This is it.
All of Aubrey’s life has lead up to this moment. The moment she volunteers as tribute. The moment that would be the start of her life.
She wants this more than anything, everyone tells her so. Though she can’t remember the first time she saw the games at the tender age of six, her parents tell her the story often enough. How she had begged to be allowed to stay up for the tribute parade, how she insisted she was old enough to handle the violence. Her mother had agreed. It’s tradition. Her father worried it might scare her. But, in the end, Aubrey had perched on the edge of her parent’s pristine velvet couch and watched as 24 kids competed for glory.
And she loved it. Apparently.
She had followed the action closely, glued to the television for days until, finally, a girl from District 4 emerged victorious. And, the story went, Aubrey shot straight to her feet and declared, “I want to be just like her when I grow up!”
Of course, her parents