"Come on, man, there are thousands and thousands of kids in the District, and your name's only in once. The chances of you getting chosen are like one in ten thousand!" Blaine reasoned. It didn't help Kurt's churning stomach, though. He got this feeling every year as he and his friends took the walk from their houses down to the site of the drawing, on the sea front. The boys were in collared shirts and smart pants, the girls in dresses and panty hose; the drawings were the only times the coastal kids dressed like this, and even then, it was only because their mothers had forced them.
The genders were separated as they approached the line of buildings along the small street by the sea, the boys to the left, girls to the right. Blaine enjoyed the dramatics of the drawing each year, but Kurt was always nervous. He had seven close friends, and the chances of one of the group being chosen was significantly higher than any one individual. This worried him. As they took their place in their fenced off pen with all the other boys of District Four, Blaine turned to his best friend.
"How's my hair?" He said, smoothing a gelled strand back. Kurt just glared; in his opinion, this was not the time for joking around. Blaine seemed oblivious. "Well, if I get on TV and I look like ass, I'm blaming you."
Some rich bigwig took to the raised podium on the beach, by the large bowls filled with the names of all the teenagers in the district. District Four was fairly well off, so very few kids got tesserae, and therefore few were entered into the drawing more than once. However, the chances of a volunteer were slim, since kids raised on the beach and in fishing boats were hardly the most agile or quick.
"Welcome, one and all, to the drawing for the seventy-third annual Hunger Games! I feel like this year is District Four's year, we've got some great potential tributes!" The man at the podium shouted grandly. Blaine just sniggered, and earned himself and elbow in the ribs from Kurt. "Ladies first, shall we?" He chuckled and dug his chubby hand into the bowl, swirling it around and selecting one piece of paper. "Jael Corman!" He proclaimed as the residents of District four began to cheer. Kurt, who was taller than Blaine, stood on his tiptoes to see over to the girls' pen. The crowd of sensible hemlines and pumps parted to allow her through.
Yes, he thought he recognised her name. Medium height, skinny, blonde wavy hair and brown doe eyes. This girl went to the school that Kurt and his friends attended. He'd seen her in gym a few times, he seemed to recall, and from what he could remember she wasn't strong but she could run like a leaf on the wind. The girl, probably sixteen years of age, stepped onto the podium with a look on her face that was difficult to decipher. She was enjoying the applause and cheers of the crowd, that was for sure, but Kurt knew what her other feelings were. District Four had never fared particularly badly in the games, but in recent years, it was rare that a tribute from Four would win, and the chances were even slimmer for a girl, especially a small one. In short, despite the cheers and the general feeling of hope on the sea shore, everybody knew she didn't stand a chance.
"Congratulations Jael! And now for the gentlemen!" The man said as, once again, he stuck his hand into a giant glass bowl and mixed the names around. Taking a single piece of paper, he removed his hand and held it up, pushing his glasses up his nose to read it. Kurt glanced at Blaine on his right, then to the rest of his friends on his left; Nick, Jeff, Wes, Trent, David and Thad. They all exchanged a 'good luck' glance and as the man drew in breath, and all Kurt could think was 'please don't be me, please don't be me, please don't be me'. As the name was read, Kurt discovered that it wasn't him. It was worse. Kurt looked around him as thousands of eyes all turned in his direction.
"Blaine Anderson."
