A life without the games

Chapter 1

Finally I reach the familiar spot in the fence that surrounds 12, it was built for "our safety" but really we know that it was built to keep us in as well as any threats from the forest out. Gale is waiting for me at our rock, smiling. That's not a good sign, this boy has to be up to no good. Gale calls out to me in his most trill capitol accent "Happy Hunger Games!". Coming from him, the voice is even more comical than it is when Effie Trinket uses it. I think she exaggerates her capitol accent to show her superiority over our small district, but to us, it sounds ridiculous. "And may the odds be ever in your favor" I call back in the same voice. "Well today Katniss they're in our favor" he says while holding out some fresh bread to me. Fresh bread is only a thing of dreams for me, so this was most definitely a treat. He explains to me that the baker was feeling especially sentimental and traded him a squirrel for it, which anyone knows is a highly unequal trade for the baker, but Gale was not going to complain. As we eat the bread we talk about the games. This is Gale's last year in the reaping, but his name is in the drawing 42 times. My own is in 20 times. We try not to think about what that could mean. Just in case, as I eat the bread Gale gave me, I memorize his features, I want to forever remember him this way. His dark hair, olive skin, and grey eyes. I want to remember his laugh and just the way his eyes seem to smile when he does. Just in case, I think to myself. I've known Gale for many years now, and he's my best friend. I've never really felt anything towards him but as the sun glistens over his sweaty skin, I can see why all of the girls at my school are fascinated with him. He is strong and manly looking, there's no other way to describe it. Even when we first met when he was 14 he already looked like a man. I wonder what those girls at school would give to be sitting here right now with my best friend, I try not to think about it.

After we finish the bread, we move back to business and start to hunt. We stick to small game like squirrels and rabbits so that we will be able to take it to the hob unnoticed by the extra security that gets put in place on reaping day. Once we collect enough game, we head to the strawberry bushes and pick some to sell to the Mayor. Then we make our rounds as quickly as possible, selling a squirrel to Greasy Sae and a rabbit to the seamstress for some shoelaces. But all too soon it becomes time to part ways with Gale to get ready for the reaping.

I get home to find my mother braiding Prim's hair. This is Prim's first reaping and I can tell she's nervous. As she strokes Buttercup in her lap, her hands are shaking. I move to give her a hug and it turns into a full family embrace, even my mother forgets her braid and joins in. I struggle to hug my mother, after all, she put me through after my Dad died, but I am working on forgiving her. I even let her get me ready for the reaping. She carefully braided my hair and dressed me in one of her own beautiful blue dresses. These gestures are as close to an "I love you" as either of us can give each other.

