Chapter 5
NARRATOR | Judah Avellino, District 2
"Last shot," Atticus barks. "Fire!"
I reach to the sheath of arrows on my back, stringing one into my bow and letting it fly with ease. It sails across the room, connecting with the target. Bullseye.
I hear a cheer next to me, and I see that Safira hit her bullseye as well. She runs over, bumping her fist with mine as she slings her arrows from her shoulders.
"Nice shot," she says before we turn to face Atticus.
"I don't need to tell you what an honor it is for the two of you to be chosen," Atticus says, his voice echoing around the training room. Usually, this place is filled with aspiring Career tributes, all vying for Atticus' attention. As one of the Victors of District 2, he has a major say in who gets to volunteer for the Games each year, and he's clearly made the right choices the last few years; District Two has won back-to-back Games now, and we're working as hard as we can to keep that streak going.
"The pressure is on you two," Atticus reminds us. "All eyes will be on you after the tributes we've sent the last few years. Titania and Tiberius are hard acts to follow, but I know you two can do it."
Safira wraps her arm around me with a grin. "We'll make you proud."
"Good," Atticus says, waving his hand at us. "I'll see you at the Reaping tomorrow. Get some sleep."
Safira walks alongside me as we exit the tribute training center. It's disguised as a Peacekeeper training center - technically, we're not supposed to be getting any sort of formal training for the Hunger Games - but I'm sure the Capitol knows what's going on. There's no way they would stop us, though. We bring all of the entertainment to the Games every year, after all.
"I can't believe the Reaping is tomorrow," Safira sighs as we walk through the streets of our hometown. "After all the waiting... our lives are going to change forever."
"We're going to be famous," I say, grinning at the girl next to me. We've never been close over the years in the training academy, but we've grown closer since Atticus selected us a year ago. An entire year of training closely with one person will do that, I guess.
"Are you nervous at all?" Safira asks, her smile dropping a bit. "You know, one of us won't be coming back after this."
"Better to not worry about it," I shrug. "We're as prepared as we can be, and we're more prepared than everyone else will be."
"Right," Safira sighs, turning her gaze ahead of us. I can tell that this has been on her mind, though.
I remember her sister was killed in the Games a few years ago. She was one of the strongest tributes Two has sent in the last few years, but she couldn't quite make it to the end. I barely knew Safira back then, but I remember that she was crushed by it.
I guess I don't understand the way Safira feels. I'm the oldest in my family, so I haven't experienced the loss of a sibling. I can imagine how my family would feel if I didn't return, though. The thought makes me want to win so much more - I wouldn't want to put my younger brother through what Safira has experienced.
"You know I just worry," Safira says, mustering up a fake laugh. "But let's not think like that. We're going to be the final two, and then let the best competitor win."
"Right," I grin. "Which is me."
This time, Safira's laugh is genuine. As we walk, I notice that kids across the street are watching us as we pass. Some of them stop in their tracks to stare as we pass.
I flash the kids a smile - I love attention like this. By now, everyone in Two knows that we'll be the ones Reaped tomorrow, and I love it. We've been the most famous kids in our District for the last year, and now it's time to take that to the next level in the Capitol. They're going to love us.
"Alright," Safira says, stopping in front of her house. "You'll be picking me up tomorrow, right?"
"Yup," I confirm. "I'll be here."
"Okay," she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Hey, don't come early - we'll be taking family pictures in the morning. You know, tradition. They did it with Marissa."
"Got it," I say, waving at her as she shuts her front door behind her. I wish my family took fancy pictures like hers, but my parents have never been into any of that flashy stuff. I'm not doing any of this tribute stuff for glamour or prestige like she is, anyway. All of this is about my family name, and elevating it to the highest degree. I need to make my family proud.
When I arrive home, my brother Pollux is practically bouncing off the walls with excitement.
"How was training?" he asks before I've even closed the door. "Was Atticus there?"
"It was fine," I sigh. "Yeah, he was there. Didn't say much. He just told us that there's a lot of pressure this year after we've won the last two years. We're ready, though."
"You have what it takes," my brother says confidently. "You've been training for this for years. If you can't win the Games, I don't know who can."
"Thanks, Pollux," I say. "Hey, you should head up to bed. Big day tomorrow."
Pollux whines, but he doesn't argue. He's only fifteen; he doesn't have the same discipline that I do. Sure, he goes to training every day with me - he's confident that he wants to follow in my footsteps - but I worry about him. Hopefully, once I've won the Games he'll stop idolizing me and focus on his own journey. If he can't do that, I'm not sure he'll have what it takes to be selected for the Games.
Still, I'm glad to have a brother that looks up to me like this. Pollux is my biggest fan; soon enough, I'll have thousands more to join him. And I want to make him proud first and foremost. I want to prove to him that I can do this - that we can do this. For the glory, for the fame, for the honor.
Soon after Pollux heads to bed, I do the same. I need to be well-rested for the Reaping.
Tomorrow, the Games truly begin. Twenty-four competitors will be selected, and all of them will be fighting tooth and nail to take me down.
That won't happen though. Without a doubt, I will be the most prepared tribute in the 98th Hunger Games. And now, after all these years, it's time for my hard work to pay off.