"Megan!" A tight grip on my right shoulder wake me from my daydreaming. The look on my best friend, Zala, warned me. Something was wrong. I heard something that made me shiver. A single scream from my father. He was standing across the square but I could still hear him as if he was standing right next to me. He was the image of pure pain.
"Megan! It's you!" Zala shouted while she shook me to make me react. I was in shock. Was this really happening? Was I really chosen to become the tribute of the 12 district? Apparently, I was because a gap between the multitude open for me to jump on stage. I walked on slow motion, aware of my own body only because I felt Zala´s small hands pushing my back gently.
"Don't worry, Megs, you're going to be just fine. Remember to be strong. Remember to be fast. Trust no one. Well, trust Hamlich and Peeta. Don´t let your father see you crying. Be strong, little one." Zala kept whispering words of encouragement and advice on my ear. Her voice finally calmed me down. I have never understood how Zala talks so fast. I felt dizzy. God! Everyone kept staring at me with that look we-are-sorry-you're-going-to-die. It really annoyed me.
I climbed on stage and took a seat right next to Hamlich. He kept staring at me and on his eyes a strange mixture of angst and sadness fought to get through. Peeta didn't even turn around to face me. He kept looking at the audience as they called the name of the boy tribute. Marco Fiori.
The musician's kid. His father was a sensible man that played on every festivity in town. He was the only musician in the district. Not that the people need more with the hard times they faced.
Marco took the spot right next to me and we shook hands. Poor kid, he was going down. It seemed like a really cruel thing to say, but I knew that if it came down to me or him, it was going to be me. I could hear his family crying out loud even thought they were far from the stage. God! Please let my father pull himself together! I searched for him and found his emotionless face only disturbed by his eyes full of tears. Yeah, Gale is a warrior. People, that's my Dad!
Deep down I didn't felt so cheerful, I was mentally preparing myself for the goodbyes that were yet to come.
"Dad…" I whimpered a little. I couldn't help it. My dad just hugged me and started caressing my hair. This was unfair. They were many families out there with six or seven kids each that barely knew each other's names. Last week I saw how Mr. Coofter tried to sell her youngest daughter to an old man at the market. He wasn't even ashamed when I stared at disbelief. He kept on going as if it was the most common thing on the Earth. My dad only had me. And he had never attempted to sell me, so I guess that was good.
Once, he had my mom and for a while we lived on paradise. She was a strong gentle woman who always tried to protect us. Bust she was never fully with us. Once she left for the Hunger Games, she never came back totally. She was always paranoic, thinking that the Capitol poisoned her food or send someone to kill her. Being the only person who had managed to change the Games' rules, maybe she wasn't far from the truth. A part of her always remained on the arena or maybe next to Peeta Mellark. She slipped away slowly year after year and then died suddenly few months ago. And now my Dad was going to lose me.
"Megan, you need to promise me you'll try your best." my dad ordered me as he turned to face me directly. He was on so much pain I had to admit maybe his sanity depended on my ability to accomplish that promise.
"I promise"
"Listen to Peeta. He will probably refuse to coach you properly, if he loved your mother as much as he claims he can't let you die, do you get it?" hearing him talking about Peeta loving my mother made me feel a bit awkward.
"Kind of." my answer seemed enough for him and he kissed my forehead before he stand and walked to the door.
"I love you" those were his last words to me.
"Love you, too." I'm not even sure that he listen me.
"Ooo..no,no,no. Stop it! Megan, stop crying immediately!" Zala demanded with her most authoritarian voice. Her reddish curly hair was all messy and gave her a scary kind of look. Even thought she was little, she inspired a lot of fear. I decided to obey her. "I got a lot to tell you and there's not enough time. First point: Marco"
"Yeah?"
"He's an idiot." Zala declared so confidently I had to chuckle a bit. "You'll need a good ally in there, and Marco won't be the right one. Look for someone bigger and stronger than you but not too clever."
"Easy. Why not to clever?" I had to admit probably I would want Zala to join me and be my ally. She made it sound so easy!
"If he is too clever he'd never accept to ally with you, dummy. Now, the star-crossed-lovers thing your mom did?"
"Yeah?"
"Bullshit. It's way too overdone. Since your mom did it, nobody has been able to recreate it. Half of the tributes that had tried to have killed each other and a few morons have end up both death."
"Then, how should I play my cards, oh you brilliant and wise goddess?" I apparently didn't have many options and my best friend was not being very helpful.
"You'll need to run fast, stay out of sight and get an ally; from there it all depends on your luck. Now as far for your sponsor strategy if I were you…I tell them to fuck themselves." Zala seemed pretty damn proud of herself for her advising.
"I don't think that will please the sponsors." I reminded her.
"Girl, we are facing one of the driest year in decades, even the wealthier districts are facing crises. Sponsoring, if there's any, will be destined to the tributes that are most likely to survive."
"And I'm not part of them?" I questioned.
"My job is to be brutally honest. You are not."
"You're a terrible friend. Oh, and your advices suck. Is hard to tell you now just how much I'll miss you." I mocked, feeling on a sudden good mood.
"I know you will. Bye, little one." She waved as she left the room with a big sassy smile. How I wish to be like her! Careless and free! Maybe that would be my role in the games.
And just like that I was alone to face the fact that I was running to my death. Isn't my life great?
