My Odds – The 77th Annual Hunger Games

Prologue

I didn't really win anything, you know. Nobody ever did.

I won the right to keep living, and I guess that's a huge thing. And I won a year's supply of food and various goods for the people in my district.

But nobody who makes it through the Hunger Games is a winner. No. We are simply survivors.

Chapter One

"Nova Raway."

My name sounded foreign to my ears. I didn't move, even though kids all around me were turning to look at me, and the Peacekeepers, having located me, moved to grab me by force if necessary.

Taking a deep breath, I began to walk, hearing a sharp scream to my right – my mother. I tried to block her out. I was scared enough as it was without having to worry about her now. I knew the fear registered on my face, but there was nothing I could do about it.

My new booties made a musical sound on the ground as I walked towards the podium. I was wearing a cute little dress printed with black daisies, and it occurred to me that it was rather appropriate for a shroud. After all, I was going to die.

I was from District Six. Transportation was our thing. We built hovercrafts, the trains, cars, everything that had to do with transporting people. My father had designed the latest Tribute trains, which meant that I had never had to sign up for tesserae in my life. I was supposed to be safe.

But I obviously hadn't been.

I reached the podium in time to hear my mother screaming my name. As I climbed the stairs, I saw her trying to reach me, fighting my father tooth and nail in order to escape the strong circle of his arms. I knew he'd take care of her once I died.

"Don't be so shy, child!" cried our representative, Hera, as she took my hand and pulled me to her. "How old are you?" she asked.

"Sixteen."

"Well, you're very pretty, aren't you? Are you excited?"

Was I excited to die? I couldn't even form an answer and just looked at her, my brown eyes wide. As to her comment about prettiness, that remained to be seen.

Although I was sixteen, I still had what I considered to be a baby face. I looked younger because of the spray of freckles on my nose and cheeks, which was heavier on the right side than the left. I had full lips and large limpid eyes, but I didn't wear makeup to enhance my features because my mother was against it.

Hera quickly moved to the large glass ball that held the fluttering slips of papers with the boys' names on them. "Our next tribute… Alex Morley!"

I scanned the crowd, but it was unnecessary. He was already walking over to the podium. If he was scared, he didn't show it much. Only his eyes betrayed him as they cut left and right, seemingly looking for an escape.

Alex belonged to one of the poorer sectors of our district, I saw that immediately by the clothes he wore. He had a large scar running from beneath his lower lip to the jaw, almost touching his right ear.

"Well, here you are! The tributes from District Six!" Hera beamed and applauded enthusiastically, and several people joined her half-heartedly. Our district had been deeply affected by the failed rebellion. Several of our most prominent people had been killed, and our businesses had been shut down for months.

Only my father, having shown proof that he hadn't rebelled at all, thanks to his connection to the Peacekeepers, had been able to continue working, along with others who had similar connections to the Capitol. But it had been horrible. I'd freely given food away in school to the kids who had none.

None of it mattered now.

We were ushered into the Justice Building, which was still being repaired after the bombing we had sustained. The moment I was left alone in a room, the door opened and both my parents came in.

My mother was hysterical, unable to speak to me, only able to hold me. My father's face was pale and drawn, making me want to scream at him.

What good are your allegiances to the Peacekeepers now Daddy? Despite everything you did to help them, I'm going to the Hunger Games to die!

I said nothing of the sort, of course, merely telling both of them that I loved them. "Let me go, Mom. I'm already dead."

They left me, looking stunned, thus allowing my few friends to come in to say goodbye. My best friend Calla and her brother David both hugged me with tears in their eyes.

"This is completely unfair," said David in a low voice. "Why you, of all people?"

"Because someone's got to go. You saw what happened when they tried to cancel the Games, it was a nightmare."

David shrugged, "Doesn't make it right."

The two of them were followed by a few of my classmates – kids I'd known my whole life, most of whom I was on very good terms with. It was a tense moment as I did everything I could to keep myself composed.

When the Peacekeepers came to get me, they looked at me with an expression of sorrow in their eyes. I hoped they would help my parents get through my death as well as possible.

I was still too stunned to look at the cameras at the train station. I just boarded as quickly as possible, then sat down in the first chair I saw, which happened to be in a large and luxurious compartment, decorated in grey and silver tones. I vaguely recognized some of the patterns as my father's design, which made me want to cry.

Alex came in after me, and glanced down at me with distaste. My father's dealings with the Peacekeepers were well-known.

"Is daddy going to go to the Peacekeepers to try and stop the Games?" he spat at me.

