The SAT Games

by hermionebunny

*WARNING: If you like the SAT, don't read this.* In regard to the Hunger Games, citizens of Panem have grown jaded. By their 74th year, the Games no longer induce proper fear within the districts. Therefore, the Capitol introduces a more terrifying competition for its tributes: the SAT Games.

1. Achieve More (Or Lose It All)

Effie jounces up to the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen of District 12," she trills, "welcome to Panem's 74th annual Hunger Games!"

Nobody listens at first- Reaping speeches never vary. We care about one thing alone: who gets selected.

"Actually," Effie continues, "we will not hold the Hunger Games this year."

This catches our attention.

"Instead, we will do something even more exciting," Effie squeals.

Hundreds of twelve- to eighteen-year olds gape at Effie, breath bated.

"This year," Effie gushes, "the Capitol will host the SAT Games."

The what? I exchange a confused glance with Madge, who is standing beside me.

"SAT stands for Scholastic Aptitude Test," says Effie. "The SAT Games originated at a time long before the iniquitous wars that desecrated our nation. They were a series of challenging tests used to select children for high-level schools called universities. The SAT Games are a friendly, foolproof method of demonstrating one's skill in an efficient, fair manner."

"Katniss," Madge whispers, "these S-whatever Games sound sketchy."

I nod mutely.

"As always, two tributes from each district will be selected," says Effie. "The tribute with the highest SAT score will be crowned victor. His or her district will receive the usual prizes."

"What about the other tributes?" someone calls out.

A gunshot sounds, and the person who interrupted ceases to speak.

Effie beams, white teeth gleaming blindingly. "Now, let us hear a few words from Haymitch Abernathy, mentor of District 12."

Haymitch swaggers to the podium, clearly drunk. He yanks the microphone from Effie.

"Don't listen to her," he belches. "The SAT Games aren't normal tests. They're not friendly and they're not fair. They're even worse than the Hunger Games. Stay alert, look out for traps-"

Two Peacekeepers rush to the podium and drag Haymitch away.

"Wacko drunkard," Madge hisses.

"Without further ado, let us commence with the Reaping," Effie announces. "As usual, ladies first."

She reaches into the glass ball and rummages through hundreds of slips of paper. At last, she pulls one out and reads, "Primrose Everdeen."

I groan, burying my head in my hands. Little as I know about SATs, I am positive that Prim would fail them. Prim has no "Scholastic Aptitude." She fails all of her classes because she's too nice to cheat. Everyone cheats nowadays.

I won't let Prim suffer the unknown fate of the low scorers, I think to myself.

So I stand up.

"I volunteer," I gasp. "I volunteer as test-taker."