CHAPTER 01

The crowd holds its breath as the reaches into the glass bowl. “Girls first…” the bubbly, bright-haired girl grins wide when her hand drowns in the sea of little paper slips. Slips that hold our names. There are three slips with my name on them. “…ah!“ she gasps and pulls out a little wrinkled paper. “This one doesn’t look that good!” she exclaims, now hurrying back to the middle of the stage, with the paper safely in her hand. “Let’s see… oh my, my, isn't this exciting? And so, the lucky tribute is…”

They’re not lucky, I think, watching her smooth the paper down and then narrow her eyes as if she can’t read what is written on it. Stupid. So stupid. That’s the person who will decide someone’s fate. The girl, the poor girl whose name is on that paper will be done for. The Hunger Games is not something you come out of alive.

The opens , and when some girl beside me takes in a sharp breath, a dreadful feeling pierces me. What if it’s somebody I know? My classmate? Or my friend?

“…let’s give a big round of applause to our tribute- Saejin Everlast!"

The girl beside me exhales in relief. Obviously the name means nothing to her.

But it means something to me.

It’s my name.

I am the tribute.

I’m going to the Hunger Games.

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A stray ray of sun wakes me up.

The house is quiet, and for a few minutes I just lie in my bed with my eyes closed. The rhythmic ticking of my clock, the warm sun, everything feels so nice. Slowly, I open my eyes. I feel rested, but I don’t want to get up. I don’t know, I just feel like I should enjoy the present. Like when you wake up in the morning on the very last day of your vacation and know that you have to savor the moment. Absorb it and let it absorb you.

Except I’m not on a vacation and have no reason to feel that way.

If anything, the holidays are about to begin- the Hunger Games season is starting in a few days, and that means lots of celebrations and festivities for the Capitol. It’s going to be even bigger this year- it’s the 150th Games, which means a Quarter Quell and those are never boring, or so I’ve heard. I’ve never actually seen one- the last Quarter Quell happened 25 years ago and obviously I haven’t been around to witness it. And seeing how the Hunger Games isn’t really a show I enjoy… I am not thrilled about it.

Ok, it’s enough. Enough thinking, it’s time to get up. The President is making an announcement regarding the Games today, and everyone in the Capitol is supposed to gather in their Sectors’s main square to watch the speech on television screens. There is no open place that could hold tens of thousands of people that make up the Capital population, so they break the city into twelve sections.

The Games are a big deal here. President Bloom makes a huge deal out of it every year. I don’t really see a reason to celebrate- the Games were designed to punish the Districts for defying the Capitol, but come on, it’s been 150 years now, why can’t they let this go?

There’s only one explanation for this- the Capitol enjoys watching a live slaughter on the TV. The Games are live-streamed 24/7, people are betting, predicting and cheering. Everyone has a favorite, and most of them sponsor their chosen ones. Spending tons of money on children they don’t know, on children who most likely won’t even make it through the day- it’s so much fun. Or so they say.

I finally force myself out of the bed. Lazily dragging my feet, I don’t even bother to dress before I leave my room and cross the corridor for the bathroom. My parents have definitely left for work and I am certain I’m home alone. As usual.

It doesn’t take me long to get washed and dressed. I only touch myself up a little- I think I have a pretty face and I don’t need much make-up to look good. Not after that nose job I got a few years ago. That was my only flaw and I got rid of it. Normal for a Capitolian.

Ok, so maybe not everyone in the Capitol is all for plastic surgery and alterations- but those people are becoming extinct fast. And that’s good- leave the natural beauty for the Districts. And you hear this from a girl who’s got only one alternation done. Most of my friends have implanted wings or gems on their bodies.

After I get dressed in a short white dress and red heels, I go downstairs, straight to our huge stainless kitchen. This is my territory. My mom can’t cook to save her life; my dad is surprisingly old-fashioned and still believes that cooking is unmanly (he dyes his hair bright blue, how can he think he’s one to talk?), so I am the only one that ever uses it.

