The 125th Hunger Games
Chapter 1: This is it...
My hearts pounding. My head feels as though it's about to explode. I can feel bile rising up through my insides and into my throat. Maybe it wasn't my number that was pulled out, maybe I heard it wrong. This year, they decided to give everyone a number instead of putting full names in the bowl. I double checked my ticket, unsure but I decided to just wait until they showed the picture up on the big screen. The big screen turned on, and the camera was moving around. Suddenly, I saw my face amongst a bunch of other 14 year old kids. Please keep moving, please not be me, I kept chanting. But no, it had stopped for good. The camera zoomed in and focused... on me. People looked around at me, as I noticed my horrified expression up on the big screen... In front of the whole of district 9!
"Quickly, quickly. Come up!" Dawn Collins spoke into the microphone. She was clearly getting impatient. Dawn was the person assigned each year to direct the reaping of district 9. This year, she was wearing a bright purple designer dress, with bows galore! She had bright orange hair pulled up into an extravagant bun. As I started walking through the crowd, they parted to form a path and gave me sympathetic looks. Yeah, as if that's going to do any good, I thought to myself. When I got up on the stage, I slowly looked up, mainly to see Jubin, my best friend since grade 2. He had been there for me through thick and thin, and now I was in the Hunger Games, facing an imminent death. I looked over at my brother, Thom, who was standing in the roped off area for 12 year olds. He looked back at me with his big brown eyes, but a voice interrupted my thoughts.
"What's your name, dear?" Yep, she was definitely getting annoyed.
"Audren Pedley." I whispered into the microphone. I could feel my throat closing up and my eyes burning.
"Last but definitely not least," Dawn winked, "the gentlemen of district 9." She stalled, looking out over the boys. "Will it be you, or you, or you?" She said, pointing at random kids in the audience. Everything went deathly quiet as she reached into the bowl with her freshly painted manicure. I could smell the acetone from here. I nervously looked at the ground, but as I heard a synchronised intake of breath from all the boys in the audience, I dared to look at the number. My number was 14793, and Thom's was 14794, one digit after mine. I strained my eyes, although full of tears, to see that number. I suddenly broke down. 14794, 14794, 14794, 14794, kept replaying itself in my brain. Not only was I in the 125th hunger games, I would have to fight to the death with number 14794, Thom Pedley.