All my life, my father had trained me to be a Career.
"Sage," he told me every day, "You may be from District 3, but I want you to be a Career." District 3, the technology district, was not the best district to be from when the time of the Hunger Games rolled around. Kids who looked like they could be blown over by a slight breeze where reaped, and were killed five minutes after the Hunger Games starts. My father's sister was from District 2, and there the Hunger Games was the best thing ever. Kids trained their whole life, volunteered at the reaping, and won most Hunger Games. Every day, my father and I would go to the abandoned automobile warehouse at the crack of dawn and train. I particularly excel in knives and climbing, which makes sense, since I'm the shortest in my class.
"Sage. I want you to volunteer when you're sixteen. Sixteen is perfect. Not to young and plenty of time to train." My father says. It's only us, since my mother died when I was five. No one knows why, though. I may have trained my whole life for the Games, but at the moment, I'm shaking. Today is the reaping, and I turned sixteen last month. My father says that when I'm nervous, my forest green eyes glow brightly. Right now they must look like Corina, the District 3 escort's bright green wig.
My father and I walk to the square in silence. Corina's wig is as bright as ever, and her ugly orange dress is no better. My father and I share a laugh. "If you win, that is not happening, Sage." He said in a mock commanding voice. "Welcome everyone! The time for the Hunger Games has come again! And may the odds e ever in your favor!" Corina shrieks in the squeaky Capitol accent. "Ladies first!" her hand reaches deep into the bowl. Maybe I won't volunteer, maybe I won't. Corina unfolds the paper. "Rose Cloven!" A little 12 year old walks up, trembling like a leaf. I have to volunteer. She won't last 2 minutes. "I volunteer!" I scream. Corina looked course. No one had volunteered in years. "rose, why don't you sit down. Now, who volunteered?" "Me! I did." I yell. "Come on up. What's your name?" Corina asks, her purple talon like nail cutting into my shoulder. My father's face is a mixture of sadness and pride. " Sage. Sage Brush." I reply.