Chapter Two - Trish - Chances
"Yep. Everything's set," I practically chirped into the phone. "Our Hunger... er, Justice Games party is totally ready. All we need is to do is set everything up then wait for everyone to arrive." I was talking to Bree, my best friend in the whole Capitol. Every year, we always had our Hunger Games party. And it wouldn't change just because of some change in government. The only thing that had really changed for me was that we had some house guests, because their apartments had been wrecked by the rebels or the Peacekeepers or whoever. I bounced off my brand-new goose down bed.
I looked myself over in my vanity's mirror. From the top of my pink wig to my feathered boots, I was all style. And I'd need to be, since the reaping was tonight. I might get to be on TV when they panned the crowd, and I needed to look my best. After all, I was going to be sitting right up front, among the other young Capitolers - just how the kids from the Districts had stood in front of the stage during the old Reapings, and so many of them had been spotted on TV.
"You hang up!" said Bree. It was the usual use of the last ten minutes of our phone calls: deciding who would hang up. It was some sort of trend, I'd heard. I didn't know why, since I thought it made me sound dumb. But I couldn't just ignore a trend.
Suddenly, my dad stomped into the room, and snatched the phone out of my hand with his perfectly-manicured fingers. "What is your problem? Dad-eeeee!"
"What were you doing on that phone?" He shouted the question with a kind of volume and rage I'd never heard from him before.
"I was just planning a Justice Games party. You heard that new Presidential guy. It's a time for celebration!" What was wrong with him? Whenever there was a Games, there was a party. We'd get together, eat the caviar from 4 that I'd stockpiled, and bet everything on everything. My money was on someone from the Outer Capitol winning...
"Don't you understand, you thick little girl? We're no longer safe! Your grandfather is dead, the rebels have taken the Capitol, and we're no longer watching the Games! We are the Games!"
I still didn't understand this. I stood stock still, completely stunned. He was always so cool about my parties, my fashion, everything. But here he was, stomping schizodly around the room, his hip blond wig askew and his fine woolen suit soaked with tears. I just blinked back tears. No one ever yelled at me, or stressed about the Games.
"When's the last time you actually listened to the news, Trish? It's a new government. And that does affect us!" He began tugging at his wig and trying to straighten his suit simultaneously. The overall affect of his too-red face, coated in tears, and sideways wig was almost funny. I supressed a giggle. "And here you are, laughing! You silly girl! I shouldn't have shielded you so much from what was going on in Panem. You don't even get it! This year, the constestants in the Games will be from the Capitol! The relatives of past leaders!"
This brought me down to earth. I was begining to see why we was freaked. "Does that mean..." I trailed off mid-question.
"Your grandfather was the President. You have more chances to be Reaped than anybody!" He pressed a soggy piece of paper. I peeked at it as he continued to stalk around my room, bellowing. The note was headed up with the official seal of Panem, and it read:
Governmental Notice: Justice Games Rules
This year's Justice Games will be a final installment of the Hunger Games, meant to settle the score between the people of the districts and their Capitol counterparts. As a final revenge and an agent of poetic justice, these Games will be a fight to the death, on live TV, between the relatives between the ages of 12 and 16 of past Capitol leaders. The amount of ballots one child has in the reaping will be decided by three factors:
- The child's relationship to a past leader or war criminal:
1 ballot for cousins
2 ballots for nieces and nephews
3 ballots for children and grandchildren
- The age of the child:
1 ballot for 12 year olds, then one ballot added per year untill the child reaches 19, when he becomes ineligible for the Reaping.
- The rank of the child's relative:
1 ballot for peacekeepers
2 ballots for soldiers
3 ballots for officers
4 ballots for gamemakers
5 ballots for mayors, state representatives, and senators
I had to read the notice three times before this line sank in:
10 ballots for President Snow
I was the grandchild of a past leader. I was 16.
I was related to President Snow.
I looked up these facts on the paper, forcing myself to do the math. I had eighteen ballots in the Reaping. More chances than anybody. I struggled to understand what this meant, what this was and how it changed things for me. It was eighteen chances to go die in a gory way. It was more likely that I would go to the arena than anyone else in Panem. I collapsed onto the bed.
The Games no longer seemed like fun.