The 67th Hunger Games

The story of the 67th Hunger Games, through 15-year old Cayenne Ember from District 11's eyes. These Games are 2 years after Finnick's, 2 years before Annie's, 7 years before Katniss & Peeta's, and 8 years before the 3rd Quarter Quell. Hope you like it C:


2. Chapter 2 - The Reaping

I don’t hesitate. Walking determinedly up to the stage, I ignore the weeping, shocked or terrified faces of my classmates and family. I walk up the steps to Dahlia Spruce, who is smiling broadly.

“That’s it honey, nice and brave,” She addresses the crowd. “May I present to you, District 11’s female tribute, Cayenne Ember!”

Dahlia pauses, waiting for a clap which doesn’t come. Someone raises their hand, kissing three of their fingers and then putting them in the air. Our salute. I look at their face, to see who it is. My heart aches when I recognize them as Aria, my best friend. Her big, brown eyes are leaking floods of tears and she seems to be shaking. But she keeps her hand firmly in the air. Instantaneously people copy, and soon all of the citizens of District 11 are saluting me, three fingers in the air.

Dahlia seems to recognise the atmosphere. A District standing together, with every single citizen saluting, saying they are not ok with this, and they will not pretend they are. Dahlia hastily carries on with the Reaping.

“And now, for the gents. Who will get to be a district partner with this lovely lady here?”

Everyone looks at her with looks of disgust, which quickly change into fear as she moves towards the boys reaping bowl and puts her hand in. She pulls out a slip of paper and moves back to the centre of the stage.

“Cedar Flynn,”

My inside numbness increases. Cedar Flynn. We’re not close, or even really friends, but we do sit next to each other in a couple of lessons. Cedar is trying to imitate me, trying to appear brave and unshaken. It breaks my heart that it doesn’t seem to be working. Beads of sweat slip over from his hairline down his forehead, his hands are shaking and he doesn’t seem to be able to shut his mouth. He mounts the stage, and Dahlia instructs us to shake hands. I place my clammy hand in Cedar’s, and we look into each other’s eyes. Instantly I know we’re both thinking the same thing.  Shock, fear, worry. All those emotions will come later, in the privacy of the Justice Building, or on the train to the Capitol. But right now, we must not appear to be a weaklings, easy targets. I keep telling myself I must appear brave, confident, even slightly bored. We allow Dahlia to lift our hands in the air, presenting us to the rest of Panem.

“The tributes of District 11! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

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