Nailah Nebit, District Two female (18)

"Four."

"Two."

"Four again."

I watched Anthony's fingers as he held them up in different combinations. I was no first aid expert but I knew it was bad news when someone lost consciousness. I was very lucky it had only been for a few seconds and that I'd landed partly on my arm when I fell. A lot of people didn't know how easy it was to die from a simple fall.

"Who's the President?"

"President Snow."

"How many days have we been in the Arena?"

I had to think about it, but that was just because the days blurred together. "Nine."

Anthony paused. "I'm not really sure, actually. They all blur together."

"I think I'm okay." I had a headache but I hadn't noticed any balance problems or lack of coordination. I took out a throwing star and chucked it at a tree. When it stuck into the trunk I felt a bit better. I think I'm okay.


Cheyanne Talor, District Three female (17)

I could last out the rest of the Games. It just wouldn't be pretty. At this point I was already mostly thinking about just not falling out of the tree. I had food and water, technically, but it wasn't enough to sustain me, not even when I was barely moving. The Games usually only lasted two or three weeks. I wouldn't starve in that time but I was going to be a mess if I got out. My organs were probably in rough shape from getting enough water to survive but not enough water to be healthy. I always felt just a little gnawing hunger, especially since I didn't want to run out of coconuts and have to climb down the tree unsteadily. But that was the problem- if I did run out I'd have to climb down after getting even more weak.

That didn't even cover the smaller problems. My hygiene, for one. Back home I showered almost every day, since I did so many sports. I hadn't so much as been able to wash my hands in the ten days I'd been up a tree. I turned my stomach to think of how grimy they were as I picked out coconut meat to eat. And then there was what came after that. Two days ago I'd sacrificed my underpants. After wearing them a week straight it just made me shudder to pull them back up after "bathroom" activities. I'd stuffed them into a crotch in the tree in case I could find a use for them and just a day later I tore out the elastic in the waistband to help secure me to the tree in case I toppled over in my sleep. I couldn't imagine it was good for my skin to constantly rub against my pants, but that was another thing that wouldn't kill me but just make my life miserable.

I scrunched up against the tree trunk when I saw someone moving beneath me. I hadn't even heard Nailah coming- it was nightmarish how quiet Careers could be. She saw a discarded coconut and made a beeline for the tree. The wrong tree, that was, since I'd been throwing the finished coconuts in different directions so it wouldn't be obvious. Nailah paused at a safe distance from the tree the coconut was by and looked up into it. She peered from a few angles to get around any foliage and saw it was empty. She turned away from it… and started looking up at other trees.

Oh no… I curled further into myself under the cover of the large but thin palm fronds.

When Nailah turned her head to look at another tree I darted out a hand and grabbed a coconut. I was hidden again before she looked back, but she saw the still-moving frond by my arm and looked over just as I desperately threw the coconut. She hopped back as it fell at her feet. Her arm was up and throwing before I even saw it. It was only common sense that saved my life. I curled myself behind the trunk I was wedged by, holding myself in place awkwardly with my arms and abdominal muscles, as the throwing star thudded into the wood where I'd been a second ago.

Common sense saved me again when I stopped just before grabbing the star to throw back at her. I remembered she was a poisoner just in time and tore off a bit of palm frond as a barrier before dislodging the star as Nailah was circling for a better shot. I threw it at her center mass, hoping I could just nick her a little. But I didn't know how to throw a shuriken, and it went wildly to her left.

I would have thought Nailah would have thrown a second star before I could get off even one shot. I figured it out a heartbeat before it happened. My blood went cold before I felt the tiny pain in my lower leg. It was the only part of me exposed- just a little strip of calf where my legs were helping hold me in place. Such a tiny shot… she'd been taking her time to aim.

There was surprisingly little pain. I hardly noticed it past the panic. I started hyperventilating, tears spilling over as I looked with horror at the throwing star's barb in my skin. I brushed it off, cutting my finger in the process, but I knew it was too late.

I don't want to die. I had to see my mother again. I had to meet my birth parents. I had to grow up and meet someone special. I used to daydream about my wedding and what my husband would be like and what we would name our kids. Their names were supposed to be Susan and Calvin. They were supposed to look like their father.

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want


Culter Spring, District Eleven male (17)

Dirt and silt wafted off my socks as I squeezed them under the water of the creek I was crouched beside. Hunger and thirst and Careers were dangerous, but it wouldn't do to overlook the smaller dangers of the Arena. Back in Eleven there were a few people every year who thought it wasn't important to change their socks and found out the hard way when chunks of skin sloughed off after twelve-hour shifts plowing furrows in fields that were nothing but mud from the spring rains. Mud and grime next to raw, desiccated skin was a recipe for disaster.

As my socks were hanging on a branch to dry, I washed myself off in the river water and took stock of the Games. I'd lasted longer than probably a lot of people thought I would. There were only nine people left and only three Careers. Some of the survivors weren't that much of a danger, not that I was going to go pick a fight with them. Porsche, for example, was probably still here because none of the Careers bothered to hunt for her. It was nice Eleven still had both its Tributes, though. There was a two out of nine chance that at least my District would get some food and supplies out of this.

I was leaning with my back to a tree, checking if my socks were dry yet, when I saw movement just a few feet away from me. I didn't even think about if before I launched myself toward the still partly-hidden finger with my fists up. Only a Career would come up so close to someone else. My fist hit the figure's nose and it crashed to the ground.

I was on top of the Tribute before I got a good look at his face. I hesitated when I saw it was Martin, not Dionsysus or Anthony, but only for a second. There could only be one survivor and Martin knew it as well as I did.

Martin groaned and put up a hand dazedly. I swatted it aside and punched him in the ribs, then bent my forearm across his throat to strangle him. He struggled under me but I was a lot bigger and heavier than he was. I could see him starting to panic.

A baseball bat smashed into the side of my head. I might have been killed or knocked clean out if my ear hadn't taken some of the impact, the skin tearing off half my upper earlobe. I rolled to the side to try to go with the blow and jumped to my feet to see Porsche wielding her bloodied walking stick.

"Get off him!" she yelled as she tried to run after me. I say "tried" for two reasons. First, she couldn't run so much as hobble. Second, Martin lunged up and grabbed her by the seat of the pants to hold her back. That might have saved her life, since all her spirit couldn't overcome my superior strength and mobility. As it was, I saw Martin getting back up and knew two opponents was too much. I turned and fled, stopping only to grab my shoes and socks on the way. I hadn't even really wanted a fight in the first place. The Games had turned me into this. I hated it- I was acting like my brother.


Just a little check-in with Nailah to tell everyone I wasn't being nefarious, she really did just bump her head and get better.

10th place: Cheyanne Talor- poisoned throwing star by Nailah

Cheyanne was this Game's camper. She got a good spot and saw no reason to leave it. Even when Nailah came she didn't panic. If coconuts weren't so oddly-shaped her throw might have been more accurate, but even then Nailah knew someone was nearby and to be on the lookout. There were a lot of loose ends in Cheyanne's life that couldn't get tied up because she was focused on the Games. That sucks but hopefully some of the other authors will explore that. Thanks Treblenotes for a grounded, practical Tribute and Anthony is still going strong at least.