My big sister, Queen B, is so strong. It amazes me how she manages to wake up in the morning knowing she may not make it until nightfall. I get the opportunity to send her a gift from her District, as long as it is not a weapon. I want to send her something heartfelt, something that will give her the inspiration to be a champion.

I tiptoe up the stairs, trying not to wake my younger brother. He snores loudly as I walk by his room. I enter my room, and smile, remembering when Queen B and I used to dance around this room like princesses. It seems like just yesterday that we were kids, with not a care in the word. We didn’t have to worry about the Hunger Games. I snap out of my daydreams, and walk towards my wooden dresser. The faded wood creaks as I place my hand on the drawer. I slide open the top drawer, and dig through clothes until I grasp exactly what I wanted. I pull out a long gold chain and place the gold necklace in my hand. After tugging at the old clasp, the locket pops open and my breath is taken away. The dull gold seems more beautiful than it ever was. The picture inside this locket is a family portrait from before my mother died. I know this is exactly the thing to send to Queen B. I hope her breathe is taken away when she sees this just like mine is. I wrap the necklace in the silvery, rough paper required to go into the Games.  Please make it out of the arena, I can’t afford to loose another person so close to me.

“Poison Dart Frogs.” a Gamemaker next to me mutters, laughing evilly. He then yells it to the rest of the Gamemakers, “Poison Dart Frogs! Give the tributes a run for their money!” Some Gamemakers gasp, and others join in on his evil laughter. A chill is sent down my spine, with guilty feelings. Knowing that my life depends on this, I begin to type away at my computer with the rest of the Gamemakers. The model of the frog on my computer is blood red, with black spots. How could an animal so small be so deadly?

I craned my neck to the screen, and Poison Dart Frogs are appearing. None of the tributes notice, causing the Gamemakers to add more frogs. One young girl turns around, and a frog leaps on to her leg. She is dead within seconds. The tributes realize what happened, and begin to run for their lives. The frogs are growing in size, making them harder to avoid. Some tributes begin to frantically climb trees, causing the frogs to follow them. A frog hops on to a scrawny, young boy and takes his life. The frog retreats off the tree, and continues chasing an older girl. I notice a log a few feet in front of the girl, and cringe when she trips over it. The camera zooms on to her face, which is pure terror and fear. Tears begin to stream down her face as the frog corners her. At that moment, the frogs disappear and tears of relief are now dripping down the girl’s face. I assume a Gamemaker must have felt guilty for killing so many tributes with the frogs. I, for one, am glad the frog attack is over.

“Tsunami.” The word from a loudspeaker rings like a bell into the bright, cool room filled with gamemakers. I, along with many men in white uniforms started to furiously type away on our high-tech computers. Within a matter of minutes, I glanced up onto the screen, and saw the dark clouds rolling in to the games. The clouds panic the tributes, curious to see what was next. Then, the angry waves begin. The intelligent tributes sprint to higher elevation, but most just stand there in shock. Almost every tribute has a look of panic and fear plastered on their faces. The waves look like they are in a race, competing to get to shore first. As they reach shore, they crash in a rage, destroying everything in its path. Palm trees timber to the ground, spraying cold, wet sand on the rocks. Most of the tributes made it to the mountain, except a few, who are buried in crashing waves and sand.

I place my hand on a cold, metal knob and turn it one notch. The waves begin to grow, and more destruction occurs. Palm trees are flat, on the ground, and animals are as high up in trees as they can be. A notice flies up onto my computer screen showing that 5 tributes have been killed. That is when the voice returns over the loudspeaker, telling us to shut the tsunami down. After clacking away on my computer, the waves die down and the sky clears up. The tributes come out from hiding, with relieved looks on their faces.

I can’t imagine being in a group of 24, all of which have one goal in mind: to kill each other, and stay alive. Watching the Hunger Games makes me realize the terror, and stress these kids are put through. One tribute sticks out for me though, and that is Queen B. She is from my home district, and I always admired her strength. Queen B and her family live next door, and they have been through so much in the past couple of years. Her mother died a few years ago, and Queen B is doing a great job as a mother figure. The family must be so worried of losing her in the Hunger Games. She is doing her absolute best though, and  remains to be one of the strongest tributes, mentally and physically. She is not giving up, and you can see the determination on her face, to come home to her family.

When I was told that I was selected to record an inspirational video for Queen B, I was honored. I could not think of anything to say to this young lady, she is so strong that I have no idea how my advice would matter to her. I decided to just record a little bit of comforting words. It wasn’t a fancy speech, just something to give her enough inspiration to come out of the arena as a champion.

The sound of crashing waves keeps me alert and awake. I glance over at Tammy, who purrs like a cat. How could she be so peaceful, when she could be waking up to her death tomorrow? We are taking turns sleeping and keeping watch. She started sleeping when the sun was setting, and the sky was dark now. From the looks of it, I should only have an hour left until I can rest. I crane my neck like a bird, looking at the sparkling stars. I wonder what my mother’s doing right now. We could be looking at the same star. I snap back into reality, and realize everything in this arena is controlled by the Capitol, and we are in their fake, perfect world. Nothing is the same in here like it is in the real world.

Butterflies float above me, looking so graceful and at peace. I wonder how these creatures could be so peaceful, when they are surrounded by killing at this very moment. Tammy flinches, looking like she is having a bad dream. She snaps up, and looks around. We trade places, and she begins pacing. I want to sleep, but the fear of being killed keeps me awake. I’m not sure if I trust Tammy or not yet. I did trust Yolanda though, but she did not make it past the first hour. She was shot with an arrow by J.K. Notrowling, a girl from district 4.  If Tammy is killed too, then I will be left alone, with no alliances. My brain is working so fast, that I end up dozing of to the sound of crashing waves and crunching leaves beneath Tammy’s feet.

