Only One Comes Out

When I wake up I immediately think that today is the day. The day I’ve been waiting for all my life. The day of the reaping. The day everyone hates. But not 2.

My mother and father are still sleeping, along with Liam, my little brother. I force myself to get out of bed like I do every day at 4:30. I must get to training by 5. I put on some clothes and go downstairs, careful not to wake anybody. I grab my boots and walk out of the house.

The district is so much different at night. In the daytime, the town feels so much more alive with people buzzing around going to work and school. Yet at quarter to four, nobody’s up.

I kind of like it better, walking to the training center when it’s dark and nobody’s up. It’s so quiet and soothing in a way.

I break into a jog as I reach the main street. It took a little longer than I usually take, and I need to hurry to get there on time.

I reach the entrance of the training center, and push the doors open. “You’re late,” says the trainer, a large woman in her mid thirties. I sort of shrug. “Only by a few minutes,” I say. “Excuses!” yells the trainer. “Give me twenty push ups right now!” she screams.

I roll my eyes and sigh as I go down on the floor and do my push ups. They aren’t really that bad as I’ve done push ups thousands of times before.

Once I’m done I walk past my trainer and into the main room. I see Clove sitting on a bench tying up her running shoes as I approach her.

“Hey,” I say as I sit down beside her and grab my own shoes out of my locker.

“Hey,” she says. “What took you so long?”

“I ran into Mrs. Sanders at the front door,” I say. “She chewed me out and made me do push ups.”

“Sounds like Mrs. Sanders,” she says.

“I know, right?” I say.

“Cato, Clove!” yells a voice from inside. “Come on hurry up!” I quickly tie up my shoes and walk into the training room. Already people are at the stations, throwing spears, working with bow and arrows, or all sorts of other weapons.

A man hands me my schedule and I can see that I’m due for spear training first. Good. That’s my favorite.

I walk over to the spear station, pick up a spear, and throw it. It hits the dummy’s left arm, a good shot, but not awesome.

“Remember to keep your eyes on the target,” says Mr. Bradley, the spear specialist. Mr. Bradley has been training tributes on how to use and throw spears for a long time. I respect him enough to use his advice.

After spears for a half hour I go to the knife throwing station. Again for half an hour. This isn’t my specialty but I think I’m okay at it. After I throw knives for half an hour we are allowed a ten minute water break. I walk back over to my locker and see Clove sitting there.

“Hey,” I say, “What did you have for your first two stations?” I ask. “Well first I had knife throwing, and then battle axes,” she says. “What about you?”

“I did spears first and then knife throwing,” I tell her. As you can see most of us start with our specialty first. For me it’s spears. For Clove, she can’t miss a target with her knives. She’s the best knife thrower here and I can tell that the knife throwing specialist enjoys watching her.

Clove grabs her water and starts drinking and suddenly I’m hit with a wave of adrenaline. If I go into the Hunger Games today and she comes with me I won’t be able to tell her. There will be too much media and reporters. And if there is a chance that I’m going to die I need to tell her. Just once. I decide to go right ahead and say it.

“I love you.”

Clove almost spills her water in surprise at my boldness.

“Cato I- I love you too,” she says. “But I can’t- I mean we can’t-”

“I know,” I say, shushing her concerns. She’s right. Career tributes that are in love with one another won’t get many sponsors in the arena. We are supposed to be trained killers that are vicious and heartless. At least she knows how I feel and I know how she feels about me.

One of the trainer’s voices breaks the tension. “That’s ten minutes, people let’s go!”

I give Clove one final look before I walk into the training room. I have sword training next which is also my specialty although I didn’t do it first.

The half hour of hacking away at dummies goes by quickly and finally we have 30 minutes of no weapons but training for only our bodies. We are instructed to do sprints, push ups, sit ups, and finally the last five minutes is stretching.

I hold my head high during group training surveying the weaker than me as I got chosen to go into the arena yesterday on decision day. This feels good I think as I stare at every person that thought they were better than me in recent training sessions.

Finally, It is 7 o’clock. It is time to walk home and to get ready for the reaping. I put my shoes back into my locker, slip on my boots and start my walk home. I’m in no hurry now and there’s no need to run as I slowly trek across town back to my house.

The district is still pretty quiet as I walk through the mostly empty streets. It’s reaping day which is considered a holiday so no one has to work. Might as well stay at home and do nothing until it’s time for the reaping.

I walk down the road and take the turn to go to my house. I reach the door and open it quietly just in case anyone else might be sleeping.