I open the fridge and get myself some milk, butter and eggs. I feel like having some French Crepes this morning. Or so they call it. Apparently, French was a country centuries ago. Or France. Really, I don’t remember. And I don’t care anyway.

It doesn’t take me long to make the crepes. Cooking’s always been a little passion of mine. It’s one of the few useful things I’m good at.

Or the only thing, depending on what you think is useful.

With a cup of sugarless tea, I sit down to eat.

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It takes me almost a half an hour to reach my Sector’s Main Square. I live not far from the Capitol center- and that’s Sector 1-  but somehow my house ended up in Sector 4. How it happened is still a mystery to me. The stupid arrangement gets on my nerves all the time, because every time there’s some kind of an official social gathering, like the Hunger Games openings or President speeches, I get separated from my friends- all of whom live in Sector 1.

As expected, the crowd is huge. Everyone is out there, talking and laughing. I feel like a complete loser when I have to stand alone.

A few unnerving minutes pass with everyone waiting. Then the trumpets blare. All conversations die as people look up. The square, cold face of President Bloom (see the irony?) appears on the huge screen positioned at the top of the library building. He looks as evil as ever.

I’d probably get thrown into jail if somebody heard me say that.

“People of the Capitol,” he starts, not even bothering to smile, ”I come to you on a joyful occasion. This year, we are holding the 150th Hunger Games. The sixth Quarter Quell will mark this glorious number and I am entitled to inform you what joys it will bring this year.”

Joys? Oh boy, are those Quarter Quells a joy.

Sometimes, they show the replays of old games on the TV, and I’ve seen snippets of what the past Quarter Quells have been like. Doubling the kids chosen. Forcing the Districts to vote on whom to send to the Games. Can you imagine sending somebody you know off to death deliberately?

That’s not joy.

“As you all are aware, the Gamemakers of the first Hunger Games have provided us with rules and directions on how the future Quarter Quells should be held. This year marks the sixth Quarter Quell, and special regulations are in store for these games.” The president holds up a little wooden box for everyone to see. Nobody needs an explanation- everybody knows what it is.

When the Games first started the people who were in charge made a set of cards, setting out rules for the general Games, as well as future Quarter Quells. What’s written on these cards is the top law here. The cards are kept under tight security, so no one can as much as touch them until a Quarter Quell. And when a Quell comes, one card is taken and the words written on it must be followed without any modifications. No one has the right to disobey. Not even the President.

Though I think he could if he wanted- no one controls him anyway.

“And I have the honor of reading the card to all of you here today.” He pauses and opens the box, then takes the card that sits on the very top and starts to read it.

It’s only then when I notice the excited faces all around me. For some reason it makes my stomach clench.

“For the 150th Hunger Games the tributes will be selected from-“ and then he does something uncharacteristic- he hesitates.

The people around me start whispering as the President remains silent, just staring at the card with a strange look on his face. He looks almost shocked. Almost. Then he seems to collect himself. Looking up at the camera, his eyes harden, and I think I see a ghost of a smile on his lips. “The tributes will be chosen from people aged 16-21-…“ He pauses.

Several gasps are heard as the people look at each other surprised. An age change? This has never happened before. Usually kids aged from 12 to 18 are reaped. This is new. Not sure if it’s good though. Something terrible must be waiting for the tributes in the arena if they need older kids. I shudder as the images run though my mind. Maybe they got new mutts. Or found some really gruesome ways of killing. Or maybe something very painful? Though, I still don’t see the necessity of older tributes. They’ve done horrible things to 12 years-olds before, so why change that now?

Apparently, the president’s not finished; he keeps speaking, “This year two tributes will be allowed to win.”

More gasps are heard. People are standing there wide-eyed.

I don’t know if I imagine it, but I think I see president Bloom’s lips quiver a little. A smile or a frown, I’m not sure. “And the tributes for this Quarter Quell must be chosen from the Capitol citizens.”

