1. Gut Feeling

       I felt trapped; I always have all my life.

There wasn’t a free world that we all lived in. I mean, we’re all together as one, but under strict government control. We weren’t united because we wanted to be, we were together as one because we had to be. That’s how it’s been in Panem for so many years. Stupid Capitol President. I thought our current president, President Nolan, would be different than Snow when he had reined. He wasn’t much different from Snow, and that’s what bothered me.

            What made Panem even more depressing was the districts it was split into. Originally there were thirteen, but the Capitol decided to blow 13 to rubble. Well, that was the price to pay for trying to rebel. That’s what made the other twelve cower in fear. That’s how the Capitol became so powerful.

That’s how the Hunger Games began.

            The Hunger Games is not something worth watching, unless you’re into that sort of thing. I’m personally not. My family rarely watches the Games even though we have it playing on the TV when the annual event comes around. We figured since the Capitol couldn’t see if we were actually watching, we acted as if we were by keeping the event on the TV. When at the reapings, we attended but only looked as if we paid attention. It wasn’t like the Capitol could peek into everyone’s minds and see who was paying attention and who was zoning out.

            It wasn’t until Troy became of age for the reapings did my family take interest into the Games. The interest was kept alive even after he was ineligible to be picked, because they still had me to worry about.

Each year, two tributes—one girl, one boy—between the ages of twelve and eighteen are selected to participate in the Games. Unless someone else volunteers to take the original tribute’s place (which rarely happened except in Districts 1, 2, and 4, the wealthier districts), they have no choice but to go with it.

When you turned twelve, that’s when you’d start to worry. What if you were picked? You couldn’t pull out of it, it was unavoidable. Your name gets entered seven times over the course of the age limit, unless you took tesserae. That just granted you another slip of paper with your name on it in exchange for supplies of grain and oil. It’s not much, but some families are so poor the kids have no choice but to do it.

            This year was coming up on Panem’s last Hunger Games. Shocking, isn’t it, that there is a last Hunger Games? Most in Panem expected the Games to never end. These Games would be the 95th. I was surprised they didn’t reach one hundred, because that would make a fourth Quarter Quell—those were the special Hunger Games that every twenty-five years, there was a twist put on the Games. I would never understand the Capitol’s decisions.

I barely understood the Capitol at all.

            I had gotten lucky the past four years and not had my name chosen…yet. I prayed that my luck would hold out, that I wouldn’t have to participate in the Games. Nobody wanted to. We were among the various districts who did not consider partaking in these wretched Games an honor.

            The reaping was to occur at noon on the dot. There wasn’t much time, being that it was eleven-fifty. Only ten minutes remained before our two tributes would be called.

I felt antsy like I did every year since I turned twelve. I sat on the couch in our wood cottage, lounging while I could. My dad was already at work; lumber in District 7 didn’t exactly cut itself. Mainly the men did this job, the women were often housewives. As medieval as that sounds, it’s true. I preferred to be outside chopping up wood than being confined to our cottage.

            Still feeling edgy, I felt air would do me some good. I patted down my bushy, light brown hair and flattened out my sundress. For reapings, even if it was the last one for forever, children had to look their best. I stepped out into the light, exposing myself to the vast forest we lived in. I loved the smell of pine, oak, and the other trees we had here in District 7. It smelled like home. I had been around these odors so much that it could easily be my scent.

            I felt horrible since my almost twenty-year-old brother, Troy, didn’t even bother to visit anymore, not since Mom died. It had only been a year ago when she passed. Troy was already out on his own then. Mom had fallen terribly ill fast. Despite my best efforts—and a little bit of my dad’s—we lost her. Troy never dared to come home, not since he heard the news. He decided to grieve away from us when Mom passed. I didn’t appreciate that, because I felt that a family should come together when a loved one passed, not be split up during such a horrible time.

            Work was the only reason our dad ever left the house anymore. If it wasn’t for his job, he’d be in the house either weeping or being a bum all day. He loved my mother immensely, like any husband would his wife. Dad and I barely looked at each other because I resembled my mom way too much for his liking. I had her light chocolate hair with the blondest highlights caused by the sun, which was weird considering I didn’t go outside a lot, and her blue eyes—an odd shade of blue that was very rare. People always said I looked like my mother whenever we were together.

Troy didn’t come back not because of me, but because he couldn’t stand the thought of visiting and not seeing Mom here. He was closer to our mom than our dad.

            I felt alone, like I had last year when Mom passed away. It wasn’t easy, growing up with a brother who never visited anymore and a father who wouldn’t even talk to me because I was too much like his wife. It made me depressed, but not to the point where I did anything drastic to make the feeling go away.

