Trust Me

The sun was particularly intense on the day of the Reaping. It was almost fitting; it was going to be an unbearable day anyway, so why not make even the weather insufferable as well? I grimaced as I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow and inhaled the crisp sea air. All the kids from District 4 had crammed themselves into our District square for the Reaping, making it seem even harder to breathe.

“Aren’t you so excited?” whispered the girl next to me, a grin spread across her face.

My brow furrowed. “Why would you be excited about the Reaping?” I whispered back, wondering if she was going to volunteer. I hoped she did – that would help the rest of the girls relax, anyway.

“I’m just so curious as to who it’s going to be. Can you imagine one of your best friends winning the Games and getting unbelievably rich?”

“The odds of someone here winning are one to twelve. One to twenty four if all your best friends are female. Do you really think the odds of them even surviving past the first few hours, let alone getting unbelievably rich, are all that great?”

“I’m just trying to see the bright side,” she muttered with a grimace.

I cleared my throat and looked straight ahead, trying desperately to calm myself. I had terrible odds, due to the fact that my alcoholic father had entered my name dozens of time in exchange for more liquor over the years. It was a miracle I hadn’t been chosen up until now, and I reminded myself of that every year. I was already 17 – I just had to survive two more Reapings, and then I would be safe. If I could just survive the next few moments, I’d only have to go through one more next year. I hated seeing the faces of my neighbors walk up onto the stage, only to see them again when their dead faces flashed across the screen at the Games.

A thin woman with a very sharp-looking face wobbled up onto the stage and cleared her throat lightly. Her voice was high-pitched and sweet as sugar, but it only served to make her seem more suspicious. It was like she was trying to hide a secret by appearing sweet and dainty. “Good afternoon, children. Why don’t we start out with this lovely video from the Capitol?”

I tuned out. After watching the same video for the past 5 years, all the extravagance the Capitol tried to cast upon the Games was lost on me. I found my eyes scanning through the crowd of kids around me as I wondered which poor souls would be cast into the arena this year. These were the children I’d gone to school with, the children I’d gone fishing with, the children I’d played with. I had shared my life with this community, and to have two children ripped out and thrown into an arena to fight to the death punished each and every one of us. Sometimes we got lucky – sometimes the children from District 4 would keep their dignity and die nobly. That was enough to make you proud of your District -- seeing someone refuse to kill, and instead turn to survival instincts in an attempt to simply outlive the others rather than murder them. However, given the fact that most children in our District had good experience with nets and tridents and spears, it was more common for us to watch the Games every year and see two of the innocent children turned into vicious monsters, brutally slaying everyone in sight before meeting their own grisly end.

“…And may the odds be ever in your favor," the escort said, marking the end of her speech as she stepped towards the bowl filled with the girls’ names. I struggled to remember the woman’s name. Georgina something. I didn’t much care to remember, but I needed to find a distraction – something to keep my mind occupied as her long, spidery fingers waved around the top of the bowl. She was putting on a show, an amused smile on her face as she debated which slip of paper to select. Her powder blue fingers finally closed around a slip of paper and she plucked it out excitedly. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and I had to force myself to suck in deep breaths as I cast a sly look around me and saw that almost every girl in the crowd around me looked just as nervous as I felt.

“Ahem,” Georgina cleared her throat delicately and unfolded the slip of paper. “District 4’s female tribute for the 73rd Hunger Games is...Winnie Nova!”

Winnie Nova. My name. Had she actually said it? Maybe my ears were playing games with me. The world began to shimmer oddly as I grew lightheaded. I opened my mouth to do something – scream, yell, cry, I wasn’t quite sure what – but I couldn’t manage anything more than a soft squeak.

“Winnie Nova!” Georgina called out again, and a few people around me started to nudge me forward. This was enough for the Peacekeepers to figure out where I was, and they quickly gathered in a crowd around me, forcing me up to the stage. I climbed up the stairs and stood next to Georgina, looking out at the sea of children, all of them staring back up at me. Though some of the girls pretended to be worried for me, I could tell they were all taking a huge sigh of relief that it wasn’t their name that had been called. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the world around me. I heard Georgina speak again, and I quickly focused on her voice again as I realized she was calling out this year's male tribute.

“Kip Lorry,” Georgina read out, and I found myself torn between relief and terror. I knew Kip Lorry, though admittedly not well. He was a year younger than me, and was well known for his unbelievable skill with the trident.

I found Kip quickly as he made his way up onto the stage. He had a grin on his face as he sauntered up towards the stage, but I was close enough to see the way his lips quivered. Of course he was trying to act elated; no boy wanted his District’s last memory of him to be one where he was trembling with fear. He grabbed my hand and took a bow, pulling me down with him as he forced me to put on a show with him.

