In District One, being chosen as Tribute for the Hunger Games is considered an honor by most. From the time they are twelve years old to the time they are eighteen years old, our children are given special training, just to prepare them for when their name is picked out of the large glass bowl onstage, if it is in fact chosen. It’s almost like a career around here, which is why Districts One and Two are known to the other Districts as the Career Districts, or Careers for short. One of us usually has the winning Tribute; no other District has won in seven years.

Today is the Reaping Day. I am standing in the crowd of other girls my age, waiting to see if my name is called. Most of us hope to be chosen, but I hope that I am not. I see the terrors of these wicked Games, and desperately wish that my name will not be read from one of those thin slices of paper. I listen as the names are chosen. Girls are always first.

“Glimmer Vanguard.” This is not me. I am safe this year; only two more years until my name shall be removed from the bowl forever, two more years that I must evade hearing my name. I can do this. Next comes the boys. I glance over at my boyfriend, Marvel. He is standing next to his twin brother Dustin; I’ve always had a little trouble telling them apart from a distance because they both have the same looks confident manner, but I know that hidden deep within Marvel there is slight fear. He knows the honor it is to be chosen, but doubts his ability to win.

“Now, the lucky boy who shall be accompanying Glimmer into the arena: Marvel Rhodaise.” My heart drops. I have confidence in Marvel’s abilities, but I can’t help but fear for him. The anthem plays, and the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason. No one is listening, especially not me. Marvel hugs his brother before going up to the stage, and it looks like he whispers something in his ear, but I can’t tell.

Marvel and Glimmer stand onstage until the ceremony is done. Now visitors are allowed before they leave for the Capitol. I am the first allowed in to see Marvel. We have five minutes together.

“Emmaline.” Marvel whispers my name. I look into his eyes. They are a blue the color of a shallow glacial lake, almost translucent light blue. “I am going to come home for you. I promise. I will not leave you alone.”

“I know you will. You can beat any of those other Tributes. I’ve seen you prepare for these Games for four years; you’re one of the best District One has.” He wraps his arms around me as a single tear rolls down my face. My face is buried deep in his chest and he strokes my hair. I will miss his warmth and protection these next two months. A Peacekeeper opens the door. Marvel leans down and kisses me gently. “Be safe.” And with that, I am lead from the room.

He nods in silence as I am lead out the door. As I leave, I see Dustin go in. I laugh to myself and wonder if the Peacekeepers will remember which one is Marvel.


Marvel’s parents, Dustin, and I sit on the floor of Marvel’s living room watching the Games. Almost everyone is watching in the square, but the Rhodaises have decided to stay at home for privacy. They know how much Marvel means to me, so they invite me to watch with them, as I may as well be a part of the family anyways.

It is the first day of the Games. Marvel is standing on his platform, prepared to dart for the supplies in the Cornucopia as soon as the sixty seconds is over. The buzzer alerts the Tributes that they may move. I watch as Marvel, along with eighteen other Tributes, dashes into the massive gold structure. He pulls out a large backpack that appears to have enough supplies to stay alive for at least a week. Glimmer, Cato, and Clove, the other Careers, also have some of the best supplies. I feel sympathy towards the eleven that die at the Cornucopia, but at the same time I am overjoyed when I watch Marvel and the Careers, plus two others, make a small camp in a clearing. Marvel is safe, for now, although the same cannot be said for the others. Later that night, Marvel lands the final blow to a girl who stupidly lit a fire. He makes me so proud, I can’t help but smile when he goes to bed; he looks so cute when he’s asleep, and I know that he will live another day.


Now, two nights later, I am curled into Dustin’s side, holding his arm tightly with fear. Fear for Marvel. The Careers have caught the District 12 girl, Katniss, her name is. They found her up a tree, and now have her cornered. Glimmer, however, has terrible aim, and misses several times with the bow and arrows she retrieved from the Cornucopia. Katniss does not look pleased that they are in her possession. Eventually, Peeta, the District 12 boy, convinces them to wait her out. They do not, however, see the small District 11 girl in the other tree. My whole body stiffens as the girl points something out in the tree. A tracker jacker nest. Marvel is dangerously allergic. I cry out in fear when the nest falls, sending tracker jackers after my Marvel and the others.

“No!” I screech, and so does Dustin. Marvel is running toward the lake, and I am cutting off the circulation in Dustin’s right arm with my nails. He makes it, and I relax. Marvel will be okay, as long as somebody gets rid of those stingers. The jackers stung him eight times. He is a little swollen for the next few days, but the Career alliance is still mainly intact, missing only two members. Glimmer fell and was stung to death. I will miss her for sure, but I’m happier that Marvel is alive. I don’t care much about the District 4 girl.


A week has gone by. It has been very boring. For the most part, the Career group has stayed in their camp apart from the odd hunting or victim trip. Today is different. Katniss and that small District 11 girl, Rue, I think her name is, have planned to take out the food stockpile. Crouching in the brush, Katniss shoots three arrows. Until the third, she appears off target. That is when I see one single apple activate the minefield the District 3 boy created. He lives, until Cato returns and snaps his neck. I distrust this Cato boy, but Marvel must see something in him. Marvel. Where is Marvel? The cameras are showing Rue trapped in a net, calling for Katniss, who appears quickly. Here is Marvel. He lifts his left arm, and prepares to throw a spear. However, he is not fast enough. Just as the spear leaves his hand, impaling Rue, an arrow flies from Katniss’s bow, impaling his neck. He falls.

At first, I do not realize what has just happened. Then, it hits me as if a door had opened in my face. A mangled cry escapes my now-dry throat. Tears flow like the rain of an afternoon thunderstorm. Marvel is dead, murdered by Katniss. My Marvel. I am screaming into Dustin’s chest, like he was a pillow. His arms are gently holding me in, and he is obviously in pain as well. He kisses the top of my head, and pushes me away so that I see his eyes. Those glacial pool-colored eyes. He gives me a soft kiss on my lips, barely touching, just the way Marvel would have. Realization takes over as he takes my hand just… like…

“Marvel.”