Cheating Death

Chapter Three:

Amber had had brown eyes like Emily, but her hair wasn't brown, it was black.  She had the most enthralling laugh which had you joining in in seconds.  But when she was picked for the games, Reagan remembered all of this going away.  Amber didn't laugh, talk, or skip as much as she used to, and when Reagan would hang out with her, she would talk about how frightened she was.  How she wouldn't make it.  Reagan tried to convince her that she needed a positive attitude and prepare herself, but she wouldn't listen.  She spent her days in silence, waiting within her room for the final round to begin.

Reagan had been with her the night she was picked.  He had her hand wrapped in his own, and his chin on her head.  "It'll be okay," he had whispered.  "It will be okay."

Amber's head had nodded from beneath his own, and he gripped her hand tighter.  The announcer appeared at the screen and started talking excitedly.  "Welcome to our annual Survive or Die games!"

The crowd went wild and she bowed.  Her eyes had sparkled with delight and she calmed the audience with her arms.  "Today we will be picking the final boy and girl from our very own state!" she reached into a large bowl as the crowd went wild again.  Reagan had felt fear gripping his stomach in an iron hold.  Amber laughed but it was a hard and empty laugh.

"They get to go wild because they don't have to suffer through the agony of being picked..." a wet tear slid onto their hands and she quickly got up.  "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry," Reagan had coaxed lightly, pulling her back to him.  "Cry all you want to.  I'm here."

Amber had cried the rest of the night especially when her name was called.  She had burst into larger tears and hugged Reagan with all her might.  "I don't want to go," she kept saying.  "Reagan, don't let them take me."

The memory slipped away as Reagan walked further away from the park.  Emily had left at least an hour ago to meet her boyfriend, but Reagan didn't want to leave.  In fact, he didn't want to go even now, but his mother wanted him home at three o'clock sharp and if he wasn't there, his mother would worry.

He shook his head and wiped away a tear.  Amber had been his best friend, and now she was gone forever.  He laughed bitterly and looked around with anger in his eyes.  Why had she put her name in The Jar?  He told her not to, but of course she didn't listen to him.  She popped it in with a sad look in her eye.

"I don't want to feel like a chicken," he remembered her saying.  "I must go."

Then why had she been so unhappy to go?  Had she lost hope even before it began?  Reagan pressed his hands to his forehead and rubbed.  He put his hands down again and shook his head.  Why had he put his name in The Jar?  He already knew the answer to that: he didn't have a choice.

Sun glinting off a car caught his attention and he looked over to see a shiny blue, new Toyota Camry whizzing past.  It was heading toward the library and as it turned the corner, Reagan started to jog after it.  His mother could wait.

***

Sweat rolled down Claire's forehead as she entered the house again.  She had taken off her shoes to get accustomed to the hard ground which left cuts running up and down the bottom of her foot.  As she passed the dining room to go up to her room, a heavy hand clasped onto her shoulder and whizzed her around.

"What is this?" her mother questioned.  Claire turned around, and with dread, realized what her mother was holding.  It was the picture she had drawn last night while she couldn't sleep.  She shrugged.

"I was just playing around.  It's a harmless doodle," she replied.  Claire brushed her mother's hand off her shoulder, but her mother wasn't done yet.

"Why were you drawing it?" she demanded.

"I didn't have anything to do, I was bored," Claire lied.  "I'm sorry if it offends you..."

She turned and rushed up the stairs before her mother could inquire more.  If she had asked what led to it, she would have blurted everything and then she would have had to tell her father and by that point she would have been in tears.

Claire shut and locked her door before going to the window that looked out over the garden.  She noticed her mother had left the house and started planting seeds while Randie tried helping by picking the weeds around her.  Claire stayed silent as Randie accidentally picked a real flower and her mother turned on her.  If she was to be picked for the games, she would miss this scene terribly.

She left the window and flopped onto her bed, a small headache beginning to form.  Why had that man taken her choice from her?  Was he too desperate to get money that he didn't think of the lives it would ruin?  Would she ever see her parents again?  Or worse, would she ever see Randie or Peter again?

A blush made its way onto her cheeks as she thought of Peter.  His black hair and stunning brown eyes were the very make up that had attracted him to her, but sadly he wasn't interested in her at all.  He never had been.  In fact, they were only distant friends that hung out rarely.

Claire sighed.  She might as well tell Peter that she had put her name in The Jar.  If she didn't, it would be as surprising to him as it would be for her whole family.  She picked up her phone and dialed his number.