Chapter Three: Leaving the Safety Zone

Still the Same Day

Clara Ridley, District One Female

I should have known this would have been my year.

I've been working for years to earn this spot. Giving it my all. Pouring blood, sweat, tears, and a lot of other bodily fluids into it. Letting my schoolwork, relationships, and even my health fall by the wayside while I trained.

But, in the end, it all paid off. I got the coveted spot of designated volunteer for the Hunger Games this year.

At eighteen, this is the last year I'm eligible, and hopefully my best year.

But it doesn't matter if it's my best year: I'm pretty sure I'd come back home anyway.

However, all of this training had to be done in secret. Neither of my parents could know. My father especially.

That was because of an incident, which I was forbidden from mentioning to anyone.

But I digress.

Twelve years ago, on a fine summer morning, my father's brother, my Uncle Sunset, decided that he'd sneak out of the District that night. Not for long. He'd just jump a train, jump back off at the first stop, and be back before anyone knew what had happened. Or so he thought.

What actually happened was that after he stowed away on a cargo train bound for the Capitol, a Peacekeeper found him during a routine cabin inspection and shot him on sight. Dead in seconds. The body was never returned.

That was when my parents, my father especially, went into Super-Hyper-Overdrive Child Protective Mode (patent pending) and all but grounded me. From age six until around age eleven, I left the house for school and that was about it. Any time I did have to leave, both of them would have to be with me at all times. I never was able to play with other children, because according to my father, "they'll just give you ideas."

Finally, at age eleven, my parents loosened the boundaries a little. That was the first year they let me walk to school, about three minutes away, on my own.

A few months after that, I finally made a friend, a girl named Diamond Cleant. Even though she was a year younger than me, it was pretty clear we clicked after a few hours together.

After two years of seeing each other at every conceivable time, Diamond did something that would impact the rest of my life: she introduced me to the training facility, saying she'd been training there for months.

It was the best thing that ever happened to me. Fast-forward to now, and not only am I in excellent physical shape, I also have the opportunity to win more fame and fortune than any person could ever need.

Finally, it would show my parents that I can handle myself. It wouldn't do to treat a person who won the Hunger Games like a six-year-old.

But, they can never know I'm the designated volunteer.

At least, not until tomorrow.

By sheer coincidence, I happen to pass by Diamond on the walk home.

"Hey, Diamond. Mind if I stop you for a second?" I need to spill my guts to someone before I leave or else I'm going to explode. And Diamond is my best friend. She deserves to know the news.

"Sure thing, Clara."

We walk over to an empty bench and plop down next to each other. As soon as she stops fidgeting and trying to get comfortable, she stares directly at my eyes.

"Do you have something you need to tell me? I have to get home."

"Yes, I do. And it can't wait."

I make sure to look her in the eyes as I speak. "I got chosen as the designated volunteer today. I'm supposed to leave tomorrow."

A couple of tears leak out of her eyes, but then she starts grinning like a maniac. I can only hope her happiness is genuine.

"Oh, Clara!" This comes out in a gasp. "I- I- I don't know what to say!"

"Don't worry, you don't have to say anything. Just wish me luck."

"That I will, Clara! Good luck!"

Diamond gets up and begins walking towards her house. Once she's out of sight, I begin walking in the other direction.

I try to ignore the thought that I might never see her again.

I know I need to make one more stop before I get home. I have to go see Myland, my boyfriend of about two years, and tell him the news. Because we're so close, It makes sense to let him know that I'm leaving tomorrow and might not be coming back.

So, I walk up to his front door- only about a block away from my own house- and knock.

Myland, surprisingly enough, answers the door. His mother must be out doing something. "Oh. Hi, Clara."

"Hello. Can I come in for a sec?"

"No problem."

As I step inside, I notice how clean the place looks compared to mine. Sure, living with a one-year-old doesn't help in terms of the cleanliness factor of my house, but it's still never been anywhere near as pristine as this.

As soon as I see that neither of his parents are here, I decide to cut to the chase. My parents will kill me if I come home late.

"Myland, I have something to tell you."

"Is it that I'm the best person you've ever met? Because I got that vibe the day you met me."

"Oh, knock it off!"

Yeah, we do that a lot. It's drawn a lot of crude comments from anyone who's seen us together, but the teasing aspect of our relationship is harmless. Most of the time, at least.

"It's not that. It's something about a million times more important."

"Which is?"

I draw in breath, not sure how he'll respond to this. "I got nominated as the designated volunteer for the Hunger Games. And the Reaping is tomorrow."

His jaw drops, and I mean that literally. His mouth hangs open for a solid half a minute as he tries to form coherent words.

Finally, he forces his mouth closed, and gasps, "What?"

