Neiva

'Neiva,' my mother shouts, and I know its time.

I sit up, and pull the blankets off my legs, and look out of the window where the curtains don't stop the bright sunlight shining through.

It is such a beautiful day.

And good day to die?

I hope not.

I stand up, and walk to the window, move the curtains below and look out.

See the rebel soldiers in the square below.

Oh but I'm not supposed to call them rebels, not now, not now they are in charge. Not now that my grandfather is dead.

He used to be the leader of the Capitol.

He used to be in charge.

I remember as a young child sitting on his knee and hearing all about the games that ran every year. About how the children of the districts got the honour to fight in them.

I loved hearing the stories, just like I loved him, but when I was older, and able to watch the games myself, well, I could tell they were wrong.

I even told him once, and he got so angry. He hit me, and shouted it was the only way to keep the districts under control.

And then he picked up my favourite doll, one he had given me for my second birthday, and threw it out of the window.

He told me that without the games, the people in the districts wouldn't work for the ~Capitol, so there would be no more things like dolls, or other luxuries.

And when I started to cry, he got down on one knee in front of me, and gathered me in his arms, and said that I was to think of the games as a marvellous adventure.

Nothing else.

So that's what I did. With my doll safely restoried to my arms, after my mother had had it cleaned, I sat and watched the games, and it was just entertainment to me.

I didn't allow myself to believe that anyone was dying in them.

It was all make believe.

But now?

I sigh as my mother comes into the room carrying a snow white dress in her arms.

'Is it time already?' I ask.

She nods.

And so with a gulp, I get dressed, and my mother plaits my hair into two fat braids.

My name is Neiva, and I am going to the reapings, which for the first time in the history of the games only has Capitol children, and maybe I will be one of those who are chosen.

And then the pretence of the games, and all my Grandfather's ideas, will count as nothing.

Because I will die.

I am only twelve years old.