When we walk into the square I can tell that Prim is on the verge of tears and I am reminded of my first reaping. Prim was only 8 at the time and my father had died a few months before, but I remember thinking that being dead in the Games on a full stomach of capitol food, might be a better fate than starving in 12. Now I scold myself for ever thinking those foolish thoughts. My selfishness would only have destroyed Prim and my Mother's lives even more. By the time we get through the line leading to the square for the reaping, I can already feel the tension in the air. Everyone is wondering the same thing, who will it be? Who will not be returning home to their families this evening? Who will most likely never return again? Who will we have to watch be paraded around the capital for the next however many weeks? All my thoughts are wiped from my mind and I go numb as I see the Capital clown, Effie Trinket, take the stage. She gives her usual speech, full of capital lies to scare us into submission, and then moves to the drawing of the names. "As always, ladies first!" she announces. I hold my breath. At this moment the blaring sun seems even hotter than before and I can feel the sweat dripping down my back, but it's not just the sun that's making me sweat. I'm much more nervous than I would care to admit. I don't think that I could survive the Hunger Games. Sure my hunting skills might give me an edge at first, but against a pack of lethally trained careers, I probably wouldn't stand a chance. I don't want to find out. I can almost feel my own 20 names in the huge glass bowl, and as an afterthought I think of prim's name in the bowl as well. Effie seems to be taking her sweet time in selecting a name, making a show of stirring all of the tributes' names. I have to close my eyes because the action makes me feel sick. This is all just another part of their show, and I will not watch. The clicking of Effie's outrageously heeled shoes signals that she has finally chosen a name. My eyes don't want to open, but I force them to. It is completely silent, everyone awaits her words in terror. She unfolds the piece of paper and begins to speak into the unnecessary microphone "The female tribute from District 12 is" she pauses, obviously enjoying the suspense and fear that she sees in the crowd in front of her. "Gia O'Malley" she finishes. Prim and I are safe for another year I realize, and suddenly I am giddy with relief and I feel as though a huge weight has just been lifted off my shoulders. I even exchange a smile with Prim, but as soon as I see Gia, my smile is wiped from my face. I look at her and realize what my additional year of freedom has cost her. She's 14, but she doesn't look a day over 12. She's short and her body resembles a stick, skinnier than most in district 12, and that's saying something. Her body is frail-looking and her skin is a sickly color while her light brown hair gleams grey. She won't last the walk up to Effie Trinket, let alone fighting in an arena I think to myself. I didn't know Gia but regardless, a loss of life is still a loss of life. I selfishly think, better her than me or Prim. I want to scold myself for thinking that way, but I am left with no choice. As Gia walks to the stage, I see her family and friends, they are easy to spot because they are crying. Long silent tears that leave tracks down their faces. They do not dare to make a scene for fear of Peace Keepers punishing them for disobeying the capital. Gia's family has the same frail look as she does, they all reflect major starvation. I wonder if with one less mouth to feed they will be better off? Or if like me, Gia supports her family. But Effie's voice breaks me from my thoughts. "And the male tribute from District 12 is" again she pauses for effect. This time I worry for my best friend Gale and his 42 names in the glass bowl. I think back to this morning and his smiling face while we talked and ate the bread he traded for. I think back to the years we've spent hunting together and all of our memories. No, I cannot lose him. I hold my breath and do all I can to stop Gale's name being pulled out of the bowl, which is nothing but hope. Then when Effie feels as though she has made the crowd wait long enough she says the name "Rooker Barnes". I know that name. And although Rooker is not Gale, I am still upset. No, no, no, no, no. I keep repeating the word in my head because I cannot fathom it. I hope that I have somehow misheard Effie, but I know I have not. Rooker makes his way to the stage and as he walks his overgrown black curly hair bounces with every step. I've known those curls since I was just a little girl, I can't bear to look at them now. Because I don't see a 16-year-old boy with broad muscular shoulders and a confident posture, I see a small 7-year-old boy racing around a small classroom with me. Rooker was one of my first real and only friends. As we grew up, we also grew apart, but we still talked once or twice a week, and I cannot bear the thought of losing those conversations. But Rooker being chosen as the Male tribute has hit every 16 year old in the district because, by some miracle, our grade has never lost anyone to the Games. I can see it in everyone's faces as they realize what our class will be like without Rooker, the class clown who never failed to make anyone smile. No one smiles now. Not even Rooker as his face is being recorded to later be shown in the capital. When Rooker stands next to Effie he trembles and I know that he is taking in all of our faces, because this is most likely the last time he will see any of us. We stare back because we are doing the same to him. And at this moment, I find myself looking at Haymitch Abernathy, one of only 2 victors from District 12. The drunken man is now Rooker's only hope in the games. I stare at Haymitch and hope that he feels my eyes boring into him. I hope he feels my rage and I hope that he sobers up to help my friend survive. Haymitch begins to stand and for a moment it's as though he got my message, but instead he stumbles off to the side of the stage to throw up. Classy, I think to myself. But again with my loss of focus, I realize that I have missed my last few glances at Rooker because Effie is now guiding both of our tributes off of the stage and back to a door that must lead them off to some form of capital transport. Goodbye old friend, I think to myself and I feel a tear of my on making its way down my face. Hastily I wipe it away and hope no one saw me break, because I am Katniss Everdeen and I do not break. I am strong, not only for myself but for my family and our survival. I can't let Prim see me like this and let her think that it's okay to cry about the reaping every year. That would just lead to pointless tears for her, and I would rather avoid seeing my sister cry.

I find Prim through the crowd of people returning to their homes after the reaping and we head to our own where we find our mother already inside. She gives a relieved but sympathetic smile to me, her own way of being grateful that the reaping did not take me, but also an understanding of how the loss of Rooker must be weighing on me. The motherly act almost breaks me, so I hurry off to my room to change out of her blue dress that is now drenched in my own sweat. When I find myself alone I sit in the corner of the room with the walls on my back and I curl into a ball. I give myself my own sort of hug and a few more tears escape me. I may be strong, but no one is strong enough to evade the feeling of loss and grief that death brings. Of course, we all deal with grief in different ways. For example, when my father died, Mother shut down and became a shadow of her former self. I silently promise to myself that I will never do that and after a few more tears I stand and begin to change into clothes more fit for the summer's heat. He isn't dead yet, I quietly remind myself. Rooker might have a chance, especially if that drunk Haymitch could sober up and become a useful mentor. He won it once, what stops him from sharing all of his knowledge with Rooker and leading him to victory? Haymitch will have to see that Rooker can learn, Rooker is tall and muscular, Rooker is smart and determined. He's not dead yet. He has a chance. Then my thoughts drift to Gia and her feeble body. Gia is as good as dead already, Haymitch surely sees that as well as anyone. I hope he still tries to aid her in any way that he can. Poor Gia did not deserve this fate, but neither does Rooker and neither does any of the other 24 tributes. I can only be thankful that Prim, Gale, and I are safe. Like anything else in 12, this is survival, and survival is not easy. Nothing is easy and everything has a price. The bread this morning for a squirrel, my life for Gia's, Prim's life for Gia's, Gale's life for Rooker's.