Chapter 2, here we are. ;)
The last thing I remembered, before I fainted, was staring into May's eyes. She looked like someone had just ran her threw with a knife and she couldn't believe she was dying. But because of this appalling turn of events, that was now a rich possibility. I woke up only after five minutes to find May sobbing hysterically into the pillows on the couch. There weren't many 12 year olds in our District: District 11. People were too afraid to have children, and the brave few who did foolishly thought they were able to avoid tragedy and heartbreak. I was dizzy for a second or to, but then got straight up and ran to my mother, where she enveloped me into her arms and buried her face in my hair.
I'm not sure how long we all cried, but it was sure a while. By the time my mother had let me go, my shirt was soaked all the way down to the bottom. The couch pillows were drenched. You may think that all of this tearshed was unnecessary, but trust me. It was. To try to help recover from this bombshell, I asked May if she wanted to go play outside. She agreed, stifling another round of sobs. I just began to realize how stupid our 12 year old fantasies of killing the president were. What fools were we to think that two little girls could actually get rid of the Hunger Games forever? I wasn't sure, but I believed in it with every square inch of my heart.
May and I ran to the small meadow behind my house. We played there often when we weren't harvesting or at school. Together we spent the rest of the day trying to forget what the Dictator had just told us and relax as much as we could before one of us got sentenced to death.
As we played, I slowly began to realize our hearts just weren't in it. May and I just couldn't seem to escape the severe blow to ourselves not two hours ago. Yet we wasted the whole day trying. We sat and talked about people at school and other things that are in no way related to the you-know-whats. Basically, we did the same old twelve year old girl stuff. It was dusk when we returned to our house. May wanted to spend the night again, so she and her mom remained at our house.
The next few weeks were spent trying to escape the dread we all felt inside. Every twelve year old kid at our school sat stone-faced and still. Even the gossip girls who only talked about guys all day. The teachers were sympathetic: they didn't like the Games any more than we did. They let us off easy homework-wise, but we didn't like it. The homework was a distraction from the self-induced mental torture we were forced to endure. The last day before the reaping was spent buried in bed, reluctantly rising for food and the bathroom. May and her mom came over again.
Later during the night, sleep came with awful, bloody nightmares. I awoke three times, only to find an ice cold sweat. May did much the same. The morning of the reaping had finally arrived. Once again May and I clung to each other like static. We dressed in casual, twelve year old everyday dresses: me in navy blue, her in yellow. Shakily we made it to the table, ate another round of stale and cold waffles, cried a bit more, and left the house to the square. I never let go of May's hand.
We stumbled over to the only section roped off of the crowd. Only one age was dying this year. The Capitol woman took her place on the stage, along with the District 11 mentor, Seeder. She looked like she was in pain. The Capitol woman had green hair and a faint blue tint on her skin. As she rose from her seat, I gasped inwardly as I knew that my whole life could end, right here, right now.
"Ladies first!" I heard, in the ridiculous Capitol speech. The reaping ball was dangerously sparse with names. The woman dropped her hand in, circled it a few times, and then drew out a name. She was about to read it. And then, with horror filling my heart, she read the name:
"May Forester"
Forester was May's last name.