At first it’s quiet. Very quiet. I can hear my ragged breathing clearly. Hell, I think I can even hear the heartbeat of a boy who’s standing next to me. People are stunned. Slowly and carefully they shake their heads, look at each other and…

Then all hell breaks loose.

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“They can’t do that!” my mom exclaims. “These are our children!”

“They can do whatever the hell they want.” My dad is staring at the TV that’s currently running a report on the biggest sensation since the Rebellion- the Capitol Games. They show crying mothers and angry fathers. The city is a one huge mess right now. It was a pain to get home after the announcement. When I managed to escape the raging crowd I met my parents and we went straight home, together. My parents aren’t the kind that would ever engage in a fight. They display more of a verbal disapproval. They’ve been talking about nothing but the Games ever since.

“He has to do something!” Mom is close to tears now. She runs her hand through her long red hair and her purple (altered) eyes blaze. “He can change the rules! Just like he did with the age limit and the number of victors!”

“Why would he? It’s not like he has kids to worry about.” Dad spits, voice dripping with hatred.

I don’t want to listen anymore; I stand up and leave the room. Only when I’m in the comfort of my bedroom do I allow myself to think about what has happened.

I am up for the reaping.

The thought sounds alien to me.

Me? A Capitol citizen being reaped? How is that even possible?

But I know it is. Everything is possible if the Capitol wants it to be. And while the Capitolians are outraged right now, they’ll come around soon. Only 24 kids will be reaped, others will be safe. It won’t be that bad. Twenty-four teenagers are nothing. We have thousands here.

Suddenly I feel tired. It’s not even dark yet, but my eyelids are heavy with sleep. The whole idea of Capitolians participating in the Games still sounds surreal to me- almost like it’s a dream. Maybe if I go to sleep now, I’ll wake up to find it really was only a dream.

I undress and slip into my bed without even bothering to shower.

It’s ironic how I’m lying in my warm soft bed, feeling sorry for the Capitolians when I haven’t ever felt the same for the Districts' kids. They go through this every year. Every year. Nobody in the Capitol cared. Not until their offspring got involved. The Districts must be celebrating now. Finally the Capitol they hate so much have tasted its own medicine. Ha. Haha.

What’d it be like in the arena, fighting for survival? Would I endure the bloodbath? Would I last a day..?

I guess I should pray I don’t find out.

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I wake up feeling awful the following morning. My head feels heavy, and when I make it to the bathroom, I find I look just as bad as I feel. Messy hair, bags under my eyes- I look like I have barely gotten any sleep. And it’s funny because I have actually slept a lot more than I usually do.

After somehow making myself presentable (lots and lots of make-up for the bags) I go down and have a tiny bowl of cereal for breakfast. Today is the reaping day. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel like eating at all.

And again, the hollow faces of the District children come to mind. We don’t see them much, but the kids that come to the Hunger Games rarely look well-fed. The government only wants us to think the Districts are well- it does nothing to actually make them feel good. The only purpose the Districts serve is to cater to the Capitol.

It’s awful when you think about it. Imagine working in grain fields and not being allowed to take anything home, not even when your family’s dying from starvation. At least that’s how I think life in the Districts is. That’d explain why they hate us. I mean, besides the whole Hunger Games thing.

The thought about the Hunger Games gets me moving. The reaping is supposed to start in less than an hour.

When I finally reach the Main Square of Sector 4, it’s even more packed than yesterday. People look a lot calmer. Once again I see them standing in small groups, talking. But the gloom hangs in the air all over the Square and there’s no mistaking it- everyone’s worried that they or their kids will get reaped today. It’s kind of sad how my parents didn’t wake me up to say goodbye or something. What if I get reaped?

Shaking my head faintly, I make my way to the part of the Square where all the other teenagers stand. Though almost half of them are over twenty, so it’s kind of stupid to call them teenagers.

I find a spot right in front of the stage just in time to see a bubbly looking girl with rainbow-colored hair jump onto the stage. She looks incredibly nervous as she takes the Mic and laughs uncertainly, waiting for people to notice her. It takes everyone a few moments to realize somebody’s on the stage.

