Calculating the Odds

chapter 1.

It’s the morning of the Reaping and I wake up late. We do not have school today; in this case, I wish we did. I’d rather spend my time learning something worth my time than go to the Reaping. I’ll have to watch one of my fellow district members, a schoolmate, go into the battle of life or death.

I should properly introduce myself. My name is Marin. I’m fifteen years old, just turned so about a month ago. I have skipped two grades in my schooling. I’m training to become one of the top engineers in the district, just like my father. He is very high up with the mayor, and is probably my biggest hero. My mother is a researcher. We are a small family of three, but we have always been very close and have lived relatively comfortably. My father’s high position allows us to do so.

I have never been worried about the Hunger Games. As a young child watching the games, I uncovered the meaning behind them-it is not just a random game. Sometimes there is meaning behind the tributes and the various punishments in the arena. The mayor is a drunk and at dinner parties with my parents, he likes to reveal some top secret information. He once told a story about a District Seven boy who was reaped because his father accidentally started a forest fire. I told my parents my theory and they said I was correct, but that I must keep quiet about it.

Things in the district have been very tense lately. There was a large power outage that caused the Capitol to lose power for five minutes. Honestly I find it a very stupid reason to punish our district, but things haven’t been very good with the peace keepers. My father was at the helm of the project that caused the incident, but he is very good friends with the most important people in the district-I’m sure nothing bad will happen to the family.

The odds have always been in my favor.

I get up and start getting ready. I do not have many friends at school. I’ve skipped two grades, so my classmates are much older than me. I do not see much of my old friends from my old grade because my classes start earlier and end later. Alone, I put my hair in two low buns right at the nape of my neck. My mother always remarked that I looked like a little fox-I’m very small and my hair is bright orange. I’ve never seen a fox before, so I guess my mother has encountered some in her research.

I slipped on the blue dress my mother laid out for me. It was my very finest; we always splurged on a Reaping dress. I put on my black school shoes and walked out the door straight to the kitchen. My parents were talking in the kitchen, so I hid behind the wall to listen.

“Don’t worry, dear. She’ll be okay.” My mother was saying.

“I’m just worried, that’s all. They always have a way of taking it out on the kids.” My father muttered. “I just hope to God it isn’t her.”

“Darling, she won’t be reaped. You did nothing wrong. You must have faith.”

I knew they were talking about me, so I let out a loud cough. My parents resumed normal activity when I walked in, smiling.

“What do you think?” I asked, twirling for them.

My father smiled. “Darling, you look lovely. That dress looks amazing on you.”

Mother smiled. “It should, cost nearly a week of pay for that little number.”

I rolled my eyes. “You shouldn’t spend such money on me.”

She shrugged. “You deserve the best, sweetheart. Now, eat up. You have a big, big day ahead of you, don’t you know.”

I shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll be reaped. I’ve calculated the odds. Our district is a relatively good sized district. The tributes from the past several years have all come from the working class. There is a large pool of girls my age, so the odds are quite in my favor this year.” I said, biting into a piece of toast.

My father grinned. “Look at you going at it again.”

“Haven’t I learned from the best?” I smiled.

Suddenly, I heard the signal. It was the one signifying the gathering of the children at the justice hall. I guess it’s time for me to go. I stand up and smile at my parents.

“Here’s to another reaping.” I said, putting down my toast. “I should go.”

“You should make your bed first, Marin.” My mother advised. “Saying you’ll do it later means it will never happen.”

I look over to the door of my room; my bed is messy. I usually hate it when my bed is unmade, but I shrug. “I’ll do it when I get home. Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” I teased.

“Here, take this.” My mother said, pulling out one of her clips. It’s one of her prettiest clips; the pewter mixed with blue gems goes with my dress. She clips it over my right bun and kisses my cheek.

“I’ll see you at the Reaping!” I called out, leaving through the front door.

Walking to the Justice Center isn’t hard; it’s right near my apartment. In District 5 many of the engineers live in an apartment complex close to the power plants. My father has the penthouse. As I walk, I think how lucky I am. I think of how I will never have to face the Hunger Games. Perhaps my children, someday if I do get married, will not have to do with them either if I get my father’s job.

Before I know it, I’m standing with the other fifteen year old girls. They’re all holding hands and shaking. I remember a few. The girl next to me looks familiar.

“Marin.” She said, offering her hand. They’re all scared and I’m not, but this is the first friendly gesture I’ve received from them. Smiling slightly, I take her hand as the escort for our district plucks a name from the girls’ bowl.

“Marin Rasmussen!”

My heart stops as the girl squeezes my hand. I hear a sharp muffled cry that I know belongs to my mother. I begin to blink quickly, analyzing the situation.

I have just been reaped. My father’s nightmares have come true. Because of the failure of the power my father was responsible for, I have been reaped.

I walk slowly, calm and calculated even though my heart is racing. My mind begins thinking of all the ways I can die. I need to stop myself. I shake my head and blink several more times before walking onto the stage uneasily.

I stand there as they call another child to die. His name is Bronwen and I remember him. He was in my class and I beat him at the spelling bee. He is tall, dark, and strong. He can kill me, I think. But the way his eyes turn watery makes me believe he cannot kill a soul.

We are turned over to the peace keepers and locked in rooms to say goodbye. My parents come in, one at a time. My mother is crying most of the time, apologizing. She blubbers about how she’s pushed me too far and how it isn’t fair that I must die. I just sit there, stunned, trying to comfort her. I tell her I love her and not to let my imminent death affect her work. I tell her how brilliant she is and how she needs to keep moving on.

When her three minutes are up, my father walks in.

“Marin, I’m so, so sorry. This is all my fault.” He sobs, falling into my lap.

I hold his head. “Daddy, it’s okay.” I said, choking for the first time. My father is my role model, and to see him so weak makes me teary.

“You are smart, Marin. Let your instinct guide you. Look at the situation and analyze it. You know all the plants, you’ve studied them. Find out how to build traps, make use of skills you can learn. Don’t be stupid and build a fire like the ones who die. Don’t go into the bloodbath.” He advises quickly.

I grab his face and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be okay, Dad. I know what I have to do. I’ve already analyzed it.” I joked darkly as a tear rolled down my face.

He pulled my tear away and kissed the top of my head, pulling me into a hug.

“I love you, Marin. We can’t wait for you to come home.” He said, as the peace keepers came in to take him away.

The rest of the day goes by fast. I don’t even get to go home. Immediately after our goodbyes, Bronwen and I are thrown onto a train. I see my parents sobbing into each other as it pulls away. Bronwen immediately starts discussing tactics, but their efforts are futile. I go into my cabin and start to undress.

I guess it was a good thing to buy such a beautiful dress. I can almost smell my father’s cologne from when she hugged me lingering on the fabric. When I start taking out my hair, I feel the hair pin. I can still feel my mother’s fingers slipping it onto my head. Holding back a tear, I lay it on top of my dress and lie down on the bed.

I began to think of my tactics. I will be strong and I will make it through. I will find shelter and edible plants. I will get myself water. Most of all, I will avoid killing at all costs. I will wait out the situation; observe the opponents, and then strike. While I am not lethal, I can last a long time on very little. I’m small, meaning I can hide.

Maybe, as I calculate the odds, I can make it through this wretched game.