Happy 125th Hunger Games!

“MARCO, HURRY UP OR WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE!” I heard my mother shriek at the top of her lungs. Okay, okay, I’ll get a move on. I think to myself as I hurriedly hop out of my makeshift bed. I had been dreaming of being whisked away to a meadow where I no longer heard the whir of vehicles, but instead the whirr of insects and nature. I smiled, and then realized I had been distracted and scrambled to put on my cleanest pair of pants and button up shirt. After bounding into the kitchen, apparently a disheveled wreck, my mother shook her head at me in a joking yet serious way that mothers seem to master with no effort. I discovered a comb lying amidst some rubbish and brushed my hair quickly. Then, pausing to consider where I had just retrieved it from, shook my head wildly to try and remove any ‘unpleasant substances’ that may have gotten onto my head via dirty comb. I slick my hair back using my hand after I noticed my mother’s slightly raised eyebrow at me, a look of confusion and acceptance. I had acted weirder.
I quickly inhaled the meager lunch (late sleeper) my mother set before me and before she could utter a word I had gotten up, kissed her cheek, and flown out the door yelling “I’ll see you at the reaping Ma!” and as soon as I escaped the threshold, the door trapped my heel and I smacked into the hard earth face first. After a bit of readjusting myself and checking to see if any real damage was done, I headed for the Reaping, not wanting to see what would be in store if I was late.
When I slipped without notice into the 17s section, despite my height, I looked around in the 12s to see if Callow was there. Callow and I have had a bond ever since I told off some kids that were picking on him. It was pure chance that I had noticed, if I hadn't tripped over my shoelaces for the 234th time, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. I'm no hero or anything, far from it, I'm the perfect definition of average. However, he felt so indebted to me, and gave me his lucky necklace, some sort of smooth stone chip. I never asked him where he got it from, but the look in his eyes let me know it was special, and I haven't taken it off since that day. For being so young, the kid also has a remarkable sense of the world, and tends to have a better idea of how to handle my life than I do. Maybe living in the orphanage makes you grow up faster, or maybe he's just bright. I got the feeling it was some combination of both. I finally spotted him and tried to give him a positive smile that would stop him from looking so glum. He gave a half hearted smile back, this being his first reaping he was nervous, with understandable reasons. He was far less likely to get chosen, although odder things have happened in the past.
The District 6 escort Bellina Fitz was the youngest escort we had ever had, looking no more than perhaps 19 years old on her first year in the district 2 years ago. She was atrocious looking however, with a cherry mane that was curly and frizzy, flowing in every direction. She had every shade of makeup painted on her face and skin that was an unnaturally ghastly white color. She had always seemed nice enough, and today she smiled politely at the crowd and decided to get straight down to business.
“The first tribute” a hush fell over the crowd as she pulled out the name. “Callow Grenadine!” The words struck me with the force of a moving train and I panicked. I quickly reached the conclusion that I had to do something. It’s now or never, your chance to make a difference for once in your life!
“I volunteer! I volunteer, I..” I ran out of breath as I rushed up the stage trying to cling to what I was sure was the last of my sanity. Callow’s face was completely void of expression but the audience was audibly shocked. Every now and then someone volunteered in our district, but extremely rarely were they in cases like my own. Bellina looked like she was caught off guard and stuttered a bit.
“What’s your name young man?” she asked, holding the microphone out towards me.
“Marco Nielson,” I tell her. She seems to check if she heard the last name right but then continues,
“District 6, here is your male tribute Marco Nelson!” The occasional clap resonates from the audience and Fitz decides to move on.
I sit down in the chair designated for me and wonder if this is the last time I will ever my home town. I look over at Callow's now tear covered face and know I made the right decision.