“Um, hello!” the rainbow girl says. It dawns on me that she’s the . Normally the reaping would start with the mayor’s speech, but seeing as the Capitol Sectors don’t have mayors they’re probably skipping it. “We have come here to, um, choose our lucky tributes today!” The girl seems to take some confidence from the crowds' silent attention and smiles widely. “I’m Rain and I’m the Sector 4 !” She pauses, expecting applause, I guess, but nobody claps, so she moves on. “Well, I am sure you all know how unusual this is and…” her eyes skim over the people in front of her and I get a feeling she wants to finish it as quickly as possible,”…let’s get it started with!”

Only then do I notice two big glass bowls on the table on Rain’s left. She goes up to them.

The crowd holds its breath as the reaches into the glass bowl.

“Girls first…” the girl grins wide when her hand drowns in the sea of little paper slips. Slips that hold our names. I'm eighteen, so there are three slips with my name on them. “…ah!“ she gasps and pulls out a little wrinkled paper. “This one doesn’t look that good!” she exclaims, now hurrying back to the middle of the stage. The paper safely in her hand. “Let’s see… oh my, my, isn't this exciting? And so the lucky tribute is…”

They’re not lucky, I think, watching her smooth the paper down and then narrow her eyes as if she can’t read what is written on it. Stupid. So stupid. And that’s the person who will decide someone’s fate. The girl, the poor girl whose name is on that paper will be done for. The Hunger Games is not something you come out of alive…

The opens , and when some girl beside me takes in a sharp breath, a dreadful feeling pierces me. What if it’s somebody I know? My classmate? Or my friend?

“…let’s give a big round of applause to our tribute- Saejin Everlast!“

The girl besides me exhales in relief. Obviously the name means nothing to her.

But it means something to me.

It’s my name.

I am the tribute.

I’m going to the Hunger Games.

“Saejin Everlast! Please come up here, dear!” Rain cries cheerfully and I feel like vomiting.

This is not happening. Not, not, not.

“No,” I whisper, glued to my place.

The girl beside me hears it apparently, because she gasps and points at me,”It’s you! You’re that girl!”

The people around me start to murmur and I hear them move away hastily, leaving a circle of free space around me. Someone tugs on my arm and I turn to find a guard clutching my elbow.

This is embarrassing,  is all I can think of.

“I can walk,” I say and my voice comes out surprisingly calm. The guard eyes me suspiciously, but frees my hand, though remains positioned near.

I don’t really know how I manage to walk onto the stage. But the next thing I know I’m there- staring at thousands of shocked faces. Ha, nobody thought it’d really happen. Capitol citizens getting reaped.

The calls for volunteers. If somebody wanted, they could volunteer and I’d be free. Stuff like this happens in some districts where the kids train to win the games. We call them Careers. I really doubt there are any Careers in the Capitol.

“Any volunteers? This is your last chance!” Rain calls again.

But nobody volunteers. Everyone is silent, except I think I hear a woman cry somewhere at the back of the crowd. Maybe it’s my mom.

Rain doesn't look upset though. “Ok, so we have our female tribute! Saejin Everlast! Give her a round of applause!”

This time everyone claps. Sad faces look at me as if apologizing for letting me be the sacrifice. I go, I die, everyone else lives happily ever after. Easy.

I’d probably clap too, if it weren't me on this stage.

Rain cries out another name and a big guy comes to stand next to me. My male partner. Endrew- I think that’s his name. Rain says something else, but I don’t hear it. My ears are ringing. I want to lie down.

The Hunger Games.

I guess I’ll get to find out how long I’d last after all.

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That's the first chapter. It's only the introduction, but it had to be done. The fun will start shortly.

comments are welcome. AND I'll be introducing a sponsoring system when the Games start. You will be able to buy gifs that could help  the characters survive and send them into the arena. You'll use points for that. And you'll earn points by commenting. 1 comment =1 point. You can already start collecting points :)

PLEASE COMMENT! You'll get points ;D