Child's Play: The Forty-Third Hunger Games

Chapter 27

Weft Bobbin

The sticks still weren't lighting. I'd been rubbing them together like a maniac for what seemed like hours. The assistant said it was easier if you made the weird string thing he demonstrated, but I didn't want to wait that long. It looked like my way was going to take even longer, though. I broke down and practiced using flint and steel, which was easier, but I might not have those in the Arena. In the Arena, though, I'd have to get it lit, so it wouldn't bother me how long it took.

The fishing station was better. I wished there was a pond so I could test out my hooks, but at least they were easier to make and there were a lot of different kinds I could try. I liked the ones with lots of prongs and hooks. They looked like tiny spearheads. I felt bad for the fish that swallowed them, though.

Once I'd made all the different kinds of hooks, there was no need for me to stay at that station. I moved to the shelter station, which was the coolest one yet. Different sections had different temperatures, thanks to heaters and coolers set into the floor. I could practice making shelters from sand in a desert or from snow in a blizzard. The assistant talked unbearably slowly, and I could hardly wait for him to get done so I could start building. I piled the materials up quickly, because I might not have much time in the Arena if the sun was setting. My shelters tended to fall apart after a few minutes, but I could still use them. They usually fell in more than down, and they left a smaller space inside that someone small like me could crawl into.

As I hid inside my mostly deflated shelter, I thought about what the Arena might be like. No matter what, it was going to be different from anything I'd ever seen. If it was anything but a city, it would be something new to explore. Last year's Arena was super cool. I'd read about mountains, but I'd never seen one, and I never knew how big they really were. I hoped the Arena this year was something exciting like a cave or a jungle.

My thoughts wandered to other parts of the Games. What would the Bloodbath be like? Maybe there would be mutts, like there were every once in a while. I definitely wasn't planning to go in. I just planned to get whatever was close to me and run. If there were mutts, I wondered what kind they would be. Usually they related to the Arena, like the snowman from last year. If it was a cave, it might be bats. If it was a rainforest, maybe it would be a tiger.

Sometimes my thoughts ran away with me. While I was still imagining, the assistant bent down next to my shelter and said it training time was over. I'd gotten a lot done, though. It was close to closing time when I went to the shelter station. I still had one day to practice anything I'd forgotten. I almost hoped it would get done quickly. It was better to just be in the Arena already and not have to worry about it.

Brenna Segale

Weft was working on survival stuff. I was supposed to learn how to use a scythe. In the clothing factories, I sometimes used a similar instrument to hook threads deep inside the machinery without risking getting my fingers caught. But of course I never used it to hurt people, so it was like learning to use it all over again. It wasn't really complicated, though. Most handheld weapons were the same. You pushed them at someone and tried to stick it into them. The variations between them were almost nonexistent in the end.

I was happy when Weft said he'd ally with me. I'd always liked little kids, and he was a nice boy. I felt like it was the right thing to do, too. Stronger people should help weaker people. Someone who wasn't strong might have some other skill that would never be able to help society if they died just because they were weak or little. Panem would never get better if we didn't help each other. And even if Weft didn't have any other skills, it would still be right to help him. He deserved it just because he was a person.

A few years ago, I might not have bothered with training if I got Reaped. I'd thought about giving up and ending it all. The Games would have been a perfect excuse. Nobody would have to know I intended to die. I could even sacrifice myself for someone else and die a hero. But that was over now. I'd gotten through the hard stuff and I was rebuilding a normal life. I had things to live for now, and I wanted to keep living for them. I wanted to come back to Jeremy. It would hurt him too if I died. I wanted to make a family with him and be with my children so they wouldn't go through the things I did. It wasn't just for other people that I was fighting, either. I was proud of myself for picking my life back up and I wanted to see what more I could do.

I wished it wasn't necessary to train with a weapon. It made it seem like fighting to live automatically meant fighting to take away someone else's life. I only intended to use it in defense, but they say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. I didn't know what I'd do when the Games started. People thought a lot of things about themselves and found out they were wrong when the gong went off and the killing started. I'd seen other kids start out normal and turn into monsters. None of us were ever going to forget Titus. If that happened to me, I hoped I would see the light enough to stop myself. It wouldn't really be suicide in that case. It would be dying human instead of becoming a monster.