me  from feeling like a monster. And Alek.... I killed him." I pause, my  words ringing through the now silent air. "I killed him...."

There were six of us  left. After the stunt the Gamemakers pulled with the picture, I was  practically on a rampage. I really had no reason to be, it was only a  photo of a chess board. Nothing special. Probably not nearly as  emotional as whatever pictures the other tributes got. I was mainly just  mad at myself.