Now that my daughter is gone, I want to watch the Games even less. I wish I could stop but I know that the Capitol will track my TV and take me away if I do. Since I have been watching, I have taken notice of a young girl. She reminds me of my daughter, maybe the same age, Ann Foyer I think her name is, from District 2. There is always room for a young girl in a mother’s heart, so I begin to think about sending the girl a parachute. The only problem is, I don’t know what to send her. She has plenty of weapons to defend herself, but she does look hungry. Every day, the Capitol televises a program, showing the transformation of each living tribute, and Ann is considerably skinnier and bonier. And, mother’s instinct commands me to do something about this.
I went to the district market and got all the ingredients for the most filling thing I could think of, fruit and nut bread. I was well known throughout the district for it, and sometimes made a small profit off of it. When I return to my small home, I begin to mix, determined to make this my best loaf yet. When I finally finished baking my masterpiece, I cut into it to make sure it was perfect. The nuts and berries were rolled into a perfect spiral, like the design of a conch shell, wrapping around and around. I pack the loaf into a box and send it to the Capitol, hoping it makes it there in time for her to enjoy it.
From the day I sent the bread, I have watched the Games with my eyes intensely glued to the screen, waiting for my gift to appear. Finally, about a week later, I see Ann unwrapping a brown box, it’s mine. For some reason, I feel like the best mother in the world, even though the child doesn’t even know me. While she is tearing at the box like the savage she is, she notices a little mark, the mark of District 4. I had put the mark on the box so she would know other people are rooting for her, others than just her family. When she lifts her face and stares directly at the camera, there are tears in her eyes. Those tears are like little diamonds that keep her tied to the people she loves, that keep her human, and I can feel in my heart that she is forever grateful for the food that could possibly have saved her life.
I hope the tributes don’t think we will stop with the tsunami, there is much more to come. I need something cute, something people will mistake as good. Frogs…frogs are kind of cute. There are a lot of dangerous frogs out there, but none compare to the poison dart frogs. They are usually found in tropical climates, so it won’t be weird to spot them here. Tributes could think they are harmless. When they touch them, they could be dead in minutes. This will be good; they will be slow and painful deaths, unlike the tsunami, which was quick.
I send in a camouflage hovercraft in to dump the frogs in the arena without calling to much attention to it. The frogs start to hop around, spreading out so they can cover more land and find more tributes. The first sighting is almost ten minutes later, that’s a long wait and that wait could possibly cost me my life. It’s a gruesome encounter, the boy touches the frog, maybe hoping to eat it, but when he pulls his hand back it’s covered in angry red welts. Normal poison dart frogs are bad, but the Capitol’s versions were designed to entertain. As the welts travel up the kid’s body, I can’t help but feel the satisfaction rushing through my veins as if filled with liquid gold. I feel as if I could fly, I am so happy with the success of our latest experiment. I can tell the frogs have spread like the plague because all of the TV screens are filled with faces in agony. The president will be very happy with me, it was a simple idea, but very effective.
This had to be one of the most boring Hunger Games ever. A few tributes were hunting others, but most were just hiding and dying from natural causes. Who let all of the sissies in? If I don’t spice things up soon, I might never see another paycheck again. Since almost everyone is camping out on the sandy shore or in the tree line right by it, I decided that a disaster with water was best. Being the Head Gamemaker, I went for the most devastating water disaster I could think of, a tsunami. It takes me about five seconds to conjure up the giant wave that will hopefully liven things up a bit. I press a red blinking button, the confirming button, and wait for the terror to start.
The chaos starts immediately, when a girl from District Four spots the wave and comprehends what it is. She begins to run; she’s fast, but not fast enough. The last thing I see of her is a little green stone falling to the earth. Seeing the first victim sends a feeling of giddiness through my body; I can’t wait for others to follow her. The menacing wave reaches the trees and I can almost hear the screams of family members watching their child die; it’s as if those screams are the air I breathe, filling me up and enabling me to live. My assistant starts to fire the cannon almost nonstop. Boom boom boom…it just goes on and on. The tsunami then dissolves, as if it had never even existed, leaving behind the waterlogged bodies of its prey. I got such a rush from making that tsunami that I almost make another one appear. I know I can’t, I have to pace myself or else the Games would be over too quickly.
