The Hunger Games is owned by Suzanne Collins
The lake was peaceful. I was glad that I woke up early enough that the place was secluded, before rabid kids starting arriving and cannonballing. I took off my dress and folded it neatly on the bank. I was wearing my mother's swimsuit which was a little loose, my one was in the wash. I took a step back and then dived into water. The water was freezing naturally and I gasped momentarily, by now I was used to it. I kicked my legs and stroked through. I kept on swimming, getting further away from the bank, my arms swishing forward. Swimming made me feel so alive. I turned over so that I faced the sky, carrying on pushing my arms forward. It was dim and quiet, a little creepy, I felt like I could be attacked any minute. There could be someone lurking around, watching me, a silly girl swimming in the dark alone. They would swim silently up to me, grab my head and drag me down into the water. I knew why I was having these thoughts. Today was Reaping Day. I turned and swam back towards the bank. I leaned on the grass, burying my head in the ground, my wet hear sticking to my skin.
We had gone through this every year for the last 5 years. We gathered in the Square, we waited as Christo reached into the pool of names. We celebrated in our minds when somebody else's name got pulled. Things were made easier when Career tributes went in instead, but there was no female career this year.
On the way home, I saw in the distance a helicopter landing in near the Square. Probably Christo and peacekeepers arriving for the reaping. I quickened my pace, I didn't want to get in their way. At my house, I peered into my parent's room and saw they were still asleep. I ran into the shower and cleaned myself off, even though the lake water was reasonably clean. In my room I opened up my wardrobe. It was a scary event watching people be sent off to the Games, but we still had to look our best. I decided to go with a lilac number. I brushed my hair up into a bun. There was a warm smell in the air, my mother was in the kitchen making breakfast. I went downstairs to find that she was making strawberry pancakes- my favourite. She placed a plate onto the table and told me to eat up. I wolfed it down, wishing I could savour it but I had to meet my friends in the Square. I thanked my mother and ran out. The streets were now more packed than earlier. Peacekeepers were knocking on doors and ordering people to go to the Square. I kept my head down and scuttled past.
I once was training to be a career tribute, but my mother pulled me out of the programme, when my cousin Dwaytt died 7 years ago in the Hunger Games. It was for the best, I hated training. Sword fights, shooting arrows, fighting with bare fists, I excelled at nothing. Well, I was one of the best swimmers, but I've never seen anyone swim to victory in the Games.
I reached the Square where people were already lining up in front of the podium where Christo would call out the female tribute. All girls. I saw in the distance someone waving. It was my friend Lindsay who was with my other friends Channi and Melinda. I rushed over to them and we all huddled together.
"No matter what happens today," Lindsay assured us, "We stay friends and we stay strong."
Me and the other girls nodded, trying to cover up the fact that we were terrified. What if one of us got called? What would we do?
"Does anybody know who the male tribute is?" Channi asked.
"I haven't heard anything. It's being kept top secret," I answered. The district must have had big hopes for the male tribute if they were staging a dramatic reveal at the reaping.
"I had a really bad dream last night. I was in the games and I got stabbed within seconds. It kind of hurt," Melinda said.
"I'm sure what we see in our dreams is not even half as scary as what the real games will be like," Channi said morbidly.
My heart started to beat faster, my legs felt like jelly. A booming voice started yelling into a megaphone.
"All potential tributes are to line up in the square now or we will drag you there!" a peacekeeper warned us. We all bowed our heads and made way to the Square. We found a space among the other young girls in our village. I recognised a lot of people from school, it was like an assembly, as if our principal was about to walk on stage and talk about our futures. But whoever was called out today was unlikely to have a future.
We all stood in silence staring at the podium, the pool of names staring back at us menacingly. The suspense began to overstay its welcome. I was scared. Scared that my name was going to be pulled. Scared that one of my friend's name was going to be pulled. But there had to be a small chance, I thought. Our names were only in the pool once.
I began to twitch a little, someone's footsteps could be heard. The podium was perched outside of City Hall. The large doors opened and two peacekeepers with guns stepped out and following them was a tall woman, with bright red hair, her face covered in make-up, and she was wearing a glittering sequin dress. Christo Mal, the escort for District 4. She managed the tributes, preparing them for interviews, public appearances, helped them choose what to wear and what to say. I don't think she or any of the escorts had any input on how the tributes survive in the actual Games, but I guess good publicity was pretty important, especially for gaining sponsors.
"Hello District 4, it is wonderful to be back," she addressed us in her posh accent, "Today is the day when one of you lucky heroines will be plucked from obscurity of fishing and boating and be catapulted to potential stardom." Lucky? I felt myself twitch more, I kept making glances at the girls, hoping they didn't notice. Before long, some peacekeepers brought out the video projector and played the film they always play about the history of the Hunger Games. Nobody but Christo and the peacekeepers enjoyed it. Sometimes I resented what people did in the past, revolting and causing Panem to create the Hunger Games.
The video finally ended and Christo approached the name pool.
"Moment of truth!" she sang, grabbing a piece of paper. She read the name and then smiled at us, "Annie Cresta."