The Reaping District 8

No.

No. I am too astonished to form any coherent thoughts. Is that really my name, the one on that slip of paper right there in our escort's hands? Is this some kind of joke? Any second now, Prethim will shake his head, with the first smile I've ever seen from him present on his face, and read off a different name from that paper. It would be the name of someone I hardly knew, or didn't know at all, and I'd feel bad for them, of course, but all the while I'd be silently rejoicing the fact that I was free, safe for another year from the Games that would tear me away from my home. Forever.

But Prentim does not speak again. His look is the same as it always is, bored. And then slowly I realize that there is no joke. It is really my name on that paper.

And I am as good as dead.

Heidi. That is all I can think of as I stare up in raw disbelief at the makeshift stage. I finally become aware of her beside me, clutching my hand, her wide brown eyes full of tears as she stared up at me, mouth open in a silent scream. "You can't...you can't..." Her voice is barely a whisper, and I am close to tears myself as I stare at my one and only love's devastated face. I do not want to leave her. I would rather die, right here and now, than face the horrors of that arena, all the while knowing that she is back home watching me be tortured.

Someone shoves me. I neither know nor care who, but suddenly I am seperated from Heidi. I feel her tiny hand slip away from mine as the crowd parts to let me through. I blindly walk to the front of the crowd, her sobs still echoing in my ears as I do so. "I'm...I'm Jared Strahan," I say, completely unnecassarily, as I reach the stage. Of course I am Jared Strahan; no one else but a tribute from our district would ever come up here of their own free will. We hardly ever had volunteers.

I look out over the people in my district, all gathered in the square for this horror of a holiday: Reaping Day. Somewhere, I know, is my family. My parents. Ian, who I never see anymore. Nate, my little brother. That hits me. My little brother, whom I've cared for my whole life. But even so, the only one I have eyes for is Heidi, standing there with the other seventeens. She has her face buried in her hands, and the others have sympathetic looks, but no one goes near her. It's as if she is toxic. Heidi. My Heidi. I long to run to her wrap my arms around her, reassure her. But even if I were able to do that, it wouldn't change a thing.

I am a contender in the Hunger Games.