I wake up to the sun's beams through the windows and the chirp of birds. A joyful start to a beautiful morning, until I remember why I, myself, am not excited. Today is the day of the 127th Hunger Game reapings. The day where all the children throughout the district from ages 12 to 18 gather in front of the justice building to find out who will go into the games and fight to their death. The day where everyone mourns. The day where no one is themselves. The day where everyone is full of anticipation, and the day where one unlucky boy and girl, will not have the odds in their favor.
I get up and take my time before I'll be one of those kids standing in front of the justice building. I take a deep breath and walk to the bathroom where I have a nice, long, hot shower, knowing that it could possibly be my last. I take my time washing my hair and shaking body. As I let the warm water cover my skin, I think of what I'll do if I were to get reaped. Would I win? How would I die? Who will my stylists be? It all remains a mystery, for now.
After 20 minutes or so, I finally decide to get dressed. My mother would always make me dress up for the reapings, and since this would be my last year with my name in those bowls, I decide to dress up extra special. I pull out a knee length dress with a floral pattern on it from my closet. I lay it on my bed and stare at it. It's yellow with white flowers and a zipper in the back. My mothers old dress. I take a deep breath and pull myself together as I slip off my towel and bring the dress over my head. I zip up the zipper in the back and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair still wet with water and my face pale with fear. I can't go out like this, not on my last reaping. I take out my blow-dryer and dry my hair. After 5 minutes or so, my long, silky blonde hair is finally dry. I comb it out and put it into a French braid down my back. I stare at myself again. My face still white as snow with huge dark bags underneath my sky blue eyes. I know what my mother would do.
I usually never wear makeup, but on a day like today, it's almost necessary. I open the mirror and bring out a small blue box with "Makeup" written in black marker on the lid. I open it up to find different kinds of tubes and containers. I recognize them from when my mother would use them. Blush, eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, all belonged to my mother. And are now all mine. I open the tubes and containers and apply makeup to my face until I look reaping appropriate, making sure not to overdo the makeup to look like a clown. Once I finish, I look in the mirror one last time and force a smile to my face. This is the girl that will be standing in the crowd with all the other 18 year old girls, hoping and praying that her name will not be chosen. This is the girl that could possibly be the one on stage, staring into the crowd and thinking of how her life could end. Well, if such a thing does happen, at least I won't look like a helpless waif.
I go back into my room and slip on a pair of yellow high heels to match the rest of my outfit. I sit down on my bed, lay my head on a pillow, and let out a sigh. For all I know, I may never feel the comfort of my own bed again. After a few minutes of hugging my pillow, I go into the kitchen to eat a bowl of cereal. As I eat, I stare out the window. Could this really be my last meal at home? Will I ever return? I can only hope.
Once I finish my meal, I put my dishes in the sink, wash them, and put them back in their place in the cupboard. I look at the time: 11:50 am. I take a deep breath and stand in the doorway for a moment, remembering one last thing. Thomas. How would he react if I got reaped? Would he even come to say goodbye? Would he even care if I died? And Melody… Would she be the same way? I shake the thought out of my head. I take a good look around my house, walk outside, close and lock the door behind me, and blow a kiss goodbye.