The smell of the salty waves brings butterflies to my stomach, meaning a new season filled with warmth and happiness. Now, the salty smell brings an empty feeling to me. From the second I stepped on the metal plate in a clear plastic tube that would bring me up to the arena, I smelled the seaweed and sea air. I began to rack my brain with ways I would use the tropical arena to my advantage. The countdown began, a loud beeping and a deep voice counting down from 60. The metal plate started to rise, carrying my body up slightly, until I was standing on a single plate in the middle of the ocean. Cold water splashed up on my unsteady feet. The water was so clear and crystal blue, which made me feel like I should be on vacation, not about to murder other teenagers. The tributes around me all had pale faces, and nervous looks. The boy next to me was shaking uncontrollably, and I knew without a doubt he wouldn’t last long. The gong sounded, a shrill noise, meaning it was time to begin the killing.

I dove off my metal plate and swam with all my might to the shore. Salt water stung my eyes as I tried to see underwater. Tributes swam below me, trying to get the shore. I pulled up to surface, blinking away salty tears and tried to find the supplies, until I noticed a boy being stabbed to death, and I couldn’t help but feel badly for him. He had parents, and a life that was just taken for other’s entertainment. Finally, I pulled myself up on shore, coughing and sputtering. A skinny, tall girl was running toward me with a knife. I panicked, but did not want to back down, catching her in a tackle before she could attack me. We wrestled, until I was back down on the wet, cold sand. I ripped the knife from her hand, stabbing her in the arm. After she was lying down, dying, I pulled away and gasped. I was unaware that I could hurt anyone, let alone kill a girl. All the tributes had abandoned the shore, except two girls. I remembered seeing them at training, and we had discussed being allies. Their names were Tammy and Yolanda. I knew having them as my allies would be a great help, due to all the supplies and weapons they had collected. Luckily, they approached me before I did them. They agreed that being allies would be a good idea. They pointed to my blood dripping knife, and asked how many I had killed so far. After answering “only one”, I gripped the cold, smooth handle of the knife, looking down at the object I just used to murder someone, and knew this may not be as difficult as I thought.

I heard a soft knock on my door. I opened it to reveal my mother’s weary face with a guard not far behind her. “You have 5 minutes”, the guard’s raspy voice spoke with a touch of kindness. I thanked him and closed the door behind my mother. She tried to speak, but I could tell she was holding back tears. I embraced her, smelling her sweet perfume that smells like vanilla and lavender. I would miss that smell, the smell of home. She pulls away, and hands me something. I felt a cold, metal chain, but had to blink back my watery tears to see what it was. When my eyes focused, my breath was taken away. It was a beautiful silver necklace, with sky blue jewels engraved into it. I ran my fingers over it, feeling the smooth silver. My mother explained to me how each tribute is allowed one item from home to bring into the Games. I replied, “I love it, thank you. But why would you give me your best piece of jewelry if I may die with it?” The reality of me dying hit my mother like a brick. “I want you to have it, because every time you look at it, I want you to believe in yourself like I do. I know you will make it out of that arena.” She replied softly. The amount of courage my mother has astounds me.

The guard came in, and said “Alright, say your goodbyes. This is it.” I started to become panicked, and hugged my mother with tears streaming down the both of our faces. Then, all of a sudden, she was gone. The sweet smell lingered in this dark, dusky room only for a moment. Then the smell left like the happiness that has been drained from inside of me. I held the necklace up to the window, watching the ocean blue jewels sparkle in the sunlight. Looking at my mother’s best necklace, I decided that when I will wear it, I will have the courage she manages to have.

My stomach was twisted into knots as I moved up in line. I made my way up to a man, clothed in bright white. He pricked my finger, shooting a small, sharp pain through it. I winced, and moved to the large group of people waiting with nervous looks. I could feel the tension and nerves in the air, and looked around at frightened families and their kids. All I could think about was how much I did not want to be a tribute in the Hunger Games. I could only imagine the pain it would bring to my family, seeing me struggle and die on live video. Finally, Harper Hayes walked out, and the crowd’s nervous chatter fell silent. You could hear the clicking of Harper’s heels, as she walked up to the microphone with a large smile plastered to her face. Sweat began to bead at the top of my forehead, and my nerves were roaring like a lion inside my brain.

Harper began to give some speech about how wonderful this experience of the Hunger Games is, but I lost interest in her lies. Finally, it was time to call the names. I pinched the inside of my hand so hard, that pain shot through me like an arrow. Harper slowly reached into the bowl, her brightly colored fingernails swirling the small slips of paper around. She pulled a crisp, white paper out and squinted to read the name. After a clearing of her throat, she opened her mouth and read the name: “Juanita Plumcat”. My breath stopped. My face fell white like a ghost. I looked back at my mother, and the tears were streaming down her face. My father nodded at me, almost to say that he has faith in me. I tried to pick up my feet, but they wouldn’t seem to budge. Someone behind me gave me a little shove, and I trudged up to the stage. I tried not to look too terrified, because I knew potential enemies were watching this, and I didn’t want to seem weak. Harper congratulated me and asked me if I had anything to day to all the districts. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I managed to croak the words “No, thank you.” Then all of a sudden, I felt the tight grip of a man pull me, then I was being whisked away by men in white uniforms. I could not believe all this was happening to me. My stomach felt like there was a pit in it, and I can only imagine how wide my eyes were. Suddenly, I was being taken to my family for my last goodbyes. My parents sobbed loudly and my baby brother looked confused. I decided I would win, to come home and get to see my brother grow up, and to see my parents again, without tear-streaked faces.