I knew as soon as my name was chosen, that I was going to die.
I was so embarrassed when it happened. I know it took me twice as long to reach the podium as it had for my female counterpart. My leg dragged behind me, slowing me down here in my own district just as much as it would in the arena. I looked to Betty for support. At first she smiled, then she cast her eyes away from me, not wanting to seem weak on camera.
I didn't exactly have that option.
I wondered if my death would be quick. Painless. I wondered if Betty would win for our district. I wondered how my parents would handle the loss, with no other children to take my place. Would they wake up hours before dawn, feeding the animals? I wondered a lot.
For years I had helped my parents lead our cattle to the slaughter.
It didn't take a genius to realize the irony of my situation.
I'm sure I must have cried the first night. I know Betty did—I could hear her through the walls of the train. I debated for hours about going there, comforting her. But it didn't matter—we would be enemies soon. Eventually her cries turned to whimpering, and I was able to get a little bit of sleep before I was awoken by Prudence Merriman, a small, dark-skinned woman with more hair than head. She was perky—too perky—and I had to stifle my vomit every time she mentioned her "excitement."
I was so conflicted. On one hand, I wanted to die already. Make it over with. Make it so I didn't have to be paraded around like a slab of meat ready for auction. I deserved better than that. So did Betty—even though I didn't know her, I had seen her around before. She was always happy.
She didn't look happy anymore.
I tried to give her lots of reassuring smiles throughout our training, but she never returned them. I think she must have been trying to seem tough to the other opponents. There was already a pair of tributes acting like best friends, and I don't think she wanted to seem weak.
Well, there was no hiding it for me.
My ankle had been broken one year when my family tried to keep one of the cattle for milk. We had been so hungry, and were sure the peacekeepers wouldn't notice one missing. But they were all branded, and when they noticed a number was missing, they came to our home to find Gretchen tied behind our house. They were going to take me to the slaughterhouse, but one of the peacekeepers, who must have had more of a heart than the rest of them, insisted they take me out to the fields instead. So I was left, five miles from home, lying in a pile of manure with an ankle bone sticking half an inch out of my skin. My parents found me, almost dead from gangrene, and brought me to a healer.
I half wish I died right there. At least then I would have died at home, in the fields I loved to work in.
Betty told me her strategy was to be brutal. To hack and slice and beat her way to victory. I envy her. My mentor didn't even bother giving me a strategy. Instead, he just told me to stay away from the careers. He said maybe if someone kinder finds me, they can make it quick.
And now, standing on the platform, hearing those sixty seconds counting down, I take time to look at my fellow tributes, and wonder who would be the one to end it quickly. There's a small, dark skinned girl who looks like she wouldn't be able to kill a fly, and next to her, a massive brute of a guy staring people down. I hope I don't die at his hands. A few people down, I see one of the tributes from District 12, a girl with a long braid and nervous, darting eyes. Her district partner is looking at her, shaking his head.
Who will be the one to kill me?
When the gong sounds, I gingerly lower myself from the platform, and start moving towards the forest. I don't bother with supplies. I'm hoping I'll be dead before I need any. I turn, just for a moment, to see what is going on in the Cornucopia. People are dying left and right, at least five so far. Maybe I should have run in there—it might have ended more quickly for me.
I'm just about to turn back towards the forest when I hear Betty scream.
The brutish guy from before rips the spear from her body, preparing to hurl it at someone else.
Betty won't be the one to win for our district.
But I can't win. I know I can't. Not with my leg.
I keep hobbling into the woods, going for a few hours until the ache in my leg becomes too great. I sit under a tree, panting and sweating. I'm thirsty, I know that. But I don't have any supplies. As crazy as it seems, I'm actually able to fall asleep for an hour or so before I hear a twig breaking behind me. I look around, but the woods seem deserted. A twig falls from the tree above me, and all I can see is a mop of bright red hair, and two shifty eyes looking at me. I almost sigh a breath of relief. It's almost over.
