The Very First Hunger Games

Chapter Two-

Chapter Two-

            Midnight rolls around. I’m tucked into the sleeping bag next to Sabrina’s twin sized bed, a cobalt comforter covering her body. I just stare at the white ceiling, squirming around gently, trying to get comfy on the carpet. A dingy gray pillow is tucked under my head. I can’t sleep. I can hear music from the Justice Building play. Probably preparing for the reaping. I make out the hissing of sparklers and flamboyant fireworks. I shimmy out my sleeping bag and spy out the window, I sigh as I languidly make my way out of her room. I open the white door. Trying not to make any noise I open it slowly and cautiously. Then it squawks. And I hear covers rustling behind me. Seriously. I think to myself. I can’t even open a door without causing a racket.

            “Jerry?” Sabrina probes fuzzily. 

            My head whips to look at her in shock and I close the door, “Yeah? What? I’m sorry.” I apologize. “It’s just… There’s something going on outside and I wanted to go take a look at it.”

            Sabrina inches out of bed and along with me, stands on her knees peering out the window. “Whoa.”

            Fireworks burst into the air, sizzling and screeching. Blasts of cerulean, pink, and emerald burst in the sky, “What do you think they’re doing?” My eyes grow wider as a white blast of light bursts in the night time sky, making a huge District one symbol.

            “They might be burning the last supply of fireworks manufactured by District thirteen?” She squints, “Or… they could be celebrating.”

            I gaze adjacent to the justice building and observe as a eccentric woman passes into the threshold. I can’t make her out but she has on a huge crown, a painted on mask and spiral curled hair. She curtsies as our mayor welcomes her at the entrance.

            “That’s so peculiar.” I say, getting back into my sleeping bag. “Do they all really want us to die? Even the Mayor? I assumed she was on our side. Plus, our district ASSISTED the Capital. Why do we have to partake in the games?” I grumble.

Sabrina laughs gently, “We won’t get chosen.”

            “Knock on wood.” I reply as I drift away to slumber.

            I wake up around seven at dawn, walking into the kitchen to meet Sabrina’s mother. She beams and greets me with a hug and a good morning. I don’t smile back. Even beneath all of that smile and contentment I can still see the agony very visibly on her face. She fixes me a Cinnamon Bun. Smearing rich ordinary glaze on it generously. The aroma of the cinnamon and melted frosting fills my nostrils as she sets it down in front of me, the pastry resting on fine white china. Mrs. Campbell crosses to the other side of the table and sits across from me, resting her elbows on the countertop and relaxing her chin into the palms of her hands.

            “Are you ready.. for.. the reaping? Do you think you’ll get chosen?” She asks me.