Hunger Games 1

Chapter 3 Hope (1)
Once, I fell asleep and fell on my back from a tree ten feet high, while holding my breath waiting for prey to pass by.That fall seemed to squeeze every trace of air in my lungs out of my body. I struggled desperately, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale...

And at this moment, this is exactly how I feel, I try to remember how to breathe, I can't speak, the name echoes in my head, I am completely stunned, my body goes limp, I feel dizzy, and at this moment A boy from the "crack zone" quickly supported me.

There must be a mistake somewhere, it's impossible.Prim's name was on a thousand slips of paper!The odds of her being drawn are so slim that I don't even have to worry about it.Haven't I done everything for her?I'm on food stamps and I don't want the same thing to happen to her?A note, one note out of thousands.The chances of her being drawn are slim.But it didn't work.

In the distance, there were murmurs of disapproval from the crowd, as usual that a 12-year-old was unfairly selected.That's when I saw Prim walking past me, with no blood on her face, her clenched fists hanging at her sides, her body stiff and her walking difficult, she walked towards the stage.I saw her blouse loose again, hanging out of her skirt like a ducktail.It was this inconspicuous detail that brought me back to my senses.

"Prim!" I yelled in a husky voice, my arms and legs now at my command. "Prime!" There was no need to push through the crowd, the other kids had already made way for me, leading to the stage.Just as Prim was about to take the stage, I caught up to her and pushed her behind me with a flick of my arm.

"I want to volunteer!" I gasped, "I volunteer to be a 'tribute'!"

There was some confusion on stage.District [-] had no volunteers for decades, and the rule was almost forgotten.As a rule, if a child, whether boy or girl, is drawn, another candidate boy or girl can take his or her place.In other districts, it is an honor to be selected at the Harvest Festival ceremony, and many people are willing to risk their lives for it. The procedure of voluntary participation is very complicated.But in the twelfth district, "tribute" and "corpse" are almost synonymous, and volunteers have disappeared because of this.

"Great!" Effie Trinket said, "But I think it's a little problem that after introducing the winners, there are volunteers. But if there are volunteers, then we... um... ..." Her voice stopped, and she was not sure about it.

"Does it matter?" said the mayor.He looked at me with a pained expression on his face.He doesn't know me very well, perhaps only vaguely.I am the girl selling strawberries, and his daughter may have mentioned me occasionally.The girl appeared to him five years ago, snuggled up with her mum and sister, and he introduced the eldest daughter of the family and presented her with a bravery medal, which was awarded to her Dad - the man who was killed in the mine disaster.Did he remember this?

"Is there a problem?" he asked harshly again. "Let her come forward."

Prim yelled hysterically behind me.She held me in her thin arms like pincers, "No, Katniss! No, you can't go!"

"Prime, let me go," I snapped.It made me so sad that she did this and I didn't want to cry.Everyone will see my tears on the night of the ceremony, and I will be identified as an easy target, showing the frailty of my humanity, and I will not allow that gratification to anyone. "open!"

I felt someone pulling her from behind.I looked back and Gale had lifted her up and she was still waving her arms. "Go ahead, Catnip," he said, trying not to let his voice tremble.He carried Prim to Mom, and I took the opportunity to climb up the table.

"Ah, that's awesome!" exclaimed Effie Trinket, "It's the spirit of The Hunger Games!" She was delighted that something special was finally happening in one district.

"What's your name?"

I hold back my nervousness. "Katniss Everdeen," I said.

"That girl must be your sister. Don't want her to take all the credit, right? Come on, folks, let's give our latest 'tribute' the biggest round of applause!" Effie Trinket wrote with Said the excited voice.

Out of respect for the eternal honor of District [-], no one applauded, not even the most indifferent gamblers.Maybe they met me on the black market, maybe they knew my dad, maybe they met Pale, the girl everyone loved.At this moment, there was no applause, and I just stood there motionless; people expressed their inner discontent in the most daring way.The audience was silent.This shows that they do not agree and do not condone what the Capitol did.It's all wrong.

