Saloven "Sal" Field, District 9
"We will drink
We will laugh
Until the morning comes
That is what we are going to do."
Bright Eyes, False Advertising
The train carriage is quiet, as quiet as a grave. It's fitting, seeing as that's where the eight of us will probably be in a week. But only seven if I can help it.
It's only natural to want to live.
"Hi! My name's Saloven but you can call me Sal," I say, desperate to break the silence. Nobody replies. I look around at my audience, kids who live far enough away from the Capitol to be the first tributes on the train. There are two stick-thin miner's kids from Twelve, a sickly looking boy with scars on his arms and a girl with only one hand from Six, a wispy-haired boy and a muscular, dark-skinned girl from Eleven and, of course, myself and my curly-haired district partner, Chiabatta.
They're all smaller than me. The only one who I don't dwarf is the girl from Eleven. I probably shouldn't be surprised. I've always been the tallest kid in my class. If I'd been a year or two older, I'd actually be thinking about victory. Unfortunately, at only fifteen, I'm the average size for an eighteen-year-old. Judging from what I've seen from last year's games, average won't get me the victory.
"How big d'you reckon the boy from Two will be this year?" I ask. I have to keep talking. If I stop talking, I'll start worrying about where I'm going and what's going to happen to me. I'm one of the few people in the district who actually watched the games last year. My neighbour, Sephie, had been reaped and I'd had to watch the boy from Two break her skull apart like glass.
There's no way I'm going out the same way.
"I don't know," the girl from Eleven speaks up, "Probably massive. If he's not, someone else will be."
The carriage falls silent again. I know what everyone's thinking. I'm the strongest here and even I can't compare to whatever burly eighteen-year-old is most likely coming our way.
I need to stop thinking, keep talking.
"So, what's your name?" I ask the girl.
"Rhubarb," she says, "Most people call me Barb."
"That's cool. How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"I'm fifteen." I say, proudly.
"Fifteen?" Barb looks shocked, "You're massive! You can't be fifteen."
"I cut wheat all day," I explain, "It's quite a workout, especially on the arms."
"I can imagine," Barb says, "I'm an apple picker. We've got these special mutt trees that grow extra tall so we can produce more apples and I have to climb right to the top to get them."
"Do the apples taste any different?" I ask, with a chuckle. It's typical of me to think with my stomach.
"I don't know," she folds her arms, "I never get to eat any."
We keep chatting until we reach District 8 and a couple of pasty-faced weavers join us, reminding us of where we're going. I realise that, if I'm going to survive these games, Barb will have to die. Making friends with her will only hurt my chances in the arena.
Unless...
"Hey, Barb," I say, "D'you want to form an alliance?"
"An alliance?" She asks, eyes widening in the gloom.
"Yeah," I nod, "Since we're both pretty big, maybe we can work together to take down anyone bigger than us."
Barb ponders this for a second.
"Sounds like a plan," She holds out her hand to shake in the darkness. I shake it, feeling a little uneasy.
I hope she knows I'm going to kill her the moment it's just us and the smaller kids. I hope she tries to fight back. It'll make it less painful for me, knowing that she didn't just trust me blindly.
Because I know that my ally will eventually have to die if I want to live. And it's only natural to want to live.
Sal might've got really unlucky being reaped at fifteen but that didn't stop him from winning and, actually, if he'd been reaped any later he wouldn't have stood a chance. For example, if you've read The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, you'll know the fate of the District 9 tributes in the next games. If you haven't... the next chapter is going to be a massive spoiler.
Also, Sal's surname might be a little familiar to those of you who've read The Bride and The Widow. Don't panic if you don't remember it, since it was only a minor detail, but, if you do remember it, you know what will eventually happen to him after his victory.