Chapter One:
Just Because I'm Rich and Beautiful, Doesn't Mean I Don't Love Competition
"I'm so sick of you!" Silvia DeDevoir shouted at her husband, Platinum.
"Mom?" Her daughter, Majesty, just walked into their large living quarters. "What's going on?"
"Well," Silvia began. Her daughter never sees them fight. Actually, nobody does. The only reason they stay together is for the social status in District 1.
"We were just practicing some lines for the new show we are auditioning for," Platinum improvised quickly.
"Oh," Majesty giggled, "okay! Well, where are my Reaping clothes?"
"On the kitchen table," Silvia told her. Majesty smiled, and ran after them. This was her very first Reaping, and she was 8. Thank you, Quarter Quell! she cheered in her mind. Most people may cry at the thought of even entering the Reaping quarters, but not District 1, especially not her.
She ran towards the beautiful, elegant outfit her mother laid out for her. Her emerald green eyes sparkle as she sees it. She swiftly slips off her night gown she had been previously wearing, and pulls the little white sundress up over her body. "Mother, will you zip me?" she asks. Silvia looks from the TV to her daughter and got up. After pulling on the white zipper until her dress was fastened, she put a pink headband on top of her daughter's beautiful honey blonde head. Majesty flicked her shoulder length hair behind her and smoothed her dress down. "I love it!" She smiled, over excitedly, and giggled a bit.
"Let's go!" Platinum shouted from the living room.
Silvia grabbed the keys from the kitchen counter, and they all walked out the front door, locking it behind them.
Jamie Peterson shoved a forkful of fluffy gold pancake into his mouth and looked at the time. 11:24. Good, they were on time.
"Is everyone almost ready?" his mother, Halle, shouted from the downstairs bathroom. She was probably doing her hair, or her makeup.
Jamie simply grunted and he heard his younger sister, Amelia, shriek excitedly from upstairs. Whatever, he thought. This year was supposed to be great. It was his final year at school, it was his first year that he wasn't eligible for the Games, and now…
After swallowing all of the pancakes, he threw his plate in the sink and ran up the stairs to get dressed. He pulled a pair of dark denim jeans from his drawer then slipped a green and blue patterned short sleeve shirt over his messy blonde hair. Then he sat on his bed and began to slowly tie the fresh laces of his new shoes. His mother got them for him last week for the Reapings.
He stomped back down the stairs and slumped on a bench by the front door. His mother entered the room in a flowing black dress that glittered in the sunlight that streamed through the front windows. "Are you ready?" she asked in enjoyment.
"Can we just go?" Jamie asked indignantly and stormed out of the house. Why is she so oblivious? he asked himself.
"Good afternoon District One and welcome to the 125th annual Hunger Games!" trilled Ellie Yeazle, the District One escort. "As you all know, this is the 5th Quarter Quell and the rules have been changed. All of you out there are in these two jars, and only two will be picked." Her sparkling silver 8-inch heels clicked on the hard stage as she took short choppy steps over to the glass ball that said 'females.' It originally said 'girls' but since the rules of the Games have changed, someone crossed out 'girls' and replaced it with 'females.'
She pulled out a slip of paper and shimmied over to the podium with the microphone. "Everyone, give a warm welcome to Majesty Devoir!"
There was an excited shriek as a small eight-year-old girl with honey blonde curls that bounced around her shoulders ran up to the stage. Yes! she thought. Please, nobody volunteer!
When nobody volunteered, just as she had hoped, Ellie moved on. "Our male tribute is…" she pulled out a white strip of paper from the 'male' ball and read, "Jamie Peterson!"
A muscle-built nineteen-year-old boy strode up the stairs to the stage and gave a small smile to the crowd. His mother yelled from the back of the crowd, "GO JAMIE!" Obviously someone was excited. But not him.
"Congratulations to our tributes," Ellie began, "and may the odds be ever in favor!"
Oh no, Jamie thought, the odds are most definitely not in my favor.