Then something unexpected happened.At least I didn't think of it, because I think the [-]th district is a place that won't give me love.But from the moment I stepped on the stage, something changed and I became someone to be cherished.It started with one person, then another, and finally almost all of them raised their left hands, they put their middle three fingers to their lips, and then they pointed at me.This is an old gesture in our district, and it is rarely used anymore, only occasionally seen at funerals.It means gratitude, it means reverence, it means saying goodbye to loved ones.

This time I was about to cry, but luckily Haymitch stumbled over and congratulated me.

"Look, look how good she is!" he yelled, putting his arm around mine, and he was quite a size. "I like her!" His mouth was full of alcohol, it seemed that he hadn't showered for a long time, and his body smelled bad.

"She is too..." He couldn't think of the right words for a while, "You have the guts." He said exaggeratedly, "She is stronger than you!"

He let go of me and rushed to the front desk, pointing at a camera and yelling, "She's better than you!"

Is he addressing the audience, or is he taunting the Capitol while drunk?I will never know.Just when he was about to open his mouth to speak again, he fell headfirst off the stage and fell unconscious.

He's really disgusting, but I should also be grateful to him.Every camera excitedly focused on him, and I just saved myself from talking in my hoarse little voice, and took the opportunity to calm down.I put my hands behind my back and looked into the distance.I saw the hill I climbed with Gail this morning.All of a sudden, I felt a desire...to get out of here...to the mountains...but, I knew I was right not to run, otherwise who would volunteer for Prim?

Haymitch was whisked away on a stretcher, and Effie Trinket spun the glass ball again.

"What an exciting day this is!" she said tenderly while arranging her wig, which was obviously crooked to the right, "but the more exciting moment has come, our male 'tribute' is about to be produced!"

Apparently to keep her loose wig in place, she rests one hand on her hair while the other reaches into the glass ball that holds the boys list.She took out the first note she found and walked quickly back to the podium to read the names, and I didn't even have time to pray for Gail.

"Peeta Mylark."

Peeta Mylark!
"Oh no," I thought, "not him." I didn't speak to him, but I knew the name, Peeta Mylark.

No, the odds are against me today.

He came up on stage and I looked at him.He was of medium build, stocky and strong, with light-blond hair hanging down his forehead.The shock of the moment was still written on his face, and he was trying his best to keep calm, but his blue eyes were still full of panic, which I often saw when I was hunting.He pretended to be calm, walked up to the stage, and stood in his place.

Effie Trinket asked if there were volunteers, but no one came forward.

He has two older brothers, I know, I've seen them in the bakery, but one of them is also well past volunteer age, and the other is reluctant.This is usually the case.Most sacrifices for their families in Harvest rituals end here.I am an exception.

The mayor started to read the long and tedious Rebel Treaty - it was a requirement, but I didn't catch a word of it.

"Why was he chosen?" I thought.I tried to convince myself it was okay.Peeta Mylark and I weren't friends, not even neighbors.We haven't spoken, the real contact was a few years ago.He may have forgotten, but I haven't, and I know I never will...

That was when we were having the hardest time, Dad died in a mine disaster three months earlier, in January, the coldest month I've ever lived.The numbness of losing him had passed, replaced by constant surges of pain that hit me with redoubled force and often made me cry uncontrollably. "Where are you?" My heart was crying, "Where have you been?" However, I never got an answer.

The district gave us a small amount of money as compensation for his death, enough for us to spend a month.During this month, we have been worrying about when my mother will go out to find a job, but she doesn't do anything, she just sits in a chair all day, curled up on the bed under a blanket most of the time, staring blankly into the distance.Sometimes, she would move as if she was about to do something urgent, but she would eventually fall back into her original state.No matter how much Prim begged, she couldn't move her.

(End of this chapter)