"I'm not making this up. The Reaping is tomorrow. And I'm supposed to volunteer."

He stands there, silently, as tears begin to slide down his cheeks. He's looking away, not wanting to see my face.

I slowly back away. What have I just done? What happened to the person I loved so much for the past two years?

All I can say is "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't- I didn't-" But I can't finish my statement. Watching him break down is too saddening for me.

I try to talk to him again, but he won't stop crying.

Then, I leave, because I realize the best thing I can do is let him grieve in peace.

I don't bother to knock when I reach home.

My parents are probably beyond antsy right now, because I was home a whole five minutes later than I said I was going to be. The horror!

As soon as I throw the door open, my father, Fraser, strides up to me and begins to get in my face. "Young lady? Why are you late?"

"Dad, I was late by five minutes, can't you just let it go for once?"

"No, I can not let this go!" He's already turned a shade of red that a ruby would envy. "If I let this go, this becomes a pattern. If this becomes a pattern, you become like Uncle Sunset. And if you become like Uncle Sunset…"

"You don't need to finish that statement, Dad. I've been hearing it for the past twelve years." I hope my boredom isn't evident from my expression, but that statement is true.

He somehow goes an even deeper shade of red at that. "I will not tolerate your lip, missy! You're grounded until further notice!"

I can hardly suppress a snicker. Normally, I would have been ticked off that I was grounded for virtually no reason. But I'll be leaving tomorrow, so why should I care?

I just notice that my mother, Tunica, has been listening in on our argument. She hasn't said a word, though. She never does, because she's afraid of offending Fraser. It's annoying, but I don't blame her. If I was married to a sweaty ball of nerves, anger, and over-controlling madness, I'd be afraid of offending him too.

After that exchange, my father is simmering like crazy, so I want to spend as little time near him as possible. Thus, I decide I don't want to eat dinner, instead choosing to grab an apple from the counter and eat it in my room.

As soon as I get to my room, I take in the surroundings for what hopefully is the last time. Gray walls surrounding the zebra-striped bedding, stark white dresser and dark gray tiled floors. My monochromatic wardrobe spread out between the dresser, the bed, and the floor. Even the mirror, instead of being a gold one like the ones both my parents and my younger brother, Alvar, have, is silver and gray. Occasionally, Diamond or Myland would make a joke about how my room made them think I was colorblind, but I'd just laugh it off and point to above my bed.

The one thing in my room that isn't black and white hangs there. It's a drawing Myland had a street artist make me for my sixteenth birthday, shortly before Diamond stopped training. It depicted the three of us in the training room together, immersed in various activities.

"Clara! Dinner's ready!" My mother's calling from downstairs.

"I'm not hungry!" I call down the stairs.

"Too bad! You're eating anyway!" This coming from my father.

Groaning, I trudge down the stairs and plop myself at the dinner table, only to be immediately greeted by a high-pitched wail from Alvar, my one-year-old brother. He's cute and all, but part of me struggles to remember a time when he wasn't constantly crying.

Dinner drags on and on. I don't do much except pick at my food. Between Dad glaring at me from across the table, my mother sighing and shaking her head, and Alvar screeching at the top of his lungs and throwing stuff from his high chair, I don't have much of an appetite anyway.

After an eternal half hour, dinner mercifully ends, and I can escape to my room.

I'm not coming back out until tomorrow. I need some time alone to plan.

First, I take down the drawing. I don't want it to go to waste when I leave, although I'm not sure whether I should bring it with me or give it to Diamond as a belated birthday present.

Eventually, I decide to take it.

After all, it will be a memory of home I can keep.

Then, I get my Reaping outfit set- making sure that everything is exactly to my liking. Black dress, black hat, black boots, black everything.

Finally, I just crawl into bed, even though it's still light out.

I'm not sure whether I'll get the best sleep of my life, knowing I'll be free from my parents tomorrow, or the worst, knowing I'm headed for a death match tomorrow.

Either way, though, I know tomorrow will set me free.

It's just a question of whether that will be through death or through victory.

Author's Notes:

-Sorry Clara took so long. I had a couple of busy weeks combined with lack of motivation. I'll try to get the next tribute out faster, if possible.

-Thanks again to 20 for Clara. This marks the end of his stretch of tributes.

-The next tribute out will be the D2F, created by Galaxy842.

-After that comes the D2M, D3M, D10M, D4F, D4M, D3F, D8M, D7M, D6F, D8F, and D12F.

-I still need both from 5, the boy from 6, the girl from 7, both from 9, the girl from 10, and both from 11. If you want to submit and haven't done so already, just send me a message! (If you're a guest, reserve a spot via a review, and then you can create an account and message me if possible.)