I heard Georgina let out what sounded like a squeal of delight at our brilliant showmanship. “Marvelous! Aren’t we so lucky to have such eager young tributes for this year’s Hunger Games?” She was obviously expecting a cheer of agreement from the crowd, but everyone remained silent. Georgina acted like she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she was simply so oblivious to everything around her that it genuinely went over her head. She said a few more words to finish off the Reaping, and then Kip and I were escorted to the Justice Hall where we were given an hour to say goodbye to our friends and family. Many of my schoolmates showed up, and they all wept and hugged me, saying how it was so unfortunate I was picked with only two years left until I was safe. Some of their mothers even showed up to comfort me. My mother had left when I was very young, and so my friends' mothers had always seemed to take it upon themselves to try and take her place in my life. They told me they’d never forget me, they told me I was too kind for something like this to happen and that I was too good of a person for the Games.

But nobody gave me any encouragement, nor told me they’d root for me. I knew exactly why: I had no chance. I was merely five feet tall; a scrawny girl with no brawn nor curves, and a simple appearance that would hardly impress anyone in a place so lavish as the Capitol. I looked more like a 12 year old than anything else. I was quite good with knives and spears, but nobody knew that about me. Everyone thought I was a goner.

I wasn’t upset that nobody wished me luck, though. I appreciated their honesty even more than I would have appreciated their false support. I sat there and enjoyed being smothered in hugs and tears and praise, though I felt numb to it all. I was just beginning to think that my father wasn’t going to show up when he pushed through the door, and everyone who had been in the room decided that this was an appropriate time to clear out. I didn't say anything, but I silently wished they'd stayed.

“Hi, Dad,” I said quietly as one of the Peacekeepers shut the door behind the girls who’d left.

“Winnie, you give ’em hell,” my father said suddenly, his voice fierce despite his drunkenly slurred words.

“Yeah. I’ll try,” I said softly, looking down at my hands.

“No, you don’t try, you win. You’re small, so you won’t seem like a big threat. Just keep yourself hidden in small places, and try and gather anything you can use as a weapon. Even rocks can do damage if thrown the right way.” My father rested his hand on my shoulder. I winced, the smell of alcohol almost choking as it radiated off him in waves.

“Okay, I’ll win,” I murmured, more to appease him than as a genuine promise.

“I know you can do this. Make me proud.” My father patted my shoulder, gave me one last look, and then heaved a deep sigh and stumbled out of the room without an actual ‘goodbye’.

I grimaced. Who was he to demand that I make him proud? What had he done to merit such a request from me? Surely he didn’t think I had any chance of winning anyway – and if he thought that I’d try to win for his sake, he must have been insane. Maybe the years of alcoholism had finally picked off his last remaining brain cells and pushed him over the edge of rationality.

“No more visitors,” said one of the Peacekeepers outside, though his voice was muffled through the door.

“I’m the other tribute. I want to see her.” I recognized this voice as Kip's, and I leapt to my feet and flew to the door. My fingers fumbled to open the door in my haste, and I finally managed to rip the door open to see Kip trying to smooth-talk his way past the Peacekeepers.

“Come on, we’re the two tributes. It’s not like they’re going to keep us apart – we’re going to be together every minute of every day for the next week,” Kip urged.

The Peacekeepers exchanged nervous glances before reluctantly stepping aside, letting Kip in to my room. “You have 10 minutes,” said a gruff voice.

“Hi, Winnie,” Kip said softly, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs that were scattered throughout the room.

“Hi, Kip.” I didn’t know what to say, but I was glad to see him. Although it was selfish, I found some comfort in the fact that I wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

Kip flashed a weak smile, then heaved a great sigh. “Look, Winnie, nothing against you, but I really don’t think we should get too close.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“Isn’t it just stupid, to form bonds when your goal is going to be to kill everyone else? The only bonds I plan on forming will be in alliances, and I don’t think you’re the best choice for an ally.”

“You don’t have to kill me. We can go our separate ways. I’m sure someone else would do it, you wouldn’t have to. It’s not like it would take that long for them to pick me off, anyway.” I hated saying it aloud, but I knew it was true. I would probably be one of the first ones to die. The only reason I’d live past the first few days would be because nobody thought of me as a threat, and they felt confident enough that they could let me run off into the woods without having to worry about when I’d show up again.

“It’s just not a good idea. You’re weak, you’d just slow me down anyway, and I’d feel obligated to protect you. If I didn’t, everyone from the District would hate me anyway, and I’d have to have your death on my conscience. It’s just too much trouble,” Kip said firmly, almost cutting off the end of my sentence. He stood up and held out his hand. “Good luck.”

I stared down at his hand and chuckled dryly. “Keep your luck, you arrogant prick."

Kip stared at me for a few seconds, his jaw clenched, before he brusquely whirled around and sauntered out of the room without another sound. I collapsed on the ground, staring out at the grimy window as I tried to ignore the feelings of loneliness and resentment that nagged at me. I knew it was impossible, but I desperately wanted to outlive Kip after what he’d just said. I doubted I’d have the gall to kill anyone myself, but if I could at least outlive him, I’d be happy. And, if by some miracle it came down to him and I, at least I’d have the satisfaction of showing him I was tougher than he’d given me credit for…right before he killed me.