No Other Options 4
Ella's P. O. V.
Tears quiver in my eyes as I watch the previous Reapings on the TV, the re-runs of the Games being cut off for that 'special announcement'.
The boy from District Seven looks alarmed- he also looked to be about fifteen, which meant he was going to be one of the younger tributes in the arena this year. Tears are forming in his eyes as some of the younger kids with their parents begin to cry, which only crushes my heart. He's going in with a girl who looks about eighteen and no-nonsense, like she's only a set mission. I'm starting to shake as they switch over to District Ten, where a girl who looks about eighteen is called up. She's got red hair and is sobbing with her glasses clutched in one hand, especially as a boy who looks about fourteen is called up. They both look so sad that I begin full-out sobbing into my hands, which makes Whiz pull back my auburn hair and tie it back into a ponytail.
"Don't worry, Ella," she soothes, "you won't be picked. Your name is only in there once, and if you are, I'll just volunteer for you."
"Pr-promise?" I ask shakily, looking up at her with tears still misting my vision. I've been dreading this day for years and talking about it anxiously for weeks, but now it's finally here and I'm still not ready.
Papa wraps his arms around me from behind, securing both Whiz and I to his chest. Things have been really hard for all of us ever since Lynal was reaped and killed, even though that was years ago. I was only four, but it made me sad for a long time and absolutely crushed Thal. She hasn't been quite the same since, (considering they were planning on marrying two weeks after his last Reaping,), at least according to Whiz. She was only eight at the time, but she was my best friend while Papa took care of all of us. Thal was already nineteen, and now she's a worker with Papa. Whiz is eighteen herself now, but this is my first eligible to go in the Hunger Games.
I'm not very trained because we've become a family, and they still don't know who I truly am. Then again, it's not like I have any Legacies to hide yet.
"I promise," she whispers, kissing my forehead as the train whistle cuts through in place of the normal factory-call bell.
Thal looks up, her face as vacant as ever. She's twenty seven now and still gets absolutely torn apart on Reaping days, so today's she's as depressed as she was when he died. I crawl over to her slowly, wiping away a lone tear and embracing her. We never make her go and allow her to hide, but she decided before-hand that she'll come to support me. They all know how shy and weak I am; they want to be there. She fixes her brown eyes on me briefly with something sparking in them for a moment, then reaches down to touch the dress I'm wearing. Considering we all live in a small shack and barely have enough to keep us all alive, this falling-apart pink dress she found in the dumpster with Whiz was fifteen is a rare delicacy apart from our usual sewed-together rags and ruined dumpster shirts.
It's much too big on me, but I'm grateful.
"It is beautiful," I assure to her gently, trying to give her a small sense of importance in what is her darkest day.
She seems to attempt a small smile as she rises. I find myself beginning to shake again as I make my way outside, sliding into the crowd of crying/solemn families marching in horizontal and vertical files like they do in the factory business. As I clutch Whiz and Papa's hands, my heart begins hammering so hard I think it might pop. I'm not equipped for even the Mogodorians, much less older humans trained to kill. Papa must notice my terror because he lets go of my hand and holds me to his side steadily until we're forced to separate at the entrance.
"Be my brave girl," he whispers, bending in front of me and giving me a last kiss on the forehead.
I nod tearfully before going to the desk with one hand still secured in Whiz's. She really is like my older sister; she won't let anything happen to me this year. Any year after that I'm on my own, but as a twelve year old my fate is assured. That's why I don't know why I'm shaking so bad as they take my blood and I'm shuffled in with the other twelve years olds in the roped-off sections. I long for her hand painfully as the escort makes their speech, showing the film once again before getting to the really important part.
I'm positive my heart's going to explode.
Eight's P. O. V.
"They look so scared.." my best friend comments sadly as we watch the Reaping stream live in the big screen. Being a Career District means most people honor the Games around here, so we're watching District Five Reaping live before we commence with our own.
"Ella Castell!" the escort announces, looking around expectantly.
There's a small gasp from the twelve year section and my heart plunges. Another little twelve year old is being forced into the arena this year, and that absolutely crushes me inside. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to endure the arena at such a young age, especially when I think of how scrawny and practically useless I was as a twelve year old. My best friend's face is twisted in addition as she steps out, her auburn hair clinging to her teary face as she looks around frantically. Her eyes are expectant- she probably has an older sister or something that she's waiting for.
Nobody speaks up.