Things just weren’t the same anymore now that she wasn’t here. I felt alone because I was the only woman of the house now. Any sensitive topics that I knew I could go to her for I couldn’t. I could never bring issues up like that with my dad; it’d be too awkward between us.

 I really needed some company right now.

            The sound of crunching grass made me alert. I knew immediately who it was. Come on, I knew these two practically from the moment they were born. They were too cliché in announcing their arrival, always trying to freak me out by acting as if an animal was out to get me. Didn’t they know me by now?

            “Guys, it’s no fun when you do the same thing over and over again,” I sang, folding my arms. “Now come on out.”

            “She ruins everything,” grumbled one easily familiar voice.

            “Well, she does make a point. She’s not so timid like she used to be,” said the other voice I knew so well.

            They both emerged from behind their hiding spots. My boys who I had known my entire life. I almost considered them brothers—that’s how close we were. Both were just a few months older than me, twins too to top it off. Of course, one twin was older than the other. Both had the same very dark hair and strikingly sea blue-gray eyes. The only way you could tell them apart was their personality and how they styled their hair.

            “You guys remember the reaping is today?” I called to them.

            “Thankfully it’s the last year,” replied one of them. I was pretty sure that was Daniel, or was it Ewan? Even now I still had some difficulty telling them apart. They’d confuse me ever since I told them how I could tell them apart.

            “So glad it is,” I murmured.

            “What are the chances of any three of us going in there this year?”

            “Hopefully very little.”

            So far the past few years we got lucky in our chances of not being reaped. Of course, back then, we only had a few slips of paper with our names on it. This year was just one more. One more put into the bowl increased our chances of being picked just a little bit.

            Now I could tell the two boys apart. Dan still sported a tamer hairstyle than his twin brother. Ewan always looked as if he slept outside; his hair was always a mess.

            “Do you think we should start walking to town?” I suggested.

            “Might as well. We’ve got to go there sometime.” Dan sighed.

            With a twin on either side of me, we made our way to the heart of our town. Dad would know where I was. After all, I was sixteen. I was eligible for the Games, as were the boys. I prayed that nobody out of the three of us got chosen. If I got picked, neither twin could volunteer to take my place. It was strictly one girl and boy tribute per district.

            We passed a few lumberjacks who would soon quit to see the tributes selected for the final Hunger Games. Adults who had children always came to watch in case their child got picked. It’d be a burden on whichever family’s child got chosen. Most likely they’d never be seen again. After all, only one comes out of the arena alive. I envied the younger kids who weren’t old enough to be reaped for the Games. They would never have to go through the anxiety that we all felt.

            Some other children that were eligible for the Games were already making their way to the center of town like our trio was. Even though the reaping hadn’t begun yet, my heart thudded painfully. I just had that sinking feeling one of us, or even two of us, would be District 7’s tributes. I prayed deep down that that feeling was just paranoia settling in.

            “So where’s your girlfriend?” I asked Ewan casually. I hated to admit it, but this boy was tied down to the worst girl in the world. She was our age naturally, pretty thing from what I’d heard with her bright green eyes, jet black hair, and slim figure. However, I also heard that she didn’t possess a nice personality. She made the meanest person in our district seem tame.

            “Oh, Ariel and I aren’t exactly speaking right now,” Ewan said sheepishly.

            “Did you two fight?”

            “Yes.”

            “What made that go down?”

            “I can tell you that,” Dan piped. “See, Mom and Dad don’t approve of her, like me and you. Ewan had Ariel over once, Mom and Dad almost lost their tempers with her. She tried to act too innocent. They could see right through her. Our parents have a good talent for that, but of course you know that. Anyway, the moment she left, we all had a sit down. Everyone wants those two to split.”

            “So naturally I told Ariel what they all thought about us being together,” Ewan took over. “She didn’t like it. I told her gently that she did need to change some things about her. I learned then that you should never ask a girl to change a thing about her, because the claws come out. She threw a fit, and then I told her we needed some time apart.”

            “So you’re not broken up?” I asked.

            “No, we’re just taking some time for her to let some steam lose.”

            “Wow, the one time a guy is honest with his girl and she flips out.” I snorted. “I always thought girls liked honest guys?”

            “They don’t when it comes to telling them they need a personality change,” Dan whispered to me.

            “You do realize though that she could use this time to cheat on you with somebody else, right?” I asked Ewan carefully.

            “Yeah, but I know she won’t,” he said confidently.

            “What makes you say that? Can you read her mind?” I snickered.

            “I just know she won’t.”