I walk inside to see my little brother right where I thought he would be, at our living room window staring into the distance. “You really should get more sleep,” I say as I kneel down beside him. “I couldn’t,” he says.

“Why?” I exclaim. “You have nothing to worry about, you know I’m volunteering,” I say. “Yeah but it’s not just you, Cato,” he says. “I have friends that are girls that are going into the reaping, and who’s going to volunteer for them?”

He’s still angry. I can sense it. Ever since I told him I was volunteering for this year’s games he’s been a little off. My parents always knew. They were the ones that encouraged me to volunteer. They were victors themselves back then and they wanted me to carry on the family tradition. It wasn’t like I had a choice. Liam would never volunteer. Never be part of the games unless he was picked. Unlike me, he hated every single bit of the games. The other part of my family and I viewed it more as a challenge.

“Liam, listen,” I say, “the odds of your friends being picked are extremely low.” “THE ODDS?” he yells. “Do the math Cato, more than a thousand kids have died in the hunger games, the odds don’t matter anymore!” With that, he storms out of the room. I don’t understand how he was born in this family and has that mindset. My mother walks down the stairs.

“What is all this yelling?” she asks. “It’s just Liam’s daily rant about the Hunger Games that’s all mom,” I say. “I don’t understand that boy,” she says. “He’s a born Hadley and should be proud of it. Instead he detests the Capitol and the Hunger Games!” she says. “What a disgrace to the family.” She walks into the kitchen and I follow her. “At least you have the courage to train and compete in the Games,” she says proudly. I know she’s right. Every Hadley going back generations has competed and, for the most part, won the hunger games. I’m just another generation, and I know I need to bring pride to my family. Liam just doesn’t understand that.

My father walks into the kitchen. “Isaac, go find Liam and tell him breakfast is ready,” she says. “We must not be late for this big day!” Am I nervous? No. More like prepared. Only my family and a few very close friends know that I have been training for this hunger games for twelve years now. All of the Hadleys that won the games have started training when they were six and volunteered at eighteen. So no, this is my Hunger Games. And I’m going to win.

Liam walks in with a permanent scowl on his face, my father right behind him. I quickly down my breakfast and try to wait patiently for the rest of my family to finish. My parents mentioned yesterday that they had bought me a special outfit for the event and I really want to see it. My mother finishes her breakfast and smiles at my father across the table. “Well Cato, I’m sure you would like to see your outfit for the reaping, so follow me upstairs,” my father says. My father leads us up the stairs with my mother right behind. Liam almost awkwardly stalks behind us, but I know he wants to see my outfit too. As we reach the end of the hall my father turns around and smiles at me and my mother. “Well Cato this is your special day and we bought this outfit for the reaping. It will bring you luck in your journey through the Capitol.” He opens the door and a gorgeous, crisp white suit is laid out on the bed. My mother tells me they had to trade diamonds for it!

Diamonds!

Diamonds are very valuable here and not many have them anymore. They come from District 1, the jewellery district and trading for them is very difficult.

“Put it on,” my father orders. But I can see the excitement on his face. I do as he says and feel the soft insides of the suit. It is really amazing the quality of it. Finally my father pulls out the silver necklace with a beautiful silver lion on it. Our family emblem. The same one my uncle wore to win his hunger games. He volunteered for my father. My great grandfather wore it as well and won. It’s my turn now. My father puts it over my head. “To bring you luck,” he whispers. Like I need luck, I think. But I accept the gift anyway.

It’s still early in the morning but already we can hear the sounds of the district. The reaping isn’t until 10 but who’s going to sleep in anyway? “How about we walk downstairs and start getting ready,” my father says. “Liam go get dressed and meet us downstairs, we leave in ten minutes,” he says. Liam leaves without a word. “Mother, Father thank you for this but I need some time alone now,” I say. “I understand Cato but meet us downstairs in ten minutes,” my mother says. They leave and I’m alone now. There’s only one thing on my mind now and that’s Clove. The only girl I love. At least I told her today and she knows. I knew I would have to tell her before we go to the Capitol. At least she’ll die knowing my feelings for her.

Walking down the dusty road towards the town square I can feel the tension. There aren’t many brave 18 year old boys this year so I should be able to volunteer without any trouble. Thank god. In other years there have been fights that have broken out when someone volunteered for the person that was reaped. These are the sort of things that happen only in districts 1 or 2. Not like those cowards in twelve. Everyone in two hates twelve, and everyone in twelve hates two. Twelve hates us because they think we are the Capitols “lap dogs”. Ridiculous. We’re just smart. We hate twelve because they are open jerks to two whenever they get the chance. They can’t follow orders from the Capitol. They are weak. The kind that’s gone in the first five minutes of the games. The joke district.

