"Lacey Valentine."
It takes me several moments to realize that it is my name that rings in the silent park where we are gathered– that I, of all people,shall be representing Sector 6 of the Capitol in the 76th Hunger Games. It must be a mistake, I'm nobody, it should've been Mina Bee, whose been bragging for the past year that as soon as we're done with school she's going to become a stylist, that her parents have it all set up for her; she's exotic, with haunting grey eyes and a nose that juts like a birds beak (not too large to be hideous, not too small to be passed over). Or Hazel Lovelace who has the most beautiful voice in the world, whenever people hear her sing they whisper 'She's something special.' No one has ever said that about me.
A girl standing besides me (later I will be able to identify her as Ada Bell) gives my hand a squeeze before I'm ushered to the stage where Bachus Cable gives me a sad stare. He did not ask for this job, but he is the strongest person that anyone in my neighborhood knows, he would not break down in tears as two children he watched grow up are selected as Tributes. I try to stand like stone, I had watched plenty of Tributes do it, and find impossible; I start to shake and feel the tears spill out of my eyes. I am soft and fragile, I was not born to fight or to survive; I was born to be beautiful and to laugh and to be safe.
Bachus Cable digs his hand into the bowl of boy names, I see him flinch slightly as he does it– he has two boys of his own. Slowly, he pulls out a slip of paper. His fingers tremble as he unfolds it.
"Pallas Biggs," he reads and the part of me that clings to what life was a month ago wilts slightly –Pallas will not sweep me off my feet in a romance of the ages– while an icy feeling dances in my belly; Pallas is three years my junior, only thirteen, he is Twinkle's best friend and the second brother I never (thank God) had.
And we're both going to die.
The Guardsmen immediately herd Pallas, Bachus, and me into a truck –everyone knows they are just grey versions of the Peacekeeprs– we are not allowed to say goodbye to our friend and family. At least previous tributes were allowed a final goodbye, I think miserably, before I burst into tears.
It is a quick ride to the Capitol Square, seven other vehicles are parked nearby and fourteen Tributes stand in a line before fourteen Guardsmen. Pallas and I are quickly wedged in between Tributes from Sectors 5 and 8, 7 has yet to arrive, and we wait and wait and wait for what seems like ages until a twelfth truck parks (finally) and the Tributes from Sector 10 are placed in line. The icy pang resumes its Lindy Hop when I realize they are both around twelve.
The line of Guardsmen splits down the middle and a severe looking woman steps forward. President Coin studies us in turn with her hard grey eyes and her lips quirk slightly like she is about to say something, but she remains silent. She walks down our line and I seize up when her eyes rest on me for a brief second, before they move on to male Tribute from Sector 5. She reaches the cluster of adults who had plucked our names out of bowls and a young woman with shocking blue hair spits on Coin's grey shoes.
"You claim that you're going to help us," the woman growled, "When Capitol families are being prosecuted every day!"
Coin raises an eyebrow. "All's fair," she says and nods at the Guardsmen. Two of them break rank and grab the protestor.
They shoot her on the bricks in front of us. Her blood speckles the tips of my shoes and I go lightheaded. A girl in line whimpers, she and the young woman have the same face.
Not another sound is uttered, but a thought is shared unanimously by all: The 76th Hunger Games have begun.
author's note:May the odds be ever in your favor!