Girls-Only Games- 6th Quarter Quell


Sorry!! I keep accidentally deleting it!!

Chapter 1

Pandora Pochie, District Eight

by: CherryTop
The pic is what Pandora looks like! Here's the link if you wanna see it up close:

Today is the Reaping for the 150th Hunger Games. The Sixth Quarter Quell. And this year, President Coriolanus Snow (who is very, very ancient now) made the Hunger Games very interesting.

"Now we honor the Sixth Quarter Quell," he had said, his false teeth flashing. His lips were so thin that I could see his veins, and his eyes were squinty and unappealing. "For the 150th Hunger Games, to prove that women are just as strong as men, only female tributes between the ages of 12 and 18 shall be reaped from each District."

The eerie smile on his face sent chills down my spine, and as I'm walking to District Eight's central square, it does again. Women are powerful, all right, but I don't want to know how powerful. Especially not the Career Districts.

Around 75 years ago, a girl named Katniss Everdeen tried starting a rebellion against President Snow. She was known as the "Mockingjay" and went to District Thirteen. She failed the rebellion, and got District Twelve blown to smithereens. Her and her lover, Peeta Mellark, were executed shortly after.

Her Games, the 74th and 75th, are the only Games we are forbidden to watch.

"Momma, I'm hungry," cries my little sister, Mya. She's only six and doesn't have to worry about Reapings for many years to come.

"After the Reaping, me, you and Pandora will have a big, yummy lunch, okay?" My mom tells her. I know she's right. I'm fourteen and my name is only in there four times. The odds are definitely in my favor.

"Okay," Mya groans as I check in for the Reaping. My dress is red, a very bright red to match the color of my hair. District Eight isn't that poor to where we can't afford dresses.

I head over to the fourteen-year-old section after kissing my mom and Mya. I'm nervous, no doubt, but compared to the others, my chances of being picked are slim. I stare at all the teenage girls in the audience and am nerved that the majority of them are grinning happily.

My best friend. Rynn Wattson, stands ahead of me. I try getting to her but the other fourteen-year-old girls shove me out of the way. So much for friends.

I sigh as the mayor comes onstage and reads the Treaty of Treason. President Snow added more recently about 'no rebelling or there will be dire consequences.' Something along those lines.

"Welcoming Zora Nites to District Eight!" he concludes, clapping happily. His large mustache bounces as he shakes hands with the escort.

This year, Zora has bright blue hair, a pale blue shirt and white skirt that goes just about her knees, and her fingernails are shaped as hearts. Her skin is tinted very, very slightly blue and her legs have swirls of white on them.

"Welcome, welcome, and happy Hunger Games!" she chirps into the microphone. We stay silent, much to her awkwardness. The silence scares me a little, since the girls are still grinning. "The time has come to select two courageous young women for the honor of representing District Eight in the 150th Annual Hunger Games!"

She claps her delicate little Capitol hands enthusiastically. Again, she gets silence and the mentor onstage, Gradon Kingston, coughs awkwardly. Gradon is a man in his mid-twenties and won the Games eight years ago. He's pretty good-looking too.

"Lady number one!" Zora says into the microphone. She slowly dips her hand into the Reaping ball as the entire District holds their breaths. "Serenity Young!" I hear a young boy cry out as a 12-year-old girl walks onstage, eye twitching uncontrollably.

The girls that were grinning stop as Zora reads the second name.

"Pandora Pochie!" I gloat at them until I freeze. That's my name. My muscles cease to work as I comprehend this. "Pandora?"

Everyone looks at me expectantly, making a gap for me to walk through. I stare at the wooden stage, the giant screen that shows my reaction. I realize how weak I must look and immediately plaster on a huge, fake smile and flaunt onto the stage, making girls behind me whisper questioningly.

"Any volunteers for these two young ladies?" Zora asks the audience of District Eight. Silence. There are never volunteers. "Well! Shake hands now. Come on!"

I look at Serenity and a look of understanding meets mine. I nod slightly, hoping she will catch it as I latch onto her fingers and shake them.

I hear people cry for joy that they weren't picked as I'm pushed into the Justice building. The irony of it all, right?

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