1
"Collen Riften!" I hear my name being yelled from the stage. It's dark outside, but there's enough lights shining on that flamboyant Capitol asshole, Rosche Aberdee, that I can see he is holding up a white slip of paper. Third time is the charm I suppose. I haven't signed up for any tesserae, meaning out of the thousands of paper slips in that bowl sitting on stage, one of my three was chosen.
The peacekeepers come walking through the aisles of District Three children until they reach my group. I see them beckoning me over. All eyes are on me as I walk to the stage. That includes my best friend, Even. He looks sad…guilty almost. It's not something I blame him for, but his chances of getting picked were way higher than mine. He has four siblings and I'm pretty sure he's signed up for tesserae for every single one of them, including his parents. Combined with the fact that he has been to the reaping for a total of four years.
Quite honestly, Even could probably win the Hunger Games. I feel like he's the type that would be good at thinking how to survive with the possibility of death looming over him at every second. I, however, am in no way like that. I've watched the first six Hunger Games. I'm going to end up being one of those people killed in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Part of me really wishes that someone would rise up and offer themselves as a tribute right about now. If I was in District One, that would definitely happen. In the more recent reapings, District One children have actually fought over volunteering to be tributes on live television.
I step on to the stage, where Rosche greets me with a hand shake. He's even more repulsive looking in person than on TV. Tall and slender, long green hair tied in a braid, powdered white skin, and different colored eye contacts. He's the epitome of the Capitol's embellishments. His outfit is even worse, though. He's wearing a bright pink tuxedo and has glittery silver gloves. Remains of the glitter stay on my hand after we shake. I try my best to wipe it off on my pants but the stuff is stuck to me like glue.
"Now it's time to announce our female tribute!" Rosche exclaims in his peppy Capitol accent. He swivels his hand around in the bowl of slips for a few seconds. I can hear over the microphone that he is doing a cheerful and obnoxious hum as he mixes the slips. He finally draws one out, and squints at the name. "Dahlia Lovecrest, COME ON UP," he yells cheerfully. Dahlia. I know of her. Her father worked on making televisions at the factory. Now everyone across Panem uses them. She's a beautiful girl. Wavy red hair, freckles, and deep green eyes. Everything about her gives me this vision of serenity. Rosche couldn't have picked any worse names out of those bowls. District Three is now being represented by a delicate maiden and a wimpy pessimist.
Dahlia reaches her hand out to me and tries to muster a smile, but it's very clear that she is just as distraught as I am. I shake her hand while returning a fake smile.
"May the odds be ever in your favor!" Rosche tells the both of us.
Not even a few moments later we are escorted by peacekeepers into the justice building. The have Dahlia and I sit on an old suede couch and tell us to wait for Rosche to give further instructions. Once the peacekeepers leave the room, Dahlia lets loose with her tears. I'm not quite sure how to comfort someone in a situation like this. It's not like I can say any words to make her feel better. I'm in the same damn situation too. I look up at the wall in front of me. There is a giant metal gear hanging on it.
I had always aspired to be like my father when I grew up. He was a master with explosive technology. He'd teach me tricks here and there about the workings of a bomb. It amazes me how he creates such tiny and complex objects that cause so much destruction. That giant gear will always remind me of the greatness of District 3, and of my father.
"I guess I can't blame you for just sitting there," I hear Dahlia say behind her tears. My focus shifts from the gear to her.
"I'm sorry, I just…"
"Don't worry about it, we're both in the same boat," she interrupts my apology as she wipes her tears away. "It's not your job to comfort me."
"I guess if I have anything to look forward to before I die, it's getting all dolled up by the Capitol."
I laugh. She's not really that different from myself. Dahlia also seems to agree that there is no chance of winning the Hunger Games.
"So you think there's no chance too, huh?" I ask her.
She stands up and faces me."You've seen previous reapings from Districts One, Two, and Four. Those kids have been training for this since the first Hunger Games!"
Rosche interrupts our conversation by loudly bursting through the justice building doors. "Hellloooo tributes," he says with his obnoxious perkiness. "We're allowing you both ten minutes to speak to your loved ones before we depart. I'll be back when the time is up," he says.
The peacekeepers escort my father and Dahlia's family inside the justice building. Dahlia runs to her mother and gives her a giant hug, while my father slowly approaches me near the couch. At first we stand there facing each other in silence, and then he leans in and gives me a tight hug. The squeeze of his arms hurt emotionally more than they do physically. I feel his tear drops falling on my back.
My mother died of illness when I was three years old, and I was an only child. For all of these years it was just my father and I. He wasn't the warmest person in the world, but he made sure he could raise me and put food on the table. Honestly, for just my father and myself, putting food on the table wasn't that difficult since there weren't as many mouths to feed compared to Even's family. This tearful embrace that he has me locked in right now is the first time I've ever seen a warm side to him, and that is why it hurts me inside to be saying this final goodbye.
My father lets go from the hug, but places his hands on my shoulders. "Look, Collen, I know that you think this might be hopeless, but please don't give up," he pleads. I look down at the ground. It's really hard to face him right now. That's a promise I can't keep because giving up sounds like the best solution right now. "Look at me, Collen," my father orders. My head shoots back up to face his. "If you can't fight, then survive."
If I can't fight, then survive. Can I even survive? I feel like I'm not even capable enough to do that. The problem is the guilt of not promising my father will keep me from giving up. "I promise," I say bleakly.
My father gives a tearful smile and then reaches into his pocket. "You're allowed one token during the games. I want you to have this," he says as he hands me a small metal gear. He couldn't have picked a more perfect item.
"Two minutes left!" Rosche yells at us.
A few seconds later, I see Even run up to my father and I. "Collen, I'm sorry, I should have volunteered," he says with a devastated tone.
"No," I reply. "You have a family to take care of."
My father turns to Even and tries to console him. "Collen will be just fine. It's not your responsibility to cover him on something like this."
Even nods and then proceeds to give me a hug even tighter than my father's. I'm not quite sure how many more of these I can take. "You do whatever it takes to make it out alive. I'll be watching every second I can," he promises. I give him a nod and then give my father one final hug.
"Time's up!" Rosche yells. "Everybody out, out, out!"
My father and Even head out of the justice building, but Dahlia is stuck to her family like super glue. She refuses to let go. It gets to the point where Rosche has to pry her off of her mother. I can hear her mother yell, "No, don't let my daughter go!"
Rosche finally manages to clear her family out of the building, and it goes back to being just us. "Well, that was fun," he says as he claps his hands together. "Let's get going you two, the train is here!"
Rosche walks ahead, expecting us to follow him; however, Dahlia is standing in the same place where he family was just a few moments earlier. She looks completely devoid of life.