We arrive at the square and walk single file in a line to get blood drawn from our finger. This is to make sure that it is us and not someone disguised as someone else. I can see Liam far ahead of me. He’s 11 so he isn’t eligible for the reaping until next year. He’ll be standing with my family in a different roped off area. Once we are done with blood tests we clump together in a roped area. Boys on the right and girls on the left. The younger kids at the front and by age go back further and further. There are four chairs sat side by side on the stage. One for Madelyn, our escort, two for our mentors, Enobaria, and Wade, and finally the last one for the mayor.

As the clock strikes ten, the mayor takes the stage. It’s the same story every year. He tells us about the history of Panem, and reads our past victors. After he is finished, our Madelyn takes the stage. “Happy Hunger Games!” “May the odds be ever in your favour!” she shrills in her Capitol accent. A few claps. We may like winning the games but it’s not like we’re complete monsters. “Okay then.” she exhales “Let’s start now shall we?” War. Terrible war. The video they play every reaping rings out in the deadly silence of the square. I know why they play it. Everyone does. They do everything they can to keep the war fresh in our heads.

Once the video was finished it was time for the reaping.

“Ladies first!” she shrills.

She struts over to the girls bowl. She dips her hand in and pulls out a slip. “Caylee Linden,” she says. All the girls separate for the unlucky girl to pass on her way to the stage. Or she thinks she’s unlucky.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

Clove’s voice rings through the air, her hand shoots up. “Well isn’t this great!” she says. “Come on up!” She walks steadily to the stage with two peacekeepers at her back. Like she’s going anywhere else. She walks up the stairs to the stage until she’s right beside Madelyn. “And what’s your name dear?” she asks. “Clove Kentwell,” she says in a strong voice. There’s not even a tremble in her voice. “Beautiful,” she says. “And now for the boys.”

It’s funny how she’s not even surprised how there’s a volunteer. There’s been a volunteer practically every year except some.

She goes over to the boys bowl, her pink dress swaying this way and that. She put her hand into the boy’s glass bowl, rustling it around for a minute before pulling out a slip. “Jackson Porter,” she says into the microphone. I almost don’t want to say it but I have to. “I volunteer!” I yell as I lunge forward. “I volunteer as tribute.” The other boys clear a path for me. Jackson, who is in the younger class, has a look of gratitude on his face. I walk past him and give him a slight nod. I probably just saved his life. Being a scrawny kid like him, I doubt he would last more than an hour in the Games.

I walk towards the stage, two Peacekeepers behind me. I feel all eyes staring at me. I walk up the stairs to the stage past Clove and stand directly to the left of Madelyn. I look out towards the end of the line to where my parents stand. My father has no emotion on his face, but my mother’s is swelling with pride. I search the crowd for Liam and lock eyes with him for a moment before he looks away towards the mountains in the distance. His eyes. So angry.

“Amazing!” Madelyn’s voice pulls me back into reality. “This is the real spirit of the Games!” she announces. “And what is your name?” she asks me. “Cato Hadley,” I say into the microphone. “Perfect!” she says. “Let’s give a round of applause to our tributes Clove Kentwell and Cato Hadley!” she says. Not a single person claps. “Alright then,” she says. She asks us to shake hands. I raise my hand and she raises hers. When we touch I feel tingles running through my body. I look into her eyes and we make eye contact for a few seconds. She has such warm brown eyes. Her eyes crinkle into a tiny smile. But then two peacekeepers go in between us and the contact is gone.

We are escorted into the justice building and are put into separate rooms, to say goodbye to our family and friends. The peacekeepers shove me into the room. I sit there until the door opens. My first visitors were my family. “You have an hour to say goodbye to your family and friends. Then we leave.” says the peacekeeper. I nod my head and he closes the door.

My mother, father, and Liam all stare at me. “Oh Cato,” says my mother. “You can win this, you know you can,” she says. “Yes, I know mother,” I say. “I will win it, I promise.” “Well, good luck Cato,” says my father. “I will be expecting you back home in a few weeks.” I stare at Liam as he stares at the ground. Refusing to make eye contact with me. A peacekeeper walks in. “Mr Hadley, you have another visitor,” he says. “Okay, let’s go then,” says my mother. “Good luck Cato,” she says. My brother finally looks me in the eyes. “Goodbye, Cato,” he says evenly. And walks out the door with my mother and father.