The Hunger Games: Never Safe From Danger

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Leighla’s POV

I look down at my meagre portion of bread and gingerly nibble it. I have lost my appetite, and I really don’t blame myself. It’s reaping day.

My older brother and sister, twins, are sitting on the couch. They are sixteen, four years older than me. It is the first year that I will be eligible for the reaping. The Games are always terrifying, but this year I don’t think I could live with being picked first-if it is me, I don’t want to have to hunt and kill someone that I know. I just couldn’t do it. I’m not sure if I could really kill anyone.

There is still an hour to kill before we have to get to the District Square, so I give up on my breakfast and sit between my siblings. For a few seconds, neither of them says anything. Then my sister, Sienn, puts her arms around me and hugs me. My brother, Zech, joins in too. I can hear him crying. He always gets emotional when The Games come around.

After about three minutes, we drift apart on the couch and start talking.

“I can’t believe that there are people who find it entertaining…” says Sienn, and nobody needs to ask her what she’s talking about. We already know.

“I hate them all,” declares Zech stiffly, but there are still tears running down his face.

“Me too,” Sienn says, anger the prominent emotion in her voice.

Zech seems to remember I’m there at this point, and he becomes calmer. Probably just acting for my sake. “It’s okay, Leighla. None of us are going to get picked,” he says, pulling me into a hug again.

Sienn is a less convincing liar. “Yeah. None of us…” she mutters. I am uncertain.

“But if either of you do get reaped-and the odds are very against that-you must pick me to go with you. Is that a deal?” asks Zech, in a very serious tone of voice.

“Why?” I ask, confused as to why he would want to be part of it.

“So that I can protect you,” he says. It takes a little more convincing than that, but eventually we reluctantly agree.

The thoughts whizzing through my head come and go too quickly to think about them properly. What are the odds that I’ll get reaped? What are the odds that I’ll get picked by the reaped tribute? Will volunteers be allowed? And then, most disturbingly of all, If I am reaped, how will I deal with condemning my big brother, too?

I don’t have much time to worry, because after a while my dad gives us our reaping clothes. Mine is one of Sienn’s old outfits- a pretty faded white blouse and a grey skirt that she wore to her first reaping. I run to the bedroom, pull it on and rush back to the kitchen and living space.

Zech has disappeared somewhere to try on his grey shirt, and Sienn has ran into the bedroom, probably so that she can style her hair in the mirror. She says she doesn’t care about fashion, but when it comes to reaping day, she really outdoes herself. She comes out after a few minutes, and her hair is flowing just below shoulder-length. She then takes me and sits me in front of the mirror. She puts my hair into two careful pleats.

Just as she finishes, my father and Zech come through the doorway and tell us it is time to go. We get on our shoes and start walking. I have this feeling of impending doom…and I’m sure my siblings share it. Fear takes over my muscles when my father closes the door behind us. My legs refuse to move, and my body is quaking. Shivers run down my spine at regular intervals. Sienn has to grasp my hand and drag me to finally get me moving.

I try to calm myself down. Don’t be silly, Leighla. Your name is only in that stupid glass ball once. There are eighteen year olds with loads of siblings who take out tesserae for all of them. You won’t be picked. In the entirety of District Ten, you are not going to be the one who is picked. Calm down.

And I do calm down, until another thought hits me.

Sienn and Zech both take out tesserae for the whole family. And they’re sixteen. What are the odds of them being picked…?

My muscles are working against me again, and I can barely force myself to take a step forward.

Eventually we arrive at the square. We hug and then spilt off. My father joins the other teary-eyed adults, while me and my siblings go and join the appropriate sections. I am standing with the other twelve-year-old girls. I spot Zech about fifteen metres away. He has clenched fists and he’s muttering something, but I’m too far away to read his lips and I certainly can’t hear him.

I can literally feel the tension building around me. Even the annoyingly chatty girls have fallen silent. The District Ten escort, Alness Etern, is standing on the stage. She is smiling that horribly cheerful Capitol smile. She doesn’t seem to see this as condemning children to death, but as a sporting event; friendly competition. And that’s why I hate her.

This year, the male and female names are all in one glass ball instead of two. One name will be picked out, and that person will have to choose a person of the opposite gender to accompany them to the arena, and live with the guilt of putting them in that situation. This year’s Quarter Quell’s twist.

Before she gets to plunge her hand into the ball, thereby ripping some poor kid’s life apart, the mayor appears on the stage and reads the Treaty of Treason. I’ve heard it enough times, so I just don’t listen. I figure I don’t need to. He reads out a list of past victors- which doesn’t take too much time- and then it’s time for Alness to reap someone. This sick lottery disgusts me. Her fingers do a little dance in the glass ball, as if she’s looking for a particular name. Eventually, she clasps one in her long, fake fingernails. She smiles for the camera and walks to the middle of the stage, where, in that bubbly Capitol accent, she announces the name crystal clear.

“Leighla Jadlen!”