"Heaven Goldmeyer."
I froze. I was picked for the reaping. My breath caught in a swollen lump in my throat.
"Heaven Goldmeyer, are you out there?" the bubbly Capitol lady with the pink hair and lavender skin called out.
I clenched my fists and slowly walked up to the stage, finally sucking in a breath of cool air.
"Ah, Heaven!" the lady squealed, waddling over to me (it was made difficult, due to her skin-tight, air-tight, sparkly hot pink pants and her red tube top glittering with rhinestones.
"You have the honor of being the lady tribute for District 1!" the bubbly lady said.
I smiled weakly. Being in the Hunger Games was my worst nightmare. All of my older siblings have been in the Hunger Games, and have won. My father was a Hunger Games victor. My two older twin sisters were both victors in consecutive years, and my older brother won last year…by a long shot. But I was not a very good fighter. All I have is a good throwing arm…for knives. I'm not strong, I'm not good in wrestling, and I have zero aim with a bow and arrow.
All of my siblings have won the Hunger Games when they were either seventeen or eighteen. They're tall, strong, nimble killing machines who can hit a bulls-eye twenty yards away with a bow and arrow and who can beat a three-hundred pound man in a wrestling match. I'm a small, thin, silk-maker who can weave the most breathtaking dresses and silk for the Capitol but can't even cross one hundred pounds on the scale.
I looked at the ring of fifteen year olds up for the Hunger Games drawing. In that ring was my best friend in the entire world, Ridge Glassman. He was smiling at me, to try to make me feel better. But I knew him better than that. His eyebrows were furrowed, his blue gemstone eyes coated with a fine pale glaze. Ridge was the handsomest boy ever…and to admit it, I used to have a teensy-weensy crush on him when I was nine. It's not like all of the other girls in District 1 don't like him either.
The pink-haired lady crossed over to the boy's glass ball, pulled out a name, and read it out loud. "Ridge Rainer," she piped.
All of the color drained from my face. Panic knotted my throat, my stomach dropped like a weight. I felt like I was going to pass out. I would be fighting my best friend to the death?
I looked over to Ridge. People clapped, and he started to walk forth slowly, as if he was trying to get the news into his system.
"I volunteer as I tribute!"
I huffed out a sigh of relief, and looked towards Ridge. He didn't look as relieved. I was puzzled…I wondered why. Then I realized when I saw the person who had volunteered. It was a monstrous eighteen year old, who had to be at least six feet tall and bulging muscles. He had scruffy blonde hair and a bloodthirsty look in his eyes, like he was going to eat me any second.
"And what is your name?" the pink haired lady asked joyfully, as if the tall boy was as cute as a button.
"Striker Powell," the boy said, stepping up to the stage. Ridge looked at me worriedly.
"I'll be fine," I mouthed to him.
"Alright, then," the pink haired lady said. "I am proud to say that Striker Powell will be representing District 1 in the Hunger Games!"
Ouch.
"Oh yes," the pink haired lady said, after she remembered that I existed. "And of course Heaven Goldmeyer, sister of three previous victors, will also be representing District 1!"
I looked at my feet. I was wearing glass slippers…my mother's.
I played with the hem of my silk, white dress that I sewed myself and replayed the awful images of the Hunger Games in my mind. Bloodcurdling screams as knives pierced people's hearts, slit throats, dying of freezing cold, vomiting to death from dehydration, getting poisoned from eating a harmless-looking "blueberry", people getting sizzled to an ashy crisp by Gamemaker lightning, floods washing people's cold, raw corpses into the jaws of death…out of all of these ways to die, I would rather kill myself than get killed by Striker or some of the other Career Tributes from the other districts.
Striker and I were both quickly ushered to the Justice Building, where I got to say my last goodbyes to my family and friends. I sat on the plush couches and played with the golden tassels of the pretty pillows.
All of my family, including my parents, Narcissus and Luster, my two older twenty-one year old twin sisters (Jewel and Justice), my eighteen year old brother Steel, and my six-month old nephew Eagle, who was Justice's son.
"I knew we should have prepared you for the Hunger Games," my father said, pacing back and forth. "It was clear you would have been picked sooner or later. Goldmeyer members are prone to getting picked…"
I sat quietly, knowing I wouldn't make it out of the Hunger Games alive. My eight-month pregnant mother put a hand on my knee and gave me a reassuring smile. However, even my mother's smiles couldn't make me feel better about my horrible fate.
"Well, your mentor, Satin, will help you with your strategy," my father said. "He's a genius with that, I've heard. Good luck, Haven." My father clapped me on the back and hurried everyone out of the room.
I pulled my legs up to my chest, not thinking anyone else would come for me. I was wrong. Ridge and his sister, Love (who was also my friend), walked in through the big doors.
"Hi," I said glumly.
"I know it sucks," Love said.
"No kidding," I said, releasing my legs from my chest.
Ridge sat down on the couch across from me. He looked at me oddly, like he wanted to tell me goodbye, but couldn't bring himself to do it.
"I think you'll do well," Love cheered me. "You're the most resilient, quickest, most petite person I know. C'mon, you didn't even cry when Ridge cracked your jaw by accident when he was trying to punch that guy one time."
A small grin slipped across my face. "But Striker's going to pound the stuffing out of me. Not to mention how many other bloodthirsty tributes there will be that will be out for my guts."
Love frowned. "Actually, I think since you look so frightened and small up there when they were walking up to the stage, when the other tributes watch the reruns, they'll think you're weak and put you off till the end. You've got a fair chance."
Ridge looked distraught. He held his head in his hands and wouldn't look up to meet my eyes.
"Thanks, you guys," I said, playing with the dark brown curls.
"I'm going to miss you so much, Heaven," Love said.
Nothing but silence escaped Ridge's lips.
Love elbowed Ridge in the ribs.
"Hey!" Ridge said, turning to glare at his younger thirteen year old sister.
"Do you have anything to say to Heaven before she goes off to battle the rest of the bloodthirsty brutes of the districts?" Love asked, brushing a blonde curl behind her ear.
Ridge looked up, avoiding my pale blue eyes. "Good luck."
"That's not I what I meant!" Love whispered audibly in his ear.
"What do you want me to say?" Ridge whispered back loudly.
"Well, tell her that she's your best friend and if you never see her again…" Love said, "that you think she's a good best friend and yeah."
Ridge stood up. Love yanked him back down by his wrist.
"Love," Ridge said sternly.
"Why are you so uptight?" Love growled.
"Because my best friend is going to get killed and I can't do a thing about it!" Ridge screeched.
I appreciated Ridge's honesty, but the truth hurts sometimes. And the hurt only motivated me to try my hardest to not get killed.