Lucky (Hunger Games Fan Fiction)

It is time for the 100th Annual Hunger Games.
May the Odds Be Ever in your Favour.


2. And May the Odds be ever in your Favour.

I feel rooted to the spot as Beattie peers into the crowd, grinning.

"Come on, out you come you lucky girl! Lucky Brenner?" She calls into the crowd, and as my eyes fill with tears, someone pushes me forwards towards the stage, and towards the chilling figure of Beattie with her yellow hair, blue lips and silver teeth. She grasps me by the shoulders and stands me at the front.

"Ah, hello! And how old are you Lucky?" She nods into the crowd.

"14." I murmur quietly, avoiding her chilling violet eyes with the whites died emerald. I stare at the floor instead, unable to move, slowly shaking, my shoulders heaving up and down. I look into the crowd and see Kat, her mouth open and eyes frozen to the spot. I don't expect her to volunteer, but I always think back to Katniss and Prim, and their story. Would Kat do the same for me?

But she doesn't. She just keeps standing, rooted to the spot. Mother is still, silent tears running down her face.

"14! What a beautiful age. Well, lets give a big round of applause for Lucky who is going to represent your district in this year's annual Hunger Games! And hopefully your name should give you a chance of bringing victory to your home!" Beattie laughs high pitchedly and pushes me to the side, strolling over to the glass ball on her left hand side.

"And now for the boy tribute!" She calls, again, making a show of swirling her hand over the slips as though casting a spell, and then pulling out that one slip. 

She unfolds, grins, and looks into the crowd, opening her eyes wide, before calling out his name.

"Thomas Cartwright."

I don't know him, but he's around my age I'm guessing and muscular looking. His face is a vision of pure shock, as he slowly makes his way through the crowd, blinking wildly as he tries not to cry. It's hard to figure him out; he looks strong and like a fighter, but he has glasses and a scared look in his eyes. I don't know what to do, so I just look down at my feet and let the tears slowly drip onto my shoes.

"Hello! And how old are you Thomas?!" She trills, patting her manic hair into place, and her eyes bore into his, as he swallows and tries to answer. He's silent for a few moments, and I can see a blue vein pumping in his left muscle- an odd thing to notice, but I do. And I suddenly have an urge to hug him...

So I do.

I push past Beattie, who gasps and nearly topples in her yellow high heels, and hug him tightly. It only lasts for a few seconds, but the crowd in draws breath sharply, and cock their heads to the side, murmuring amongst themselves. They don't know what to think, I can tell. Mother has the faintest of smiles on her faces, and suddenly she stands up and salutes me with three fingers. I smile back, and have the urge to go and kiss her, and smother her and Kat with hugs- but I know if I move I'll be bustled back by guards in white.

"Well, how lovely! Enthusiasm!" Beattie cries and clears her throat again, patting her hair back into place.

"Anyway, Thomas how old are you?"

Thomas is watching me now and when he catches me looking he looks away quickly, bravely looking into Beattie's violet eyes with a new found courage.

"I am 16." He says loudly clearly. "And I intend to win."

"Well, brilliant!" Beattie trills. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Vigorous training is to come, and it will work you hard but it will give the very best chance of survival; and of course great entertainment!" She grins and I want to punch her. It's not entertaining to watch humans slaughtering each other.

I hold myself back anyway and stand still as she steps to the front of the stage again, and her silver teeth glint in the sunlight as she opens her mouth to let more words tumble out in her chilling accent.

"Everyone, our District 12 tributes!" She shouts, holding her arms out.

We're greeted by silence, and a sea of salutes.

"And may the odds, be ever in your favour!"


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