The 70th Hunger Games: A Little Love

Chapter Ten

Dear Diary,

I've heard people say when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes.

I think I can verify that now.

Percy and I switched shifts in the middle of the night last night, allowing me time to write by match in my journal. I wonder for a while about the girl back home, with the sea smelling hair and the red, teary eyes. I wonder if she sees me writing, if she's happy that I'm continuing to write.

As I write, late at night, a match between my feet, I hear the faintest sound of a bell. What? What is that? It doesn't sound like the cannon, signaling a death, nor does it sound like the bell, signaling start of the games. I put out the match, and peak my head outside of the cave to find a small parachute floating down towards me with a label of district four on it. Already? I can't believe it! I've gotten a sponsor gift!

I spin open the top of the gift, looking in to see what was sent to me. Another canteen of water? Although extremely grateful, Percy and I already had a canteen, and I wasn't sure what to do with this extra one. I guess I could keep this one for myself. Nervously, I scratch my left arm, reviving the dry skin that was just starting to heal. Come on, Annie. I sigh, rather upset with myself and my lack of control, especially because I had been doing so good at not itching it.

I open the empty canteen, looking if there's any other sort of meaning behind it. Deep inside, I find a small note. Anxious to see what it says, I take out another match and light it. I know I shouldn't be so frivolous with our matches, but I can't help but want to know what's inside that note!

"Keep on writing -Amelia"

Amelia? All of a sudden, memories start flooding back to me. All throughout primary school, up until age twelve, my first reaping, my best friend was this girl Amelia. She had long, gorgeous platinum blonde hair that was always pin straight. Her mother and father were close friends with mine, and we spent so many nights sleeping over together, and so many holidays celebrating with our family. She was the one who encouraged me to start writing in a journal, when at a young age I was so nervous that I would get sick constantly. So together we started writing in our journals, and I never stopped. I guess she didn't either.

When we were about to enter junior high, she suddenly dropped out of school. When I went to her house to go visit and see if she was alright, I saw boxes and empty rooms, a house once full of memories and fun now destitute and lonely. I returned home to my parents that day, with tears in my eyes and stories about how my best friend Amelia had left me. My mother sat me down on her knee, and told me about what happened:

"Annie..." she began, her voice soft as melted butter. "Amelia had to move away, because both of her parents passed away. Remember how grandma did, when you were little?" A young Annie in my memory nods her head.

"Well both of Amelia's parents got very very sick, and with all the money they had, they couldn't afford treatment for them. They had this old time disease called the measles, a sickness so rare that obtaining medicine and treatment is very difficult. I'm sure Amelia is alright, but she can no longer afford to live here or go to school with you, she had to move to the poorer side of town."

Cue young Annie having a panic attack and begging for her parents to take in Amelia as their own. My parents both claimed that they didn't have enough money, that two kids was hard enough. But it was after that year that my family and I began to bring our spare food to the reaping, to give to a poorer family, in honor of Amelia.

I had nearly forgotten about her. About the girl who changed my life and inspired me to write. About the friend I lost that inspired my family to give to the poor every year. I had suppressed those memories so deep in my mind, wishing not to ever feel that sort of pain, that loss of a friend again. She had changed so much that I hardly even recognized her when I gave her my bread, or when she came in to say goodbye to me. Her once beautiful platinum blonde hair was messy and in knots down her back. Her once bright and joyful eyes were tearful and red. Her once full and strong body was weak and malnourished.