I didn't answer. What could I say? Alex probably hadn't had a decent meal in weeks, whereas I'd had a copious breakfast a couple of hours previously: three pancakes with apple compote and ice-cold milk.

Oh, but thinking of breakfast made my stomach churn. Before I knew it, bile had risen in my throat and my hand flew to my mouth. A Capitol attendant on the train rushed me to a small bathroom, where I was sick for several minutes. As I slid to the floor, I felt the train begin to move.

It was some time before I was able to stumble back to the compartment where I dropped onto a couch, shivering so much I felt like I was going to fall to the floor.

The same attendant came to me, covering me with a blanket and placing a glass of cold mint-flavored water on the table in front of me. In a strange gesture, he wiped the sweat from my brow, the way a father would have done.

Someone else placed a holograph machine next to the water, turning it on so that I could watch the rest of the reapings. I saw children of all ages being chosen and led to the stage. In one case, one girl was nearly dragged towards her representative, obviously wanting to go to the Games as much as I did.

"Hit you that you're gonna die, right?" asked Alex from behind me. His voice was seething. "You wanna go home?"

"Give it a rest," snapped Hera. "She's here, same as you, and you're both going to have to make the most of it."

We had no mentors. The only two remaining victors from our district had been killed in the failed rebellion the previous year, almost immediately after the 76th Hunger Games. It was therefore Hera's job to do something to help us in the arena.

"Can either of you do anything?"

"I'm the best rope-climber in my class," said Alex immediately.

I just shook my head. I had endurance, so I could run for a long time without getting tired, but I suspected that had a lot to do with my having had food all my life. I was fairly certain that I would die within a few days of being in the arena.

Although…

An idea came to me. My mother was a teacher who was fond of herbs, and she had her own little herb garden behind the kitchen. Ever since I'd been little, she'd taught me to recognize edible herbs and berries, even having me sketch them until I could identify them by sight, smell, taste, and touch.

"I know herbs and berries," I said in a low voice.

Alex snorted, "Herbs and berries… that'll keep you."

"That's useful knowledge," Hera told him. "Make sure you go to the edible plants station as soon as you can, all right?" She knelt in front of me. "You can't give up. Who knows? You could last a while in the arena."

"Or I could die on the first day," I whispered sitting up and picking up the glass of water. I sipped the liquid gingerly.

"Eat something. Enjoy this while you can, and rest. We'll be arriving at the Capitol during the night, and you'll be taken straight to your dormitories for a good night's sleep before going to the Remake Center."

I tried. I walked around the train, and even changed out of my dress, putting on black leggings and a black and red tunic that fell to the top of my thighs. I applied some eyeliner pencil to my eyes, which immediately changed my entire appearance.

"Oh! That's much better, Nova!" exclaimed Hera when I came out. "You see? You look like you could get sponsors already like that."

Maybe that was true, but my heart wasn't in it.

Lunch was served on plates that looked too pretty to be stained, and although my stomach wasn't ready to accept food, I ate a delicious broth with vegetables and bits of chicken and noodles in it. It was probably the best thing I'd ever tasted in my life.

"Oh my God," I whispered. "How do people make something like this?"

"Good, isn't it?" asked Hera.

"I thought you were one of those people who ate every day," said Alex, already devouring some roast beef with indecent voracity.

"Just because I don't take out tesserae doesn't mean I eat things as good as these. I've never had soup like this before."

"My name was in that ball thirty-four times today," he said moodily.

"And mine was in there five times. It only takes one slip of paper to send you to the arena." Panic threatened to overwhelm me, and for a moment, my hands shook so much that my spoon clattered against my bowl.

"You're really scared, aren't you?" asked Alex.

"Of course I'm scared, you idiot. Didn't you hear my mother screaming? She and my father thought I was going to be safe from the Reaping. Until three years ago, we could have used the tesserae, but we made do with what we had because my parents didn't want me to take any out."

I said nothing else and excused myself from the table, roaming the train for something to do. I found myself in a library compartment, and pulled out a small book on herbs. Bringing it over to where Hera and Alex were sitting, I studied it until we arrived at the Capitol, just before midnight.

Despite the late hour, there were hundreds of people crowding the large train station. I'd never seen anything like it away from the broadcasts and Capitol shows, and suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything. The people cheered us on as though they'd never seen anything as mesmerizing as we were. Some of them even ran behind the car as we made our way to the Remake Center, where we would be spending our first night.

It was unbelievable.