Oh no, I think. What have I done? I am scared out of my wits. I have never done anything this stupid, this impulsive, this ridiculous in my whole entire life. The sense and feeling of regret creeps up my body like spiders. I feel like breaking down, but I know I can't. Fear overwhelms me. Why? If you're wondering what I did?
I have volunteered for the 70th Annual Hunger Games.
Yes, The Hunger Games. Being from District 2, many girls want this 'honor.' It's not an honor- is practically a death sentence. I have trained my whole life- but it was more for fun. Not to actually volunteer. But I cannot take back my actions now. I am condemned to whatever tortuous scheme they have in store this year for us tributes.
I slowly walk up to the stage, my throat locking in place. I can hardly get a sound out. I put my foot on a step that leads to the extensive stage. Melissa Harlette, our escort, uses a hand gesture for me to hurry up.
"Hello!" She says, so cheerful for someone who is collecting two people who will probably be dead in a month.
"Hi." I say back, kind of resenting her for being too nice.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" She asks me, smiling from ear-to-ear.
"Spade Harlow." I reply flatly, looking out at thousands of faces. In most districts, the reaping's are a scary time. In 1,2, or 4, they are celebratory times. I do not understand why.
"Well, hello, Spade," Melissa smiles, grabbing my hand. "Time to pick a boy." She walks to the boy reaping ball, moves her hand around, and picks a name. "King Wilson." She calls. No volunteers! He walks to the stage, smiling and pointing at his whooping friends.
"Hey!" He calls to District 2. What the hell? How could he be so… excited? So happy? Beats me.
"Well, you sure are excited!" She cheers. "Shake hands." She tells us. We do.
I look at him, so fit and prepared. Sure, I've trained, but in no way am I any match for him.