-three years later-
It was the day of the reaping.
I wasn't as scared as the previous 2 years.
I had Finnick to help me.
The woman, which I still didn't know her name, walked up to the stage, two bowls in her hand. Each filled with more than a thousand slips of paper.
She grabbed the mic, setting the bowls down.
"Here we are. District 6. For another Hunger Games." She said slowly.
"The 68th to be exact. May the odds be ever in the favor."
She smiled. "Ladies first."
I took a deep breath.
She shuffled her hands around the papers, grabbing one. My name had been put in there 35 times.
She took a long look at the paper before saying,
"Brooklynn Westbay."
I froze.
Remember, I told myself.
Finnick will help you through it all...hopefully. It's been three years. If he remembers.
"Brooklynn?" She asked again.
I stepped out from the crowd.
Cameras are on you, I thought.
Look tough.
I smirked walking up to the stage, proudly.
Or acted like it, anyway.
"No!" Clayton screamed.
I turned around.
Clayton was running towards me but the peacemakers held him back.
I signaled to Clayton: 🤟 ily
She called the boys name.
"Ryder Cup."
He made his way up the stage.
"Let the 68th Hunger Games begin!"
I said goodbye to Clayton and my mom and they walked us to the train.
I have to win this, I thought.
For my mom. For Clayton.
For Finnick.