As the Peacekeepers start shoving her forward, I hear many among our District mates snickering and taunting from where they stand safely. Even a few of the younger girls are pointing at her large pink dress and tears; My stomach twists in pure rage at their mockery. It's getting ridiculous, and it pisses me off for nobody to help poor things like this girl. She's becoming more frantic as well as she's pulled off her feet to be escorted to the stage, inspiring more taunts from my 'neighbors' as she kicks and squirms.
"Whiz!" she shrieks at the top of her lungs, "Whiz!"
Nobody steps up, though, leaving her to sink to her knees helplessly on the stage. Her face is full of betrayal as she gazes at one spot in the ground, eyes red and gleaming with tears and anger. The cameras switch to the point she's looking, even as the escort rummages for the boy's slip of paper; They focus on a teary, guilty looking eighteen year old in rags. More anger churns in my stomach as I look at her; She must be a sister who didn't help her sibling, and that sickens me. As a seventeen year old steps on the stage, our crowd doesn't respond much, which inspires the mayor to cut off the connection and start our own Reaping.
"That's seriously screwed up," my best friend grumbles bitterly from where he's standing behind me.
"Agreed," I mumble back as they call a sixteen year old by the name of Layla to the stage.
This is my last year eligible and my last day. I turn nineteen tomorrow, but I was alerted by the mayor myself I was going into the arena if called despite my being nineteen if I did so. It actually pissed my normally happy, joking Cepan, Reynolds, off, but it's all the same to me. I could survive it came to that, especially with my best friend being who he is.
"Where are you?"
That's when I realize everyone is staring at me. My best friend nudges me forward nervously with a slight thump to my shoulder, and I shake my head a bit before making my way out of the area.
"Joseph-oh! There you are!" our escort grins widely as I step into into isle. Now the murmurs in the crowd have turned frantic, some insults but others sounds of impression.
Nothing new in this brainwashed District.
Ella's P. O. V.
I can not contain myself any longer when Whiz slinks inside the Goodbye Room.
"How could you?!" I shout at her, clenching my tiny fists and wanting to break something, "you promised! You promised!"
Tears are in our own eyes as she reaches forward, as if to hug me. I just back up, disgusted at her attempt at consoling me everything is okay when nothing is anymore. I'm going to die in the arena and I'm going to hurt Thal and Papa bad as well as be killed off from the Garde. I'm not sure if there's a threat anymore to us on Earth, but if there is I'm going to be the only one gone. If I win, though, I'm going to have to kill when I can't.
My fate is ruined either way at this point.
I didn't want Whiz to die or anything, but she did promise she'd volunteer. She betrayed me and she needs to know that.
"I'm so sorry, Ella, I just got so scared..." she whispers helplessly, "please, you have got to win this. For everybody's sake, you have to fight no matter what the odds or circumstances."
I can't help but scowl, "Why should I?"
Her dark eyes plead with me as she whispers, "Please, Ella. For our sake...for my sake."
Her helplessness breaks me heart in half. Even though she betrayed me, she wouldn't be able to make in the arena any better than I will. At least I have some enhancements- she'd be a Bloodbath even easier than I'd probably be. I embrace her now, not letting go until she's dragged out and I'm left alone for a few endless minutes. When Papa comes in, he's almost in worse shape.
"My baby..." he whispers, "Ella, you've got to train as much as you can. This is my fault...I never should've let this happen..."
"Papa, it's not your fault," I whisper, gently stroking away his tears and cuddling up in his lap close, "I'll pay special attention, and I promise I'll try to win. Really, really try."
"I know you will..." He buries his face in the top of my head as reality sinks in for both of us.
There is no way I'm going to win.
Eight's P. O. V.
"I saw that look on your face..." Reynolds comments as we sit together in the Parting Room for the last time for a few weeks, "that little girl from District Five being Reaped sucked, but she's got a better chance at making it than you think."
I look into his face, searching for chances of him making another joke or a grin; I find none. I crease my forehead and inquire, "Why?"
"She's a Garde..." he tells me quietly, "as a matter fact, I think all of the Garde are going into the Games this year."
My eyes widen as I stare at him. Going against humans I could handle, but my fellow Garde? We're obviously all at different levels at training and ages, but if we're together we're required to fight to the death. The thing is we can't do that, not if we're going back to Lorien one day. Reynolds hands me something, signaling for me to hide it in my pocket.
"That's my theory for all of the Garde. Make friends with them," he instructs me, then wraps me in a hug, "we're counting on you, Eight. Don't let them be killed."
"But we'll be killed if I don't," I mutter into his shoulder, "we'll have to bust out of the arena or figure out some way to fake it."
He looks up at me with the saddest, most somber face I've ever seen him attempt to wear.
"Exactly."