There was once a place called North America. But droughts and fires, hurricanes and tornadoes, and encroaching seas took their toll. Wars broke out as people fought for the few remaining resources. The earth was scarred and desolate, the people terrified and hopeless…" droned the overly loud Callista Harkens, District Seven's escort. "But out of the ashes arose Panem, a nation made up of a great capitol ringed by thirteen districts…" Callista, who always seems to wear a different shade of green every year, is nearly sixty years old and seems to be wilting like the green leaves at the end of spring. District Seven is the lumber district filled with lush trees that supply the other ten districts with their wood and paper. As the seasons change, along with the trees surrounding us, so does District Sevens' inhabitants. The people themselves are trees; growing older every year, becoming old enough to have deep wrinkles a gift, eventually getting "chopped down" to fuel the capitols' needs.
Jerrissa Hann, one of my classmates, leans over "Miney. Miney! May the odds…" she says in a whisper, mocking the capitol accent. Even though it's very childish and terrible timing,
"Be ever in your favor." I reply with the same twang, but with a flat tone. Her flaming orange hair bounces as she turns back with a giggle and a smile. Typical Jerrissa… My primary school friends' optimistic attitude
The regular movie on Panems' past finishes playing and Callistas' voice rings out to even the far reaches of the crowd. Today is the reaping, the day a male and female tribute get selected to fight to the death in a blood hungry battle called the Hunger Games. I glance over on the boys' side to catch a glimpse of my true best friend, Pifo Farnson. His strawberry blonde hair hangs in front of the young fifteen year olds eyes as he glances around, evidently from fear.
"That was my favorite part! Ok, let's get on with the reaping. As usual, I like to do things in reverse! The young men first." Callista sticks her hand into the circular glass bowl that holds the names of the boys. "Here it comes!" anxiously exclaims Callista while unfolding the paper. "The District Seven male tribute is- Daniel Starm!" you can hear the crowd silently gasping in astonishment. Daniel Starm is the mayors' son, and this is a rare sight to behold. "Come on up here, Daniel." Urges Callista. At first, no one moves but then the men part, and Daniel slowly makes his way up to the podium with a nearly-on-the-verge-of-crying look on his face. Daniels light, sandy blonde hair sticks out in the sea of dark brunettes and redheads. He has the body of a lumberjack even if he doesn't have to work. I've seen him workout so it's not surprising his broad and tall six-foot-three build is well muscled looking under his tight fitting shirt polo, and his arms- Wait, what am I thinking? I remind myself and shiver at the strange feeling, dismissing it immediately and turning back to the reaping. I want to pity him, but if that were me, I would hate to be looked upon with sorrow. I am too strong, too immersed in what happened when I was young, to even stand being viewed like that. You can only just imagine that feeling.
"Now for young girls" says the exhilarated Callista. For the past four years, I have had luck on my side. There are a thousand other girls that have gotten the teresa. The teresa is where a child eligible for the reaping can volunteer to have their name put in the bowl one more time for every family member they have, and in return, the get increased grain portions. I haven't had to take one yet, because I have no family. As far as I know and want, my mother died in child birth and my father abandoned her. I was forced into terrible foster homes where child labor was enforced strictly and you were otherwise beaten. They had to move me around because I was always causing trouble by fighting back the abuse or just running away after things got too rough. Eventually I had escaped the cycle when I was ten and live on my own and fend for myself. I wouldn't have it any other way.
I hunt deer, occasionally caribou during winter, fox, and mainly wild dogs. I live in a tree, but like all the other citizens of seven, I also have a horse. But instead of the bulky draft horses needed to haul huge logs back to the mill through any terrain, my wild stallion Calliope is fast and agile but with the durability shared by all Sevens' horses. Calliope, meaning muse, was named after the peace keeper who gave him to me when he was just a foal six years ago. Lio, for short, is my muse in more than one way; my prime model to sketch, and my inspiration to live. It's good to know that there is something out there that needs you to live.
After the tension has died down to an awkward silence, Callistas hand moves slow and dramatically to pick a teen girls fate. "The female tribute for District Seven is- Minerva Tearth!" At first I don't recognize my name, I haven't been called Minerva since I was ten and last in the Peacekeepers office. I step forward, pure hatred and rage for whoever is making my life hell registers on my face for all to see. I stair strait ahead, knowing this will be re-televised for the other tributes to pick us apart by our reaction. As I come to a halt next to Daniel, I steal a glance. Is that admiration on his face? He was too fast to turn his head away for me to tell. I gaze across the crowd and stop at Pifo. He looks more terrified than- I'm hoping- I do.
"Congratulations, Minerva Tearth and Daniel Starm! The District Sevens' eightieth Hunger Games tributes!" nobody applauds. I never knew silence could be quite this loud. Thankfully the cry of a baby breaks the quietness and we are ushered off into The Hall of Justice to say our final goodbyes.
I had never been to the Justice Building, let alone inside. The carpets, the furniture, all beautifully handcrafted in district one. They sent Daniel and me into separate rooms. I was about to open the door when Pifo bursts in, tears streaming down his face. I half-heartedly took him into my arms and sat down on the fur couch. "Miney, you can't go in there! You can't!" the quirky redhead exclaimed.
"Pifo, I have no choice, you know that." I said trying to keep my voice steady
"Get a sword or something, something you can survive with!" he said, finally drying his face of tears.
"Time to go." Said the peacekeeper as he approached. Grasping Pifo's arm, I mutter
"I will try to come home. Take care of Calliope!" The peacekeeper whisks him away as he begins to cry again. No one else comes to visit me. After about five minutes, Callista comes to get me with Daniel at her side. His eyes have obviously been rubbed red from tears. We exited the hall of justice and made our way to the train stop. The train parked there is certainly not the old transport trains we use to ship lumber. That train is one of the capitols sleek, new monorails that can supposedly reach 250 miles an hour. As we board, I take one final look at my home. Daniel and I both stand at the door, just staring, remembering all those days where we would fight battles with wooden swords and I would always win. The days before the reaping, when we would hold a faux Hunger Games and our worried mothers and parents would pull us inside for lunch before a peacekeeper saw. We watch the gentle sway of the giant redwood, maple, and Mahogany trees blend in together, a mesmerizing flash of colors like fire, only seen this time of year. Then, slowly the doors close and we lurch into the trip to hell.