            “That’s not a good enough explanation.”

            “He doesn’t care. He’s just saying that to make you not think he’s worried about that sort of thing,” Dan murmured to me. He was probably right, Ewan was probably freaking out right now since I just mentioned the idea.

            “So how long is this not-talking thing going to last between you two?” I asked Ewan.

“We’ll make up eventually.” He shrugged.

            Daniel rolled his eyes.

            “Hey, I just hope she ends up picked in the reaping,” Dan whispered to me. “Guarantee you she won’t come out alive. It’d do some good for him; I personally think he can do way better.”      

            Dan had no idea how much I agreed with him on some of the things he was saying, but I wasn’t too sure about sending Ariel in the Hunger Games. It’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, if I had one.

            I never really met Ariel or even talked to her, but Ewan’s description of her gave me enough info to know she was trouble. I mean, she didn’t abuse him or anything, so she earned points there. She lost my respect when she tried to be too good, something she clearly wasn’t. I found it funny how I knew their parents approved of me more than Ariel. Of course, I knew those two like the back of my hands.

            “How much time’s left?” I asked.

            “Probably only a few minutes,” Dan said. “C’mon, better get into our groups.”

            We had to squeeze ourselves into our proper age group. I looked around for my dad and Troy if I could spot them. It was mandatory everyone in the district attended the reaping, unless you were on your deathbed. If you weren’t on your deathbed and failed to attend, you’d suffer the consequences. Thankfully this would be the last year for all of this. At least the Capitol came to an agreement that the 95th would be the last. President Nolan at least set a limit to how many Hunger Games we’d have; Snow would’ve kept on going had he lived longer. That seemed to be the only good thing about Nolan. Now if only he could reduce the number of Peacekeepers that liked to wander around 7, just waiting to get their hands on wrongdoers…

            We all got packed in like sardines. Naturally, I was stuck between the boys. I didn’t know how I snuck in with them when it was always boys in their age groups and the same rules applied for the girls. There were no mixes in the age groups. I guess if it was the last Games, who really cared?

 The cameras would soon turn on, taping the reaping for everyone to see. Just the thought of being on camera made me more nervous even though the cameras would be focused up on the platform where the tributes would be called up to.

            “Ariel isn’t going to find you to hold your hand?” I teased Ewan. “She’s got to be scared about the reaping.”

            “If she gets picked, we’ll deal with that. I don’t want her to go, or you,” he said. Well of course he wouldn’t want us to go. I was his best friend, she was his girlfriend.

            “All right, settle down now,” called a high voice up from the platform. It was the tributes’ escort. I felt bad for her, having to be an escort for our district. Well, there could be worse districts to be an escort in. “It’s time to see who will be our final two tributes from District Seven!”

            Originally, about twenty or so years ago, each district would have a small video to watch, basically recapping how the attempted rebellion by the districts led to the Hunger Games. When Nolan became president, he got rid of those since he had put a limit on how many Games there would be. I bet it was a relief to a lot of people; they were the ones who had to keep watching it every year.

            Now that I looked, I could see our mayor sitting in his chair, but no sign of District 7’s mentor anywhere. What was the deal with that? They needed to see who they got this year, didn’t they? Or were they willing to not come just so the tributes could surprise them?

            I had almost forgotten two huge bowls were put on either side of the escort. The one on her right was the girls’ side—which they always chose first—and the boys’ on her left. She ruffled all the slips of paper around with her bony fingers.

            Those few seconds turned into painful minutes. I was shaking slightly; I could see my curls quiver. I jumped slightly when both boys grabbed a hand each from me. It was evident my fear proved to upset them; they always tried to calm me down.

 I held onto their hands tightly, like they were both my lifeline. Not me, anybody else. Just not me. My wishes got drowned out by the loud pounding of blood in my ears.

            A million pairs of eyes stared as a thin strip of paper was pulled from the bowl. The woman slowly unfolded it. This was it. Who would be the final female tribute of District 7? Would it be me after all, or Ariel? What if it was someone I didn’t know?

That would most likely be the case. It’d be some poor girl who was so timid and wouldn’t stand a chance in the Games. Maybe if she had a sister, her sister would pull what I called a “Katniss Everdeen” and take her place instead. It’d be a noble act, sacrificing your life for your sibling. Of course, there was a good chance you just volunteered yourself for death. But I guess that doesn’t really matter if it means your sibling got to live their life.

            The name that was spoken into the microphone echoed all around District 7. Not a single thing was heard except for the slight buzz of the microphone. All I heard was the name, being repeated over and over again, slowly, trying to make sure I understood who it was.

            “Bridget Melina.”