Disclaimer: Hi guys! Sorry to be a sourpuss and make you bored with a disclaimer, but it has to be done. Sadly, I did NOT write the Hunger Games, that was all Suzanne Collins. I do not own the Hunger Games (still Suzanne Collins). And lastly, I don't own Walmart. Wait, wrong story. Well, I hope you enjoy my story. Please review!
I woke up, and the first thing I saw in my worn down house in district 11 was a crisp, white, strapless, knee-length dress with a cream colored belt that had a single sparkling diamond on it, and a pair of black flats. Next to it was a black tux with a red tie. And next to that, 2 small blue toddler dresses. Reaping clothes. I shuddered, another reaping day to live through, terrified of being picked.
I knew I would not be able to sleep any longer, so I got down to business. I got up, made my bed, and put on what I called "training clothes." Ever since I was 4 years old I have known about the reaping and that in my district, it was almost sure to mean death. I also knew there was no escaping the reaping, unless you were dead or dying. And with my luck, I was sure to be picked. So I created a training system, so I could have a chance to come home if I was picked, and to continue protecting my family. I made a room under ground no one but myself knows about. And since I was 4, I have trained in the art of survival; with knives, swords, spears, bows, daggers, poison darts, maces, tridents, and all the other weapons I have witnessed on the T.V. in the games.
I started down the trapdoor in my room that leads to my training center, when I heard a noise. I saw my 12 year old brother Birch wake up. I silently tried to sneak back up, but too late. He had seen me.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Nothing, go back to bed." But he wasn't stupid, he had seen me and was going to find out what I was doing.
"Nothing always means something," he said.
"Except when it means nothing," I retorted.
"Come on Maple," he whined rather loudly. "You can tell me." Man, this kid was stubborn. I figured my chances of him losing interest and going back to bed were nonexistent and my 2 year old twin sisters Poppy and Pansy were starting to wake up so I decided I had to tell him. Damn, I had kept my training room a secret for 12 years, since my brother Birch was born, and blew it while I still had 2 years left in the reaping.
"Okay, promise not to tell anyone?"
"I promise," Here it goes,I thought.
"Ever since you were born I have trained for the hunger games in a room I built down in that trap door you saw me open."
He gaped at me. "You mean you plan on entering?"
"NO," I said quickly. "It is a little backup just encase the unthinkable does happen."
He didn't look entirely convinced. "Look, I won't be picked and you won't be picked so we have nothing to worry about."
He opened his mouth to say more but my parents came over and told us to get dressed. When we were dressed we left the house and gathered in the town square. As I got cramped in the 16 year old section the escort walked onto the stage.
"Hello and welcome!" she said enthusiastically and then she continued. " Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor. And as usual ladies first."
She tripped and her wig came off to reveal another wig. Maybe for backup? She reached the first crystal bowl and her claws dug around until she decided on one name and swiped it out. She tripped over her wig when going back and came up spluttering. She then picked up her wig and walked to the microphone. I heard the audience hold their breath.
" Maple Anderson."
I froze and could only form one thought. Thats me!