2.
Roden was tall for his age, like me. He was stood in his reaping clothes obviously waiting for me. I knew what he was going to saw ages before he said it,
"Where's Finnick?" asked Roden, "Odair he is!"
He burst into laughter even though he had made the joke at least seven times before.
"You never change," I said rolling my eyes as I joined the fourteen-year-olds' line.
"Aren't you exited this year? I heard that Dane is volunteering."
I glanced back at the line of seventeen year olds where Dane was standing. Dane was a whalers son and he was known for his skill with a harpoon. I could see him volunteering for the games and, probably, winning.
"Who would volunteer?"
"Idiots, that's who." I said bluntly.
I stared, over the heads of boys younger than me, at the wooden stage which held two glass balls filled with tiny white slips of paper. A black microphone rested on a stand between the two bowls, where the District Four escort, Venture Pointe, would draw the names of the tributes. My eyes stayed fixated on the bowl to my left. Round and globe-like, it was supported by a wooden stand. However, the bowl contained names instead of water. I willed the three pieces of paper with my name on to be lost amongst the names of the children around me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that I had just wished death on another person, but I felt a little guilt because I knew that every other boy present was wishing the same fate for me.
When the lines were complete- all the boys from twelve to eighteen on the left side and all the girls aged twelve to eighteen on the other with their parents surrounding watching with worried eyes from a distance- the reaping began.
Venture Pointe is my picture of the Capitol. His skin has been painted with dusted gold while his hair has been died silver and slicked was wearing a suit of bronze and had painted his lips and eyelids with silver. He looked like a metallic statue-not even human anymore- And he stands in the centre of the stage and greets District Four.
"Welcome to the 65th annual Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour. As always- ladies first!"
Giggling excitedly, Venture moved to the bowl on my right and dramatically plunged his hand into the while slips of paper. I watched his fingers hesitate and pick a different name and felt a wave of disgust. Venture enjoyed selecting who was going to die. I could see it- he wanting this sway of human life. Finally he plucked a name from the bowl and held it up. He leant backbefore saying, "Ellie Washbone."
My stomach twists in sympathy when I realise that she is a twelve year old with her blonde hair pulled back in pigtails. As she made her way trembling and whimpering, up the steps to the stage, myself wishing that someone would volunteer for her. However no one moves and then-
"I volenteer"
The girl is sixteen. I know her by face but not by name. Her mother is one of the merchants in the fish market. The girl makes her way past the other sixteen year olds and uponto the stage. Ellie Washbone is shaking with uncontrollable terrible fear, waiting for someone to comfirm that she has indeed been saved from the Hunger Games.
"We have a volunteer," said Venture, practically glowing with exitement "Tell us your name, come on don't be shy now."
"Kalei Jonas."
"Presenting the female tribute of District Four- Kalei Jonas!"
Venture gave Ellie Washbone a little push down the stairs and Ellie runs back to the line of twelve year olds, weeping uncontrollably. The crowd bursts into applause, I think out of relief that Kalei just saved a little girl from the horrors of the games. However, when the applause dies, the male tribute is chosen. My fate is still unknown.
As Venture sticks his goldned hand into the glass bowl and starts fumbling through slips of paper, I feel Roden tense beside me. He glances around, a nervous smile spreading across his face.
"Finnick Odair."