Survive the Night - Chapter 1

My heart is pounding. I take small, cautious steps and make my way up to the stage. Keri is there waiting for me, her hand outstretched. I take it tentatively and climb the steps to join her.

Just calm down, I tell myself. You knew this would happen. You saw it coming ever since the reading of the card.

It’s the truth. This year is the Quarter Quell, twenty-five years since the Dark Days. This year’s Hunger Games will be worse than ever. The Capitol wants a show and the gamemakers will deliver, no doubt about it.

What’s special about the Quarter Quell is that there’s a twist in the Games. This year the districts were forced to vote for the boy and girl who would enter the Games as tributes. We had a box positioned in the middle of town here in Five. One day during school we were all required to come down and vote for one boy tribute and one girl tribute.

I don’t know whether to feel honored or betrayed that I was chosen. Of course in the Capitol, they will hold me and the twenty-three other kids joining me in high ranks. We are special; the elite. It’s as if each district is a Career district this year. Each tribute selected will be the toughest, strongest, most intelligent in the district.

Which is why I feel slightly honored. I never knew my district thought of me in this way. They obviously think I can win. Why would they pick me if they didn’t? But looking out over the crowd, the feeling of betrayal creeps back. The people of District Five; my friends, my family, my classmates, my worker friends, my teachers just wrote me off. I may be strong, but there’s no way I can survive these Games. I know this now.

There’s no way.

“Alexander Herring.”

A tall, well built boy joins me on stage. We shake hands and I notice his eyes are full of determination and fury, not fear like mine. Great, even my district partner has a one up on me. I’m definitely getting killed in the bloodbath now.

We’re led into the Justice Building and marched down the hall. The room I’m forced into looks old and decrepit. The walls are covered with peeling wallpaper. I walk across the slick tiled floor and collapse into a large, comfortable armchair next to the fireplace.

This is a safe place to cry. No cameras shoved in my face, no one there to criticize me or tell me I should be proud, not upset that I was chosen. The tears fall freely as I wait for my parents to come say goodbye.

But they don’t. By the time I stop crying, my hour is almost up. I didn’t expect any visitors besides my family. Sure I have friends, but none close enough to come say goodbye to me before I am sent to my death.

Suddenly, the door opens and a small, timid boy walks in. I recognize him immediately as the helper at the power plant I work at. He’s always hanging around me, but he’s never talked to me. But here he is, my only visitor.

His clothes are torn and dirty. They look like the same thing he wears everyday. It’s sad. He’s only ten years old and an orphan. The people of the town take care of him somewhat, but not enough to keep him strong. His brown hair is in a crazy mess on top of his head and his blue eyes have a certain kind of sadness to them. It must have taken a lot of courage for him to come see me.

“Hello,” I say, wiping my eyes. I don’t want him knowing that I was crying. “Did you come to say goodbye?” He doesn’t respond. In fact, he won’t raise his eyes from the floor, which makes it hard for me to keep up a conversation.

“Did my parents send you?”

He shakes his head and reaches into his pocket. When his hand emerges, I see it holds a locket. He offers it to me and I take it, rolling it over in my palm. I try to open it, but it seems stuck. I look up to ask if it opens, but the boy is gone.

Confused, I sit back in the chair. After more unsuccessful attempts to open the locket, I tie it around my neck. This will be my token. Whatever is inside, if anything is inside, it was important. Why else would that little boy come all the way here, face the peacekeepers and give it to me?

My hour is up and I’m being marched out of the room and out of the Justice Building. The district is lining the path to the train as they do every year. Usually they are alive, full of energy and throwing wishes to the tributes. The Hunger Games aren’t all that popular here in District Five, but we play along with it because we don’t want to be punished by the Capitol.

We live in fear.

This year they are silent. They understand that they're sending one of us off to our deaths. They know that whichever one of us dies, or if both of us dies, they will be responsible. It doesn't sit well with them. I doesn't sit well with me either. 

I search the crowd for my parents, but they’re not here. I guess they don’t care about their only child. What if I win? Will I come back and find them begging me to share my riches with them? I’m sure that’s exactly what I’ll find.

Maybe I shouldn’t win then. Maybe I should just die; kill myself in the arena or simply put myself in harms way. No one seems to care about me in this district. First they voted me into the Games, then they didn’t visit me to say goodbyes, except for the boy, and now my parents are no where to be found.

But maybe that’s the reason I should live. And win. So I can rub it in their faces. So they can see how strong of a person I am and how I don’t need them in my life. Yes, that’s what I will do. I will be the victor of the first Quarter Quell. And when I get back, I won’t share any of my winnings.

Just to spite everyone who doesn’t care about me.