"You can come down," I tell her. "I don't have any weapons." I throw my hands up to show her, and a few moments later I hear her scurrying down the tree towards me. I lean my head against the trunk of the tree, closing my eyes and waiting. I open them after a minute or so to see the girl crouched in front of me, sizing me up.
"What? Just do it already. You don't have to stare at me." She looks confused, then lets out a breath.
"You thought I was going to kill you?" Her eyes are still shifting around me, no doubt looking for the weapon I don't have.
"That's kind of the point, isn't it? You kill me, someone kills you." Eventually she crosses her legs, her shoulders relaxing.
"I don't really plan on killing anyone unless I have to." The girl looks down, almost with shame. Has she already killed somebody? If so, why is she taking so long with me?
"I'm Trenton." I say, without really meaning to. "I'm from District 10."
"I know who you are." She says, "I know all of you." This girl surprises me. While I've been moping around waiting for death, she has figured out every last tribute. I don't even know any of their names, other than Betty. "And I'm Echo. District 5." I nod, and both of us sit there, waiting for the other to strike.
Nothing happens.
Instead, Echo slowly opens her jacket, revealing a small packet of crackers. She tosses them to me and stands up, offering her hand. I'm still staring at the crackers.
"Come on, it will be dark soon. We should find somewhere more confined to settle in."
And just like that, I have an ally.
We eventually find a small cave to hide in a mile or so from where we were. Echo says it's hidden enough that we won't be found, but I'm still nervous. I can hardly see her in the dark, but I know that she has sat beside me. She holds her hand out, and I place a cracker in it.
"So how old are you?" She asks me. I'm not sure if I want her to know these things about me. But if I die, I figure someone should remember me.
"Fourteen." I reply, and I hear her exhale.
"Seventeen." She replies. I'm shocked, but I don't let on. Echo doesn't look more than my age, at most. We talk for a couple of hours, pausing every time we hear a noise in the forest. Eventually I get an idea.
"I don't want them to kill me." She doesn't reply, but I can tell she nods.
"I know."
"Echo you have to promise me something. If they come for us…"
"That's a stupid thing to ask me. I'm not doing it." She says it so sharply I'm taken aback.
"But-"
"No buts. I'm not killing you just because you're scared of the careers." I can feel my eyes starting to well up with tears, but I don't make a sound. To be honest, I thought Echo might have been the answer to my problems. Now that I know her, I won't have to be afraid of dying. And I knew if she did it, it wouldn't hurt.
"I know I'm weak, Echo. I know it. I know I'm not going to win, so please…" I can hear her breathing pick up, can tell she's thinking about it. I decide to push her one more time.
"Let me die on my own terms. Not like Betty did."
That gets her.
"Fine. I'll do it. But…" She can't think of anything to say. "Fine." She says again.
It turns out that Echo had a lot more supplies than the crackers. We have enough to keep both of us eating for four or five days, and she eventually has to tell me to shut up because I can't stop thanking her. We spend our days talking—about our childhoods, our homes, our families… everything that will be forgotten if and when we die.
It's two days later when we hear the thumping of feet in the distance.
And suddenly, it's like I'm not ready to die. Even though I knew it was coming, I'm not ready. Please just give me one more day. One more hour. One more chance to talk with Echo. But Echo is already packing up her things—all but a single blade. Her only weapon against multiple feet. But they're far off—she has at least five minutes before their shouts and footsteps meet our cave.
And then, Echo does something remarkable.
She pulls me to the wall of the cave, and I can feel her hands trembling. She sits with her back leaning against it, and pulls me towards her so I'm almost sitting on her lap. She wraps her arms around me, the knife still in her hand. I can feel her heartbeat, and I realize how incredibly alive she is, how warm her skin is as blood pulses underneath it, filling it with life.
Life I know I won't have much longer.
She pulls me closer to her, hugging me from behind. Her head rests on my shoulder.
"Are you sure?" is the only thing she says to me.
"Yes." I croak. She puts the blade to my throat and I close my eyes.
"Echo, I hope you win. Please win."
"I will."
"Thank you."
And so I nod.