I am violently awoken by something happening in a dream I can't quite remember. Looking at the alarm clock, I curse under my breath. 7:00 AM, and I'm not even at the Academy yet. I leap out of bed, throw on some training clothes (a simple tank and shorts), and run downstairs.
"Gaius, get up! I have to get to training before the reaping!"
I hear loud groans coming from the other room. "Why can't you train at 11 instead?" my thirteen-year-old brother, Gaius, yells from across the house.
"Maybe if you didn't stay up until one in the morning reading that silly book about knights and dragons you wouldn't mind as much!" I walk up to our housekeeper, Lucia. "I'm going to train until about 10:30, then I'll come back here to get ready for the reaping at noon, okay? Please make sure Gaius gets up by ten and takes a shower. And God, please do not let him wear those dirty clothes from yesterday, he's been wearing them for three days." Lucia nods and goes to make my bed, as I head out.
As I jog to the District 2 Training Academy, I look around at the woods surrounding my home. Will this be the type of terrain I'll be facing in the Hunger Games? Maybe a desert? A tropical island? A freezing tundra? I knew I would volunteer for the Games one day ever since I was eight, during the 48th Games. I watched these teenagers receiving glory, money, fame, and I saw myself, eventually being one of them. And so, I trained. I trained from the day after my 10th birthday, five times a week, until I was an expert with most of the weapons. I could handle herself with a sword, mace, spear, or bow, but I was, and still am, particularly excellent with double daggers. If I can get ahold of two daggers, I will have wonderful odds in the Games. I picture myself in the arena, slaughtering contestant after contestant, fighting for my life. It seems a little scary, but if I pull through, it'll be the opportunity of a lifetime.
When I arrive at the Academy at 7:25, I at once head inside to a crowded room. A lot of people must be trying to get some last at-home training in before they volunteer. Most of them are at weapons stations, but I have another approach in mind. I can practice with weapons once I get to the Training Center in the Capitol. What I need right now is to be able to run.
A lot of young men and women want to volunteer for the Games every year, so the fastest person to get to the stage and announce their volunteering is always the chosen tribute. Having checked the approximate distance of where I'll be standing to the stairs at the side of the stage a few days before, I know that I'll have to sprint about 50 yards to be the first to volunteer. For nearly two hours, I practice sprinting the distance, until I can get 50 yards in six seconds. By then, it's 9:30, and I practice with survival skills until 10:45. After that, I sprint a little bit more to try and shave a second or so off my time. After all, one second could make a dramatic difference.
When I arrive home at 11:00 (the sprinting practice made a difference in my time running home, as well as being useful for the reaping), I only have an hour before the reaping starts, meaning I only really have forty-five minutes, as they always take forever to start. I take a quick shower, then let Lucia do my hair. It's a pretty style she comes up with, two braids on the sides of my head leading into a long, dark ponytail. "Looks good, and it's good for running," Lucia said when she finishes, patting me on the back. I touch the braids and try to mimic wind pushing them, but they don't budge. I look back at Lucia curiously, silently asking how that's possible. In response, Lucia only holds up a can of hairspray.
After Lucia finishes my hair, I go into Gaius' room to check and make sure he's ready. He is, dressed in a light blue button-down, black slacks, and dress shoes. He sits on his bed, reading that same book series he's loved for over a year now. It follows some knight and his dragon companion going on adventures together. I never understood why he enjoyed it. Of course, I've always preferred nonfiction books to fiction ones, especially since the history of our country of Panem is so interesting.
"Hey, G. You ready?" I ask.
"Yeah, just let me finish this chapter. It's kind of long, but we have some time."
I nod and go into my room to pick out a dress. I have an assortment of frilly, nonpractical things, but what I pick today needs to be something I can run in. As I'm trying to pick something out, I hear the front door open. I come out to the foyer to see my father coming in the door. He has a briefcase full of paperwork and folders tucked under his arm. My father works for the export of weapons in District 2. Mother's always at some party, or hobnobbing with officials, so Gaius and I don't see her much.
"Hello, dear," says Father, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before walking into his study.
"You know I'm going to volunteer-" I begin, but before I can finish, Father responds "I can't hear you, dear! Just tell me when you leave." I sigh and walk back into my room, where I find a surprise. On the bed lies a mint green dress, short enough to run in, but still very pretty. Moving closer, I see a silver necklace and a matching ring lying there as well. On the floor there lies a pair of black dress shoes that look easy enough to run in. Within a few minutes, I have the outfit on. I walk into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I don't look as I normally did, as I typically don't wear many fancy clothes unless Mother needs me to make an appearance at some function or another she's hosting. As I look, probably in more fascination than necessary, Lucia walks into the room. "I just wanted to check on you, and maybe help you put a little makeup on?" I smile and sit down so she can do so. She applies a light pink lip gloss on my lips, light blush on my cheeks and mascara on my eyes, keeping it simple, so that the Capitol citizens will recognize me in the arena. Just these simple highlights on my face make me look so different.
"Thank you, Lucia. I look nice." Lucia's honestly been more of a mother to me than Mother ever was. I stand up and give her a big hug before getting Gaius and walking to the front door. Just then, Mother walks through the front door.
