Chapter 2
District 2
The knife leaves my hand with a flourish, and implants itself hilt-deep into the bull's eye. I grin maliciously while I imagine it being a tribute. I turn around and grab a few more knives; I empty my hands by throwing them at various vital points in the dummy's body. I hear footsteps behind me, and turn, throwing a knife at lightning speed, into the wall beside the person. Brock smiles up at me, while he twirls a sword in his hand. I smile back and remark, "Looks like we both had the same idea." He laughs and replies, "You think you'll get picked?" he asks. "I know I will!" I reply, "And I bet you will too! We're the best here, the only ones with a chance." He nods his head at this and sighs. "I have to go home." I say while walking briskly out of the door. I'm not an idiot. I know how Brock feels about me, and I don't feel the same. There aren't any feelings towards him. After I leave the weapons room, I head back upstairs. I continue to wonder the school, hoping to be taken by a teacher and told something about being this year's tribute. "They won't pick us both." Brock makes me jump as he whispers this in my ear. Before I have time to say anything back, Mrs. Freck comes out and says, "Brock, come here please." He smiles as he walks towards her office. Seconds later, Mrs. Freck shows her head again and points to me, or at least I thought me, and waves it in, telling me to come. I smile, but it soon leaves when Avary Fimmer runs by me. She walks into the room with a smile at me. Anger boils inside me, just below the surface. I turn around and walk straight out of the training building. I run the 2 blocks to my house and bust through the door. "I DIDN'T GET PICKED!" I scream at my mother, "SO I GUESS YOU CAN BE HAPPY NOW! I HAVE NO CHANCE TO GO IN." I finish by running upstairs to my room and bursting into tears. I cry my eyes out on my bed, my biggest dream, gone. Since I'm 18, this is my last year, my last chance to go in. When I was little, I would always imagine being showered in riches, and everyone liking me. I climb out of my window onto the roof. I sit here while wiping the tears from my eyes. Maybe it was for the best. I wasn't guaranteed to win anyway. I heard a big guy from 4 was going to volunteer. The last 10 years of my life, have been devoted to training for the Hunger Games. It's so hard to comprehend that all of it is for nothing. I shake it off and climb back into the roof. I go downstairs and walk back out of the door. I immediately notice Avary walking on the other side of the road and jog over to her. I notice she has also been crying. "What's wrong? Did you get picked?" I ask. She looks up with beady eyes, "Yes, but I don't think I'm ready, I'm only 16." She sadly says. "You'll do great." I say with finality. I go back to my house and wait for Brock. When he finally rounds the corner, it's almost night. "Hey!" I say to him. He stops in his tracks and smiles," I told you they wouldn't ask us both." He says. It's my turn to sigh as I stop walking. "I wanted it more." After saying this I turn and go back inside. Without eating, I go to my room and lay down. Within minutes I find sleep. I dream about going into the games. In my dream, a twelve year old kills Brock and comes after me. While running, I fall into a trap and get caught in a rope. The little girl runs over and chops off my head. I wake up screaming, and see it's still late. I need sleep for the reaping, so I go back to sleep.
My eyes peel open as they struggle to adjust to the glint of the sun from my window. I yawn and relax a minute. I get up and go into the shower. Once I finish I put on my silver dress covered in pearls. It's slightly heavy, but I can do it. I walk down the stairs in my 6 inch high heels and out the door. I've learned to hate my family, for everything. From the name they gave me, to not supporting my going into the games. When I get to the reaping, they ask for my finger and I lay it out. I feel the prick that will not come back ever again and I hear a girl say, "Anastasia Anderson, Female, Age 18." I nod and walk 10 feet into the 18 year old section. Once everyone filters in, I wait for the escort. By the time he comes out, we are all sweating. He says his introductions and shows the video. Most of us zone him out until he walks towards the female bowl. "Alex Jutting" he says loudy. I see a small twelve year old leave her area and trek towards the stage. After a few seconds, I look puzzled into the 16 year old section. Many are nudging Avary and telling her to go. Tears drop from her eyes and I know she won't volunteer. Taking advantage of the situation before everyone else, I rise to the request, "I volunteer to be a tribute." I say. My heart beats fast as I want to shout to the skies. My dreams have come true! I wait on the stage and its remarkable when Brock's name is called. "Brock Anderson" His last name leaves a ringing in my ears as I know we are going in together. My brother and I. Both tributes in the 44th Hunger Games. I walk into the justice building and wait for someone to come in. My mom comes in and bursts into tears. "I'm sorry" is all I can muster before she is forced to leave. With similar reactions to the rest of my family, finally Avary walks in. She can't look me in the eye as the words spill out of her mouth. "Listen and listen close. Mrs. Freck told me about a tribute to be worried about. Not just four, but also a girl from 7. She's ranking a lot on the chart, and is the best they've seen. The arena is said to have a secret. If you don't find it out you could die. And one more thing, the only thing I can say about it is don't trust everyone, your enemy will be so much closer than you think." She says all of this without taking a breath, and finishes by walking out of the door. My lips drop as my mind races. A peacekeeper comes in and takes me to the train. This is my dream. My greatest wish. So then why, why, why, am I so nervous?