Butterflies. That's all I can feel. Butterflies in my stomach. I stand with this sickening tension in my gut as I wait. Waiting to be told to take my place for the games. My Stylist, Selvia holds me close to her, rubbing warmth into my back with her free hand. This basic human contact with her comforts me, but only a little. I am shaking. I can literally hear the shaking in my breathing. I am convinced I am going to vomit. I jerk my head up to look Selvia straight in the face and tears blur my vision. "I'm so scared," I choke. I blink to stop the tears from escaping my eyes but it doesn't work. A tear roles down each cheek. I can't think straight.
"Hush now Tomas," she says. "You have a decent chance of winning." Her voice is shaky. I hope she doesn't start crying too. What she said is true, according to the capitol. I am ranked 5th in the favourites for this years games. But right here, right now that means nothing to me. I swallow as the urge to vomit becomes stronger.
May the odds be ever in your favour. A wave of anger floods me as I repeat that line in my head. I want to kill whoever came up with that line. I want to kill whoever says that out loud. The odds are never in your favour! I feel weak, as if this sudden feeling of anger has sapped all of my energy. As I stare at a fresh teardrop on the floor, I swear its like the recent events in my life are flashing in front of my eyes. I remember it so clearly. That freezing morning in District 2…
I wake up shivering. A tight knot in my stomach. The day of the reaping is here. The day I have dreaded yet yearned for simultaneously. I am going to volunteer. If I had told the others at school, they would have laughed. I hate them. Ever since I was little I was picked on. Being so small and skinny didn't help. Always picked last when choosing teams for sport. Never respected. Pushed around. Laughed at. I hate them! I blame it on my shyness. I am a little awkward at times and still quite skinny despite having grown to 6 feet tall. Once I became a victim I remained a victim. It just stuck throughout my whole childhood; and now here I am pulling on my neatest clothes to go to the reaping and volunteer to prove them all wrong. To prove that I am a quality human being that deserves respect, and if I die then I die!
I have picked my moment; waiting until I was 18, my last reaping until I did this. Perhaps I am a coward for risking it so late. After training hard for the past few years, my physique is looking all right. A lean yet muscular body. My skill with weapons improving with each training session, though I am not as good as some of my colleagues whose lives revolve around this career tribute training.
I eat a small breakfast with my family and we leave for the square. I walk beside my sister Jade. She is 5 years older than me. We don't actually talk that much but I love her the most out of everyone in district 2. Well, almost everyone. It was only the other day that Aliss declared her love to me. It was a little awkward but I said I loved her too; and I do. Aliss and I have known each other since we were 3 years old. She is tall and slim with a beautiful face and strawberry blonde hair. She is playful and always happy to see you. Her eyes are incredible. They draw you in. They are an intense bright green. She is one of my true friends. It was yesterday, on the way back from school when she said she loved me. I blushed uncontrollably and she embraced me. I had loved her for the past 5 years and had thought that she loved me, but had never really been able to tell for sure. I think she finally told me because she knew I was going to volunteer. She is the only one I have told.
As I walk to take my place in the boy's section of the square, my sister grabs me from the side and hugs me. I look her in the eyes as she whispers "Good luck."
"Thanks Jade," I reply, with a sad smile. If only she knew. My parents wave goodbye and their expressions turn to happiness as they are greeted by some friends of theirs. They honestly don't think I am going to be a tribute. They know that someone will almost definitely volunteer and they don't think that I will. This angers me.
My thoughts are interrupted and I am brought back to the present by a pleasant female voice that echoes through the small room telling me to prepare for launch. Hot blood rushes to my face and my chest starts pounding. The butterflies fly twice as quickly and my stomach flips. I am definitely going to vomit.
I step onto the metal plate. "Good luck Tomas! May the odds ever be in your favour!" Says Selvia. This doesn't help, especially seeing as she got some of the words muddled. Could this feeling get any worse? It does. She starts sobbing. Oh great. She tries to compose herself knowing that this isn't helping, but she can't stop. A glass tube slides over the metal plate, trapping me. Chances of escape have just dropped to zero. I stand and watch the sobbing wreck of a woman that is my stylist. I look down at my clothes. A thermal shirt and thermal trousers, both skin tight. Soft, thin leather boots. A tear stained zip up jacket.
The metal plate lifts. I Panic. I shouldn't be here. Why am I here? I don't need to be here! I should have stayed in district 2! I should have stayed with Aliss. She's all I need. What have I done?
I vomit. It splatters onto the metal plate and bits land on my shoes. I wretch until my stomach is empty. Great. The boys back at district 2 will laugh when they notice. That's right, lets all have a laugh at Tomas. I am surprised when I find myself chuckling. It doesn't last long.
Aliss. She floods my mind and I am brought back to the reaping day. I see her wave to me from the girl's section. She gives me a sad smile and looks away, wiping her eyes and nose.
I am filled with conflicted emotions. I push them away. I need to do this.
The stench of vomit fills my nostrils as the plate takes me higher.
Marge Vindavuer. District 2's escort. Her voice has been flitting here and there in my ears but meaning nothing. I'm lost in my own thoughts. Suddenly I am aware of her reaching into the boy's glass bowl. She pulls out a slip of paper and reads out, "Jamual Falls!" The crowd applauds. I have never heard the name but I see a young boy, 13 or 14 years of age slowly walk towards the stage. He looks confused. Marge looks down at him and smiles then faces the crowd. Her green ringlets of hair bouncing from the movement. "Do we have any volunteers?" she asks with incredible enthusiasm. I tense up. Now is my time. "I volunteer!" screams a voice from behind me. That deep booming voice full of arrogance. Zander. Of course he would volunteer. I hate him the most of all.
As the hulking brutish figure of Zander saunters towards the stage, his group of arrogant friends let out a boastful cheer. As he nears the stage a second figure that it takes me a few seconds to recognise, struts to the stage. Jak is his name. Zander is the same age as me. Jak is a year younger. As they both take their place on the stage I walk briskly from my place and up to the stage. I here a few whispers and feel countless eyes on me. I feel incredibly self-conscious. As I take my place on the stage I catch Zander's eye. He smirks and shakes his head, yet there is also a look of annoyance there. He doesn't want me ruining his games.
As the young Jamual walks from the stage with relief, Marge places three slips of paper into a smaller bowl. A bowl used often by the career districts. Volunteer's names will be placed in the smaller bowl then picked at random. She mixes the three slips up as much as possible then picks one out. I freeze. "Tomas Andralis!"
My name…. she called my name. I stare at the crowd as they applaud me. I try and pick out my family or Aliss but can't see them. Jak looks at me, nods, then makes his way off the stage. Zander curses and bumps my shoulder as he blunders off the stage in a rage. Now it's my turn to smirk. I catch site of Aliss at last and hold her gaze. A girl tribute is chosen then replaced by a single volunteer. The girl volunteer is called Blaze and is massive. I don't know her very well, which is probably a good thing seeing as we will be pitted against each other.
Its not until I have said my farewells to my shocked Family and a hysterical Aliss that the butterfly's kick in. Those butterfly's never left. And they are there with me now as I am lifted upwards, to my death.