GABRIEL LUTECE, DISTRICT ONE

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I broke my arm when I was eight years old. I was running down a hill and Nina was chasing me 'cause we were playing tag. I was terrified. When you are an eight year old, the fear of being tagged is somehow enormous and I've never been sure as to why that is. Things always seemed bigger and more important when I was little.

Anyway.

I was running down the hill and Nina was chasing me so I ran faster and faster until it came to the point that I couldn't stop no more. You know when you just lose all familiarity with your legs? They become strangers and they run away, getting far from yourself and suddenly I realized that I had lost all control. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to do anything but keep running.

I tried to stop but I couldn't. My feet become tangled in confusion and I fell forwards, world tipping, hands wheeling, searching for purchase that wasn't there. Nina reached out to grab the back of my shirt but I only succeeded in dragging her down with me. She fell heavy against me, pushing all the air out of my chest and we fell together, tumbling head over heels down the rest of the hill. I wrapped my arms around her in an effort to keep her safe but my arms were too tense.

We hit a rock and I heard the sound of my limb breaking reverberate all over the world. Or at least mine. Before that moment, I didn't think that there was anything that could hurt that much. Sometimes I wake up with a jolt, the sound of my broken arm fresh in my ears again even years later. When Nina and I came to our finish at the bottom of the hill, she was sitting on my chest laughing. "Tag!" she'd said but I was biting my lip, big fat tears welling up in my eyes and bleeding out the corners of them.

She still calls me a crybaby for that.

Odd that it's normal in my district to be called a crybaby for something like that but then again, I suppose it's also odd that we willingly train to kill twenty-three other kids in a yearly death match.

Well, not me.

I don't have the money to go to a training center, you have to have big bucks for that, which is something Mam and I don't have. Gramps don't got the money neither. I know he feels bad for it but there's nothing to be done. All the money that we have is spent on surviving and keeping the tea shop running.

It's fine, I don't think I want to learn how to be good at hurting people anyway. I've had an aversion to violence for my entire life and I guess that's 'cause when I was little, I watched mam take a lot of beatings from mom. Mom never touched me once but I guess that's 'cause mam always got in the way. We started living with Gran and Gramps when I was around six and I haven't seen mom since. It's just been mam and I for a long time. I'm glad for it though. Mam has a lot less bruises and even though sometimes she seems distant and sad, she mostly seems a lot happier.

Which is all I've ever really wanted, I think. To be happy seems like a good goal to reach for, even if I've already reached it. I want to keep it up, so that we never have to be sad again. It's not like we've had to do anything drastic to survive neither. Gramps always jokes and says that he gave his right pinky for the deed to the tea shop but he really lost it in a training accident when he was fifteen. Mam told me but I always pretend that I don't know that. Gramps put his heart and soul into the place anyway so I guess we can count his pinky too.

I go without a lot but it's never bothered me much. Kids in school are all from the same area as me and none of us really have much. We've still got our pride. Maybe I only own two different shirts but I ain't gonna wear them into the dirt. I'm careful. I don't want mom to have to do more washing than she has to. Sometimes Gramps gives me something old of his and I'll wear it. I'm not picky. His stuff tends to swim on me though. As you can bet, I've got a pretty small frame. I've never done much training and since I don't get much to eat neither, I'm not the healthiest looking kid in the group. I'm shorter than most too. Gran says it's 'cause I'm not getting the right nutrients but I don't complain.

Mam says she likes that about me, I'm no complainer, ain't never been one neither. I don't see the point to it. Everyone has their lot in life and I'm happy with mine. I may not be rich and I may not be the strongest but I've got good stuff about me too. Mam says she's never met anyone as kind and dear as me. I don't know why she says that, I'm not that special when it comes to sweetness. Mam just raised me to have manners so I say my 'thank-yous' and my 'pleases'. I always let ladies go through doors first like Mam taught me too, and when I'm serving tea I stand straight backed and comb my hair like Gran likes. Gramps says I'm conscientious but I think I'm just like regular folk.

I don't know, I suppose I just give back to folk what they give to me. If someone is kind to me, I'm likely to be the same back. I treat them to one of my biggest smiles and a bright hello, even if I'm dirt covered from a scrap at school or maybe I've been moving stuff in Gran's garden for her again. Mam says my big brown eyes are what draw people in. They're too trusting she says, it makes me an easy target. I don't know for sure what she means by that 'cause I've never really been on the other end of a lie before. Well, maybe I have, I don't know. I figure that if someone is telling a tale to me then it must be because they're desperate. I've given someone the last dollar in my pocket too many times to count just because as long as I'm fed and I'm warm, there's nothing I'm really wanting for.

I suppose that makes me a bit of a welcome mat for being walked all over but I don't see it that way. I like helping people out.

One time in class, Mrs. Fredericks asked us what our dream was. That was nice, a lot of the time, folk don't bother asking slums kids like us because they figure that our only dream must be survival. I remember that Nina wrote that she wanted to win the Hunger Games so she could get her Da a real house. My friend Eric said that he wanted to become a wealthy business man and get everyone he loved out of the slums one day. I think Steven said he wanted to become a Peacekeeper or something. Seeing as everyone else was shooting for the stars too, I wrote down a dream for myself.

I want to open a tea shop in the Games Square for Gran and Gramps to run. It'll have real running water so I won't have to be filling the kettles from the pump out back every ten minutes. We'll have bathrooms in it that flush and a real chalkboard to write the menu on. I'll get an oven in it for Mam so that she can do her baking and maybe get some nice armchairs and tables for the place too instead of wooden stools. I'll get Gramps his coffee maker and even some real good gourmet beans, ones even the Capitol would use. Then I'll buy us a house too so that we don't have to live above the tea shop no more, Mam can have her own room instead of a cot. I'll have a bed instead of a couch, maybe I'll even be allowed a dog.

When I showed Mam the dream I had, she smiled and put her fingers to her lips. "Aye," she'd said, "T'is a good dream, Gabs." I could tell that to her, that was all it was- just a really good dream.

I'm going to make it come true though, I swear that. I picked up another job last month at a grocery store in the rich part of town. Sometimes the rich folk give me tips if I help them carry their groceries. (I'm always amazed and in awe at the amount that people can afford to buy.) Every dollar I make goes into a jar I labelled 'DREAM' with a bit of black paint. I'm filling it, ever so slowly.

Even if it takes twenty years, I'm gonna get Gran and Gramps the tea shop they've always dreamed of.

I'll do it, you'll see.