Numb

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I guess I should clarify. What happens is after the tributes are picked, the Capitol genetically modifies their DNA so that they possess control over an element or supernatural ability. Even the doctors aren’t completely sure what power the tribute is going to end up with. One year, this girl turned out to have mind-reading. Those Games ended fast. My point is, you never know. You can end up with things as diverse as invisibility to being able to tell what’s poisonous with just a glance. I used to wonder why they added in this extra element, until I realized it provides so much of a better battle. The first few years, everyone got bored watching fat Capitol children run away from each other and try to make their kills with twigs. They had no idea how to kill, and it made their soft lives so clear to the to the District citizens, and probably despicable too. It’s different now, of course. We’re just as willing to kill as the desperate District kids were back then... it’s amazing what people will do to survive.

After I have a bit of the bread, I dress in my best clothes, which the years have worn down. I glance at the clock. It’s almost time for the Reaping.

My mother finally shuffles out from her room in an old dress to chew at some of the bread crusts. Every year, I wonder if she will show up to the Reaping or risk death by staying behind. I guess she still has some will left to live.

We leave the house and arrive in the town square just as the sun is overhead. My mother stands hunched over in a group of similar looking people, her arms hanging limply at her sides. She’ll probably be here for the rest of the event, and it’s time for me to find my age group anyways. I push briskly through the crowds until I see the clumped mass of children. When I see the kids I’ve grown up with, we exchange nods. There is Baekhyun from Sector Twelve, Chanyeol from Eleven, Sehun from Ten and Luhan from Nine. Kris of Sector Eight is standing with Tao of Sector Seven, and Jongdae from Six is next to Joonmyun from Five. Then there is Jongin of Four by Kyungsoo’s side, who is from Three. Standing a little off to the side, by himself, is Yixing from Sector Two. That leaves myself, from Sector 1, so I go stand by Yixing. It’s strange, the way the others have formed their small paired alliances. There are other eligible tributes, of course, but these are the kids I grew up with. Before the Sector boundaries blurred our friendship, all twelve of us were the best of friends.

It’s different now.

When everyone has finally quieted down, Kwon Boa steps up the podium and clears . She’s a slight woman, one of the old rebels, and the one in charge of the Reaping every year. The new Capitol doesn’t bother with a video or speech, but they have kept the glass bowls that have always been used. I suppose they’re an unerasable part of the Hunger Games. We are all expecting her to start the drawings, but it seems she has some announcements to make first. She clears again, looks around, and then starts speaking in a voice that projects all the way to where I’m standing.

“Welcome, welcome! As you all know, today is the day of the Reaping, where twelve of you will be given the honor of competing in the Hunger Games. This year, however, our pool of tributes is unusually small.” She pauses as an old man hacks up blood in a fit of wracking coughs, and then continues. “It has come to President Everdeen’s attention that there are only ten eligible females. So, she has declared that given the strange circumstances, all twelve tributes this year will be selected from the males. Next year we will continue with the norm.” She steps back to muttering and dark looks, but nobody can protest. And yes, as I look more closely at the bowls, I can see a very disproportionate number of girl slips compared to the boys side.

As Boa’s hand starts reaching into the bowl, I start panicking. What does this mean for me? Certainly there are plenty of boys, at least thirty, but my chances aren’t looking too good right now. Usually there are six boys and six girls, but now all twelve tributes will be boys. I bite my lip hard and taste the sting of blood as I realize some of my old friends will be pitted against each other for sure. I want to shut my eyes as Boa unfolds the paper, but I can’t. I can’t look away. She opens , and I clench my fists tighter. Maybe none of my friends will be picked. Maybe we will all get lucky. Maybe...

The first name read is my old childhood friend Jongin.

I watch as he steps up the platform. His eyes are focused on something far ahead, and he stays steady, but I can see his hands trembling when he passes next to me. He takes his place, standing tall and unreadable.

Boa keeps on drawing names. Somehow I know this can’t be real, because every single name read is somebody I know. Chanyeol. Sehun. Luhan. Baekhyun. Tao. Kris. Joonmyun. Jongdae. Kyungsoo. I wince when Yixing is picked, because he is the most peaceful person I know. There is no way he can survive. Jongin nods at them all as they join him, and they nod back.

And just like that, we’re on the last one. The wait has been agonizing, and every draw takes a bit longer as Boa tries to find a slip with a district number on it that hasn’t been picked yet. Only Sector One is left. My Sector. Boa looks a little bit unsteady as she finally finds a slip and opens it. She takes a deep breath and reads the last tribute for this year.

I don’t even hear it because my blood is pounding in my ears, but I know because suddenly I am being pushed up to the platform. The crowd in front of me shows mixed reactions, some jeering, some crying, and some just watching. In my mind, somewhere, I am screaming at the unfairness of it all. What are the chances we would all be put together? They must have been close to zero. Yet, by someone unfortunate roll of dice, we have been picked.

Boa asks for volunteers. There are none, of course. She speaks a short closing, dismisses the crowd and thanks them, and then beckons for us to follow her as she strides into the dilapidated Town Hall. I look back for my mother, but she is already gone.

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