Child's Play: The Forty-Third Hunger Games

Chapter 6

I goofed on Tullia's name because I mixed her up with Tillia Raven. It's Tullia Havana.

Scott Sharpe, 16

People started work young in Five, but I didn't mind. I liked my job. But then, I had a pretty cool job.

I dangled from a hovercraft as the workers above me worked the controls that would lower me into place over the broken power line. The backdraft from the hovercraft tousled my hair and blew me slightly off course. The craft moved around until I was in position and I started to work.

It wasn't a particularly difficult problem. Advanced repair jobs were handled by people older than me. One of the power lines had been jarred loose in a storm and was dangling across the other one. In the event of a circuit interruption, the power in the line was cut, so I didn't have to worry about being electrocuted. I was still covered nearly head-to-toe in rubber, though.

Really, the most dangerous and difficult part of the job was getting into position. We'd had workers get injured by smacking against the pole or getting twisted in the wires more often than anyone getting electrocuted. The power line was designed to snap off at a certain point if it was put under stress. It broke cleanly and all I had to do was stick it back into place and apply a heat gun to the edges to seal them.

Sometimes I took longer than I had to when I was working. I liked to hover above the city and look at all the people far below. I always had the urge to spit and see if it would land on someone's head. Usually I could resist it. I especially liked jobs that used the heat gun, since I could pretend it was a laser gun and I was fighting off an alien invasion. But in the end, I always did a good job and checked everything at least twice. This was very important work. I wouldn't want someone to have their power go off because I was clowning around.

I was already formulating a witty remark as the other workers pulled me back into the plane. I was somewhat famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked) for jokes and one-liners after a job. People thought it came naturally. It did somewhat, but I also worked at it and I had a stockpile in case inspiration just wasn't there at a necessary moment. It's not easy being funny.

Tullia Havana, 15

I was in an oven. A burning, searing oven. I couldn't see the flames, but the air scorched me and the smoke stripped my throat raw. My skin prickled and crawled with heat, and I was afraid it would burst into flames. Our house was so small, but it seemed so far to the outside. A burning chunk of my hair fell against my cheek and the pain almost blinded me as I ran.

As I was running through the door, a piece of the ceiling fell onto my arm. It scraped all down the skin as it slid off, and the skin went with it. My arm was bubbling and burning, but I couldn't run any faster or scream any louder than I already was.

I woke up screaming and clutching at my arm. I huddled inside my tiny shelter as I calmed myself down. There was one good thing about living in a cardboard box. I would never be trapped in it as it burned. I was a homeless street rat who still couldn't find the rest of her family, but at least I had that.

I cradled my burned arm in the other as I walked to the market. It seemed silly to buy food before the Reaping, but it really wasn't. Either I'd get Reaped and I wouldn't need money any more, or I'd be safe and I'd still be hungry. Not that I had much to spend. All I had were the few cents I earned begging or doing odd jobs for anyone who would hire a street kid.

There was something about the Reaping that always chilled me, even beyond the normal horror. It was the boys' section. There were two boys who weren't there. Two boys who looked a little like me. I never wanted to look closely. I wanted to think I'd just missed them, and they were really there. But it was the only explanation that made sense. If they were there, they'd be looking for me. We'd have found each other by now. If they were dead, my parents probably were, too. I never looked for them as hard as I might have. If they were alive, they'd find me. If I didn't look for them, I could pretend they were still looking for me.

I almost felt hope when I heard Otho call my name. I went up on stage and looked at the crowd. But it was quiet. No one was calling my name and trying to break through the crowd so they could see their lost daughter. None of the boys were looking at me with anything but pity. I tried to act like I didn't care and I wasn't scared, but it was hard to fool anyone when I was crying.

Scott is tall and wiry with uneven brown hair and hazel eyes. He is tan and sharp-faced. Tullia is pale with gray eyes and resting grumpy face. She wears her brown hair in pigtails and has a pointy nose. Her left arm is burned all over and is difficult for her to use.