Return to the Games

SUNNIVA'S POV

The morning of the reaping, I am jolted awake by my best friend, Hazel. She reaches down from my bed, where she's been sleeping, onto the floor, where I've been sleeping, and nudges my shoulder with too much enthusiasm for a day as grim as this. My mother has been telling me about the Hunger Games since I was young, as her best friend was drafted when she was young. She's lectured me about how every tribute has died, about how to conceal a fire and about how I wouldn't be able to trust anyone. "Mom," I tell her, "I won't be a tribute, My name is barely in the bowl." This is true. Although we live in the agriculture district, we rarely have anything to eat. I can sew, so I trade clothes to nearly half the shop owners in exchange for food for my family. I can take care of myself. Good thing, too, because my mother won't let me sign up for the tessera.

"Sunny!" Hazel exclaims, "She's kicking. My baby's kicking!" There is no hiding the excitement in her high pitched voice. The baby hasn't been kicking recently, and all of the mothers we know say it's abnormal. We assume Hazel's around seven months, and she's only felt a few kicks. Many people told her the baby had passed, so this is news.

"How do you know it's a she?" I ask, a smile growing on my face as I look into the glowing eyes of my best friend.

"I can just tell," She sighs, placing her hands delicately on the large form her stomach has taken. She rubs small circles into her stomach and feels the baby kick once more. "She's going to love it here."

I can't help but laugh at this. "Hazel, no one loves it here. We've got too many mouths to feed and not enough food to feed them. We have too many people to work and not enough jobs to give them. And most of all, we've got too many kids running around, and not enough people to take care of them." I look at Hazel, and regret the last thing I said. "I don't mean it like that. I know you'll be a great mother, and I'm sure your baby will love it here. I just don't know how we'll manage to feed another mouth."

"I can leave if you want me to," Hazel says bitterly. She hates to burden people, but she knows that she desperately needs a place to stay.

"And go where? Your parents kicked you out when they found out you were pregnant, Larkspur won't speak to you since you told him it was his child, and I'm the only person you have left. I know you can't work when your pregnant, and my siblings are too young. My mom tries to work in the fields, but she's so old that she can't do much. That leaves me, and I've already taken you in, given you my bed, my clothes, and my food. I'm glad you're taking responsibility and keeping the baby and everything, but I don't know what I'm going to do!" I end my rant, breathing heavily and I'm exasperated.

"You think I'd get rid of her? What would I do, Sun? Do you think I'd ask someone to kick me in the stomach? Push me down the stairs? I can't believe you." She gives me a look of disgust and storms out of my bedroom, only stopping to grab the dress my mother gave her to wear to the reaping. She wore that dress when she was pregnant with me.

"Hazel, wait!" I yell after her. "That's not what I meant!" I'm too late. I hear the door slam and shortly after, my mother walks into the room.

"Where is Hazel going? The reaping is in fifteen minutes." My mom looks flustered as she scurries out of the room, not even waiting for a response. I start to go after her, but I realize it's useless.

I look in the mirror and see bags under my eyes. They're dark blue and purple, and my hair is greasy. I should take a shower before we go, but I'm too tired to. My mom tells me we're supposed to wear our best clothes and I laugh. All of my good clothes are hand-me-downs from my mom, and now my little sisters have them. I pull my hair back into a hair tie and take it right back down. I run a brush through my tangles and decide it's good enough. Staring into my nearly empty drawers, I pick out a white dress with thin straps and a low neckline. I haven't worn it since last summer, but it's the nicest thing I have.

I'm leaving the room when my mother rushes in once again, this time carrying two of my sisters. One is five, one is seven. My other two sisters walk behind her, one eight and one eleven. My youngest brother is seven, the other ten. Everyone crowds into my room. All at once, my siblings start yelling about how worried they are for me and how I can't leave them. I try, along with my mom, to calm everyone down but nothing works. She turns from my room and leads all the kids out of the house and into the square. The shops are closed, and everyone is divided into age groups. I go find the group of sixteens and stand alone. I spot Hazel and wave, but she refuses to look at me. I'm about to walk over to her when I see a woman in a bright pink suit and curled hair walk onto the stage.

"Happy Hunger Games!" She trills, looking expectantly into the crowd for smiles or encouragement. "May the odds be ever in your favor. It's an honor to be here and to be able to select the District Eleven tributes for the re-instated Hunger Games. Now, let's begin. Ladies first!"

Ashby Bowlin walks over to the glass bowl with thousands of names in it. The odds of it being me are incredibly slim. I tell myself that over and over again until I hear her say the name of the tribute. I'm so glad, because it's not me. Realization hits.

It's Hazel.

The crowd is speechless. Those who know of her pregnancy look away, visibly depressed for her. They are depressed for the baby. Those who didn't know of her pregnancy do now, as she waddles up to the stage. Her hormones are already crazy and she begins to cry, holding her stomach tightly. She has no siblings to volunteer for her, she has no friends. The crowd, for once, is overly sympathetic.

Ashby Bowlin begins to speak. "Let's hear it for your female tribute!" When there is little applause, she continues. "Are there any volunteers to take this young woman's place?"

I know this is my chance to make it up to her, to redeem myself for what I said this morning. I have the opportunity to get my best friend back. And then I think, why bother? She's going to die in the arena. If I went, I would die, too. And if I left, who would take care of my family? I'm about to walk away when I make a split second decision.

"I volunteer!" I yell towards the stage.

I'm hoping they didn't hear me, but they did. A guard comes to escort me onto the stage. I stand next to Hazel, her eyes digging into my side.

"Well, congratulations!" Ashby smiles at the two of us. We look very similar, so I'm not surprised when she she asks, "Are you two sisters?"

"No," I reply, because Hazel is still too shaken to do anything but stand.

"Well, still. You've got the spirit of the Games! Besides, I think we almost had two tributes in one!" Ashby jokes, and I want to punch her straight in her overdone make up. "What's your name?" She asks me.

"Sunniva Yule."

"Well, you don't want her to get all the glory, do you? Let's hear it for our newest tribute!"

She rambles on for awhile, and Hazel walks off the stage. I try to catch her eye, but she ignores me. I did this for you! I try to scream at her in my head.

"Now, it's time for the male tribute." Ashby reaches into the bottom of the bowl and pulls out a name. "Larkspur Vipointe."

I'm a twist of emotions. He deserves this. He needs to provide for his child. He should die. Hazel's baby needs a father.

The Mayor of District Eleven tells us to shake hands. I grip his hand hard.

"You better stay alive for that baby," I tell him in a stern voice.

"I'll be the first one down." He says, and then he smiles.