"Hello, my darling babies!" she says as she comes in, looking interesting in a ridiculous frilly salmon cocktail dress. She must have stayed the night at her friend's party last night, as her makeup is smudged, and her hair is messy. She gives Gaius and I big hugs and then stands back to look at us.
"Oh, my dears. Gaius, your second reaping! And Venus, oh, my little girl, volunteering today! Granddad would be so proud of you!"My grandfather won the 3rd Hunger Games, becoming the first male District 2 victor. I hope I can honor his memory by winning these Games.
"Thanks, Mom. We should go, but I love you! And I'll hopefully see you in the waiting room." Mother gives me one last hug, and Father comes into the room again, finally giving Gaius and I his undivided attention. "Good luck today, you two. Venus, make me proud."
I nod, take Gaius' hand, and start the walk to the square.
The walk is about 20 minutes to get to the town square, where a large stage is set with a long row of chairs for the victors and the mayor. Funny how even though the mayor stands on the stage, her children could be called just as easily as anyone else's. Gaius heads over to the thirteen-year-old boy's section, where two hundred or so other boys of the same age wait. I walk over to the seventeen-year-old girls' section, trying to get near the front. A few minutes pass, and then, oh, then, our escort, Sagittaria Thorne, pops onto stage, wearing what must be the Capitol's new fashion: tiny reflective stars glued along her ghostly white arms, bright purple hair, and a canary yellow pantsuit. God, it's hilarious watching that woman trying to teach the more ruthless teens of our district the Capitol manners.
Sagittaria, in that awful Capitol accent, says "Good morning to you all! Are you ready to choose the tributes for the 57th Annual Hunger Games?!" She points her microphone into the crowd, but there's no response. The older teens, especially the boys, are getting ready to sprint, but they won't have to for at least a few minutes. The mayor reads the long, dull, Treaty of Treason, during which I find myself picking at my cuticles. I'm not nervous, I think to myself. I can win this thing.
After the Treaty, Sagittaria flounces up to the microphone again. "Thank you, Mayor Rivergreen. Now, children, it is time to choose our female tribute for the 57th Annual Hunger Games!" I get ready to run, making sure my shoes are on tight and my hair is still glued into place.
Sagittaria walks over to the giant glass ball, filled to the brim with teenage girls' names. She reaches her hand into the bowl, roots around for a few seconds, then fishes out a folded piece of paper. As soon as she gets back to the microphone, she reads it out. "Scoria Clearbrook," she says loudly. I hear a gasp from the girl standing beside me, but she doesn't walk up to the stage, so it can't be her. Instead, the crowd parts near the back, and a tiny girl, thirteen at the most, shakily starts to walk up to the stage.
"Scoria..." I hear the girl next to me whisper, who must be an older sister. Scoria reaches the stage, and Sagittaria helps her up.
"Now, are there any volunteers to take Scoria's place?" At this moment, I run.
One. I see three other girls, all my age or a year older, sprinting to the stage.
Two. One girl sees someone in the crowd and stops running. Looks like she changed her mind about volunteering.
Three. I hear the family of the girl that stopped berating her, lecturing her about bringing dishonor to their name.
Four. A second girl stumbles a bit. It's not much, but it's enough for me to pull ahead. I'm fifteen yards away now, so close.
Five. The last girl is almost at the stage, but I push her out of the way. She hits the concrete, not hard enough to seriously injure her, but hard enough to get me to the stage before she can get back up.
Six. I'm there, on the steps, Sagittaria, the mayor, my family, District 2, and the rest of Panem watching me, either in person or through a television screen.
"My name is Venus Creeksilver, and I volunteer as tribute."
Scoria scurries off the stage as fast as she can, desperate to get away from the prying eyes of the Capitol and back to her sister, as Sagittaria grabs my hand and helps me up to her left side.
"Will you say your name again, into the mic?" she says aside to me. I step up proudly to the thing, grab it in my hand, and say my name again.
"Wonderful! Now, let's choose our male tribute," Sagittaria says, sashaying over to the boys' bowl. She might as well not even draw a name, as there's a volunteer almost every year.
She plucks a name out and reads it aloud. "Magnus Wellsmith."
A massive boy, eighteen, stamps his feet and curses aloud. I guess he was planning on volunteering and now can't do anything about someone else doing the same, but he comes up on stage anyway.
"Now, are there any volunteers?" Sagittaria says with a smile. She knows there are.
About seven boys begin the sprint up. Two of them stumble, one falls altogether, and two others are pushed out of the way by a smaller, but strong, boy. It's down to him and a giant boy, who, when the smaller one catches up to him, picks the latter up by the back of his shirt and throws him, sending him stumbling into the younger boys.
The huge boy is now at the steps. "My name is Ronan Lockwood, and I volunteer as tribute."
Sagittaria is stunned for a second, looking to see if the smaller boy is all right. "I-well-yes, come on up, dear. Say your name into the microphone again, please." He does, Magnus storms off stage, we shake hands, and Sagittaria puts on her smile again.
"Let's give a big hand to District 2's tributes in the 57th Annual Hunger Games, Venus Creeksilver and Ronan Lockwood!" There is reluctant applause, then a group of Peacekeepers lead us into the back rooms, where we'll say good-bye to our families, at least one of us for the final time.