My mum always told me I had every right to be scared, especially on this particular day. My mind reeled and my head swam with anticipation, making me nauseous. Nobody liked it, even though we are from District Two, and most people leapt at the opportunity. By now everybody knows the volunteers are crazy and will do anything to be recognised.
I hate the day of the reaping. Everybody dresses in pretty clothes even thought two of the number will be marched of to the justice building to say their farewells to their sobbing mums. It's inhumane. I cannot bear seeing 12 year olds picked and that being one of the few years that nobody volunteers as tribute.
My heart pounds as crowds travel in twos and threes linked with their friends towards the large stage, I hold my older sister's hand and remember my name is only in there 3 times. Some of the people have their name in about 10 times. I heard a rumor that in the outer districts some of them even have their name entered over 40 times just for extra food, and to provide for their families! I walk up to the desk and they ask fr my hand. I forgot this part, and I despise needles. I flinch as the large men and women in white outfits - peace keepers - jab my finger and press it on a piece of paper.
I line up and cling to my sisters arm. A young man steps to the front and coughs to get everybody's attention.
"Welcome! To the 25th annual Hunger Games! And now we will bring you a video all the way from the Capitol." He tells us, pointing towards the old grainy screen.
A clip I have seen so many times plays in black and white. Even though this is my second year actually taking part in the reaping. I used to watch as my sister stood their alone, her knees trembling and her hands shaking uncontrolably. I remember how I wanted to hold her hand. To protect her from the peace keepers and their needles. One year I remember I had to be hauled back, as I'd thought they'd said my sister's name. I didn't even care they had grabbed me and taken me kicking and screaming away from the centre. It was only when my sister walked into the room I was being kept in that I finally believed what everyone, including my mother was saying! I swear I could have died of embarrasment.
The clip ended and the young man - just like all the others that had that job - mouthed the last few words with their eyes closed, and sighed.
"Right", he said, clapping his hands "As we say in 2 gentlemen first!" He reached his hand into the paper filled orb and drew out a single piece of paper. "Noah Tree!" A boy of about 12 stepped forwards with one hand grasping an inhaler. Just as I thought nobody would volounteer, a burly man of 18 lunged forward and pushed the boy back, taking his face in his own hands and whispering a few words I could not hear and understand. The young boy nodded, tears forming in his eyes, then walked away. The 18 year old walked up the stage and stood there stifly trying to act manly and not cry, shrugging off all the peace keeper. I bet they were brothers.
"Right then. Ladies next!" He once again put his hand in the bowl and pulled out a single piece of paper.
The man read the name loud and clear.
What dya think guys? This is the only story i have ever planned out fully! Incase it wasnt clear
Skye French tells the story.
She is chosen as tribute.
It's the 25th Hunger Games.
She is 13 years old.
:) thoughts? Ideas?