POV - District 7 Cidet Shyn
"Hey, it's about to start!" I called from where I sat on the couch. Today was the announcement of the Quarter Quell. I had to admit, I was curious. Now of course, I hated the Hunger Games - every person breathing that didn't live or work for the Capitol, or lives in one of the Career Districts hates the Games. The word was that this Quarter Quell was going to be bigger than any of the games, or even the other Quarter Quells before. It seemed fitting for the 100th Anniversary of the "Slaughter Games". My mother and Aunt Piat came in with their dinner plates, sitting down on the chairs gathered around the TV. Then Aleas, my cousin, plopped down next to me on the couch. "Try not to fling your food everywhere," I mumbled.
"Sorry," She responded, straightening herself and moving a couple inches away from me on the couch. "Oh here, I brought your plate for you." She handed me a plate of food literally thrown together. I didn't know whether she put it together herself, or it had ended up that way upon her landing. But we were just lucky to have food on our plates. Before Aunt Piat and Aleas had moved in, my mother and I weren't doing very well. We had gone from practically eating dandelions and tree bark to what we had now - greens, some sort of jerky, and bread. But you wouldn't catch me telling Aleas that.
"It's starting," My mother said, drawing my attention back to the TV. Sure enough, the Anthem starts to play and President Lotus steps out to take the stage. He's the youngest President Panem has ever had. He's also proudly considered the handsomest too, but even the girls of the Districts probably can't deny it as just flattery of the Capitol citizens. He starts off with the boring, over-used, rambling speech made every year about the Dark Days of the Rebellion. But I had never heard such spirit and life flowing from his voice. They were driving it home this year. Now the recollection of what they've already done.
"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, to remind the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice for violence, every district held an election and voted to choose the tributes who would represent it in the Games." It was one of the harshest for the first Quarter Quell. Forced to turn on each other. "On the fiftieth anniversary, to remind that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district had to send twice as many tributes," Lotus continued. More tributes meant a better chance to be reaped and worse chance to live. "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, to remind the rebels that the Rebellion affected young and old, even those who didn't fight, the age limits were extended from between 12 and 18 to between 5 and 100." That was an awful year. There's practically no one who has survived to 100 in Panem - except if you lived in the Capitol. There even was a 5 year old girl that was chosen, and her father volunteered afterwards - and of course, they were the last two. So the father killed himself. It was terrible. And her mother was already dead, so she went home to know one. But it proved to the Districts how far the Capitol was willing to go.
"And now," President Lotus paused, a hunger burning in his eyes as he looked up at the camera - the Districts - that seemed to affect everyone, as I and everyone in the room shifted. Aleas even scooted closer to me, though I matched her advance with mine own away from her. "For the one hundredth anniversary of the Hunger Games, the fourth Quarter Quell," He was playing with us now. I bet he could just feel out blood going cold and draining from our faces. A young girl, dressed in pure white, came out holding a box. She opened the box, revealing rows and rows of old yellow envelopes. Lotus reached in, pulling out a suspiciously white envelope with a sloppy "100" written on the front. He opened, pulling out a small piece of paper. He gave another devilish glance to the camera before proceeding. "To remind the rebels what happened to those who did not receive our mercy, the Hunger Games' arena will be what remains of District 13."
I shared a glance with my mother, and saw the fear glowing in her eyes. I turned to Aunt Piat to see the same, and then Aleas' dark blue eyes staring up at me with fear. They used to have Capitol reporters go to District 13, and they had always shown a smoking Justice Building. After the 75th game, they stopped having those reports. They said it had gotten worse, to the point that it was too dangerous to send anyone there anymore. My humble home of District 7 specialized in lumber. That wouldn't be that dangerous. But District 13 had specialized in nuclear...stuff. After 100 years, the radioactivity had worn away enough to send 24 children there. Either that, or that was the true terrible factor in this Quarter Quell. First you had to vote your neighbors. Second you had to make the odds worse. Third you had to send the too younger and the too old as well. Fourth...you have to add the new factor of radioactivity.
"You won't be reaped," Aunt Piat said, reaching over and playing with Aleas' curly blond hair gently to calm her down.
"Cidet," My mother chirped, and I turned to see her reaching out her hand. I took her hand, and we both knew it was more for her than it was for me. Aunt Piat followed her move and took Aleas by the hand, and then Aleas turned to me. I reluctantly took her hand too. How did I end up in a house full of girls, all relying on me for comfort.
"We'll be fine. Out of all the children in District 7, neither of us are going to get pulled...ok?"