The 100th Hunger Games:
We stand in the town square, just as every worker across Panem does, to view the reading of the card. Cards. To honour the number - three digits - there will be three literally breathtaking twists. And so that nobody can work out strategies, tomorrow the tributes will be reaped.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you to read the cards of the 100th Hunger Games. To honour the digits we have three twists - and theses twists will prove that whoever may survive is truly victorious. Nobody shall get through the 100th Hunger games on luck alone." A young boy - six or seven - grins happily as he presents a reaping ball to our president. He doesn't know what happened, they don't teach about it - apart from bragging. Especially as he lives a lucky, lucky life in the Capitol. I taught myself the truth - a criminal offence - digging through dusty old books that were buried in the public library. Buried to preserve the truth. I hid them there.
I am Maria Bracken, twelve years of age. Fast, muscular, and tall for my age. Clever, and witty, with a sharp tongue. I've got huge feet - I guess I'll be honest for once. Because I can spin lies like spiders spin webs.
Back to the president, who is digging through the gold envelopes to find the perfect horror. He does, and opens the catch smoothly, as if he has all the time in the world. Perhaps he does, actually. Perhaps the Capitol can perform surgery to turn back time, make him live forever. The thought sends a shudder along my spine, and I turn my eyes back to the screen. another thing, I am distracted by my own thoughts easily. Sorry, it's just that my own fantasy world is much better than the cold reality.
"And now, for the first card. In honour of how the Peacekeepers worked as a team to defeat the rebels, four teams will be picked randomly. Six in each, three girls to three boys, to fight one another. What remains of a team when it is the only group left shall win. Onto the next card." He waits a second for us to digest the news. All I can think is that for the first card, we got off lightly, although glory-loving Careers will kill their teams in the night.
"The second card. Instead of each district sending a girl and a boy, the twelve districts will be split. Districts 1 through to 6 will send two boys who are both friends. Friends is a requirement. Districts 7-12 will send two girls, who are both good friends."
Great. My chances of being reaped have just gone up 50%, and even worse, my best friend will be going with me.
"Number three. Just as the 25th Hunger Games, the tributes will be picked by their own district council, on assets such as stealth. Tomorrow at 2pm, we here in the Capitol expect the names of your tributes. Get ready. Thank you and goodnight, Panem."
The television cuts off with a burst of static, and we are left to stare at the grey, fuzzy screen. Suddenly, I regret the day when I became Maria Bracken. Tough girl, throwing knives and axes and running like a cheetah. Hiding - a champion at Hide-and-Seek actually - finding ingenious and easy-to-escape nooks and crannies. I once predicted a question on a capitol game show, and this is easy to predict too. I, Maria Bracken, only just eligible for the reaping yet much older inside, have dug a hole and fallen right into it. The assets that have kept me alive in the last couple of years have now surely killed me.
"As of the Capitol's demands, we have picked out our representees. Please come up and take your seats on the stage, Skye Oaks and..." Mayor Crews pauses, trying to find the face in the crowd. Skye, my friend, is practically stomping to the stage, in silly floods of tears. Yes, she's my friend, but not my best friend. Perhaps I've been spared, or perhaps I've been speared. Speared. "Maria Bracken!"
"But!" I begin. "What - whatever..." I trail off, muttering angrily, and find my real best friend's face in the crowd. Gloria. at the sight of me muttering angrily, given the current situation, she's smiling ever so slightly. But she's howling bitterly too. She thinks I can do it, she really does. I'm fighting back tears too now.
My mother weeps, my brother Isle cries, my sisters just wear cold, blank faces. My school teachers watch my every move. I know they'll be with me every step of the way, every beat of my heart. Right up until I die. Perhaps you won't, Maria! You can do this! I hear Gloria's voice in my head, and I try to listen to her. As I sit next to Skye, who is selfish and weak. Skye, who will surely betray me to spare her own skin. Not surely - definitely.
Mayor Crew reads out the long, boring Treaty of Treason, and we don't hear a word. My brain is engaged with strategy and survival techniques. Also, I can't hear him over Skye's awful, strangled, annoying sobs, which echo off the microphone. Shut it, Skye!
Unlike before the rebellion, we don't get to say last words to our family. Apparently, it's much too painful. So are slow, bloody deaths, Snow. But don't worry about us. Worry about every little detail in your cruel, pointless life. Got it?
So I take my feet and put them on the train, smiling widely at the cameras and the crowds. On the plush sofa, a few minutes after the train pulls away from the station, I put my head down, block out the world with a cushion, and visit Maria-land. But even my own world is warped and frightening now. in Maria-land I simply chase one beam of light, running as if my life depends on it. Soon, though, it will.