I am awakened by a soft fluttering feeling on my face. I open up my eyes and see a glint of silver cutting through all the green. In an instant, I realize what it is, it’s a silver parachute. This is my first parachute the entire games and I can’t wait to see what’s inside. A feeling of hope washes over me as I start to untangle the box from the parachute. Then I see what’s encased in it. It’s a video camera, I’m a little disappointed. I was hoping for some amazing feast, which is stupid because it was such a small package. Then, I realize what I am supposed to use it for, to send a message to my family, most importantly my, brother.
I know its cliché, but I miss my family so much. I miss the way they would ask me how my day was even if they didn’t care and the way my brother would mess up my hair whenever he got the chance. It’s pretty lonely in the arena and I just want some love, is that too much to ask? When I begin to record my message, I’m so excited that my hands are shaking. I spend almost the entire day perfecting my video and making sure that no one can find me. When I’m finished, I place the camera back in the parachute and wait.
I feel so alone; so many people have already died. Even though none were from my district and I didn’t know them, I feel empty. I hear a stick snap, I freeze, paralyzed with fear. Is it a person or an animal? Sadly, I’m not sure which one I should be more scared of. It is already getting dark, so I cannot see past the trees in front of me. The low hanging branches of bushes and trees begin to rustle, whatever the thing is, it’s moving closer. Then a girl appears, scrawny and scared looking. She has startling green eyes, like the leaves that were framing her face, blending in with her surroundings, other than that she is quite plain. My first instinct is to run away, but her weapon is lowered. I take a cautious step forward and put my hands up to show I will not hurt her.
She understands my signal of friendship and breaks into a wide smile. I don’t know why, but I feel like I can trust her. She turns and I notice she also has a backpack, I hope she has something useful, like food or a sleeping bag. The girl holds out her hand, very polite and civilized for someone in a game to the death.
“I’m Willow, from District Three,” she says in a squeaky voice, like a mouse begging for cheese. I shake her hand, and for some reason, I start to relax. Willow seems like she would be a great ally and friend, even though she isn’t the strongest or most intimidating, I can see the intelligence in her eyes. We agree to search for a place to spend the night and start looking. We eventually find a clump of rocks with a little opening just big enough for our little frames to fit through. After looking around the tiny space, we quickly exit and retrieve palm tree leaves to cover the ground and entrance, in case another tribute finds our hiding place. After that, we agree that tomorrow we will go through our bags contents. Then for the first time all day, we go to bed feeling a tiny bit safe. Now, instead of one against the world, its two.
I feel like a circus animal, trapped in a cage and only brought out for people’s entertainment, as I rise towards the unknown arena that awaits me when I reach the top. I know I have a few seconds before I will reach the surface, so I investigate what the Capitol has dressed me in. I snatch a piece of my clothing between my fingers and feel the slippery, shiny fabric of a bathing suit. So now I know that there will be water, good I have an advantage. Besides it being the same fabric as a bathing suit, the similarities of my uniform stop there. My costume consists of long pants, a tank top and spongy boots, made for running and hiking. I am rising steadily and almost to the top when I unconsciously bring my hand to my throat, where I have secured my stone on a chain, and hope that whatever is up there, I’m ready for it.
When I reach the top, I am not surrounded by water as I thought I would be, but there is the unmistakable scent of salt and seaweed in the air, signaling that there is water close by. Instead, I find myself surrounded by dense palm trees and at least twenty other tributes. I see all of them are looking around, taking in their surroundings, just as I am. I grow aware of a rumbling sound behind and chance a glance to see what it is. Not sure of what to expect, I am shocked to be greeted by a huge black mountain oozing red and orange down its sides, like blood trickling from a scraped knee. I then turn my attention to what I am standing on, a silver disc, about the size of a tire, hovering two feet of the ground. Knowing exactly what will happen if I dare step of the platform, I back up a little, sure not to step over the side.
