The career

Chapter 1

Today we are on the eve of the reaping , and all the children in my district seem stressed, but frankly, I don't see why; it's true, after all, whatever happens if one of these children is drawn at the reaping , another will be there to volunteer in their place; it's usual in District 1, and this year, I fully intend to volunteer, after all, I've trained for this, and if I don't, all my training would have been for nothing.

And after all, I felt ready so why not do it? Moreover, the number of victors is much more significant in the career districts than in the other districts, like District 8, District 10, and let's not even talk about District 12; there has been only one victor there in 65 years, and he's an alcoholic who can't even stand on his legs: what a shame, no wonder there haven't been any winners in District 12 since the 50th Hunger Games with that kind of mentor...

I was about to go home when I heard a voice I recognized from the training center; it was Louis, a boy I had befriended during my training years, I heard him call out:
"Aurelia!"
"Louis!" I replied.
I started the conversation by asking him:
"Shouldn't you be at home preparing your sisters for their first year?"
"Yes, but I wanted to get out a bit, it's too complicated to calm them down."
I began to mock his supposed annoyance:
"Don't act as if we weren't both in the same state the first time, it's always like that, they'll get used to it."
"I hope so because frankly, I can't see myself doing this every year."
"Well, good luck then," I said sarcastically.
"Well, thank you, Aurelia, I'm going back."
We looked away from each other and returned to our respective homes.

When I got home, I was greeted by my mother and brother. As soon as I was in her field of vision, she asked me:
"How are you doing, Aurelia?"
"I'm fine."
I thought about what she was going to ask me next: how did it go at the training center? Did you improve?
And sure enough, as soon as I think that, she asks me:
"Did it go well at the training center today?"
I threw her a canned response, the same one I've been giving her for years:
"It went super well, the coach says I'm ready to go to the Hunger Games now."
Okay, I exaggerated that second part a bit, my coach never told me he thought I was ready, that's what I thought, but no way I was going to reveal that to my mother.

When my father came home, I was in my room, throwing knives at a target I had hung on one of my walls: my target was clear, it was an habitant of one of the districts outside the career districts, but I didn't care which one, this target just served me to train even outside the training center.
He and my mother seemed to be talking about me, or maybe my brother, it wasn't clear. Maybe they were talking about us or maybe about the reaping , I had no idea, and truthfully I didn't want to know, so I went back to my occupation.

Once in bed, I think about the girls and boys in my district: most seemed worried, but they all looked under 12 years old, they weren't even eligible for the draw: what a bunch of actors, they looked like all those whiners from the other districts, I thought before falling asleep.