The Very First Hunger Games

Chapter Three-

Chapter Three-

            A woman wearing a white peacekeeper suit gestures to me with a gloved hand, I fretfully stagger over to her. She pricks my finger with a needle. ‘Ouch.’ I think to myself, gritting my teeth gently as she scans the droplet of blood that exits the puncture on my index finger.

            “Mmm.. fourteen, hm?” She rhetorically asks me, since she already knows the answer, “I just hope you don’t get chosen, you’ll be picked off first. For a minute there I thought you ended up here on accident after being separated from your Mommy.” She hoots and waves me off. It takes every inch of force to keep myself from punching her square in the face. But keeping my composure I hug my sister and Sabrina and make my way to the boy’s section. Since I was one of the first to show up, I earned a front row view of the reaping… great. All the other boys are dressed in their best garb just as I. Gelled hair, ties, dress shoes. Must be better than how District Twelve, Eight, and Eleven are dressed as I may imagine, who are most hated by The Capital.

            As more gentleman crowd into my section, The more strained it makes me feel. One of these boys, including me, is going to be drawn at random and thrown into an arena to fight to the death.

            “Hey.. You.” Says the guy next to me, I gaze over to him and raise a brow. It’s Clay. The handsome god who I’ve had a crush on ever since I met him. His golden honey dreadlocks shine in the sun that makes his skin glow a subtle tan. His ice blue eyes that shimmer as they lock onto mine. “Aren’t you the little dude from training?”

            “Oh, uh….” I stare at him, dumb stricken, “I think so… I mean, yes.” I answer, a grin crossing my face. My cheeks radiant with red. ‘Stop blushing you idiot.’ I think to myself. The smile on my face must make me look like a complete and utter dead head, because Clay lets out a small laugh and thumps me in my shoulder gently, “Well, I’ve been watching you. You’re pretty equable. I wish you the best of luck.”

            “Yeah you too.” I look down at my feet and rub my hands together, creating friction. Even though the sun is scorching hot on this June day, I always rub my hands together when I get nervous. On the stage of the Justice Building stands two glass balls on cherry wood stands, each containing numerous slips of paper, each one taped with the smallest black strip. I’m guessing they contain the names of every boy and girl, twelve to eighteen, in District One. The Luxury District, A career district. The Mayor then sits in a wooden chair in the back area of the stage, along with her husband, and out steps the wacky woman of whom I recognized from last night. Yet today her ensemble is entirely diverse from the ball Sabrina and I witnessed. She wears a baby pink wig that is parted down the middle and sleek straight, her cupcake dress to match and her platform shoes, that act as a home to some type of pink tropical fish in the section on the bottom of the shoe. She smiles and taps of the microphone with a delicate, manicured finger. Even though she’s wearing a huge load of makeup, if she were to tone it down, she would be beautiful.

            “Welcome to the first annual Reaping for the first annual Hunger Games!” She pipes in her bittersweet, Capital accent. “Before we begin I would like to introduce myself! My name is Viola Valentine, and I will be the District One escort and hostess for this years event. Nice to meet you all!” She chuckles and purses her lips. “Now, I will select one boy and one girl from ages twelve to eighteen to compete in the games. If anyone has any objections I will ask for volunteers after. If you feel like you should be in the selected tributes spot, you may ask to take their place and compete instead. All objections are final once the reaping concludes. If I call your name, step up to the stage. Ladies first. This should be fun!” She smiles and gives her head a small shake, trotting over to the ladies ball. She slips her hand into the opening and rustles into the set of names, once she grabs one out, she struggles to peel off the tape and clears her throat, “May I see….. Sabrina Campbell?”

            I let out a choked up sob, fighting back tears I cover my mouth. Out of hundreds and thousands of names, the one girl who was chosen for The Hunger Games is my best friend. I can’t be chosen now… If I’m chosen I will have to end up fighting Sabrina to the death, and I can’t let that happen. I compose myself as Sabrina steps onto the stage timidly, we make eye contact and just stay there, meeting eyes. It’s as if we’re communicating to each other in our own language. We aren’t listening to Viola, or her peppy Capital accent. “Now for the boys!” She smiles wide and walks to the boys reaping ball. Please don’t be me… please do not be me. Please…. Please…

            “Clay Togan!” Viola announces. I let out a sigh of relief... wait a second… Clay? No!

            “Clay…” I try to grab his arm and keep him here, to keep him safe. Sabrina and Clay. Best friend as well as my crush both in the arena. I can’t let either one of them perish. But I can’t go up either! What will I do!?

            “Everybody this year’s tributes!” Viola holds Sabrina and Clay’s hands in each of hers and holds them up, beaming with pride. It makes me sick. I’m so sick.

            “I VOLUNTEER!” I shriek.

            What was I thinking? Well… there’s no turning back now. I step into the path that separate’s the girl and boy’s sections, “I volunteer to take Clay’s spot.” I blurt out again, more clearly this time than the last.

            “Jerry, no!” Sabrina yells at me.

Clay stares at me in complete fear. Those icy blue eyes staring me down.

            “I’m sorry..” I mouth to him. But that’s all I can make out before peace keepers escort him off the platform and back to the boys sector, and I unsteadily step onto the marble stage, breathing greatly.

            “What is your name dear?” Viola asks me through the microphone.

I look at my feet for a second and clear my throat, “Jerry Hinman…”

Viola pats my head, “The very first volunteer ever in the games! We are very honored to have you here! Everybody let’s give a round of applause for Jerry!”

            Nobody claps. Nobody cheers. Yet it’s not to be rude. It’s because they know who I am, and they all love and care about me. I spot my sister in the crowd and try to reach for her, but it’s no use. We’re already being escorted into the Justice Building and locked in a room guarded by several peace keepers.

            “Jerry?”

            I turn around and we lock eyes once more.