Looking over at the giant Cornucopia claiming the space right in the middle of all of the tributes, I try to make out all of the supplies in its gaping mouth, hoping I know how to use something in there. Knowing that most of the tributes will make a dash for the center, I change my focus to the smaller patches of supplies spread out away from the Cornucopia and focus on a patch of backpacks. Then, the countdown starts. Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two… then I hear the deafening sound of a cannon. I jump off and stumble, but I regain my balance and sprint as fast as I can towards a pile of backpacks and grab two. Hoping everything I need to survive is in the two sacks, I turn and head straight for the jungle, unknowing of the horrors waiting for me.
I won’t cry. That’s what I tell myself. I have to keep it together, for my family. They will be here soon. I look around the room that I have been imprisoned in. It should be comfortable, almost homey, but to me it feels stark and cold with its dark walls and plush carpet. I try to get comfortable, I lean against the wall, sit on an overstuffed armchair, but it all feels wrong. It feels like a lie, a false sense of security before everything I know is ripped away from me, maybe forever. After pacing for what feels like hours, I hear a soft, rhythmic knock at the door. I know it’s my brother because when he knocks, it’s to a beat only he and I would know. He takes a tentative step into the room, almost as if he is walking on eggshells. Isaac walks to me and immediately gives me a bone crushing hug. As he squeezes me, I feel something small and hard in his shirt pocket. Before I even have time to wonder what it is, he pulls away and sticks his hand into the very pocket I was just wondering about. When he withdrawals his hand, there is a something small, about the size of a walnut, in it.
“Put out your hand, Annie,” he is the only one aloud to call me that, if anyone else did, they would regret it immediately. I do as I am told and I am shocked when I feel something cool and heavy graze my skin. I glance at the object and instantly realize what it is. A few years back Isaac and I were messing around on the beach, skipping stones and splashing each other, when we came across one of the most stunning rocks I had ever seen. It was green, like the first blades of grass poking through the snow, deep and mesmerizing. We had both thought that it had come from District One, the luxury district, and somehow ended up in our district, shining and glittering on the shoreline. I didn’t think he kept it, I thought he sold it or gave it to his girlfriend. I guess I was wrong, because here it is. I turn the stone over and over in my hand, feeling where Isaac had rubbed it smooth on one side and left it rough on the other.
When I finally tear my eyes from the rock, I have tears in my eyes and the only thing I manage to choke out is “Pretty.” Wow, I think, that was the most thoughtful thing I could think of. Really? But I think Isaac understands how much it means to me because he just nods and gives me another hug. A few seconds later, a man comes in and tells us that his time is up and he must leave. Before he can leave, I grab his sleeve and look at his tanned skin and blue eyes, so similar to mine, trying to memorize everything about the person I feel safest with. Then he’s gone and I am alone with is gift to me, rubbing the rock like had so many times before and I make a promise. I will wear this in the arena, and I will come back home.
I had a bad a feeling about this year’s reaping, and now I know why. I was picked, I couldn’t believe it. As the announcer, Harper Hayes, waltzed to the bowl filled with every child’s name in all of district 4, I knew it would be me. The air was charged with so much anticipation and tension you could feel it. Then, Harper’s hand was dancing above the little white scraps of paper that would decide our fates. It’s funny, the second before she announced “Annabeth Chase” I thought please not me, a girl can hope can’t she? But, just my luck, my name was called and echoed throughout the entire Square where the Reaping was being held. I knew I should move, but I couldn’t, I was frozen in place. The longer I stood there, the more stares I could feel on the back of my neck. Move Annie, move, as soon as I had that thought, I felt my legs propel myself towards the shaky stage.
Climbing up the four shallow stairs felt like it took an eternity, but as soon as I reached the top, I looked out into the crowd and found my family, my mother, father, and of course, my older brother. The looks on their faces I will never forget, and I felt something deep inside me break. I knew that the broken part of me would not be fixed until I returned home. Then, the heartbreaking realization hits me; District Four may never be my home again. At that thought, I lift my gaze and stare out into the endless ocean surrounding my district. That ocean holds so many memories; it’s where I learned to swim, where I would spend endless days with my brother and father fishing for the days meals. I don’t know how long I was standing up on stage, but the next thing I know, the other tributes are standing next to me. I have seen them both before, in school I think, but I can’t put a name to either of their faces. Just like that, I am a tribute in the dreaded Hunger Games.
